Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You've got really pretty hair," the cab driver said.

"Thank you," Weiss said with a polite smile that the cabbie did not see from the front seat.

"Where'd you get it dyed?"

"I didn't."

The driver glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. "You mean it's naturally white?"

"Of course. It's genetic."

"Then you must be . . ."

"Must be what?"

"Never mind."

The taxi rolled to a stop at a red light. It was a busy intersection, as city hall was right there. The building seemed to draw a lot of attention, even from people who had no business inside. Even now, people still took extra time to pass by the metal statue standing in front of it before continuing on their way.

It depicted a woman with a shield on her back, a sword in her hand, and a helmet tucked under her free arm. She looked as if she was standing guard. The mechanical armor she wore was so intricately detailed you could be fooled into thinking it could come off. The silver surface glimmered in the afternoon sunlight, its reflective sheen showing how young it was. Passersby looked up mournfully at her face and some stopped to stare at the pedestal where a plaque was set. Weiss couldn't read the engraving from this distance. She'd been meaning to get a closer look at it since she first arrived in Vale, but still hadn't found the time.

The light turned green, and the statue vanished behind a building. Weiss turned her gaze away from the window and down to her scroll, where she pulled up a web browser and began mindlessly flicking through random news articles.

"You been in Vale long?" the cabbie asked.

"A few weeks," Weiss said.

"What do you think of the city?"

"It's . . . not Atlas."

"Is that a good thing?"

Weiss hesitated. "I'd rather not talk, if that's alright with you."

"Oh. Right." She said nothing more.

Weiss continued to stare at her scroll. The articles flashed before her eyes, disappearing off the top of the screen almost as soon as they appeared from the bottom. She wasn't expecting any of them to be worth reading, but one title did catch her interest—Mayor Ozpin Comments on Paragons and Vigilantism. She tapped on it.

Yesterday evening, Mayor Ozpin held a press conference where he was asked about the public's concerns regarding paragons and the danger they allegedly pose to our city. This is what the mayor had to say:

"Cleri gemmae natura, more widely referred to as paragons, are not inherently a threat. What too few people understand is that the majority of semblances are incapable of harming another human being. Those rare few paragons who possess potentially lethal semblances are carefully monitored and should not be met with scorn or fear; they are no more dangerous than those licensed to carry firearms. At the end of the day, we're all people—we're all equal—and deserve to be treated as such."

As the discussion on paragons progressed, it naturally veered toward vigilantism, another controversial topic among citizens of Vale. Many look to the example the Protector set and cheer on those who aim to follow in her footsteps. Others are far more wary of unknowns who aim to take the law into their own hands. Mayor Ozpin has never been shy about his views on that matter, as controversial as they are, and unsurprisingly had zero hesitation when sharing them here.

"It saddens me how often the debates on these two topics seem to overlap in the eyes of the public. Not every vigilante has a semblance, just as not every paragon aspires to be a vigilante. These are two entirely different discussions, and to make them out to be one and the same only brings us further away from reaching a common ground.

"But to answer your question, my stance remains unchanged. Vigilantes are criminals that jeopardize the very foundations of our justice system. I will always consider it a priority to take them into custody before they can bring harm to themselves or others. This city owes Pyrrha Nikos an unpayable debt—of that, there is no argument. And were she standing before me today, she'd receive my thanks as well as a pardon. But a line needs to be drawn between reality and fiction. Neither semblances nor access to advanced technology makes people superheroes. To assume that every vigilante will be the next Pyrrha Nikos would be frankly irresponsible and potentially disastrous. Putting on a mask and running around at night does not give you the right to ignore laws. Our police force is more than capable of fighting crime and apprehending even the most dangerous criminals, as was proven four days ago with the arrest of the terrorist, A . . .

Please subscribe to our newsletter to continue reading. For only 300 lien a month—

Weiss sighed and tucked her scroll back into her bag. There was a time when she wouldn't have thought twice about throwing in her credit card information to read the rest of the article, but that was in the past. The cab meter was already up to six hundred lien—a meager amount, but she was already regretting spending it. Even on a good day, Vale's traffic never made the choice to drive herself an easy one to make.

The taxi rolled to a stop on a residential street. There wasn't much activity here save for a group of men chatting on the opposite sidewalk, one eyeing Weiss as she stepped out of the vehicle. She turned her back to them, double-checking she had the right address before approaching the dingy apartment building in front of her. She knew before she even pressed the buzzer that it'd have no elevator, and was quickly proven right upon entering the building. Her client lived on the third floor, so it wasn't the longest climb, but it was still annoying.

Her knuckles knocked on the door, only a couple of minutes early. A tall, blonde man who looked around her age answered. His blue eyes, a darker shade than her own, lingered on her snow-white hair, currently tied back in a long braid.

"Jaune Arc?" Weiss said.

The man nodded. "You're the psychotherapist?"

"I am, for lack of a better term."

She held out a card toward him. He stared at it only long enough to see her name, then motioned for her to follow him inside. She hesitated before putting the card away; people usually like to examine it more thoroughly.

Weiss closed the door behind her once she was over the threshold. She wasn't too surprised by the state of the apartment. Trash was strewn about, the sink was filled with plastic dishes, and what few framed photographs he owned were lying face down. Judging by the papers, textbooks, and broken pencils scattered all over the tables and floor, she guessed he was a student.

"Something to drink?" Jaune offered, staring into the fridge.

Weiss's eyes roved over two dusty glasses in a cabinet that had been left ajar. "No, thank you. Is there . . . somewhere we can sit?"

Jaune closed the fridge without having taken anything from it, then had the decency to look sheepish. "Oh, right. Sorry."

He cleared off his small dining table before pulling out a chair for her. Weiss only sat down after taking a few seconds to ensure there was no refuse on it. She pulled a pen and pad from her bag and set it in front of her, staring at Jaune as he sat down at the other end of the table. He tried to put on an at least somewhat warm demeanor, but it was a half-hearted attempt.

"So, in your email, you said you have depression and PTSD?" said Weiss.

Jaune nodded.

"Has that been professionally diagnosed?"

"No."

She picked up her pen and pad. "How long have you been experiencing symptoms?"

Jaune hesitated. "Two years."

She wrote it down. "Major depressive disorder doesn't typically last that long, so it's more likely to be dysthymia. Less severe, but longer lasting"

He didn't say anything.

"What—?"

"How long is this going to take?" he interrupted.

Weiss pursed her lips. "I suppose that's up to you. I work more effectively when I have a proper understanding of exactly what it is I'm dealing with. If it's acceptable to you, I'd like to ask a few questions—"

"It's not. Can't you just . . . wave your hands and get it over with?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that," she said, annoyed. "But if you insist, I can try it now, though I can't guarantee success."

"Do it," he said. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Please."

"Fine." Weiss put the pad away and held out her hand. "I need to touch your forehead."

He didn't question it. He leaned forward and closed his eyes, braced as if expecting pain. Weiss placed her fingers above his brow, took a deep breath, and felt her eyes roll back into her head.

She was on her feet now. The apartment was gone, as was Jaune. Trees towered above her, and dry leaves littered the ground beneath her feet. A dark sky loomed overhead, a shattered moon shining brightly. But this forest, vivid though it was, wasn't quite right. The ground was stiff beneath her feet, not quite malleable like dirt should be. The trees had an unnatural uniformity to them. Even Weiss's own hand, which was reaching to her waist for the hilt of a silver rapier, lacked texture and detail.

"Forever Fall," she muttered, surprised. It was typically the Emerald Forest that she saw in a person's mind.

Her blade drawn and held at the ready, Weiss waited. She took slow, measured movements, examining her surroundings and listening carefully. She saw nothing, heard nothing. With caution, she began to follow the stars north.

Weiss had only had one previous depression case. It'd been a boy, fifteen, with scars along his arms. His condition had been clinical and taken the form of an Apathy—slender, skeletal Grimm with glowing red eyes, long claws, and a piercing screech that drains the energy out of a person. Weiss wasn't sure if dysthymia would be any different, and PTSD was something she'd never treated before. A lot of unknowns. She really wished she could've gotten more information out of Jaune before coming in here.

A twig snapped under her foot. At that exact moment, the ground vibrated, so briefly and faintly she almost missed it. Off in the distance, a flock of birds rose from the trees. Picking up the pace, Weiss headed in that direction. Every few seconds, she could feel another tremor, carrying more force the further she moved. Eventually, she could hear their source—large, muffled clops.

Weiss came out into a glade and found her adversary towering over her. She'd guessed what it would be before she even saw it. It was a tar-black figure, decorated with pieces of bone, and glowering in her direction with two sets of glowing red eyes. At first glance, you might confuse it for a man riding a horse, but the "man" had no lower body and was fused to the horse's back. The slender humanoid had very long arms ending in claws, dragging along the ground behind it. It had a devilish face and a bone mask with curved horns. The horse's mane was black smoke and its rib cage was exposed. It was one creature, not a centaur, but much more terrifying—Nuckelavee.

Without warning, one of its hands shot out, the arm stretching beyond its already great length to reach her. With faster reactions and greater agility than she could ever have achieved in the real world, Weiss rolled out of the way. She didn't need rigorous training and muscle memory in here; in here, she was a warrior.

She avoided the second hand with a backward somersault, then darted forward and thrust her blade into its wrist. The horse reared and the humanoid let out a blood-curdling scream, withdrawing its arms for another attack. The beast charged toward her, and she dodged at the last second, sending a strike into its flank. Then an arm came down and sent her flying back. Weiss landed on her feet and took a stance, ready to evade the next attack. But as the other arm came flying toward her, another screech brought her to her knees.

This one was different, and it didn't come from the creature in front of her. It was higher-pitched, less croaky. Instead of being deafeningly loud, this one reverberated around Weiss's head, as if it was seeping directly into her soul, draining her. A ringing filled her ears and her limbs grew heavy. The Nuckelavee's hand grabbed her with no resistance and flung her across the clearing, her back slamming against a tree. She felt too weak to even cry out.

As she slowly began to recover from this attack, the ringing began to lessen. She heard the hooves clopping against the dirt, and rustling coming from several directions, like many pairs of legs trudging through the fallen leaves. And when Weiss looked up, she saw a scene straight out of a nightmare. Dysthymia didn't take the form of an Apathy—it took the form of a pack of Apathy.

As soon as she could manage it, Weiss struggled to her feet, turned, and ran. The Apathy screamed again, but Weiss had sheathed her rapier and stuffed her fingers into her ears. The sound, fainter, still slowed her down, but not enough to cripple her. She continued to run, determined to put as much distance as possible between herself and the Grimm. She needed to take some time to regain her wits and think of a strategy to separate the creatures—there was no way she could take them all on at once.

Up ahead she saw a hilly region covered in rocks and boulders. She tried to spot if there were any caves near it, which would make a good refuge, but couldn't tell from this distance. Still, a vantage point would be better than nothing. The Apathy shrieked again, but she could barely hear them now.

Before she could reach the hills, she heard something she'd never heard before within one of these incursions—voices. Weiss skidded to a halt and turned toward them. The sound was coming from a window, floating in midair. On the other side of the glass was a single face—a face identical to that of the statue in front of the City Hall.

"Jaune. I want—"

Weiss didn't get to hear what she wanted. She was so shocked that she stumbled back and fell, but never hit the ground. The artificial world swirled around her and faded into nothingness, and she was back in Jaune's apartment. Her hand fell to the table from where it'd been touching his forehead, and she was sweating.

"P-Pyrrha," Weiss stammered with the same breath she'd inhaled before going in.

The color drained from his face. "What?"

"That was Pyrrha Nikos. You knew her?"

He gripped the edge of the table, his nails trying to dig into the wood. "You read my mind?"

"No!" Weiss said, struggling to process what she'd seen. Her semblance allowed her to heal people's minds, nothing more. Her mother's semblance allowed her to heal people's minds, nothing more. Why should it change now? "I-I don't . . ."

"What did you see?" Jaune asked.

"Nothing. Just her face. And . . . she said your name. That's all. I'm sorry, I didn't— I wasn't trying to see anything."

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out!" His chair clattered onto its back behind him as he pushed himself to his feet.

Weiss did not cower under his fury. As affronted as she was, she'd invaded his privacy, unintentional though it may have been. There was enough guilt in that to suppress her compulsion to lash back. She also wanted to try again, to not let this end in a failure, but it was clear that offering to do so wouldn't go over well. With regret, she collected her bag, stood, and left while her dignity was still intact.

The heavy clacking of Weiss's heels echoed off the walls as she stormed down the staircase. That had been the first of only two contracts she had lined up for this week, halving her expected income. Almost worse than that was that she knew she could have done it. She could have slain that Nuckelavee and those Apathy. She'd just needed more time—a second chance. Instead, she walked away with no payment, no new insight, and more questions.

She wanted to resent Jaune for how he'd reacted. It'd be easier, but it wouldn't be fair. It was her semblance that deserved her ire. Why did it have to evolve now, so long after she first discovered it and so early into her attempt to build a career out of it? Why did it have to evolve in that way? It was already difficult enough to find people willing to pay her to poke around in their minds, and it'd only become more so if potential clients knew she could see their memories—their pasts and secrets.

She couldn't exactly hide it, either. It was a crime to not report something like this to the Civil Anomaly Bureau. As soon as she did, they'd issue her an updated paragon registration with her new "ability" printed clear as day. And her clients wouldn't all be like Jaune Arc who only spared the card a single glance.

"See? I told you it wasn't blonde. That's gotta be one."

"Probably his daughter, I think."

The words snaked their way into Weiss's ears. She was surprised to find herself already outside, too preoccupied with her thoughts to pay attention to where she was walking or to hail a cab. Across the street, the group of men from before hadn't moved and were all staring at her now. Their gazes were not curious, friendly, or even salacious—they stared with resentment, malice. She tried to ignore them, continue on her way, but they weren't about to let her get away that easy.

"Hey!" one of the men called after her as they began to jaywalk toward her.

She quickened her gait, hoping to find a crowd of people to blend into, but there was no one. And then they were on her. Rough hands whipped her around and then pinned her shoulders to the wall.

"Not very polite to ignore people, Miss Schnee." Profound loathing etched itself on a face covered in scars. Behind him, three other thugs watched her with just as much animosity in their eyes.

"I'm sorry," Weiss said with as much calmness in her voice as she could muster. "I didn't realize you were talking to me."

One of the men took an exaggerated look around at the empty sidewalk. "Who else would we be talking to?"

"If you don't let me go—"

"You'll what?" said the scarred man. "Daddy's not around no more to keep you out of trouble, now is he?"

"I am—"

"You're nothing!" he spat.

Weiss flinched.

"You're nothing but the spoiled brat of a bastard has-been."

"What do you want from me? My father's already in prison. Is that not enough for you?"

He smacked her, his other hand still pressing her shoulder into the wall. She heard chuckles from the others. After Weiss blinked away the pain, she saw the scarred man had drawn out a knife. The others were excited, making suggestions about what to do with it. Weiss couldn't even tell if they shared the scarred man's specific disdain for her, or if they just reveled in the opportunity to dominate a defenseless woman.

Her eyes focused on the clean, razor-sharp blade as the rest of her courage left her. Her hands shook, and she felt the impulse to reach toward her hip. She couldn't even if it mattered. There was no rapier there. She wasn't a warrior. She was just a paragon with a semblance that could do little more than aggravate her attackers.

The scarred man gently touched the tip of the knife to her forehead. "My face ain't pretty as pretty as yours, is it? Got any idea what happened?"

Weiss said nothing.

"I worked for the STC, see? Me and my brother were on the assembly line. 'Til one day a machine malfunctioned, killed my brother, and left me with this ugly mug. An' you know what your daddy did? He paid Ronnie's funeral to cover his own ass, left me drowning in medical bills, and he fuckin' fired me!"

Weiss chose not to say the words that had almost reached her lips—that she was no more a fan of Jacques Schnee's than he was; that her life had also been ruined by her father's actions; that she was also missing a brother because of him. But she knew how little that information would help her current situation.

"So no," he said. "I don't think prison's quite enough. Not by a long shot."

"I'm sorr—ah!" Her apology was literally cut short. Her knee came up of its own accord, right between the man's legs. The pressure lifted off her shoulder, and her hands came up to her left eye. Her face was searing in pain, a warm fluid running down it.

"Bitch!" The scarred man growled from the ground, his voice an octave higher than before.

One of the others helped him to his feet while the other two closed in, blocking her from running.

"It's not easy down here in the mud with all us peasants, is it?" one said. "One scar won't do, I think."

Scar smiled malevolently, though the effect was hampered by his awkward, bow-legged stance. "I think you're right. How 'bout I keep going 'till your pretty face starts looking a lot more like mine?" He raised the knife again and took another step forward. A car drove by, gone before Weiss could even think to call out to the driver oblivious to her situation.

Thunk!

From the sky an armored figure landed, cracking the asphalt under their boots. The four men whipped around to stare down the tip of a sword leveled in their direction.

"But . . . Y-you're dead!" one of the thugs sputtered when the shock wore off.

"Legends never die," said the figure with a digitally distorted voice. They were full-clad in high-tech armor, a shield strapped to one arm and a helmet hiding their face. Not an inch of skin was visible. It was the same gear sculpted on the statue.

The three goons tried to run, but the Protector was already on top of them. The sword swept two off their feet, and the shield slammed another against the building. Then three ropes sprang from the vigilante's belt to bind them completely. The armored hero turned back to Weiss to see that the scarred man hadn't tried to run—he was holding Weiss in front of him with the knife to her neck. She struggled to pull his arm away from her while also trying to blink the blood out of her eye, but he was too strong.

The vigilante pointed the sword in their direction.

"Stay back!" The scarred man shouted, his voice a mix of anger and fear. "I'll kill her! The whore has it coming!"

The knife was ripped from Scar's grasp. Weiss couldn't see how it happened as he collapsed on top of her in his attempt to keep hold of it. She heard a heavy object drop, and a second later, she felt her assailant's weight lift off of her, shortly followed by a hard thud. Weiss pushed herself to her knees and clutched her bleeding eye again. She looked up and saw all four men bound next to each other, their mouths taped over. The vigilante's sword was lying on the ground next to her, a thin cord connecting the tip of the blade to Scar's knife. An armored hand reached down and picked it up. The cord detached from the knife and reeled back into the sword.

"Thank you," Weiss said, staring up at her savior.

"Paramedic's on the way," was their only response. Then, with an impossible leap, the mysterious stranger caught the edge of the nearest roof and pulled themself up, vanishing from sight.

Weiss hated hospitals. The incessant beeping, that distinct smell in the air, and the way the taste of tongue depressors lingered in her mouth even without one having come anywhere near her. It was all so familiar that she might have been a child again, visiting her sickly grandfather with her mother and siblings back in Atlas. And the way everything was so perfectly clean and pristine also reminded her of the old family manor. It was unnerving how this building she'd never been in before was able to elicit so many unpleasant memories.

As she was lying in bed, watching an old sitcom that she didn't quite see the appeal of for lack of anything better to do, the door to her room opened. From the corner of her eye, she saw someone dressed in white enter. She assumed it was a hospital worker, so paid her no mind.

"Weiss." The voice was so uncharacteristically soft that Weiss almost didn't recognize it. When she did, her head snapped toward the speaker to find not a nurse, but her older sister looking down at her.

She had the same white hair as Weiss, tied back into a bun, and wore a soldier's uniform. Weiss was too surprised to say anything right away. And before she got the chance, Winter descended on her and embraced her in a tight hug. Two seconds later, Weiss hugged her back. Her lip quivered, but despite her jumbled, painkiller-addled mind, she didn't cry.

It was a full minute before Winter pulled away. She tried to resume her usual professional demeanor, but the concern didn't disappear from her face.

"Why are you here?" Weiss asked.

"I'm still your emergency contact. Where else would I be?" Her tone was back to being strict and snappy, which made Weiss smile.

"But what about the military?"

"My sister was attacked. That is all that matters. Enough about me. How are you feeling?"

Weiss raised her fingers to her bandaged face. The eye itself was uninjured, but a deep gash ran in a neat line above and below it, currently sutured. "It stings."

"Of course it does. You know that isn't what I meant."

Weiss took a moment to think of her answer. She couldn't meet her sister's gaze as she said it in a small voice. "I don't think I've ever been so scared."

Winter sat down at Weiss's side and squeezed her hand. "Describe to me what happened."

Weiss almost refused, but then decided that it wasn't fair to leave her sister with a vague idea while the police had a detailed retelling. She started with exiting the apartment building, leaving out her failure of a contract and the evolution of her semblance, and stopped with the paramedics' arrival. When she was finished, she found she didn't feel any different. People say to talk about your problems, but that proved ineffective. She could still vividly recall the fear she'd felt, the vehement pounding of her heart as if it knew each beat could have been its last. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she could delve into her own mind.

The hatred—that was the worst part. The way the scarred man's eyes bored into her with pure, unadulterated loathing. "The whore has it coming!" he'd said. She deserved this wound; she deserved worse. All because her hair was white.

"You should have run as soon as they began to approach you," Winter scolded.

"I was in heels!"

"Then you should have lied. You should have denied being a Schnee and said your hair is dyed."

"They wouldn't have believed me."

"You don't know that!"

Weiss bowed her head, ashamed. She could have done more. She shouldn't have needed a superhero to drop from the sky to save her. If the Protector of Vale, or whoever was wearing her armor, hadn't shown up . . . Weiss couldn't bring herself to complete the thought.

"You need to be more careful, Weiss," said Winter. "Your life's already difficult enough, being a paragon. You don't need the added challenges of being a Schnee. There are plenty of people unhappy with Father's sentence"

"Don't you think I know that?" Weiss snapped. "Haven't I just received a sharp reminder of that fact?"

Winter's rigid posture sagged, just a little bit. "It was your choice to move to Vale. I can't protect you here."

"I don't need your protection!" As she said it, her wound gave her a twinge of pain that made her wince. She scowled. "So what do you want me to do, exactly?"

Winter took a moment to reply. "I have to be on the next plane back to Atlas, but I want you to call me tomorrow. And you're to take some time to recover from your injury. That means to stay at home. Rest. You can get your groceries delivered."

"But I can't! I have another contract—"

"Then you'll reschedule. Ten days. I won't ask for more than that. I'll give you some money to get by."

"What? No! I can't let you do that."

"You can and you will! I've already covered your hospital bills. I know you're struggling. And without the family fortune, I'm your safety net, and I expect you to take advantage of that when needed. Understood?"

Weiss tried to fight her gaze, but she'd never been very good at that. "Understood."

Weiss had missed her sister a lot, yet she found the next half hour she had with her to be too long. And after Winter was gone, Weiss found herself wishing they'd had more time.

While staring through the muted TV, Weiss's scroll buzzed on the table beside her. She was surprised to see it was a message from her brother. She thought he'd have changed his number by now with how determined he'd been to distance himself after their father's arrest.

The message read: Hello, Sister. I'm sorry to hear what happened to you. I wish you a swift recovery. -Whitley

Weiss read it twice. It was a simple message, but a meaningful gesture. Perhaps he did care after all.

But how did he know? She stared at the door Winter had disappeared through. Had she told him? It didn't seem likely, but Weiss couldn't think of any other explanation. Whitley had ignored Weiss's few attempts to contact him. Why would he answer Winter, whom he hated?

It wasn't worth dwelling on. She responded to her brother with an equally simple thank you message and then pulled up her email. There was nothing new in her inbox. She tapped on the most recent thread so she could change the appointment. As she scrolled to the bottom, her eyes skimmed over the first two lines of the original email.

Patient: Ruby Rose

Disorder: Insomnia

Chapter Text

Weiss had a growing list of simple luxuries that she'd taken for granted. Cotton towels, an expanding wardrobe, chef-cooked meals, a personal driver, the ability to travel—so many things that once felt as fundamental as air and sunlight. How much could a cheap, unheated towel mar her favorite part of the day? How difficult could it be to drive yourself everywhere you needed to go, to fill your own tank with gas and make sure you had enough money set aside to always be able to do so?

It wasn't easy. It hadn't been easy when she had the family fortune to fall back on, the option to tackle one lifestyle change at a time rather than being thrown into the deep end. It was harder now. Now, her father was in prison, her grandfather's legacy was destroyed, and she had to carefully manage her finances to figure out how many healthy meals she could eat a week and how many had to be frozen mush, microwaved and dished onto a plate to delude herself into believing it edible.

Weiss ate a spoonful of bland peas and reminisced over the last time she'd eaten with her family. It was a year ago. She'd been home for the summer, and she'd been joined by her brother and father, as usual. They'd held a conversation about nothing in between long stretches of only the clinking of silver on porcelain. Whitley was just as cold and distant as ever, and her father made more snide remarks about her decision to drop out of business school.

The good times, Weiss thought facetiously, staring at the empty chair on the opposite end of the table.

She took another bite of her food. It didn't taste great, but it was better than anything she could make herself. She'd tried to learn how to cook during college, but with how much time it took away from her studies and how bad she was at it, it hadn't taken long for her to give up. She had more time nowadays, but it was hard to justify spending more money on a potentially terrible home-cooked dish when microwave dinners had a bulk discount.

That was the only reason. The hit to her pride whenever perfectly following a recipe to a T somehow yielded poor results had nothing to do with it.

After finishing what she could, Weiss washed her plate and retired to her room. Her healing wound began to twinge again as she sat at her desk, and she tried her best to distract herself from it with her notebook. It was already open to the last page she'd written in, a list of Grimm and their corresponding mental disorders.

Apathy: Major Depressive Disorder. / Multiple Apathy: Dysthymia. (Longer lasting, so more difficult to defeat?)

Beowulf: Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

Beringel: (unencountered)

Boarbatusk: (unencountered)

. . .

Nevermore: (unencountered)

Nuckelavee: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

She flipped forward to a page that was a lot less organized. It was where she recorded phenomena she came across within mindscapes. Before Jaune Arc, it had been a set of rules she could expect to stay consistent, such as always appearing somewhere in the Emerald Forest. Now, it was more a jumble of disorganized thoughts trying to make sense of this new—she refused to call it an evolution—aberration with the window and Forever Fall.

It didn't make sense, though. Semblances never make sense, but she'd at least thought that having the same one as her mother meant that they would stay the same. Perhaps that was naive. It wasn't like there weren't differences already. But if it had to change, why did it have to change in a way that would repel all future clients? She just wanted to help people, which was hard to do if those people knew she could see their deepest, darkest secrets.

In almost two hours, the pencil in her hand never touched the page. Her wound continued to throb, ruining her focus. With a sigh of annoyance, she closed the book and made for the restroom. There, she could see it in the mirror—an angry red line running from above her left eye down to her cheek. The stitches were gone and it was slowly healing, but it still looked hideous. It always would—the doctors had been quite clear there would be a permanent scar.

As she brushed her teeth, she tried instead to gaze at her hair—to savor the sight of it while she still could. It was unique, special. Take away everything else—the wealth, the reputation, the fame—and her family still, at the very least, had that. It was the one thing Weiss could always take pride in, the one thing no one could ever take away from her.

Or so she'd thought.

Weiss spat out the minty toothpaste, then reached for her cup next to the two boxes of black hair dye that were patiently waiting until her wound was healed enough for her to finally open them—waiting for the day when there would no longer be any Schnees in Vale.

A motorcycle vacated its parking spot as Weiss pulled up to her destination. It was her first day back on her feet. Traffic was heavy and she'd hit just about every red light on her way here. Even the smallest stroke of luck was sorely appreciated.

She took a careful look up and down the street as she stepped out of her car—plenty of pedestrians on the sidewalks, but none paid any attention to her or her newly darkened hair. It was a nicer part of the city than her last client had lived in, farther away from the damage left behind from two years ago. She was less likely to have another violent encounter here, and it was nearly impossible for one to go unnoticed. Knowing that wasn't as comforting as she'd like it to be.

It was a brief elevator ride to an upper floor of the apartment building. Her CAB registration card was already in her hand as she knocked on the door.

A girl answered. She stood a couple of inches taller than Weiss at best and was only a bit less pale. A dark red highlighted the tips of her short, black hair. What struck Weiss most about her was her eyes—silver, kind, and curious.

"Hello."

"Ruby Rose?" Weiss said.

"That's me."

Weiss held up the card, her finger covering her last name. The girl took a few seconds to look at it.

"Oh! You're the psycho . . . thingy. Therapist. Right."

"We were scheduled for one o'clock, were we not?"

"Yeah, of course. Sorry. Uh, come in."

It was a far more spacious interior than Weiss's apartment, though smaller than her old bedroom in the family manor. It couldn't be called messy, but it also didn't quite fit Weiss's definition of "neat". It was all kept clean enough and she could tell everything had its place, even though that meant keys lying loose on an end table rather than a hook, spare blankets and pillows piled on the floor in a corner, and non-food related items taking up the kitchen island. There was also no real style or theme to the decor. Each piece of furniture was nice in isolation and it was all likely rather expensive, but nothing complemented one another.

Despite all, there was something very . . . homey about the place. The opportunity for extravagance was there and had been passed up. It was an interesting contrast to what she was used to, less artificial.

"Something to drink?" Ruby offered. "Water, juice, tea, coffee?"

"Coffee, if it isn't too much trouble," Weiss said. "Black."

"Gotcha. You can go ahead and wait in the living room."

Weiss took a seat on the couch and fished her notepad out of her bag. She crossed her legs as she flipped to a page with Ruby's name on it and what information she had about her condition, pencil in hand. The television was off, but a video game controller of some sort sat lit up on the coffee table next to a few ring stains.

"Here you go." Ruby handed her a warm mug and then sat in the armchair with one leg tucked beneath her. Weiss caught a brief waft of a rosy scent from her, quickly masked by the coffee's aroma.

"Thank you."

"I don't know how you can drink it like that." Ruby dropped five sugar cubes into her own mug, the liquid already inundated by cream.

"I suppose I have more refined tastes," Weiss said. She took a sip and immediately regretted that declaration. It wasn't terrible, necessarily, but could very much use at least a bit of milk or sugar.

Weiss set the mug down and took a moment to assess her client. Alert, no bags beneath her eyes, no visible lethargy—no signs at all of insomnia. She looked energetic, more so even than Weiss felt. The only thing off about her at all was that she seemed more interested in staring at the sugary abomination she was drinking than making eye contact, while also casting odd glances Weiss's way.

"So what's it like?" Ruby asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Your semblance, I mean. How does it work? Is this like a hypnosis kind of thing, or is it just a snap of the fingers, or . . . I don't know. How's it work?"

"It takes physical contact."

"That's it? Is it instant, or do you have to like, focus for a bit?"

"For you, it's instantaneous. For me, it's . . . a more involved process. Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Hm?" Ruby started, trying to look innocent but failing due to the color rising in her cheeks.

"You keep giving me a strange look. Why? Is it my scar?"

"No! No, it's not that. Sorry. You're just . . . a lot different than I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?"

"Like a witch doctor or something?"

Weiss stared at her, unsure of how to process that. "A witch doctor."

"I don't know! You fiddle with people's minds. So I was just surprised to see you're so . . . elegant, I guess? No, that's dumb. I mean, I at least thought you'd be a lot older."

Weiss considered for a moment. "Elegant works. I like to think I carry myself with grace and dignity."

Ruby snickered.

Weiss's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Sorry. I just didn't think anyone really talked like that."

"Like what?"

"Never mind," Ruby said, her amusement still evident. "If you ever wanted to lean into the witch doctor thing, you totally could. The scar does kind of fit that aesthetic."

Weiss stiffened.

"Oh, I-I didn't—" Ruby said, realizing she'd said the wrong thing. "Sorry. I think it looks cool! I didn't mean—"

"Can we just get started?"

Ruby bowed her head. "Sure."

Weiss took a deep breath and forced her focus onto her notepad. It took her a moment to remember her process. "Has your condition ever been professionally diagnosed?"

"No. I can't sleep. Why would I need a doctor to tell me that?"

"A medical professional can provide treatment and suggestions to help lessen symptoms," Weiss said while she wrote. "You've never discussed it with your primary care provider or a sleep therapist?"

"No."

"What have you tried? Sleep medication, sedatives, changing your night-time habits?"

"Just about anything you can think of. Nothing helps."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Weiss made an extra note. "How long have you been experiencing symptoms?"

"A while."

"I need you to be more specific than that."

"I don't know. Years, I guess."

Weiss frowned as she wrote it down. "Could you describe your symptoms to me?"

"I can't sleep."

"The better I understand your condition, the better the chances of me being able to successfully cure it."

Ruby took her other foot off the floor to sit cross-legged. "I don't know what you want me to say. I just can't sleep."

"So it's only difficulty falling asleep? You don't have issues with daytime drowsiness or waking up in the middle of the night?"

"Right."

"How many nights a week do you struggle with this?"

"Seven."

"How many hours of sleep do you get a night on average?"

"I don't know. Not a lot."

"Can you at least try to give an estimate?"

"Uh . . . less than four?"

Weiss paused, contemplating as she looked over everything she'd written down so far. She'd never treated insomnia before—that was why she'd been so interested in accepting this case—but even still, based on what she knew from her studies, this was unusual. She'd consider the possibility the girl was simply lying to her, but she couldn't think of a plausible reason to do that. There had to be something she was missing.

"Are there any possible underlying sources of your insomnia that you can think of?" Weiss asked. "Perhaps another mental condition such as depression, or excessive stress and anxiety in your day-to-day life?"

"I don't think so. I'm not depressed or anything. I mean, the city was attacked two years ago, I guess, but . . . Like I said, it's been an issue a lot longer than that."

"Could you be a bit more specific as to how much longer?"

"I don't know. Years. Longer than I can remember. Is all this really that important?"

"Yes, it is. I already told you—"

"I know. But you can cure it, though, can't you?"

"It's never a guarantee."

"But you'll try."

"That's why I'm here."

"Then do it. Please."

Weiss looked at her, then back to her notes. Taking a few more moments to study them, she still couldn't form any meaningful conclusions. She was beginning to doubt there was anything she could ask that would change that, not with how evasive Ruby was being with her answers.

With a sigh, she closed the pad and put it away. "Alright."

Ruby beamed. Without hesitation, she stood from her chair and plopped herself down on the couch beside Weiss. Again—a lot of energy for an insomniac. Weiss probably just caught her on one of her better days.

"Right," Weiss said. "Are you ready?"

"Of course!"

Weiss laid a gentle hand on the girl's face. She took a deep breath, unintentionally inhaling that flowery scent, and entered her mind.

At first, Weiss kept her eyes closed. She listened, hearing only a light wind rustling the leaves she could not see—leaves she didn't want to see, for her fear of knowing what color they were. It wasn't unheard of for events leading up to and surrounding traumatic experiences to blur together and become confused. It was possible her brain had twisted or fabricated the abnormalities she'd seen in Jaune Arc's mindscape—made something out of nothing so she had something to dwell on that wasn't the image of a knife in her face.

Everything would be so much easier if she'd imagined it.

She opened her eyes, and a small sense of relief swelled within her. They were green, not orange. She was back in the Emerald Forest, and there wasn't a single floating window in sight.

Taking what comfort she could in that, she drew her rapier and set off with a bit more confidence than she had coming in. She kept vigilant, scanning both the woods ahead as well as the sky. She didn't know what Grimm insomnia would take the form of, but a Nevermore would be rather fitting.

Minutes passed with no sound other than her soft footsteps and the susurration of trees. She wandered with little rhyme or reason as to what direction since there were no signs anywhere of Grimm to follow. Her attempts to find north by observing moving shadows taught her that the sun wasn't moving. That was new, but she told herself it didn't mean anything.

"Yang got the promotion yesterday."

Weiss stopped in her tracks, her blood running cold. As quiet as it was, and no matter how much she wanted to, it was difficult to deny what she'd heard—who she'd heard.

"She and Blake both took the exam. She passed, of course. First try, just like you. I know you'd be proud."

It was louder this time. With a heavy resignation, she turned around to see it—a window, identical to the one in Jaune's head, floating ten feet away. Through the glass, she saw a grave. Leaning against it was a photo depicting a woman who looked a lot like Ruby, but older. According to the engraving, her name was Summer Rose and she'd died two years ago.

The view darkened briefly, then the perspective shifted left and right before returning its focus to the grave. Weiss realized she was seeing through Ruby's eyes. It was her hand wiping tears that had blocked the glass and the movement of her head as she looked around that the window had followed.

"She could have been working with you. She should be. It's . . . I—" The sound of a choked-back sob. "I really wish you were here."

The words, soft and shaky, struck a familiar pain in Weiss's heart like the twist of a dagger. Her grip tightened around the handle of her rapier as she turned and stomped off. She shouldn't have seen this. Why did her semblance insist on showing her this?

Now would be a good time for that Grimm to show up; she really wanted to stab something.

She wasn't so fortunate, though. Her search was long, and it was fruitless. She must have traveled miles from where she'd seen that first memory, and still no Grimm. Not a track, not a sound, not a movement from the trees. She did find a second window. And a third, and a fourth. She took care to avoid them, immediately changing course before she could catch a single glimpse or word of the private memories they contained. It was a small solace that her semblance let her, but that didn't stop her mood from worsening each time it happened.

It was difficult to tell time in here given that time doesn't pass out there. It felt like hours. Sometimes the Grimm descended on her instantly, and sometimes it took a bit longer. This time, it was taking a lot longer. Eventually, there had to come a point where she accepted that she wasn't seeing any Grimm because there were none to see.

Weiss closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was staring into the silver of Ruby's back in the real world. The portrait of Summer Rose came back to her. She withdrew her hand from Ruby's face and shifted a few inches along the couch away from her.

"I'm sorry," Weiss said, her voice heavier than intended

The excitement in Ruby's expression faltered. "Sorry about what?"

The picture lingering in her head, Weiss realized she was apologizing for the wrong thing. "It didn't work. I tried, but there's nothing in your mind for me to cure. I'm sorry."

"No, that can't— I mean, that was so quick! Can't you try again?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"Please!"

"I'm telling you," Weiss said, her patience already thin, "that there's nothing I can do for you. You don't have any mental disorders. Your troubles with sleeping could have any number of root causes, such as a physical abnormality on the brain itself, or—"

"No, it's nothing like that." Ruby stared into her lap as she wrung her hands together. "Please. You're the only one who can help me."

"I can't, I've told you. My semblance can only—" Weiss started to say.

"It's not a semblance! I don't care what cab says, it has to be curable. It has to—" Ruby froze, realizing what she'd said.

"Cab?" Weiss repeated. Finally, the pieces clicked together—Ruby's dodgy answers, the lack of visible symptoms, her apparent desperation. "The C-A-B? You're a paragon?"

"No! I'm not!"

"What exactly did you mean when you said you can't sleep?"

Ruby bit her lip.

"What did you mean?" Weiss demanded.

Ruby's shoulders drooped, and with a tone of defeat, she said, "It's like I said—I can't sleep. I physically can't. I've never been able to. I've never dreamt and I've never not been awake."

A part of Weiss was able to let that sink in, to feel sympathy. The idea of a life spent in perpetual consciousness, of having to go through each day, good or bad, without the expectation of one of life's greatest and most basic comforts waiting for you at the end of it—it wasn't appealing. That part of Weiss could also acknowledge that someone with so much extra time would struggle to see much harm in wasting others'. That didn't stop the rest of her from feeling incensed.

"I cure mental illness, Ruby," Weiss said, doing her best to keep her cool. "I can't cure a semblance. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not a semblance!" Ruby insisted. "Please, you—"

"Of course it's a semblance! What else could it possibly be?"

"I don't know! I just thought you were the one who was finally going to be able to help me."

Weiss took a deep breath. She was failing to keep her voice from rising, but she realized that didn't matter. There was nothing left to say. She grabbed her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Ruby said.

Weiss stood and began to leave.

"Hold on! I haven't—"

Weiss shut the door on her, a bit harder than necessary. That was two failed contracts in a row, now. She had a handful of others lined up from her hiatus, so losing one wasn't as detrimental, but every little bit mattered. A few more like that and she'd have to seriously reconsider her commitment to charging for services rendered rather than time given.

There was also the fact that Weiss had come here with the naive hope that what happened with Jaune Arc was a one-time thing. Like Ruby, she'd been in denial about the reality of her semblance. Now she had to cope with having to report to one of her least favorite branches of government soon, and also the subsequent death of her career.

Weiss reached the bottom of the building, stepping outside to find her car right where she'd left it. To think how grateful she was earlier over an open parking space.

A space with a "Reserved Parking Only" sign next to it.

Of course she'd missed that.

Weiss walked past it. She grabbed the ticket off her windshield and unlocked the vehicle. As soon as she was seated and the door was closed, she leaned her head against the top of the steering wheel and allowed herself one, very undignified scream of frustration.

Chapter Text

Weiss should have felt vindictive against the men who attacked her. She should have taken pleasure in testifying against them. She didn't. She took an active hand in ensuring guilty verdicts, but she found little satisfaction in it. Nothing was worth being in the same room as them, having to see their faces again. The lack of remorse, their knowing reactions to her dyed hair—it only made it harder to put the ordeal behind her.

Weiss noticed a pair of pale red eyes watching her as she descended the courthouse steps, and she froze. It was a man in his forties with slicked-back dark hair and a tilted cross hanging from his neck on a silver chain. He was leaning against a black car with his arms crossed. Weiss didn't recognize him, but he recognized her and made no attempts to hide who he was looking at.

Her first instinct was to get as far away from him as possible, given her last experience being identified in public. Before she got the chance, one of the tinted windows rolled down to reveal a bespectacled face she'd seen on the news. Her wariness now replaced by confusion, she approached, and the window rolled back up.

"Hmm," the stranger said. "You're her sister, alright. Same eyes."

"You know Winter?" Weiss said.

"We've met. Now get in the car. Oz wants a word."

"About what?"

He shrugged. "Ask him. Hurry up, he's a busy man."

Biting back a retort, Weiss opened the door and took a seat opposite a gray-haired man in a green scarf. A can rested on his lap and he held a steaming mug in his hands. The scent emanating from the cup didn't smell like coffee, though. Was that hot chocolate?

"Weiss Schnee," Mayor Ozpin said. "You've dyed your hair."

"I did," was all Weiss could think to say. She was strangely intimidated. She had met more powerful political figures in the past when her father invited them to dinner, but this was different. There was wisdom beyond years in his eyes as well as a calculating look that made her feel like he knew every last thing about her.

"I must apologize for my associate's abrasiveness. In truth, my schedule is very much open for the rest of the day."

"How does he know Winter?"

"You can say they were colleagues, at least at one point. We worked closely with the military in cleaning up the aftermath of the attack, your sister included."

"Oh, right." The statue came to mind again, the one she had still yet to see up close.

It was still such a surreal memory, two years later. She'd still been working on her degree back in Atlas, then, and had left a lecture to find a very heavy and muted energy in the campus halls. Where students should have been chatting while traveling to their next classes, instead they were all rooted in place, muttering to each other while glued to their scrolls. Weiss had pulled out her own to find dozens of reports from every single media site reporting a mechanized army assaulting Vale. No one could believe what was happening. Remnant wasn't at war with anyone, there were no tensions or conflicts—it was entirely out of the blue.

In the days following the attack, the full story came out. Their leader had been a woman named Salem, who built up a massive underground organization. In a single day, she'd pulled off a complete takeover of the city of Vacuo—they murdered all city officials, raided police departments, and staged mass breakouts at the penitentiaries, using the inmates to bolster her ranks. But she hadn't done any of that until all communications towers had been sabotaged. Word of what happened never reached the military until Salem was already leading her forces to Vale, where she met her death.

"Mr. Mayor," Weiss said tentatively. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. As I've said, I have nowhere else to be."

"I've read about your views on vigilantism."

"Ah. Yes. Naturally you'll be opposed to them, given your recent experience."

"I suppose so."

"But you had a question?"

"Right. It's just . . . You said you'd pardon Pyrrha if she was still alive. But what about the person who saved me? The one who's impersonating her?"

"Well, firstly, I think 'impersonating' is an unfair term. I find it likely that this new Protector is merely trying to carry on her legacy."

"And secondly?"

"Secondly, they are still breaking the law, and are therefore a criminal. There's only one stance to be had on criminals."

"How can you say that?"

Ozpin sipped his drink. "Miss Schnee, I don't say 'hero' lightly. Pyrrha Nikos was a hero. This new Protector did a heroic act in saving you. But that does not mean we should readily give them our trust. Police officers are trained and tested, both mentally and physically, to protect and serve the citizens of their city. A vigilante is a wildcard who we know next to nothing about that doesn't acknowledge the law. Most are wannabe heroes with little competence—we arrest them for their own safety. But one with capabilities akin to those of Pyrrha Nikos is a danger we cannot allow to operate uncontrolled. At any moment, they can go from playing the superhero to playing the villain. That is not a risk I'm willing to take."

"But what if it was Pyrrha who rescued me?"

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible. Her body was retrieved from the wreckage and delivered to her family in Argus."

"But what if it wasn't? Hypothetically, if she were somehow still alive and acting as a vigilante, what would you do then?"

Ozpin took a long sip from his mug before answering. "A pardon forgives past transgressions. It does not grant immunity from the law."

"So you'd arrest her?" Weiss said disbelievingly.

"No. We wouldn't. We'd try."

She didn't know how to respond to that. A silence ensued while she stared at her fingers, interlocked in her lap. The way he talked, the tone of his voice—it made it difficult to disagree with him. But, obviously, Ozpin was wrong . . . right? If he had his wish for the world, then who would have saved her?

"Your injury seems to be healing up nicely," the mayor finally said.

Her hand instinctively went up to her left eye. "For the most part. It doesn't hurt all that much, anymore."

"And how are you faring?" He paused. "Mentally?"

She grew suspicious. "Is that why you came here? Just to see how I'm doing?"

"No. I sought you out on city business. But I've always been rather fond of an idle chat."

"Well I'm faring fine, thank you."

"And financially?"

Weiss pretended not to have heard. "What business do you have with me, might I ask? My family doesn't have much influence these days."

"I didn't seek you out because you were the only Schnee in this city. What I'm interested in is something that you and you alone can provide—your services as a psychotherapist."

Weiss was surprised. "How did you know about that? I didn't put my name on the ads."

"A good mayor is well versed in the goings-on of his city."

She waited.

"I'm privy to the secrets of a certain bureau," he elaborated.

"Oh."

"Councilwoman Goodwitch has written a bill that allocates more funds toward the rehabilitation of convicted criminals. Yesterday it passed four votes to one. There is some leeway there that would cover your fee, if we can reach an agreement."

"You want to pay me to heal prisoners?"

"Correct."

Weiss hesitated. "Excuse me if I'm overstepping, but is that really the best use of taxpayers' lien?"

Ozpin sipped as he took a moment to contemplate. "Atlas, despite having one of the lowest crime rates in Remnant, has an abnormally high recidivism rate. Why do you think that is?"

"I'm not sure."

"It's because their prisons neglect rehabilitation, in favor of putting excessive emphasis on prisoner detainment. It is my firm belief that the primary purpose of a correctional facility is right there in the name—to correct inmates' behavior, not punish them."

Weiss crossed her legs but didn't say anything. She couldn't say she wholly disagreed with that view, but still suspected there was a deeper motive here.

"I've spoken with Mayor Hill and she's in agreement with me," Ozpin said. "Unfortunately, General Ironwood is in charge of Atlas's penitentiaries and is quite set in his ways. But I do have a say in how those in Vale are run, and I mean to do everything in my power to minimize the crime in my city. Perhaps then people will see that there truly is no need for vigilantes, though I suspect that that is too optimistic to hope for."

"That's your aim, then? Reducing vigilantism?"

"My aim is to do what's in the best interest of Vale, always. Stopping vigilantes is part of that, but not where my focus currently lies."

Weiss bit her tongue and stared out the window, where she could still see people shuffling in and out of the courthouse. She didn't believe that arresting people like the Protector of Vale was at all in the city's best interest.

"So, might you be interested in my proposal?" Ozpin asked.

She hesitated. "You honestly think that me healing convicts' mental illnesses will lower crime rates?"

"Perhaps not drastically. But if you stop one criminal from reverting to bad habits, then it's a job well done and one worth doing."

"How many would I be treating?"

"Unless you have objections, as many as consent."

Weiss opened her mouth to answer and was about to look back at the mayor, but then caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. A man with familiar blonde hair and a backpack over one shoulder was disappearing into the courthouse. While she was distracted wondering whether that was who she thought it was, Ozpin cleared his throat.

"Sorry," she said, meeting the mayor's eyes. "I'll do it."

"Excellent," Ozpin said with a smile.

"Is this really necessary?" Weiss asked uncomfortably.

"We have a protocol. The mayor vouching for you doesn't exempt you from it," said the warden, a burly man with a short stature.

"She's clear," said the prison guard after she finished patting Weiss down.

"Can I have my bag back now?" Weiss asked.

"No personal possessions around the inmates," the warden said. "You can have it back when you leave."

"But what about my card?"

"What card?"

"My Civil Anomaly Bureau registration card. I have to show it to all my clients."

"Why?"

"Because I don't intend on coming back here in a jumpsuit," Weiss said with her arms cross. "It's legally required of me."

"Fine. You can have the card. Lark." The warden gestured to one of his men. The guard named Lark stepped forward and extended Weiss's bag to her. She took it and searched for the card while giving him a wary glance. He had the look of someone who enjoyed this kind of job way too much—the kind who peaked as a high school bully and never outgrew that nastiness. It was with reluctance that she returned her bag to him.

"All set?" the warden asked.

"Yes," said Weiss.

"Good. This way." He set off down a hallway.

Weiss followed a pace behind him. "So how many convicts am I treating?"

"Five."

A smile crept onto her lips. Five guaranteed jobs—that was more than she usually got in a week. On top of that, she had two more contracts outside the prison. With that plus the minimal restitution she was receiving for her hospital fees, she might be able to pay her sister back and keep up with her expenses—and Winter would accept the money even if Weiss had to force her to.

"And they've all been pre-diagnosed?" Weiss said.

"By a licensed psychiatrist, yes," the warden answered. "And they've all signed contracts approved by Mayor Ozpin himself, which are in line with Goodwitch's bill."

"And the mayor informed you that it might be beyond my capabilities to do all five in one day, correct?"

"Correct."

They continued deeper into the facility, passing a handful of guards and other staff members. At one point, they walked by a window through which she could see prisoners roaming in the courtyard. She tried to picture her father, who was imprisoned in a different city, out there with them. The man who'd had everything, now at the bottom of the barrel surrounded by the sort he'd once looked at like ants. It was an amusing thought.

The warden stopped by a closed door and turned to face Weiss. "Who do you want to see first? Think you stomach a psychopath right away, or you want to save him for last?"

Weiss was taken aback. "Someone with ASPD actually consented to this?"

"Yes. Don't worry—you'll have a pair of my men in the room."

"Well," she said, conflicted between nervousness and a little bit of excitement—she'd never imagined treating something like that before, and it could prove a valuable experience. "I suppose it doesn't make a difference either way. I'll treat him first."

"Fine. Head inside. We'll bring him along."

Weiss stepped through the door and found a small room with nothing but a table and two chairs inside, as well as a camera in the corner. She sat facing the door and waited, tapping her card against the table as she prepared herself to meet an actual psychopath.

A few minutes passed, and then the door opened, admitting three men inside. Two wore uniforms and the third was dressed all in orange, shackles binding his hands and feet. He was, in all, underwhelming. He had a scrawny build and curly hair, and stared at her with inquisitive brown eyes. The man looked completely normal, which actually made him even scarier.

The prisoner said nothing as he sat down. One of the guards connected his chains to his seat while the other walked over to Weiss, speaking in a low voice. He gave her the inmate's name and informed her he was diagnosed with both antisocial personality disorder and kleptomania. Then both guards stepped back to flank the door, and all three watched her expectantly.

"My name is Weiss." She decided it was best to introduce herself.

"Let's make this fast, darling." The convict smiled. "I'm brimming with excitement."

"Alright." She swallowed and then showed him the card, her last name once again carefully obstructed. "You just need to read this first."

His hand made a jerking movement as if he wanted to grab it, but his restraints prevented him from doing so. After a few seconds, his eyes moved from the card to meet hers, and she took that to mean he'd finished.

"Are you ready, then?" she asked.

"I said to make it fast, didn't I?" he said.

"I'll need to touch your forehead."

"Touch whatever you like, sweetheart."

Weiss cringed. Nevertheless, she reached a hand toward his face. She hesitated, as if he might bite her, then closed the gap and lightly met her fingers to his temple. One deep breath later and she was back in the Emerald Forest.

As usual, she immediately drew her rapier and took a second to look around. She'd had reason to develop this habit, and it paid off as a roar shook the forest and a creature came barreling toward her. Like all Grimm, it had a body as black as coal that was accented by bone plating with red markings. This one took the form of a giant scorpion, a golden stinger hanging from its tail.

A Death Stalker. Yeah, that made sense.

A hasty backward somersault brought her out of range of said stinger as it came shooting toward her. The creature scuttled after her, snapping its pincers at her legs and forcing her to keep retreating. Weiss studied it for weak points, trying to figure out the best way to get a solid strike in. At the same time, she kept her ears trained and was watching the woods behind the creature, wondering where the Geist—kleptomania—was.

She chanced a glance behind her and saw a large tree off in the distance, thick enough to withstand an attack. She turned and ran toward it through the dense woods, hearing lesser trees fall to the Death Stalker's claws as it continued its pursuit of her. As soon as she reached her target, she placed her back to its trunk and took a stance. The Grimm roared once more as it closed in on her. As she'd hoped, it attacked with its tail. She dodged out of the way at the last second, and the stinger sank deep into the wood.

Weiss circled around, avoiding the snap of one of its pincers, as the beast failed to dislodge itself. Angrily, it began to hack away at the tree, sending chunks of bark flying. Knowing she only had seconds before it recovered its maneuverability, she placed several quick jabs into its unarmored backside. Wisps of black smoke emanated from every puncture.

In its fury, the Death Stalker forgot about the tree and whirled around, twisting its tail at an awkward angle. It reared up on its back four legs and tried to get at her, but Weiss was out of its reach. She held her sword at the ready and prepared to strike. Black lines were spreading along the tree from where the stinger was stuck, rapidly wilting it. She shot forward, bounded over its pincers, and kicked off its head. Her rapier swooped in a wide arc, and then she hit the ground running. The Death Stalker roared louder and longer than ever, flailing and writhing, its stinger severed.

Weiss stood and waited for the opportunity to strike again, still keeping alert for the Geist. The venom was taking over the tree now, a whole dark patch surrounding the trunk. Then the damage became too much, and a deafening crack reverberated through the woods. The tree toppled over and landed on the Grimm, crushing it and shattering its bone plating. To finish it off, Weiss closed in and buried her rapier hilt-deep into one of its ten eyes. The Death Stalker let out a final roar and weakly clicked its pincers one last time. Then it became still. Within a matter of moments, it was nothing more than a cloud of dark vapor.

Weiss dropped to a knee, holding onto her sword for support. In the minute she took to rest, it began to snow.

The Geist didn't prove to be an issue. The commotion she'd made in killing the Death Stalker had drawn it to her. Weiss had fought one before, so she knew its weaknesses. Plus, it hadn't found anything useful to possess. The hardest part had been chasing it through the snow when it tried to flee, but once it made the mistake of cornering itself inside a cave, it was over.

Weiss opened her eyes and quickly withdrew her hand from the prisoner's forehead, then used it to wipe the sweat off her own. Her heart was beating faster, and her breathing was heavy, like she'd actually done all of that running and fighting.

"Is . . . that it?" one of the guards asked. "Did you do it?"

Weiss nodded. "He's healed."

"That fast?"

"That fast."

"Alright then," said the other guard. "We'll bring in the next one." He walked around the prisoner to release his restraints, then paused. "What's wrong with him?"

The former psychopath hadn't moved a millimeter since Weiss left his mind. He was staring, wide-eyed, right through her with a blank expression on his face. He didn't seem aware of what the rest of them were saying, or that they even existed.

"Shock, I expect," Weiss said. "People react to the lack of their afflictions in different ways. I've never treated something this severe and deep-rooted before, but I can safely say it'll take some work for him to adjust to the change. He'll probably be feeling guilt and regret for the first time, now, which will be difficult to cope with."

"Well, what do we do with him, then?" said the guard. "We can't just throw him back in with the other inmates in this state."

Weiss thought for a moment. Usually, she told her clients to take a day off and recuperate, and to try to get into the habit of meditation. She also suggested they begin keeping a journal, and taught them some helpful brain exercises. The most important piece of advice she gave was to avoid any situations or patterns that might have caused the mental illness to develop in the first place, where applicable. But this man wasn't fit to even hear those instructions, let alone act on them.

"Isolate him until he can talk again," she decided, "then he'll need frequent attention from a normal psychologist. Keep a close watch on him. I've already given your warden a file with detailed instructions on what else he should do to prevent his newly healed mind from deteriorating. It might be simplest to leave him here for now, if it's possible for me to treat the next patient in another room."

"I'll clear it with the warden," said a guard.

Fifteen minutes later, Weiss was sitting in a new chair in a new room when the guards brought in her next patient. He was bald and on the heavier side, but packed a decent amount of muscle. As the guards chained him to the chair, he wouldn't look at her and had a noticeable quiver in his hands. Weiss wondered how much better she'd looked when they brought in the psychopath.

"Bole Maze," a guard quietly informed her. "Generalized anxiety disorder."

"Nothing else?" she said.

"No." He joined his colleague at the door.

She turned her attention to the inmate. "My name is Weiss."

"Bole," said Bole.

She allowed him to read her card, and he had no comments. As soon as he said he was ready, Weiss touched his forehead and returned to the Emerald Forest once again.

As usual, she drew her rapier and observed her surroundings, but her target wasn't as easy to find this time around. She found north and set off at a brisk pace. She was looking for a Beowolf, a creature she'd slain four times already. GAD is among the most common mental disorders, and the one she'd treated the most often. It should be a simple enough case for her to be able to cure a third inmate today.

A couple of minutes later, Weiss passed by the same cave she'd killed the Geist in. A quick glance inside told her that her adversary wasn't there, so she moved on. One window had appeared so far, and Weiss paid it no mind. She'd only passed one in the previous prisoner's mind, but she hadn't been in there for long. More would likely pop up before the Beowolf fell.

Weiss could almost feel the card still cupped in her hand in the real world. It was the same one she'd shown Jaune Arc. Paragons are legally required to report any and all developments in their semblances to the Civil Anomaly Bureau, then they're issued an updated registration or license. But she had yet to contact them. As long as she didn't abuse the new ability, there was no harm in putting it off a little while longer. No one knew about it. Well, except for Jaune Arc. But if he hadn't reported her to the CAB yet, then she doubted he ever would.

Ten minutes later, Weiss had passed two more memories when she heard a howl off in the distance. She took off at a run in that direction, giving the sky a quick glance. The moon was out with its shattered side hidden from view, making it look whole.

The trees were racing by, and the Beowolf howled again, sounding a lot closer now. She thought it might be just up ahead in that clearing. Her grip on her rapier tightened, and she quickened her pace. It was fifteen feet away now. Ten feet—

Bang!

Weiss tripped and fell, scraping her hands on the ground. She scrambled to her feet and looked around for the source of what had unmistakably been a gunshot. Then she saw it, not five feet to her right, another window. Instinct carried her to it while her mind told her to walk away. Her curiosity won out.

Bole was in a dark building, a dropped flashlight illuminating a portion of the scene. He watched a shapely woman walk away, handing a pistol over to someone walking alongside her. Her face was obscured by darkness, but she was tall, had bleached hair, and wore heels that clicked against the floor with every step.

"Wait," Bole called after her, a slight quaver in his voice. "What do we do with the body?"

"Leave it," the woman ordered. "She can't do any harm to us now."

Then Bole looked down to the body of a female police officer, lying motionless in a pool of blood with a bullet wound in her forehead. For the gruesomeness of the sight and the poor lighting, it took Weiss a moment to realize she recognized the victim. A picture leaning against a grave swam into memory, and Weiss gasped.

Bole knelt down and closed the silver eyes of Summer Rose with a gloved hand, then he stood and walked after the woman who gave him orders.

The window vanished into thin air, and Weiss remained frozen in shock, trying to process what she'd just seen. The Beowolf had managed to completely slip her mind, until she was reminded of it in the most brutal way possible—with claws tearing into her back and fangs piercing her neck.

Chapter Text

Weiss's scroll vibrated. With a groan, she leaned over and picked it up—another email from Ruby Rose. Without reading it, she set the device back down beside her untouched bowl of soup. The ice pack on her forehead was melting.

Her television was on with the volume low. On the screen, a group of animated characters wielding fantastical weapons were battling a massive bird. The black-feathered creature had red eyes glowing through a bone mask—a Nevermore. None of the warriors had semblances. No one in this fictional world did.

That was one of the reasons the show had first appealed to her, so long ago. The real world was full of people who'll shun and fear you for being born a paragon, as well as the types of paragons like the White Flame who do nothing but reinforce that paranoia. Warriors of Grimm depicted a setting without any of that, while still managing to shine a light on those issues through clever allegories. It was a world without paragons, but it wasn't better for it. Even as a child, when all she'd wanted was an escape from her father's unfair criticisms and her mother's drunken stupors, she'd been able to see and appreciate the messaging.

Weiss wasn't up for appreciating anything at the moment, though. The warriors battled on and she barely paid them any attention. Her notebook laid open on her stomach, unable to steal her focus away from the misery she was in. The list of Grimm she knew from the show only had one addition marking down what she'd learned about psychopathy. Everything else, despite her best efforts, remained unchanged. No new revelations, connections, or insights.

Once, she'd thought these fabrications her semblance showed her were arbitrary, as meaningless as dreams. But as she'd gained more experience, she came to understand that there were rules and consistency to it. It operated logically, on patterns. Being a warrior of Grimm was a direct lens through which her brain interpreted the complex and inscrutable ways her semblance altered a person's brain chemistry.

Unfortunately, the line between fantasy and reality was rarely straightforward. The Emerald Forest is a person's mind. The Grimm are their disorders. The very real pain Weiss had felt when the Beowolf mauled her, however? The fever she was left with ever since it had "killed" her? Consistent, but not as easy to explain. It was those small nuances that built the giant wall she had to climb to truly understand her semblance—to master it. This thing with the windows and Forever Fall had knocked her back down to the bottom of it, but nothing would stop her from finding a new foothold and trying again, as frustrating as the process almost always was—she couldn't afford to not reach the top.

The episode ended, and a different show began to play. Weiss picked up the remote and began flicking through what channels she had available to her. She paused briefly on the news—another bank robbery in the night—but nothing caught her interest. Maybe she could consider getting a streaming service subscription now that she had this prisoner contract with the city.

Weiss turned the TV off and forced herself to sit up. The ice pack fell into her lap, warm to the touch. With a great effort, she stood and trudged over to the kitchen to replace it. She returned with a fresh one and sank back into the couch. She stared at the soup she had no appetite for, then at her scroll with the unread email she already knew the contents of.

Closing her eyes and savoring the ice pack's soothing chill, she tried to think about anything else. She failed. The email's sender came to mind, then the portrait leaning against a gravestone, and another image—an image from the memory that had put her in this state. The blood. The bullet wound. The vacant, silver eyes. If there'd been any hope her food wouldn't go to waste, it was gone now.

As she contemplated whether she'd have a better chance falling asleep if she made the insurmountable journey to her bedroom, her scroll vibrated again. And it kept vibrating. She looked over and saw that an unknown number was calling her.

"Hello?" she answered with as much professionalism in her voice as she could muster.

"Hello. Am I speaking with Weiss Schnee?" a woman spoke from the other end.

"You are."

"Hi. I'm calling from the Eastern Vale Correctional Facility. I have it here that you're scheduled to come in next Monday. Is that correct?"

"That's correct."

"I'm afraid I have to inform you that we're going to be postponing that appointment indefinitely."

"Oh. I— Did you say indefinitely?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, we had an unexpected security breach, and someone died. With an investigation underway, the warden has restricted all visitation, which includes you. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."

Weiss swallowed. "Someone died? May I ask whom?"

"Um . . . I'm sorry, I'm not sure whether I'm allowed to disclose that. Please give me one second."

Weiss waited, her heart rate picking up for reasons unrelated to her illness. The silence stretched on for all too long and not long enough. She had a sinking feeling she knew what the woman was going to say, and she didn't want to hear it.

"Miss Schnee?"

"I'm still here."

"Yes. The victim was one of the inmates you were set to treat."

Redundant as the question was, Weiss asked, "Which one?"

"Bole Maze."

She'd looked it up, after she'd seen his memory. How could she not? There were several news reports online regarding the murder of Summer Rose. The oldest were from around two years ago, and the newest still labeled the case as unsolved. She was never told what crimes her patients were incarcerated for, and the internet had no information on Bole Maze that she could find. Whatever he'd done to land himself in prison had nothing to do with what Weiss had seen, and now he was no longer alive to tell anyone about it.

She'd thought she had time. It was a two-year-old case. What difference could a few days make? She'd intended on going to the authorities after she was back on her feet. How could she have known something like this would happen?

Well, she had certainly had plenty of time now. You couldn't miss a deadline that had already passed.

With the call ended, Weiss still had her scroll in hand. She stared at the little envelope at the top of the screen, notifying her of the email she'd ignored. She pulled it up to see yet another apology from Ruby about their appointment, as well as another offer to pay Weiss for the job she didn't do.

Maybe it was empathy. Maybe it was selfishness, another excuse to put the CAB off just a little while longer. Maybe it was something else she didn't understand. Whatever it was, it made Weiss decide that there was someone who deserved to know before anyone else.

She tapped 'reply'.

Feeling much better in body, less so in mind, Weiss knocked on an apartment door. A silver-eyed girl answered.

"Hi!" Ruby greeted with even more energy than the last time they'd met.

"Hello," said Weiss. "May I come in?"

"Of course!" She stepped aside and gave a welcoming gesture.

The apartment looked no different from the last time she was here, though there was a hoodie and backpack tossed onto the armchair. The TV was off, and some papers were sprawled across the coffee table—they looked to be designs and technical drawings of some sort.

"Coffee?" Ruby closed the door and was already on her way to the kitchen.

"No, thank you," said Weiss.

Ruby joined her in the living room half a minute later with a glass of milk and sat beside Weiss, looking inexplicably excited.

Weiss, unable to maintain eye contact, moved a few inches away from her. "As I said in my email, there was something I needed to discuss with you."

"You've figured out how to help me with my insomnia," Ruby said, not a trace of doubt in her voice.

"Your—? No. You don't have insomnia. This has nothing to do with that."

"What?" Ruby's smile faltered. "But I thought—"

"I've told you before, I can't cure a semblance," Weiss said. "I'm sorry. I'm not here to argue with you about."

"Oh." Her face fell.

Weiss bit her tongue, finding it difficult to get the words out now that she was here. She'd already brought the mood down and was about to bring it down even more.

"Then why did you ask to meet me?" Ruby asked.

Weiss took a deep breath, let it out, and said, "I've learned something about the death of your mother."

Ruby blinked, struggling to process what she'd just heard. "Huh?"

"Some time ago, shortly before our first meeting, my semblance developed the ability to see people's memories. I've been avoiding using it as best I could, but . . . last week, by mistake, I saw something I shouldn't have."

"About my mom?" Ruby said. "Wha— How do you even—?"

"I saw her gravestone in your mind. Also by mistake. I would never intentionally invade your privacy, and I honestly did do my best to help you. But what I saw was during a job I have with the city curing convicted criminals, and one of them was there when your mother was murdered. I saw the memory, and I saw the woman who fired the gun."

"You . . . you saw who did it?" There was a spark in her eye, that of hope clashing with the belief that something was too good to be true.

"No," Weiss said hastily. "It was dark, and I only caught a glimpse of her back. But I know the name of the prisoner who was involved. Bole Maze. That's a lead."

"That's a lead," Ruby repeated, still quiet.

"I thought you should be the first to know. I also wanted to apologize for being a bit curt with how our last meeting ended, and for unintentionally invading your privacy."

"This was last week? But this is huge! Why are you only saying anything now?"

"I've been under the weather," Weiss said, a half-truth. "I'm going to the CAB office today to report my semblance's evolution, then I'll report what I saw to the police."

"You don't sound too thrilled about that."

Weiss hesitated. "How willing would you have been to go through with the process of me trying to heal you if you knew it meant I'd have access to all your private memories?"

"I'd still want you to try."

"Really?"

"Duh. Just because you can, doesn't mean you would, right?"

Weiss stared at her, perplexed. "You don't know me. Aren't you the least bit suspicious I'd act with ill-intent?"

For a brief moment, a shadow seemed to pass over Ruby's face. "My mom always knew how to see the best in people—even those that don't deserve it. If I can't aspire to be like her, then what's the point?"

Weiss looked away from her. "Well . . . not everyone's that trusting. Not everyone's that desperate, or has as little to hide. Everyone knowing what I can do will make it a lot harder for me to keep this as my career. It's difficult enough as is."

"But that's crazy! There are so many people that could use your help. All those people with dementia or depression or—"

"You're being naive. You don't understand what it's like to be a paragon, Ruby. Not really. Your semblance isn't something a stranger would ever find out about. So you haven't experienced the kind of hatred they can have for us. People would rather keep their phobias and disabilities than be touched by a 'lusus naturae'."

Ruby let out a small gasp. "Have you actually been called that?"

"Several times. And this new ability is just something else to scream 'don't hire me'."

Weiss could feel those silver eyes staring at her sympathetically, which seemed backwards. She'd come here to talk about the murder of Ruby's mother, after all.

"Well, what if they didn't know?" said Ruby.

"What are you getting at?"

"What if you just didn't tell people? Keep it secret and don't use it, you know?"

"That's not possible. As soon as I tell the CAB—"

"Then don't tell them."

"I have to! Don't you understand? I can't give this information to the police without telling them how I came across it."

"That's what I'm saying! Don't go to the police."

Seconds of silence followed as Weiss tried to figure out whether she'd misheard. "What?"

"I can follow the lead. I'll investigate it on my own—without the police."

Weiss studied her, trying to find some small crack to reveal whatever weird joke she was trying to pull off. "You will investigate this."

"Yes."

"You?"

"Yes!"

"Are you qualified to do that, somehow?"

"What's there to be qualified for? Ask questions, find answers. It's not rocket science."

No cracks. This wasn't a joke.

"Ruby," Weiss said. "This isn't a game. There is a murderer out there. What do you plan on doing if you find her? You could die!"

"Well I'm not going to confront her, obviously! If I can get a name, then I'll go to the cops."

"And you think that you can do a better job than them?"

"I have to try."

"Why?"

"I just have to."

"That doesn't—"

"Because I need this." The mask that had her pain began to fall away, and tears appeared in the corner of her eyes.

"Ruby—"

Ruby slapped her knees and shot to her feet, rounding on Weiss. "Someone killed my mom! And I don't know why! She was my favorite person. And they murdered her. And they've been out there, free, for all this time. I just . . . I have to know. I have to find out why."

Weiss understood. She felt her desperation and she knew that desire—the need to do something, anything at all. If Weiss didn't have the semblance she did—if she didn't have the staunch belief that if she cured enough people and learned enough that she could succeed where she'd failed in the past—then she'd know the same hopelessness she saw in the girl standing before her. Weiss recognized the drive she'd accidentally given Ruby, because it was the same one she felt every time she pictured her own mother's face—a hollow, expressionless face with nothing but a shattered mind behind it.

Weiss knew first hand that inactivity was the worst thing in the world when it came to the ones you love. But still. Vale had dozens of precincts full of professional detectives far more capable of achieving anything with this information. To keep it from them to privately investigate it without any sort of experience would be insane. And childish. And, with Weiss's motivations, selfish.

"Ruby," Weiss said with her best attempt at a consoling tone. "You didn't see what I saw. You don't understand the full scope of the situation."

"Then explain it to me," Ruby pleaded.

"This isn't some random killer. This was a woman with power and followers. She has reach. Your mother was a police officer, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. A detective. The best."

"Whatever your mother was investigating, this woman learned of it. She said, 'she can't do any harm to us now.' And several days ago, someone broke into the prison Bole Maze was being held in and killed him. I don't think that's a coincidence. What do you think will happen to you if you get in over your head—if they find out that you've learned too much? They're not going to just let you go."

Ruby sat back down and pulled her knees to her chest. She sat in silence for a while, thinking over Weiss's words until, finally, she said, "I have to try."

Weiss opened her mouth to give an exasperated response, but Ruby didn't give her the chance.

"I have to try! Don't you get it? This is even more reason to do this quietly, without getting the cops involved. If the police get this lead and start investigating it, how long before she finds out? Any chance of catching her by surprise and arresting her will be gone."

"So . . . what? You'll arrest her yourself?"

"That's not what I'm saying. If I can find out who she is, then I'll tell the cops. I just mean that the longer this investigation remains off the books, the easier it'll be to stop her."

Weiss saw the logic and couldn't entirely refute it, but she wasn't about to condone it, either. "But you'd be the one shouldering all the risk. If you ask one wrong question, put one toe out of line, you'd be putting yourself directly into their line of sight. And you probably wouldn't even know until they've already killed you."

"I'm not stupid. I can be careful, and I can take care of myself. I won't try anything dangerous. And if I can't learn anything, then I'll let the cops take over. Okay?"

"Where would you even start?" Weiss said.

"Bole Maze," Ruby answered readily. "You said he was a prisoner. Finding out what he was arrested for would be the first clue. If I can figure out his past, maybe I can find out who he worked for."

Ruby's expression was determined and defiant, and beneath that was desperation and ignorance. But hidden even deeper, there was something more. Her plan was idiotic and misguided, but there was some genuine courage in there. And Weiss almost found herself believing in her, trusting that she could pull it off.

Almost.

There was a chance Ruby would find what she was after, and there was a greater chance she'd get herself killed. The only thing that seemed a certainty was that there'd be no stopping her—no talking her out of this. The smart thing for Weiss to do here was to go against Ruby's wishes. She should stick to her original plan. She should go to the police and tell them what she learned, and also what Ruby was going to do. It wouldn't get Ruby in trouble, as there was nothing inherently illegal about what she was planning, and it would be for her own good.

But it might hurt her. Was that really the only downside to acting with common sense—hurting the feelings of this strange girl she'd just met and had no reason to ever see again?

"Fine," Weiss said.

"Fine?" Ruby repeated. "As in, you're not going to tell the cops?"

"Fine, as in you're not going to be doing this alone. I'm going to help you."

Ruby stared at Weiss, confused and possibly waiting for Weiss's sudden exclamation that she was joking. Weiss had never been very good at telling jokes.

"Why?" Ruby eventually said.

Weiss couldn't explain it. Perhaps it was guilt for the fact that had she acted sooner, Bole Maze might have been able to provide more information before his death. Maybe it was the fear of permanently losing her own mother that made her sympathetic enough to want to help get justice for Ruby's. Whatever the case, Ruby's mind was made up and she'd need help—from herself more than anything.

"Because," Weiss said, "I've failed to talk to you into a more reasonable course of action, and someone is going to have to keep you out of trouble."

Ruby continued to stare. Then, a smile slowly crept onto her lips.

"But let me make one thing clear," said Weiss. "As soon as we hit a dead-end or run into any kind of danger, we're going straight to the— Get off me!"

Ruby had thrown herself at Weiss and embraced her in a hug, which came full force with a strong waft of her rosy perfume. Weiss pushed her away, but Ruby was still grinning.

"You're the best witch doctor ever!" she said happily.

Weiss sighed, already regretting her decision.

Chapter Text

"Come in!"

Weiss let herself into the apartment, looked around, and said, "Ruby?

Ruby poked her head out from around a corner and waved her over. "In here!"

Weiss followed her through the hallway into what could only be Ruby's room. "Is there a reason I had to come all the way up here?

"I had to show you this!" Ruby said.

The decor was wholly unsurprising. The walls were painted black. A bookshelf stood off in one corner that held more comic books than actual books. On top of it was also the same photo of Ruby's mother that had once leaned against her grave. A red curtain blocked the window with a diagonal seam running from edge to edge showing where it had been torn and sewn back together. In lieu of a bed, a plump couch faced a television stand with a laptop resting on one of the cushions. Posters were tacked up all over the walls for bands, movies, video games, and fictional superheroes, but the most prime wall space was reserved for a poster of the Protector of Vale.

The thing Ruby wanted her to see, though, was a standing cork board, positioned behind the door. On the floor next to it was a ball of red yarn, a stack of paper, and a container of thumbtacks.

"You can't be serious," Weiss said.

"Wait." Ruby flipped the board over to reveal that she'd already gotten started on the other side. "Tada!"

Ruby had taped a map of Vale to the upper-middle of the board with a single pin placed toward the city's western side. Thread connected that pin to the three beneath it, which each held up a photograph. One was larger than the others and showed a female silhouette with two descriptors scribbled beneath it—tall, light hair. The other two were positioned right below it, one being another silhouette and the other a mugshot of a man Weiss didn't recognize. Taped to the corner of the board was a newspaper clipping detailing the discovery of Summer Rose's body, with another pin and line of thread connecting it to the point on the map.

"This is ridiculous," said Weiss.

"What?" Ruby defended.

"Don't tell me you actually went out and purchased these items just for this."

"No," Ruby said unconvincingly.

Weiss cocked her brow.

"What's it matter if I did, anyway? What's wrong with my crime board?"

"First of all, 'crime board' sounds absurd. Secondly, this is entirely unnecessary. Seeing something done on a mediocre detective show isn't a reason to emulate it."

"It was a detective movie, and it was critically acclaimed!"

Whatever Weiss had seen in Ruby yesterday to make her think there was even a chance they could achieve something with this endeavor, Weiss wasn't seeing it now. She continued to wonder what had possessed her to volunteer for this.

"Fine. Whatever. But who is this?" Weiss pointed at the mugshot.

Ruby frowned. "Bole Maze."

"No, it isn't."

"It's not?"

"No. Where did you get this?"

"The internet. It was the first result when I looked him up."

"Well that's not him. Maze is bald and . . . hefty."

Ruby flipped the picture over and then wrote the name on the back in large handwriting, accompanied by Weiss's description. "Well, I'm just going off the information you gave me. We know there were at least three people there—Maze, the murderer, and whoever she handed the gun to. We know the first—now we just need to identify the other two."

"It's very little to go off of. It hardly necessitates this cliché."

"Well we'll be adding to it as we get more evidence, obviously."

"Whatever. It's your free time you're wasting, and I suppose you're not exactly lacking that."

Ruby had the smallest reaction to that, too brief to read into.

"Are you ready, then?" Weiss asked.

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

Ruby grabbed a red zip-up hoodie on the way out and followed Weiss outside to where her car was parked by a meter. The pair entered the vehicle and fastened their seatbelts.

"What kind of music do you have?" Ruby asked.

"Classical." Weiss started the ignition and checked her mirrors.

"Oh, really? Nothing else?"

"Why? What's wrong with classical?"

"Well . . . it's a bit dull."

"Dull?"

"I mean, to each their own!" Ruby said hastily. "It's just not my thing."

"Then fiddle with the radio, if you must."

Ruby grinned and set on the knob without hesitation. She settled on a rock station which, if Weiss was being honest, sounded alright.

"So how are we going to do this?" Ruby asked as they arrived the county clerk's office. "You distract the receptionist while I sneak a look at the files? Or do we bribe them? Ooh! Or we—"

"No, you dunce! Have you never heard of freedom of information?"

Ruby scratched her head. "Well, yeah."

"They're going to give us the file after we request it. That's it."

"That's a lot less fun."

"We're supposed to be avoiding taking risks."

"Yeah, yeah."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "There will likely be a fee, so you can pretend you're bribing them, if you want."

"I'm not a child."

"You could have fooled me."

Ruby made an offended noise that Weiss ignored as she focused on finding an open parking space. Ruby unbuckled and had her hand on the door handle before they'd even come to a full stop.

"Had to have passed the place hundreds of times," Ruby said, her hands crossed behind her neck as they approached the building. "Never been inside."

"You've lived in Vale for a while, then, I take it?" Weiss said.

"Born and raised."

They entered into a long hallway with signs hanging from the ceiling. The one that read, "County Clerk" was near the far end next to the DMV.

"You said you've never been here before?" Weiss said.

"Yeah. Why?" said Ruby.

"Don't you have a driver's license?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Well, I can tell you haven't lived her long. It's so much cheaper to just use the subway, or let my sister pick me up when we're off at the same time."

Weiss recalled how much more expensive her last insurance bill was compared to when she lived in Atlas. She'd already sold her old luxury car and downgraded to a cheaper compact. She'd known, of course, how unkind big cities were to drivers, but the idea of using a subway system several times a day was abhorrent to her. That was a low that even she hadn't sunk to yet. But the fact that Ruby, who could somehow afford to live in such a nice apartment, didn't think it was worth it to own a car spoke volumes.

They reached their destination, which wasn't all that busy. The interior resembled a hospital waiting room, with a long counter lining the farthest wall and chairs and end tables taking up most of the remaining floor space.

"Good evening," a male employee greeted them from behind the counter. "How can I assist you today?"

"Bole Maze!" Ruby said.

"Sorry?"

Weiss shot Ruby a look, then smiled politely at the worker. "She meant to say that we're looking for court transcripts of the trial or trials of a man named Bole Maze."

"Ah. This might take some time, as we're having some issues with our database. Do you know the date of the trial?"

"We don't."

"Hmm. Well, take a seat for a few minutes, and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

The two found a couple of empty chairs and waited. A dull drone came from the fluorescent lights as the minutes dragged on. Ruby hummed to herself, looking around the room at nothing in particular. Weiss soon grew irritated by this and Ruby stopped when she asked her to. A minute later, Ruby started drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.

Weiss did her best to ignore her and watched the man behind the counter out of the corner of her. He wasn't having an easy time with their request. He fiddled with his computer, spoke with colleagues, talked shortly on a landline, and disappeared into the backroom for a while. When he finally called them back over, his face was apologetic.

"I'm afraid we don't have the files you're seeking," he said.

"Excuse me?" Weiss said.

"How's that possible?" Ruby asked.

"We did have them at one point," he explained. "One of my colleagues remembers receiving and processing them about a month ago. But, last week, there was an intrusion that resulted in a great number of documents being destroyed, including those you requested."

"Last week?" Weiss looked at Ruby, whose lack of a reaction told her she hadn't connected the same dots she had.

"Yes," said the man.

"Well, what do you mean by destroyed?" Ruby said. "You should still have the digital files, at least, right?"

"Many of our physical records were found in ash, and large chunks of our electronic database were deleted."

"Then restore the backups," Weiss said.

"This was a very sophisticated attack. Whoever was behind this made a great effort to ensure we wouldn't be able to recover whatever it was they were after. We don't even have security footage of the incident because they remotely disabled our cameras. This person is clearly very skilled, but the police are doing their best to identify them."

"This is unacceptable."

"Weiss," Ruby warned.

"No," Weiss continued indignantly. "This is a government building. It should be equipped with top of the line technology. An STC system would have held against even the most competent hackers and—"

"We do have an STC system," the worker cut in.

Weiss faltered. "What?"

"We're using Schnee tech to protect our databases. This breach, as well as the STC going under, is making us consider other options."

"But that's impossible! Your data would have been encrypted and spread out across multiple servers across the country."

"I don't know what to tell you, miss." His patience was thinning. "The attackers knew what they were doing, and the files are irretrievable. I'm sorry to tell you that we cannot provide the files you're requesting. Have a nice day."

"Come on." Ruby tried to reach for Weiss's wrist, but she yanked it away and made for the exit on her own. Ruby hurried after her, speaking up once they were in the hallway. "You could've been nicer."

Weiss stopped and rounded on her, ignoring the comment. "Don't you understand what this means?"

"Well, it sucks, sure, but this isn't the end of the road."

"Ruby, this happened just a few days ago. The files detailing the reason for Maze's conviction were destroyed around the same time—possibly even the same day—that he was killed."

"It's gotta be the same people, yeah," Ruby said, her lack of hesitation taking Weiss aback.

"I didn't think you'd picked up on that."

"It was obvious, wasn't it? What I didn't pick up on is why you were so short with that guy."

"I just don't understand how those files can be permanently deleted. STC systems have all sorts of advanced fail-safes that should, at the very least, protect the integrity of data even when it can't ensure its security."

"Why does that bother you so much? Are you an STC fangirl or something?"

Weiss turned away from her and continued walking. "It shouldn't be possible."

"That company's been dead for like a year now. The lack of continued software updates is bound to open up some vulnerabilities."

It was a fair point, but Weiss was unconvinced. The STC had still been developing off of some of her grandfather's designs up until the very end, and he hadn't been involved with the company since before Weiss was even born. Longevity was one of the core qualities that had made them as successful as they were. Ten months without updates wasn't enough to make something impossible suddenly possible.

"Look on the bright side," Ruby said a couple of minutes later as they buckled themselves in.

"And that is?" said Weiss.

"This wasn't a total waste of time. We learned that Maze's trial was a month ago."

"It's something," Weiss agreed without the same enthusiasm. "Why are you so optimistic? You're the one this setback actually affects."

Ruby shrugged. "We haven't hit a dead-end yet. We just need to find a new approach. And we do have new things to add to the crime board."

Weiss sighed and shook her head. She backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the road.

"Come on up to my apartment again when we get there," said Ruby. "We can do some brainstorming and maybe look online for some more clues."

"Haven't you already done that?"

"What, search the entire internet? You know how big it is, right?"

"I'd rather just go home. I haven't eaten yet."

"All the better! Yang's making dinner tonight. I bet I can convince her to make you a plate."

"Who's Yang?"

"My sister. We live together."

That helped explain how Ruby afforded her apartment, but Weiss thought that even half that rent had to be too expensive for anyone under thirty. Was this Yang earning enough to pay all of it?

"So?" said Ruby. "Join us for dinner?"

Weiss pretended to contemplate, but she wasn't exactly in a position to pass up a free meal. "Fine."

As they waited for Yang to come home, Ruby had the idea to see if there was a way to check someone's criminal record online. Lo and behold, there were several resources made to do exactly that. It took half an hour to find what they believed to be the right Bole Maze—none of the others the website had come up with were in the right age range or lived in the same area. As soon as it prompted payment, Ruby gave it her own card, and then all his records were laid bare.

"This doesn't make any sense," said Weiss.

"Are you sure it's him?" Ruby asked.

"That's definitely him," said Weiss. His photos had been locked behind the paywall, too, but were now visible.

"Then, the results have to be wrong?"

According to his record, Bole Maze had never been to prison or even spent a night in jail. He'd served some time in juvie as a teenager and had a couple misdemeanors under his belt, but had never been convicted of a serious crime. Other than some shoplifting and underage drinking, he was apparently clean.

"Or they've been attacked, too," Weiss suggested.

"Let's try another site." Ruby was already typing.

"You know they're going to charge you, too, right?"

She didn't seem to hear her. They went through the whole process a second time with an alternative tool. It gave the same exact results.

"Third time's a charm?" Ruby said half-heartedly.

"That city worker wasn't wrong. Whomever is behind this was thorough."

"Or rich enough to hire someone thorough."

There was a knock on the bedroom door, which was ajar. A very beautiful woman with striking violet eyes and a mane of blonde hair flowing down her back entered. Her face had an easygoing expression to it, which contrasted with her professional attire, consisting of belted trousers and a tucked-in dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. In place of her right arm was a very advanced looking prosthetic, painted yellow and black. She looked like she might've been around Weiss's age, potentially older.

"Hey, sis." The woman who could only be Yang gave Weiss a curious look. "Who's your friend?"

Weiss was about to open her mouth to protest against the use of "friend", but then her eyes found a badge clipped to Yang's waist. The words, "City of Vale Detective", were inscribed on it.

"This is Weiss," Ruby said. "She's helping me out with a school project."

"Weiss," Yang repeated. She sounded like she recognized the name but couldn't place it, eventually shrugging and holding out her non-metal hand. "I'm Yang."

So, Ruby insisted that they don't go to the police with the lead Weiss had stumbled onto, but her own sister was a detective? And she'd just lied about what they were doing. Yang was Summer's daughter, too—surely she deserved to know what they'd learned, especially considering her qualifications.

Belated enough for it to be awkward, Weiss accepted the handshake a polite smile. "A pleasure."

"So, what's the project?" Yang asked.

"AI theory," said Ruby. "Weiss is an expert on psychology, so I thought she could have some input. I told her she could stay for dinner."

"Ah, about that . . ." Yang rubbed the back of her neck. "I wish you'd warned me."

"What?"

"I kind of flaked. Didn't really feel like cooking tonight, so I just stopped and grabbed pizza."

"Yang!" Ruby complained.

"I had a coupon!"

Ruby sighed. "Fine. We're having pizza, I guess. You don't mind pepperoni, do you, Weiss?"

"Or pineapple?" said Yang.

"What?" Ruby stared at her sister, horrified.

"Kidding!" Yang chuckled. She looked at Weiss. "Just pepperoni. That cool?"

"Um, yes, of course," Weiss said. "Thank you."

"Is Blake not joining us?" Ruby asked.

"Nah," said Yang. "Sun and Neptune invited her out for a drink."

"And you didn't go with them?"

"Of course not! I may not have felt like cooking, but I still made a commitment to feed my little sister. Speaking of, we better hurry before the food gets cold."

She left, and Weiss gave Ruby a fierce look, who was already fiddling with her fingers, looking guilty.

"Look, I know what you're going to say," Ruby said before Weiss could speak. "But it's not what it looks like."

"Oh, sure," Weiss said sarcastically. "I misread the badge, and your sister's actually just a health inspector, or something."

Ruby walked over and closed the door. "No, she is a cop, but—"

"She's a detective, Ruby. It's literally her job to solve crimes and track down murderers—like the one that killed her mother. Why would you lie to her? And why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Lots of reasons! And I was going to tell you, but the opportunity just hadn't come up. We've only known each other a couple days, really."

"But why keep this from her?"

"Because Yang's super protective. And I love her, more than anything, but she'd freak out if she knew what I was doing. I don't want her to worry or anything."

"She deserves to know."

"She's not her mom, though. I mean, she may as well be, but she's not actually."

"What?"

"My mom is only Yang's step-mom. We're half-sisters. But my mom raised her since she was a baby and loved her just as much, so it doesn't really change anything, but that's not the point. My original point still stands—keeping this quiet for as long as we can is the best option."

Weiss crossed her arms. "Do you think your sister is bad at her job?"

"No, of course not. This has nothing to do with that. I'm sure she could do a lot with this lead, but I believe that I can too—we can. And if I tell her, then she'll either have to report it, or she'll keep it secret, and I don't want her to get in trouble."

Weiss sat down and began rubbing her temple.

"Look how hard these people are trying to cover up Bole Maze's tracks!" Ruby said. "And they don't even know that anyone's chasing them. Imagine how hard it'll be to get any valuable information if they do."

It was hard to refute that, but this still didn't feel right. Weiss imagined herself in this situation, with Winter being the one hiding information like this from her. She couldn't fathom a bigger betrayal. After their mother's episode, Winter—even though she was away with the military—became the only true family Weiss had left. She was the only person Weiss currently trusted wholeheartedly. At least in this hypothetical, with Weiss having moved hundreds of miles away from home to start anew, it would give Winter a modicum of an excuse. Ruby and Yang, on the other hand, saw each other every single day.

"This is a bad idea, Ruby," Weiss said. "You know keeping this from her can only go poorly."

"It doesn't matter," said Ruby. "It's my choice. And for now, I believe this is the right one. If we hit a dead-end, Yang will be the first person I talk to."

"That could be sooner rather than later, with how things have gone so far."

Ruby, strangely, smiled. "I have an idea about that. Actually, Yang just gave it to me."

Weiss waited. After Ruby didn't elaborate, she said, "Well?"

"We'll talk about it after we eat. Yang's probably getting worried." With that, she darted out of the room to avoid Weiss's inevitable objection. Left with no choice, Weiss followed after her.

Chapter Text

Ruby joined her sister at the couch with her slices of pizza while Weiss still stood in the kitchen, holding her plate that contained a single slice. She watched as Yang, kicked back and holding a plate under her chin with her mechanical hand, took a bite.

"Don't you have a table?" Weiss asked, appalled by the lack of decorum.

Both sisters gave her puzzled expressions.

"It's right there." Yang gestured to the coffee table her feet were currently resting on.

"I mean a dining table."

"No. What for?"

"To have somewhere proper to eat!"

"But the couch has a better view of the TV," said Ruby. "And it's more comfortable."

"But what if someone spills something? It could ruin the cushions or your carpet."

Yang shrugged carelessly. "Then we'd clean. What's the big deal?"

"Come on." Ruby wiped pepperoni grease from the corner of her mouth. "You're telling us you never eat anywhere but at a table?"

"Of course! You have to have somewhere to put your silverware and your napkins."

Yang rolled her eyes. "You don't eat pizza with silverware, and there are napkins on the coffee table."

"Just sit down, Weiss," said Ruby. "You don't have to be so uptight all the time."

"I'm not uptight!"

Both sisters laughed, and Weiss flushed. Dubiously, she walked over to the living room and sat down next to Ruby, leaving a full cushion of distance between them. She held the plate near her face and took a modest bite.

"Ayy!" Yang lightly clapped with her wrists, as both hands were full. "You did it!"

Still feeling as if she was being mocked, Weiss swallowed her pride and bit off some more.

It tasted heavenly—anything would when compared to her current diet. Before college, Weiss had only ever had gourmet pizza. When she started living on her own, she had her first experiences with fast food. Somehow, simple marinara with cheese and pepperoni tasted just as good as the numerous spices and toppings the family's personal chef carefully arranged.

"So," Yang said after a silence. "How do you two know each other?"

Weiss and Ruby exchanged a look.

"We met online," said Ruby. "I was looking for help with my problem, she responded, and we got to talking—"

"To which I explained that a semblance can't be cured," Weiss said.

Yang gave Weiss a sympathetic shrug. "Wrong tree."

Ruby scowled. "Anyway, I reached out to her again after I got my assignment, and then she agreed to come over today and help me out with it."

"How's it coming along?" Yang asked.

"Alright. First project of the semester, so nothing all that difficult."

Weiss wondered what she was studying. A fabricated project like AI theory suggested something technology-related. She opened her mouth to ask, but then she realized that she should already know the answer, according to this fiction Ruby had created. So, instead, she addressed something else that had held her curiosity.

"This is a really nice place you have," she said.

"Yeah," said Yang. "View could be better, but I can't complain."

"It can't be cheap."

"Our dad pays for it."

"Oh? And what does he do?"

Yang opened her mouth, but Ruby answered first. "He's a business owner."

Though she didn't like it, Weiss had to appreciate the irony. She, a member of a very well-known family, was now poor, and Ruby—this simple, often aggravating girl—was living in luxury off of a successful father.

"Would I have heard of him?" Weiss said.

"Probably not." Ruby took a bite and quickly swallowed it. "So, Yang—working on anything interesting?"

"Not really," Yang answered. "Still just rounding up White Flame goons. Haven't had an interesting case come to our precinct in a bit."

"The White Flame?" Weiss said.

"Yeah. Once we get all the stragglers, they'll be done for good, this time. Not as much of a threat without their boss."

Weiss disagreed, but didn't say it. Adam Taurus had an unwavering tenacity that in any better man could be considered admirable. Nothing short of death would keep him down forever.

By the time Ruby and Yang had gotten to their third slices, Weiss was still working on her first and didn't intend on having a second. Her participation in the conversation was rather minimal as she found herself mostly sitting back and observing. The sisters' casual dynamic and the ease with which they communicated struck a chord of envy in her.

Trying not to think about how much she missed Winter, she distracted herself by admiring Yang's prosthetic. It was a very sleek design—solid metal, matte finish, no exposed wires, and minimal seams. The movements of its parts were fluid and silent, and Yang controlled it with such ease and dexterity that—if hidden by a glove—you would never be able to guess it wasn't organic.

"I won't be offended if you ask, you know," said the amputee in question.

"What?" Weiss said, startled.

Yang flexed her mechanical fingers. "You want to know how I lost the arm. I get it."

"Oh. No. Honestly, I was just interested in the technology behind it. Did the STC make that?"

Yang snorted. "Definitely not. This was a custom order that shipped from overseas. Still not as good as the original, but our dad went full stop to get the best of the best."

"Seriously," Ruby said. "What's with you and the STC?"

"So, how did you lose it?" Weiss said, ignoring her.

Yang grinned and leaned forward. "Ah. Now that is a great story. I was sixteen, out camping in the woods south of Mistral. It was a cold night, the fire crackling, and dead silent. Then, all of a sudden—"

"She lost it in a house fire," said Ruby.

"Hey!" Yang complained

"She wasn't going to believe you lost it wrestling a bear." Ruby rolled her eyes at Weiss, smiling in spite of herself. "She was also going to say she won."

"I would've," Yang mumbled.

Weiss giggled.

"Fine," said Yang. "A fire broke out at a girlfriend's house when I was sixteen, and it took my arm. Pretty boring."

"Boring? That must've been horrible!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't even the scariest day of my life," Yang said with a nonchalance Weiss didn't buy. "Come over again and I might tell you about that. What about you? Got a story behind that scar?"

Weiss touched her fingers to it. She looked from Yang to Ruby, hesitant. "Not really. I got careless while tuning a piano. A wire snapped and cut me."

"A piano wire did that?" Ruby said in disbelief.

Weiss nodded and took her final bite, setting the crust down with the plate and reaching for a napkin.

"I didn't think they had that kind of elasticity."

"You'd be surprised."

Ruby didn't seem convinced, but Weiss would tell her the truth another time. It was too recent to just bring up as an anecdote over dinner.

In all it was a rather enjoyable evening.

Weiss had ended the night by giving Ruby her number. Whether this was a good decision came into question the very next day, when Weiss had made it perfectly clear that she'd be too busy to meet up again. It was the early afternoon, and she was just leaving one of Vale's other prisons, feeling pretty spent with the excessive use of her semblance, when her scroll buzzed. Ruby's name was on the screen.

Thankful that she hadn't called even a minute sooner, Weiss accepted the call. "Ruby, I told you—"

"Weiss Schnee," came Ruby's voice.

She stopped in her tracks. "Pardon me?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Aha! So it's true!"

Weiss's free hand balled into a fist. "How did you find out?"

"Yang remembered hearing about your attack when she was at work today. I knew a piano wire couldn't cut that deep."

"You are utterly tactless."

"What?" Ruby sounded genuinely confused by Weiss's reaction, which only infuriated Weiss more. "I'm not making fun of you for it or anything."

"We'll talk tomorrow, as planned. Don't call me unless it's important."

"But—"

Weiss hung up.

Ruby entered the car and fastened her seatbelt without a word. Weiss started the ignition and pulled out onto the road, not giving her so much as a glance. The drive ensued wordlessly, the occasional directions from the GPS on Weiss's scroll being the only source of noise.

After several minutes of this, Ruby spoke up. "I wasn't trying to be insensitive, you know. If you hadn't hung up, I'd—"

"I don't want to talk about this," said Weiss. "If I'd wanted to, I would have told you the truth. Did you even consider that? That just maybe there was a reason I lied about how I got my scar?"

"But you saw a superhero up close. That's so cool!"

"There was nothing 'cool' about that experience, Ruby. I thought I was going to die."

Weiss heard Ruby shift uncomfortably, but didn't look at her. A tense silence followed.

"I'm sorry," Ruby finally said. Then, after more awkwardness, "So . . . You're a Schnee, huh? I guess that explains your obsession with the STC. And I thought your roots looked a little light."

Weiss made a mental note to buy more hair dye. "Just don't go shouting about it. And I don't have an 'obsession'. I distanced myself from the STC to pursue my current path years before my father drove it into the ground. But they were a leading tech giant for a reason—their technology was simply superior."

"Not so much near the end, though," said Ruby. "Their competitors started to catch up a lot after they fired their CTO."

"It's not like they had much of a choice."

Ruby didn't state whether she agreed.

When the GPS showed that they were just a few minutes away from their destination, Weiss spoke up again. "Tell me about these private investigators."

"Sun and Neptune?" said Ruby. "They're great. Sun's always willing to help out a friend, and is pretty wise for his age. I don't think much scares him. Neptune can appear dumb on the surface, but he knows what he's doing and—well, he's just cool. He did try to be a cop once, but failed the personality exam."

"I meant," said Weiss, "are you sure we can trust them?"

"Definitely. They're good friends, and really good at keeping secrets. Neptune's a bit of a gossip, but can keep his mouth shut when it's important."

"And the thing you said about as few people knowing about this as possible?"

"We need the help. It's just two more people. You don't need to worry about them leaking anything—I promise."

"Alright, then," Weiss said. "I'll take your word for it."

They finally arrived at an office building, half an hour after their departure. Ruby confirmed it was the right one, so Weiss parked and they both entered the building. An old security guard sat behind the front desk, who simply waved at Ruby as they passed and continued reading his newspaper. There was an elevator, but Ruby walked right past it toward a door marked with a staircase symbol.

"What are you doing?" Weiss asked.

"They're just up a level," said Ruby. "This is faster."

So they climbed the stairs and soon found themselves entering through a glass door into a decently-sized room that looked nothing like a private investigator's office. The only things that fit the description were the two desks positioned in the far corners and the boxes of files piled up on the floor beside them. Other than that, you wouldn't be crazy for thinking this was where a small college fraternity held their parties. There was a fridge next to some couches and a coffee table to the left of the door. A ping-pong table—which looked to double as a foosball table—stood off to the right. On the wall above that were some neon signs, a miniature basketball hoop, and a dartboard. And to top it all off, a disco ball hung in the middle of the room, low enough that Weiss almost had to duck her head to walk beneath it.

"Come on," Ruby muttered, walking to sit on a couch and motioning for Weiss to follow.

Both of the desks at the end of the room were occupied. A blonde-haired man wearing a button-down shirt with only two buttons hooked sat behind the one on the left, consoling a tearful woman seated across from him. Taking up the remaining desk and playing with a Rubik's cube was a blue-haired man with goggles strapped to his forehead. He gave a confident smile when they came in, but didn't attempt to speak to them. Weiss was pretty sure she could guess which man was which.

A minute later, the woman marched out of the room, wiping furious tears from her eyes. The blonde man stood and said, "Yikes," while unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his abs.

"Cheating husband?" Ruby said.

"Yep. Only got three years worth of evidence."

"Three years? And she needed you to tell her?"

"Some people are just oblivious," said the one with the goggles, who had strode halfway across the room and was now giving Weiss a charming smile. "I'm Neptune. You must be Weiss, but perhaps I could call you . . . some other time?"

"Oh," was all she could think to say as her cheeks grew a bit warmer.

"Don't mind him," the blonde said. "I'm Sun. So, what's this important case you had for us?"

"It's my mom," Ruby said.

The energy in the room instantly darkened as the two men's curiosity turned to looks of pity.

"This again?" Neptune said with the tone of a parent figuring out how to tell their child their dog died.

"No, it's different this time!" Ruby insisted. "We have a lead!"

"A lead?" Sun said with a quirk of the brow, interested but still skeptical.

"Honest." Ruby looked at Weiss. "Tell them."

Weiss hadn't expected to be put on the spot. "What? All of it?"

"Yes! I said you could trust them."

All eyes were on Weiss. She looked from Sun, who was watching her expectantly, to Neptune, who flashed an encouraging smile that made her heart beat slightly faster, and back to Ruby. Weiss had never even decided that she trusted her, yet, but for some reason she found that she did. Whether that trust translated to Ruby's sense of judgment remained to be seen, but the girl had an unwavering purity to her that made it difficult to doubt her.

If Weiss could confide the secret of her semblance's evolution to Ruby, who was by all accounts still a stranger, then why not two more?

"Wow," Neptune said after she finished filling them in. "That's . . . definitely concerning."

"Bole Maze," Sun muttered.

"Have you heard of him?" Weiss asked.

"No. I wish I did. And you have no idea why he was in prison?"

"Nope," said Ruby.

"It didn't come up while you were treating him?" Sun said to Weiss.

"No. It's a relatively short process, and that information wasn't deemed necessary. And I never got the chance to ask afterward."

There was a silence. Sun stood and began to pace across the room. Neptune kept a pensive stare at the floor as he absently toyed with the strap of his goggles.

"So?" Ruby said after a minute of this. "Will you help us?"

"What does Yang think of all this?" Sun said with the hint of an accusation.

Ruby scratched her neck. "She, uh . . . she doesn't know. And it's going to stay that way, for now."

Sun didn't look at all surprised. "Look. I get why you'd want to hide this from her, but—"

"Save me the lecture," Ruby interrupted. "I've already gotten one from Weiss. My mind is made up. If this goes nowhere, I'll tell her and let her and her coworkers take over."

Sun and Neptune shared a look.

"We want to help you," said Neptune.

"We're just as eager to see those bastards brought to justice," said Sun.

"But think about what it is you're getting into," Neptune continued. "This woman—if she's even the leader, like you're assuming—and her thugs or possible organization. Look how much they've done in the short time you've known of their existence. Do you really want to cross them?"

"We're aware of the risks," Weiss said before Ruby could open her mouth. "We've weighed our options. And as long as it's possible to keep this discreet, that's the best one. We don't know how powerful these malefactors are. They've been at large for two years at the very least. They could have people inside the police department for all we know. If that's the case, handing them this information could end disastrously."

"That's a bit of a leap," said Sun.

"But the one risk I'm not willing to take," said Ruby, giving Weiss an appreciative look. "We can be cautious. What can a detective do that we can't, anyway?"

"Question witnesses, investigate crime scenes, scour police records—" Neptune began to list off.

"There are no witnesses or crime scenes," Weiss cut in. "And if they attacked the county clerk's database, what reason do we have to assume the police's files are any safer?"

Sun studied her with a scrutiny. "No offense, but why are you even here? What do you have to gain? You could've walked right out the door after you told Ruby what you saw, or you could've taken it straight to the police without going to her at all. What's in this for you?"

Ruby looked like she was about to jump to her defense, but then she stopped herself. Instead, she watched Weiss, and waited for her answer.

Weiss had expected this, but she still wasn't prepared for it. She empathized with Ruby's plight, deeply, but that wasn't the whole of it. Keeping her semblance from the CAB wasn't the largest factor, either, and she was still struggling to figure out what was.

"Other than the fact that the alternative requires destroying my career?" Weiss said, unable to give a more honest answer. "I just want to do what I can to help. If you'd seen that woman, how blasé she was about committing such a heinous act, you wouldn't feel safe sleeping at night with someone like that on the loose. Even her own lackey seemed terrified of her."

"He is dead now, so I'd say he was right to be," Neptune said.

Ruby put her hand on Weiss's shoulder and stared at Sun. "I trust her."

Even as Weiss felt a surge of warmth within her from the gesture, she made her verdict that Ruby's judgment was lacking. Weiss didn't feel she'd earned it, yet. She certainly wouldn't trust herself in Ruby's position.

The two men took a step back and put their heads together, talking in low voices. Weiss observed them, unable to hear what they were saying. At one point, Sun gave Neptune a playful shove, and the latter smirked. After thirty seconds, they seemed to come to an agreement and turned back to face them.

"Alright," said Neptune. "We're in."

"Yes!" Ruby jumped up and punched the air, grinning. "What's your rate again?"

"Come on," Sun said with a dismissive wave. "We don't charge for friends."

"Or fair maidens." Neptune gave Weiss a sideways smile that showed off his brilliantly white teeth.

Sun rolled his eyes. "It's pro bono."

"This could be a huge time investment, though," said Ruby.

"Forget it," said Sun. "Now, let's track us down a killer!"

"So here's what I'm thinking, for our first move," said Neptune. "We need to find out what was said during this Maze guy's trial."

"Um, yeah," said Ruby. "I just said we already tried that."

"But you failed!" Neptune's tone implied that this was somehow a good thing. "They really went out of their way to destroy the files. That pretty much confirms that they contained something crucial. So we know you two were on the right track."

"It was my idea to go to the county clerk's office," Weiss volunteered.

"And a good one, too," Neptune said.

"Okay, but how are we supposed to find out what happened during the trial if the files are gone?" said Ruby.

"Well, we find someone who was there," said Sun. "Duh."

"Do you have any ideas?" Weiss asked.

"I do. Just give us a couple of days, and we'll call you if we learn anything."

"What? That's it?" said Ruby.

"Well, yeah," said Sun. "We've pretty much covered everything there is for now."

"What are we supposed to do?" said Weiss.

"Sit tight, relax," Neptune said. "Don't worry. We've got this."

"This is our investigation, remember," Ruby said. "You're just helping."

"So allow us to help," said Sun. "Two days, we'll reconvene and go from there."

"That sounds reasonable," said Weiss.

Ruby didn't seem pleased, but she agreed in the end.

Several minutes later, Weiss slid into the driver's seat and clicked her seatbelt into place. She was just putting the keys in the ignition when Ruby, who was focused on her scroll, said, "Don't start the car yet."

"Why not?" said Weiss.

"Because I have an idea. Just give me a minute."

Weiss crossed her arms and waited.

"'Sit tight'," Ruby muttered as she typed away. Once she sent off her text, she leaned back with her scroll still in hand and gave Weiss a strange look.

"What?" Weiss said.

"Why are you helping me?" Ruby asked.

"Didn't I just answer that?"

Ruby waited.

Weiss sighed. "Would you believe me if I told you I don't know?"

After a pause, Ruby said, "Yes."

Ruby's scroll buzzed. She took a few moments to reply, then waited once again. Meanwhile, Weiss pondered.

"I suppose," she finally said, "I feel responsible."

Ruby looked confused. "For what?"

"You. I chose to go to you before the police, and now you're on this path because of that decision. I think I've been struck with this irrational idea that I have to tag along and keep you from doing anything stupid."

"You know you don't, though . . . right? You can bow out whenever you want to."

"I'm aware."

It took a while, but Ruby eventually got her response. She read it, then gave a triumphant, "Yes!"

"What?" said Weiss.

"I'll tell you on the way. Go here." Ruby texted Weiss an address.

"Where are we going?" Weiss asked as she put it into her GPS and started the car.

"My friend Jaune's place," Ruby said. "He was at the trial."

"Jaune," Weiss repeated. A second later, it clicked. "Wait, Jaune Arc?"

"You know him?" Ruby said, surprised.

"I treated him once."

"Oh, right!" Ruby smacked her forehead. "Yeah, he's the one who showed me your ad. He never said he went through with hiring you."

Weiss remained silent, not wanting to bring up how poorly that particular contract had gone. Instead, she said, "Why was he at the trial?"

"He goes to a lot of trials to take notes. He's studying to get into law school."

"Law school? Him? He . . . didn't exactly seem the type."

Ruby shrugged. "His oldest sister's a lawyer. I think he's trying to take after her. Says he wants to be a prosecutor."

"Hmm," was Weiss's only comment. After a silence, she asked, "Why did you wait until now to ask him?"

"I, uh . . . didn't think of it," Ruby said sheepishly. "I was kind of hung up on the files until now. Probably should have considered people as a source of information a little sooner."

"Yes, you should have." Weiss decided not to mention that it had also slipped her own mind.

They arrived a short time later and traveled up the sidewalk toward the dingy apartment building where Weiss's semblance evolved. As they walked, she couldn't help looking nervously across the street, almost expecting to see those men standing there again. A little farther ahead, she could see the piece of wall she'd been pinned against, and vividly recalled the smell of the scarred man's breath and the venom dripping from his voice. Her heart began to beat a little faster, and her scar twinged, so faintly she probably imagined it.

"You alright?" Ruby asked.

"I'm fine," Weiss said firmly, unclenching her fists.

The pair entered the building and climbed the staircase. Ruby had to knock twice before the door opened, revealing the face of a man Weiss had never expected to see again.

"Hey, Ruby," said Jaune, his voice cheery. He looked better than before—his hair wasn't as unkempt, his posture was better, and he even smiled. But, despite appearing happy, there was still an unmistakable darkness to his eyes.

"Hi, Jaune," said Ruby. "Got the notes?"

"Yeah. Just come in . . ." His voice trailed off as he noticed Weiss, then there was a flicker of comprehension. "You."

"Oh, right," Ruby said awkwardly. "This is Weiss. You already knew that. She's helping me with my project."

To Weiss's surprise, Jaune smiled. "Cool. Nice to see you again."

He stepped aside to allow them in. His apartment was in a better state than before, with not as much junk lying about and the scent of air freshener meeting Weiss's nose. That, coupled with the wrapper sticking out from under the couch and the dishes piled in the sink, made her suspect the cleaning had been hastily done.

Jaune looked from Weiss to Ruby. "So you two are friends now? Interesting. I'll go grab my notes." He turned and disappeared into what was presumably a bedroom.

"You're staring at me again," Weiss said.

"Sorry," said Ruby. "It's just . . . was he right?"

"About what?"

"Us being friends."

Weiss studied her face, unsure if she was being serious. "We hardly know each other."

"So? That's a lot of what friendship is, isn't it? Getting to know each other?"

Weiss sighed. "Are we in middle school?"

"Look. Despite your icy attitude, I like you, okay? And I want us to be friends."

"Fine. Yes, dolt, we're friends." Though she found the entire conversation rather childish, Weiss felt oddly content saying the words. Growing up, her family name and status as a paragon often alienated her and drove away her peers. Because of that, she'd only ever had one real friend, whom she hadn't spoken to in years. It was comforting to officially have another—unexpectedly so.

Ruby beamed. "Can I hug you now?"

Weiss gave her a flat look. "No."

Jaune returned, holding a spiral notebook. Ruby eagerly made to grab for it, but he held it out of her reach. He was more than a head taller than her, so it wasn't difficult. "Alright, hold on just a second. I still don't exactly know why you want this."

"I told you," said Ruby. "It's for a project."

"You're majoring in engineering."

"I didn't say it was for school."

"Ruby. This guy was charged with sexual assault and accused of working with some dangerous people. I need to know what you're getting into."

"It's nothing!" Ruby insisted, but this only seemed to make Jaune more suspicious.

"You asked for this guy by name. You wouldn't have done that if you were just doing general research on—"

"She's helping me," Weiss abruptly said.

He stared at her. "With what?"

"I'm doing research on the prevention of mental illness and want to see what kind of a correlation a person's criminal history might have." Weiss bit her tongue and studied Jaune's reaction.

"Yes! See?" Ruby said, a little too enthusiastically. "Nothing dangerous."

"But why this guy in particular?" he asked.

"Bole Maze was a patient of mine. The city has contracted me to heal prisoners, and he was one of them. I intended to start with someone with a more mild case as my first source of data before moving on to someone more severely ill, so I chose him."

"Oh." The tension vanished from his shoulders. He handed the notebook to Ruby, then immediately snatched it back. "Er, wait. Sorry." He flipped it open to a specific page before giving it to her again.

"Thanks, Jaune!" Ruby grinned and began reading.

Weiss meant to stand next to her so she could see it as well, but then Jaune gestured his head toward the kitchen.

"Hey. Can I talk to you for a second?" he said.

"Sure," Weiss said, wary.

They walked out of earshot of Ruby, then Jaune's expression turned serious. When he spoke, his tone was cynical. "Did you tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

He lowered his voice even further. "Pyrrha."

"No. I hold myself to patient confidentiality."

"So you haven't told anyone?"

"Of course not."

He sighed in relief. "Good."

An awkward silence followed, eventually broken by Weiss. "I don't know what it was that I saw, and I won't ask. But I can assure you it wasn't intentional, and I apologize."

It took him a few seconds to give a hollow, "Thanks."

"And . . . thank you. For not reporting me for misusing my semblance."

"Right." Jaune contorted his face to look a little brighter, then called, "Ruby!"

Ruby looked up, her eyes for some reason wide.

"Did you take the picture yet?" Jaune asked. "I've still got some homework I gotta get to today."

"Oh!" Ruby fumbled her scroll out of her pocket and then used the camera to capture the notes. "Got it!"

Weiss followed Jaune back over to her. He took the notebook back and said, "Sorry. I don't mean to kick you out, but I'm sort of behind."

"Not a problem," said Ruby. "Thank you for this. Really."

He smiled and then opened the door. "I'll see you at school tomorrow. And Weiss. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Bye, Jaune!" Ruby left first, receiving a pat on the back from him on her way out. Weiss followed her.

"What did you learn?" she asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

Ruby showed her the photo she'd just taken. "Maze was working for Roman Torchwick!"

Chapter Text

"Who?" Weiss said. The name sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't place it.

Ruby gaped at her. "Roman Torchwick!"

"Saying the name twice doesn't help me understand who he is."

"Don't you watch the news?"

"Occasionally."

Ruby continued to stare as if Weiss was an alien, then pulled her scroll back toward herself and began typing. After half a minute, she found what she was looking for and stood next to Weiss so that they could both see the screen. She hit play on a video of security footage from a bank.

"What am I looking at?" Weiss said. All she could see were ordinary people using ATMs and speaking to the tellers.

"Give it a second," said Ruby.

Soon, a man sauntered into the center of the room and turned to look directly at the camera. He wore crisply pressed pants and a fine pair of shoes polished so meticulously that the video managed to capture their shine. His white suit looked tailor-made with a collar popped up to reach higher than his jawline. A bowler hat, a relic from a bygone era, was right at home sitting on his bright orange hair. Bangs hid his right eye while the other, pine green, was accented by dark eyeliner. To tie it all together, one hand dexterously twirled a zippo lighter as the other held a hooked cane on his shoulder. The man was mischief personified, complemented by a strange hint of elegance.

He shut the lighter, tipped his hat, and then the video ended.

"What was that?" Weiss asked.

"That was Roman Torchwick!" Ruby said impatiently. "A few weeks ago, when he robbed that bank down Chestnut Street."

Weiss finally placed the memory. "Right, I heard about that. I'm still not sure what I just saw, though. Why was the video so short?"

"That's his MO. He walks in, makes sure he's seen by the cameras, and then cuts them off. After that, he's in and out with the money before the police ever get there. This is about the tenth one he's hit so far."

"How is that possible?"

"No one knows. That's why he's such a big deal. How do you not know about him? He's been at large since, like, the start of the year."

"Well, I've only lived in Vale since June," Weiss defended. "How's he not been caught yet?"

Ruby shrugged. "He could be an unregistered paragon. I'm not sure. But he's not afraid of being caught—he wants everyone to know what he's doing."

Though the video had gone black, Weiss could still vividly picture Torchwick's face. Was it confidence she saw in his expression, or arrogance? Most likely both.

"What did Jaune's notes say exactly?" said Weiss. "Let me read them."

Ruby navigated to the picture again and handed the scroll to Weiss, then glanced at Jaune's door. "Come on. Let's not talk about this here."

Weiss scanned the page as they descended the staircase. It took some effort to decipher Jaune's handwriting. Maze was arrested for harassing a woman he met at a bar and tried for sexual assault, but the prosecutor had brought another allegation to the courtroom. There were two proven instances of contact between him and Roman Torchwick, as well as other evidence to suggest Maze had a link to some of Torchwick's crimes. But there wasn't enough to charge him, though Jaune did take note of how the prosecuting attorney seemed absolutely certain of his guilt in that regard. The trouble Weiss and Ruby had gone through to learn this pretty much cemented it as fact.

As the two women reached the ground level and left the building, Weiss once again took a quick look across the street—no one was there, so she returned her eyes to the scroll. She was still so engrossed in it when they reached her car that she would've walked right past it had Ruby not tapped her arm. They slid into the front seats, but Weiss didn't even bother taking out her keys yet.

"You realize what this means?" Ruby said after Weiss handed her back her scroll.

"It means we have more to speculate about," said Weiss, "and just as little evidence to work off of."

"What are you talking about? This proves Torchwick had something to do with what happened to my mom."

"This doesn't prove anything, other than that Maze was a creep. All we know is that he worked for or with Torchwick, but not when or to what extent."

"But this is a new lead! We're making progress!"

"I never said we weren't. But you're jumping to baseless conclusions, which won't get us anywhere. Maze could have been working for the killer, who was working for Torchwick. Or he and Torchwick could have both been working for the killer. Or he could have been working for the killer before leaving her to work for Torchwick. We don't know."

Ruby's shoulders slumped. "Oh."

"With luck, finding out how Maze is connected to Torchwick will help us understand his link to this woman."

"So what do we do now?"

Weiss started the car. "We find out what we can about Torchwick while we wait for Neptune and Sun to get back to us. They still might learn something we haven't."

"Ugh. Two days," Ruby grumbled. "Fine. Can you take me home now?"

Weiss stalked the depths of the Emerald Forest, her silver rapier clasped in her left hand. The sun was out, the clouds were sparse, and the wind was still. She'd been searching for about fifteen minutes now, or at least that's what it felt like. Only two windows had appeared so far. Finally, a muffled rustling sounded from her right. She paused, and her grip tightened.

A moment later, something large burst from the trees and came shooting toward her. Weiss expertly rolled out of the way and found herself face-to-face with a giant snake, whose head was almost as long as her body. It tensed back, showing off its many fangs. Then the other one came, which she easily evaded; she'd been expecting it.

The King Taijitu was a monstrous snake with two heads, one on either end. One half of it was white and the other black. Both sets of beady red eyes glared at her. The white head lunged while the black one coiled around in a circle, trying to trap her. Weiss jumped at the last second and landed on the white head. She ran the length of its body, repeatedly slashing at it as she did so, until she reached the ground outside of the ring it had created. It hissed from both ends, wisps of black smoke emanating from its wounds.

She feinted running toward the left until the black head snapped at her. She abruptly stopped and jumped back as it smacked into the ground where she would've been standing, then drove her sword through its left eye, immediately withdrawing it. That head recoiled as the other came to take revenge. Weiss stood her ground and thrust her sword upward, straight through the roof of its mouth. She wrenched the rapier free and took a step back as the white head went limp and fell to the ground. Her arm stung from where a fang had scratched her.

A forked tongue flapped from between the remaining head's jaws as it hissed as loudly as it could. Enraged, it no longer cared about biting her. With reckless abandon, it swung forward to smack her off her feet, and succeeded. Weiss flew back and collided with a tree, crumpling to the ground as her head spun. Her sword slipped out of her grip and landed ten feet away. The Grimm reared to attack once more as she struggled to a single knee. It lunged, and she was too slow to dodge, but, incredibly, it missed. She dove forward and retrieved her weapon. When she stood, she noticed how thick the smoke pouring from its punctured eye was.

Weiss ran diagonally toward it, staying on its left side. When it tried to get at her again, it misjudged her position and missed once more. She used this opportunity to land several more hits along its body and hastened away from its reach. One last time, the beast attempted to bite at her. She jumped back, and its fangs dug into the earth before her. She brought her sword down and stabbed it where its brain would be if Grimm had organs. The King Taijitu stilled, then disintegrated into a cloud of dark vapor.

Weiss sheathed her rapier and sat down on her knees. She felt snowflakes touching her exposed skin as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she was back in her client's living room, feeling fatigued. She removed her hand from the girl's forehead and ran the back of it across her own brow.

The client, in her late teens, appeared disoriented.

"How do you feel?" Weiss asked.

"I'm not sure," said May. "I think . . . lighter?"

"Is that a good thing?"

She paused. "Yeah. Lighter's good. So it really worked?"

Weiss nodded. "You no longer have bipolar disorder."

A broad smile slowly spread across her face. "That's awesome."

"You are going to have to take measures from here on out, though, in order to maintain your mental health," Weiss said. "Your disorder was a large part of you. Without it, your mind is opened up to vulnerabilities, so it'll take some time for you to feel whole again."

May's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? I feel great."

"And that's normal. But it's possible that stressful situations might have a larger effect on you than others for a time, so I suggest avoiding them when possible. Meditation is advisable, as it can help hone your new mental state and prevent new afflictions from setting in. Some people have found keeping journals helpful, so they can record their thoughts and moods to definitively see a lack of symptoms—or more easily spot new ones."

"Wow," the girl said, sounded a bit dejected. "Do people relapse often?"

Weiss felt her scroll vibrate, but she ignored it. "No. Rarely, thanks in large part to taking these precautions."

"Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I can do all that. Um, here." She pulled a check out of her pocket and handed it to Weiss. "Thank you. So much."

Weiss examined it before placing it in her purse, giving a grateful smile. She always felt weird when accepting payment. Though Weiss's rate was perfectly reasonable, her mother used to do this for free. But her mother had not only a successful father, but an honorable one, too. Weiss didn't get that luxury—she had no choice but to charge for her services. But the gratification of alleviating a person's long-term struggles was worth almost as much as the lien.

Before Weiss could state her thanks, the front door opened and an older woman stepped inside. She placed her keys on a hook and started toward the kitchen, but then noticed the two sitting in the living room.

"May? Who is this?" the woman demanded.

"This is Weiss, mom. She's a psychotherapist."

"And what's she doing here? You already have a therapist, and you didn't ask my permission to have anyone over."

"I'm not a regular psychotherapist, ma'am," Weiss explained. "I specialize in curing mental disorders."

"May's condition can't be cured."

"Under normal circumstances, it can't. But thanks to my semblance, I can—"

"Semblance?" the woman repeated, horror-struck. She stared at May. "You brought one of them into our home?"

Weiss's face fell. So it was going to be one of those days. She briefly closed her eyes and sighed, resigning herself to what was about to ensue.

"Mom, you don't under—" May started.

"I'll deal with you later." May's mother turned her attention to Weiss, glaring and pointing at the door. "Get out!"

Weiss stood her ground, doing her best to keep calm. "Ma'am—"

"I said get the hell out, lusus!"

"Mom!" May exclaimed.

The word punctured Weiss like a red-hot dagger. "How dare you?"

"I dare to say whatever I damn well please in my own house!" said May's mother, her hand hovering by a kitchen drawer. "Now leave before I call the cops!"

Weiss bit her tongue and balled her fists, struggling to not shout back. Instead of lambasting the woman, she grabbed her purse and marched out the front door without another word. She fumed all the way to her car, then gripped the steering wheel so tightly it hurt.

She'd moved to Vale to get away from this. But bigots existed everywhere, regardless if you were in a city notorious for its discrimination or one more famously diverse. It didn't matter to these people that her semblance couldn't harm someone if she tried. She'd always be dangerous in their eyes—an animal with freakish powers, nothing more.

After a few minutes of trying to steady her breathing, she calmed down enough to remember to check her scroll. It was a text from Ruby.

U busy today?

Her schedule was free, but Weiss was tempted to say yes and drive straight home. She decided against it.

No, why? And it's spelled, "You".

She didn't have to wait long for Ruby's reply, which began with an emoji of a face sticking its tongue out.

Sun said we can go over today if u have nothing else going on. Meet u there now?

Weiss sighed, then sent back, Alright.

Weiss arrived first and took the opportunity to talk to Neptune while Sun was poring over files for another case. She found Neptune to be very charming and—though it wasn't very sophisticated—agreed with Ruby that he's "just cool". He was very easy to talk to, and the fact that he seemed to harbor no judgments about her being a paragon made him all the more interesting right now.

"So you haven't been in Vale long?" he said. "Must not have seen a whole lot of it, then."

"Not yet," said Weiss. "I've been exploring it a little bit at a time. It is a truly remarkable city, from my limited experience."

"How does it match up to life in Atlas?"

"It's better, somewhat. It's warmer. There isn't nearly as much prejudice here, though it's not entirely absent."

"Yeah. People suck sometimes. So. How about this? Since you're a newbie to this city and I've lived here for a few years, I could take you out tomorrow. We could see the sights, have a little tour, I could show you some of the best hotspots, maybe wrap it up with a nice dinner. What do you say?"

"Oh!" Weiss suppressed a smile. "Well, I—"

"I'm here!" Ruby announced on her sudden arrival, catching everyone's attention and cutting Weiss short.

"Hey, Ruby." Neptune waved.

"Alright!" Sun clapped once and stood up. "Now that you're both here, you might want to sit down. We have good news and bad news."

Weiss looked back to Neptune to see him mouth the word, "Later," before walking over to stand by Sun. She sat next to Ruby on the couch, a bit disgruntled, and waited to hear what they had to say.

"Good news first," Ruby said eagerly.

"Well, it's not particularly good news, per se," Sun said, "but we learned things. I spoke to Blake—I didn't tell her anything, of course—and she asked the judge about Maze's trial. The only charge they got on him was sexual assault, which doesn't seem to help us at all."

"I managed to track down the victim," Neptune said. "Asked her a few questions, but she never met the guy until the night of the incident. And she didn't match the killer's description, if you were wondering—brunette, short."

"They weren't wondering that," said Sun.

Neither woman disagreed.

"You never know!" Neptune said defensively. "She's a dead-end, is what I'm saying."

"Anyway," Sun continued. "There was nothing too concrete other than that at the trial, but it does seem pretty clear that—"

"Maze was working for Torchwick," Ruby finished for him.

Sun blinked. "Maze had ties to Torchwick—how strong or weak or of what nature, it's unclear. How did you know?"

"We chose not to 'sit tight'. I found out I had a friend who was in the gallery, so we talked to him."

"And you didn't think to tell us, save us a bit of time?" said Neptune.

"Our source could have easily missed something yours didn't," said Weiss. "We wanted to be safe."

"Yeah!" said Ruby.

Sun glanced at Neptune, then shrugged. "Fair point."

"So what's the bad news?" Weiss said.

The two men exchanged a look. Neptune shifted guiltily as Sun scratched the back of his head. Both seemed reluctant to say anything.

"Well?" Ruby said.

"We're out," Neptune blurted without meeting either of their eyes.

"What?" Ruby said in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. We're out," Neptune repeated.

"But we're just getting started!"

"Roman Torchwick is ruthless," said Sun. "There are at least a dozen murders that can be traced back to his organization, and it hasn't even existed for that long."

Despite how Ruby had initially made it seem, Torchwick was not just a serial bank robber. According to Weiss's internet sleuthing, he ran a small mafia. They operated in racketeering, arms trafficking, drug dealing, contract killing, and more. They were also very good at covering their tracks, as the justice system had failed to prove that any of the few alleged members that had been arrested were associated with him. Of those, Bole Maze was the only one of them that had been killed. They'd proven themselves several steps above an ordinary street gang.

"You need to tell your sister," Neptune said to Ruby.

"Hold on," said Weiss. "We don't even know for sure that Maze's death is linked to Torchwick or if Torchwick had any involvement with the death of Ruby's mother. He wasn't even active in Vale when it happened."

"But both of those things are possible, which is way too risky," said Sun. "Roman Torchwick has been quite open about his feats and never shied away from taking credit. If we assume that Maze was one of Torchwick's goons, it probably also means Torchwick's the one who killed him and covered up his past. He's never done that before, as far as we can tell. Snooping around the one guy he doesn't want traced back to him is the most sure-fire way to put yourself in his line of sight."

"Why does this change anything?" said Ruby. "We already knew we were tracking a dangerous killer. Now that we know the name of a dangerous killer that might be involved, you don't want to help anymore?"

"You're right," said Sun. "This doesn't change anything. We shouldn't have encouraged you from the start, and we're not going to encourage you now. This needs to be a police matter, and Yang has to know."

"No! If word about this spreads, then—"

"Nothing is worth your life, Ruby!" Sun interrupted. "You're afraid to tell Yang because you know she'll say the same exact thing. You're getting in way over your head. One minor slip-up is all it'll take for them to know what you're up to, and then they'll kill you. Is that what your mom would want?"

Ruby shot to her feet. "Don't talk like you knew her!"

"I know that no mother would want their daughter to waste her life in vain. You need to grow up."

Ruby opened her mouth, but couldn't seem to think of what else to say. Instead, she balled her fists and marched out the door. Weiss stood, her instincts telling her to go after her, but she didn't move. An air of awkwardness hung over the three of them.

"That was pretty harsh, dude," said Neptune.

Sun had the decency to look guilty. "Yeah, well . . . It was the truth. And it needed to be said."

After a few seconds' silence, both men looked at Weiss, likely wondering why she was still there. She bit her lip. On the one hand, she agreed with every single thing Sun had said. On the other . . .

"Are you going to tell Ruby's sister?" she asked.

"Of course not," said Sun. "It's gotta come from her."

"And if Ruby doesn't?"

Sun sighed. "Then, that's her choice."

"And what are you going to do?" Neptune asked Weiss. "You're not gonna keep enabling this, are you?"

"I said I'd help her. I, at the very least, am not one to renege on a promise."

"Come on," said Sun. "Ruby I understand. But you? You seemed smart to me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm smart enough to comprehend that she's made up her mind, and she's continuing with or without us. Someone actually concerned for her safety needs to be there to keep her recklessness in check."

"You know the further her investigation progresses, the more dangerous it's going to get," said Neptune. "It fizzling out could be the best-case scenario, and that's not going to happen if you're helping her."

Weiss met his eyes. "I'm busy this weekend," she said coldly, then turned and left.

Perhaps they were right. Maybe Weiss just needed to admit to herself that this was what she was waiting for—a point where the risk became too high, and she'd have to find a way to talk Ruby into giving up; a point where she had to realize she was only here to make sure her semblance's evolution remained secret for as long as possible, and that being forced to report it to the CAB was unavoidable. But, regardless of whether that had been true at the start, it wasn't true now. She was here for Ruby, and she wasn't going to turn her back on her now.

Weiss found Ruby leaning against a wall outside with her arms crossed.

"What are you doing?" Weiss said.

"Waiting for you. Could I have a ride?"

"Don't you ever get tired of having to rely on other people?"

"No. Why would I? That's what friends are for." She smiled, not quite as widely as usual.

Weiss stared at her, then jerked her head in the direction of her car. "Fine. Let's go."

A few moments after they set off together, Ruby said, "So . . . Did Neptune ask you out?"

Weiss glanced at her, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Figured it was inevitable. He's never been too slow to ask out pretty girls."

"Oh." She felt reassured in her decision. "Well, I said no."

"Really?" Ruby said.

"Yes. Why?"

"You seemed kind of smitten."

"I did not!"

Ruby just chuckled as Weiss's cheeks grew warm.

Right now, tracing Bole Maze back to the woman who fired the gun was still their priority, but the available information on him was minimal. The most significant thing they'd learned was that he had some form of association with Roman Torchwick, but how helpful that was to know remained to be seen. Summer Rose had been murdered more than a year before Torchwick started making a name for himself in Vale, which made it doubtful that he had a hand in it. But it was another lead, so they'd follow it and hope for the best.

Ruby had dedicated the other side of her cork board to displaying information on Torchwick. It was filling up a lot faster than the original side, which had only one new addition to it—Roman Torchwick's mugshot, linked with yarn to Maze's picture. The difference between the availability of information on the two was as clear as night and day.

Torchwick had grown up in Vacuo and dropped out of high school at sixteen. Afterward, he'd gone to juvenile detention several times for shoplifting and underage smoking. His early adult life was rather hazy, though, as he'd managed to stay out of trouble for years. Then in 2006, he almost got away with robbing a jewelry store, but was arrested trying to fence the goods because one of his men betrayed him. He spent half a decade in prison, then went silent for a while. There was some word about him here and there, but nothing definitive—the mark of a good thief.

Someone robbed Vacuo's largest bank in 2015, and no suspects had ever been named. After that, Torchwick disappeared off the map. There was recent speculation that he had been behind it and had yet to develop his current modus operandi, but it couldn't be proven. Now, five years later, he's shown up in Vale and begun a crime spree, his infamy rapidly growing.

There were a fair amount of gaps, but it was a gold mine of information compared to Bole Maze. And there was almost certainly a lot more to be dug up with more thorough research. The only issue was that none of what they'd found brought them any closer to the killer.

For a little over a week, the two women had been separately digging up what they could, calling each other frequently and meeting up a few times, but had had little luck. It was getting to the point where Weiss was wondering when they'd have to declare a dead-end when she got an intriguing call from Ruby.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" came Ruby's voice. "Around two?"

"Two?" Weiss quickly ran over her plans for the following day. "No, why?"

"One of my classes got cancelled, and there's this club I want us to check out."

Weiss took a moment to reply. "A club? On a Monday? Wait, did you mean two AM?"

"No, PM. Can you make it?"

"First of all, are they even going to be open? Secondly, would you care to explain why?"

"Yeah, they've got a day bar. And I'll explain tomorrow. It's important, trust me."

Weiss contemplated. "Fine. Where is it?"

"I'll text you the address. And make sure to be low-key."

"What do you mean by, 'low-key'?"

"Wear something you usually wouldn't, put on some sunglasses, get some makeup hiding that scar. Oh, and let your hair down for once. The ponytail's cute and all, but you always wear it. Bit of a giveaway."

"Givea—" Weiss was suddenly suspicious. "Ruby, what are you planning?"

"Don't worry about it. I said trust me. Okay, see you tomorrow, bye." She hung up without giving Weiss a chance to argue.

As it turned out, the club was only a couple of blocks away from where Weiss lived, so Ruby agreed to meet her there.

Weiss arrived on foot right on the agreed-upon time to find Ruby already waiting outside. The girl wore her usual zip-up jacket, but she'd pulled the zipper up and had the hood on, covering her hair. Her silver eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

Ruby took a second to say anything. "Oh, Weiss! I actually didn't recognize you."

As she'd been instructed, Weiss had let her dyed hair curtain down her back and hidden her scar as best she could. She also had a pair of sunglasses on and wore a red dress that went just past her knees. It was a gift she'd had for a while, but she never wore it as the color didn't suit her unless as an accent—and she didn't get many opportunities to dress up these days.

"So, what exactly are we doing here?" Weiss asked. "And why wouldn't you explain before?"

"I just wanted to be safe," said Ruby. "On the off chance someone was listening in."

"Who would be bugging your scroll?"

"I don't know, but Yang let slip something that she probably shouldn't have, and I don't want her getting in trouble. The guy who owns this place—" she nudged her head toward the club "—knows Torchwick."

"What?" Weiss said. "And you just want to prance right in and interrogate him? Are you insane?"

"No, he's a police informant! Look—I've been discreetly bringing Torchwick up around Yang here and there, to see if she knows anything, you know? But another precinct is working that case, so she's not been much of a help. Then yesterday, she mentioned that Junior, an informant she talks to every now and again, knows him. And that's probably supposed to be confidential, so don't tell anyone she told me."

"Do you even know anything about this man?"

"Not really," Ruby admitted. "I think he got arrested once and took a deal to stay out of jail. Now he gets to keep running his business but has to tell the cops anything he learns."

"What was he arrested for? There's no guarantee that he's truly reformed."

"I don't know, but it can't be too bad if they let him go, right?"

Weiss brought her palm to her forehead. "Ruby, I defended you against Neptune and Sun, but if you're going to be this dense then I might start to regret that decision. You want to talk to a literal criminal about our clandestine investigation. This is the furthest thing from avoiding risks!"

"I know what I'm doing," Ruby said, a look of determination in her eye. "I won't be obvious. And no one's going to be able to know who we are, anyway."

Weiss stared at her. "This is a bar, Ruby."

"So?"

"They are going to ask us to show them our IDs."

Ruby opened her mouth to argue, couldn't come up with a rebuttal, then closed it. "Oh. I didn't realize that."

"You think?"

"Well, we just won't order anything, then. I don't turn twenty-one until October, anyway."

Weiss had no words.

"Just follow my lead, okay?"

Weiss's eyes widened. "No, Ruby, wait!"

She was already through the door. Left with little choice, Weiss followed after her.

Chapter Text

Nightclubs weren't really Weiss's scene. Her idea of a party had always been a white tie soirée—typically at the family manor—where guests were expected to behave appropriately and mind each other's personal space. Delicacies and drinks were brought around by servers, the alcohol of choice being champagne or wine. A pianist was expected to play at all times, often backed up by a harpist or maybe a full string quartet. The idea of being crammed on a dance floor—within inches of a dozen other people attempting to show off as much skin as possible while deafening music of questionable taste filled the room—was repugnant to her. She couldn't quite fathom how anybody could find an appeal in these places.

Lucky for her, Junior's club was empty—that wasn't surprising for the early afternoon on a weekday. The lights were on, music was playing on low volume, and the only person in the room was a man kneeling behind the bar. When he heard the two women approach, he stopped whatever he was doing and stood, watching them. He was a very tall man, stocky with a neatly-trimmed beard that connected with his short hair. Everything about his appearance was so generic that Weiss would probably forget his face by the end of the day.

"What can I get you?" he asked as they each took a stool across from him. He seemed slightly suspicious. Apparently, he didn't usually get patrons around this hour.

"Do you have milk?" Ruby said, acting nonchalant.

The man stared at her. "No."

"Oh," she said dejectedly.

"Two club sodas, lime in mine," Weiss said before Ruby could make any other dubious requests, growing even more nervous.

He moved along the bar and looked at Ruby. "Lime for you too?"

"Uh, sure?" Ruby replied.

He returned to them and placed two bottles on the counter, popping the caps off for them as he said, "Four hundred."

Weiss handed him five hundred lien in cash and then took a sip of her drink. Ruby grabbed hers tentatively, staring at the bottle as if it might bite her. After a few seconds, Weiss began to suspect that the girl didn't know what a club soda was.

"It's non-alcoholic," Weiss muttered.

"Oh!" said Ruby. "I mean, I knew that." She brought the bottle to her lips and swallowed a generous amount, instantly making a face. Weiss rolled her eyes.

"First time at a bar? Chose an odd time for that," the man commented.

"Is it?" said Ruby, doing an excellent job at feigning ignorance.

Weiss changed the topic. "So, do you own this place?"

"I do," said the barkeep.

"That makes you Junior then," said Ruby.

He placed his palms on the counter. He only seemed to become more skeptical of them as time went on. "That's right."

"You must have seen a lot of interesting people come through here," said Ruby.

"Like who?"

Weiss resisted the instinct to correct his grammar.

"I don't know. I was just . . . trying to make conversation." Ruby took another drink, cringing as she did so. "So . . . those bank robberies are pretty crazy, huh?"

Weiss almost couldn't help palming her own forehead. Ruby's subtlety was practically nonexistent.

A glass shattered against the floor after Junior's hand slipped, knocking it off the counter. He made no reaction to it, instead continuing to stare at the two. "Let's cut the bullshit."

"What do you mean?" Ruby said innocently.

Weiss chewed her lip, wanting nothing more than to stand and walk out the door then and there.

"If you want information, it's gonna cost you," said Junior.

Ruby hesitated. "How much?"

Two opulently dressed girls entered from a backroom and sat down on the two stools farthest from them. One wore white and blue, the other red and black. They looked like twins, young enough to still be in high school. They minded their own business, Junior showing no signs of having noticed them.

"Depends on what you want to know," he said.

"Bole Maze," Weiss said hurriedly, worried Ruby might be stupid enough to bring up Torchwick's name first. "What do you have on a man named Bole Maze?"

His gaze switched over to her. "Never heard of him."

"What about a woman?" said Ruby.

"You're going to need to be more specific than that," he said.

"She's tall, has light hair that didn't look natural," Ruby described.

He visibly tensed, and Weiss knew he knew who she was talking about. For several seconds he said nothing, Weiss's nails digging deeper into the bar. Then the man smiled and said, "I might know of her."

"Who is she?" Ruby said desperately.

Junior straightened his back and fished a pair of red-tinted sunglasses out of his pocket, putting them on. "Just wait here a second. I'll go grab what you're looking for." He turned and disappeared through a staff-only door.

"Ruby, we need to go," Weiss said urgently.

"What?" said Ruby, staring at her incredulously. "But he knows. We're so close!"

"Something's off. I don't feel good about this. He—"

Weiss cut herself off, distracted by the two girls from before. They'd stood and were now walking over. They each sat on either side of them, staring straight ahead and saying nothing.

"Hello," Weiss said nervously.

"This place is so boring in the day," said the one in white, her voice a dull drone.

"I wouldn't know," said Ruby, finally starting to show some signs of trepidation.

"Yeah," Weiss agreed. "In fact, we were just leaving."

"No, you're going to stay," said the girl in red to Weiss's left, her tone as bored-sounding as her sister's. She gently traced a circle against Weiss's arm, sending a static shock across her skin.

"Don't touch me!" Weiss exclaimed, whipping her arm back and shooting to her feet. Ruby stood with her, and together they backed away from the twins.

"Why would you leave when the excitement's just getting started?" said the one in white. She and her sister also got off their stools and positioned themselves between the two women and the door.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," said Weiss, burying her fear and acting as confidently as she could. "Just step aside and we'll be on our way."

The twins didn't respond. Instead, creepily, they both raised an eyebrow at the same time.

"My sister's a cop," Ruby tried desperately. "If I don't come home tonight . . ."

Her voice trailed off, as arcs of electricity began to dance around the twins' arms. Paragons.

Junior re-entered the room from the same door he left through, but he wasn't alone. Half a dozen men—all identically dressed in dark suits and fedoras with ties and sunglasses that matched their boss's—poured in after him, each holding a gun.

Weiss barely felt Ruby's hand suddenly clasp onto her wrist. Her courage had failed her. She was frozen again with her back against a building, the tip of a blade pressed against her forehead. Only Ruby's fingers kept her rooted to reality, and all Weiss could think was that a bullet would be a lot quicker and more painless than a knife.

"If you don't do anything stupid," said Junior, "then neither will we. You two are going to come with us. Someone's going to want to talk—"

Weiss's ears popped as she felt a lurch in her stomach, and instantly—Weiss couldn't even begin to wonder how it had happened—both she and Ruby were losing their balance across the room by the exit.

"What? Where'd they go?" Junior shouted.

Everyone looked around in confusion for a few seconds. Just when one of the henchmen spotted the two women, who hadn't moved, something came crashing down from the rafters—a person in a high-tech suit of armor.

"It's her!" someone shouted.

"No, you idiot!" said Junior. "It's an impostor! Shoot!"

The vigilante raised their shield and sprinted across the club, drawing the fire as far away from Weiss and Ruby as possible. Most of the bullets either missed or bounced off the shield—others struck the armor to little effect. The gunshots sounded suppressed, though were still loud.

"Run!" the Protector shouted with their distorted voice.

Ruby, who'd been staring wide-eyed at her own palms, raised her head enough to watch the action. Weiss shook herself out of her shock and grabbed the girl by the shoulders.

"Let's go!" she hissed. No one was paying attention to them.

Ruby didn't seem to want to—the men had stopped firing and now the paragon twins were running to enter the fray, their arms crackling with energy—but she nodded anyway. They scrambled to their feet and burst through the door out and into the daylight.

Weiss's heart rate didn't start to slow down until they'd rounded a corner and stopped to catch their breaths, Junior's club no longer in sight. She wanted to further distance herself from it, but her feet could barely take the running she'd already done in her heels. So, disguised by the other pedestrians, they took a moment to collect themselves.

So much had just happened at once. Weiss didn't even get the chance to start processing it all before a new emergency demanded her attention.

"Weiss," Ruby said faintly. She didn't seem that worn out by the running, but something was still off about her. She swayed on the spot and had to grab onto Weiss's arm to steady herself.

"Ruby?" Weiss said, alarmed.

"I feel funny. It's . . . I don't . . ." She had a distant look in her eyes. She clenched them shut several times as if she'd stared into a bright light and was trying to blink the remnants out of her vision. Then her eyes returned to focus, and she seemed to regain herself. "I don't know what that was."

Weiss had a lot of things she wanted to say to—or yell at—Ruby, but her concern for the girl forced her to swallow them all. "Come on," she said. "We're going to my apartment. You need to sit down."

"I feel fine now."

"Let's go," Weiss said sternly.

They started walking. It was a warm day with few clouds. The people they passed all looked content and paid them no mind. What had happened—what was probably still happening—in that club may as well be in an alternate dimension, for all the outside world cared. Weiss and Ruby had gone from being almost kidnapped, or worse, to what felt like a normal day.

With a chance to think, Weiss tried to recount everything that had just occurred. But her adrenaline was still pumping so badly her memory was jumbled. Some of what she recalled was too crazy to be accurate, right?

It didn't matter; she'd sort through it later. She knew one thing for sure—something was wrong with Ruby.

They reached Weiss's apartment building in just a couple of minutes. She had many complaints about it, but was grateful that it at least had an elevator; she loathed the thought of having to climb several flights of stairs multiple times a day. It was especially useful now, as Ruby had stumbled a couple times on the way there. She insisted it was nothing, but Weiss knew better.

Weiss's apartment was a simple studio. It had a bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen/living room. The manor she'd grown up in had closets larger than the entire thing, but it was the best she could afford.

"You live in a bad neighborhood," Ruby commented while Weiss was unlocking the door.

"Shut up and sit down," Weiss ordered as she led the way into her apartment. Ruby obeyed and took a seat on the couch while Weiss filled a glass with water. She dropped a few ice cubes inside then presented it to Ruby. "Drink."

"I told you, I'm fine." Ruby accepted the glass and took a generous gulp regardless.

"You are anything but fine. What did you do back there?"

Ruby set the cup down—half a foot away from a perfectly good coaster, Weiss observed—and looked down at her hands. "I'm not sure. I wasn't thinking. I just knew we had to get out of there, and then it just happened. I don't know how."

She looked up and met Weiss's eyes. Weiss could tell she was being sincere.

Then Ruby's gaze shifted to the right, and she screwed up her face in concentration. Weiss tried to see what she was looking at but only saw wall. She looked back to Ruby, about to say something, then the girl vanished with a faint whoosh sound, immediately reappearing on Weiss's left.

"I knew it!" Ruby said, having caught the wall for support. "I knew my insomnia couldn't be my semblance! I told you!"

Weiss could only gape at her.

Ruby focused again for a few seconds, then—whoosh. She teleported once more, falling onto the couch on her reappearance. She grinned and pointed at herself with both hands. "This is my semblance! I can Blink!"

"Wha—Blink?" said Weiss.

"Yeah! Like from . . ." Ruby yawned, and her eyes glazed over for a second. "You know . . . a show."

"Ruby?" said Weiss.

The girl's eyelids slid shut, and she slumped over.

"Ruby!" Weiss rushed over to her side, panicking. She dropped to her knees and reached for Ruby's shoulders, then hesitated, not sure what to do. She saw her chest continue to move, which indicated that she was still breathing.

Ruby rolled over onto her back, then let out an unmistakable snore. She was asleep.

Chapter Text

Weiss hated how peaceful Ruby looked. The way she curled up under the blanket Weiss had draped over her, how her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids, the occasional tiny snores—it was like a shield of innocence blocking Weiss's ability to stay angry with her, no matter how much she tried.

More than anything, though, Weiss worried for her. She had a small paranoia in the back of her mind that Ruby would never wake—a fear that she had to keep reminding herself was completely irrational. Ruby appeared comfortable, her breathing remained steady, and she even looked to have entered a REM stage. There was zero indication that Ruby was anything but healthy.

Still, Weiss agonized. It was an unprecedented situation for them both and she had no idea how Ruby would react. She'd be confused at best or suffer a panic attack at worst. Weiss would be there to help her through it regardless.

After rescheduling the appointment she'd had set for later in the afternoon, she struggled to find ways to busy herself. Time moved forward at a crawl, and Ruby slumbered on. Doing anything productive was all but impossible after the day's events. She couldn't keep them out of her head—Junior, the twins, Ruby's semblance. She could still hear the gunshots as clear as day, and the sound they made bouncing off their hero's shield.

Their hero. The Protector of Vale had saved her—again. What were the odds? She'd kept her ear to the ground about the vigilante for weeks, but their one and only appearance had been the incident that gave her her scar. And now they showed up at the exact time Weiss needed help again. It couldn't be a coincidence. Who were they?

Weiss was in the kitchen with her scroll when a groan caught her attention after two hours of silence. She hurried over to Ruby who'd begun to writhe.

"No!" Ruby jolted awake, shouting and whipped her head around, frantically searching the room for something that wasn't there. "Mom! Mom!"

"Ruby!" Weiss grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to get her to meet her eyes. "Ruby, it's okay. Look at me."

Ruby's frenzied gaze snapped onto her, bemused. "Weiss? But . . . I . . ."

"It wasn't real," Weiss said. "It was dream, Ruby."

"No, no, I saw her. I saw her d—" The girl choked on her words, tears already falling down her cheeks.

"Look at me, Ruby. It was just a dream. Whatever you saw wasn't real. I'm real. Focus on me."

"It was her. I w-watched her . . ."

Ruby broke down into sobs and Weiss, without a second thought, wrapped her into a hug. Ruby buried her face in her shoulder and held her tight, weeping freely. And for a while, they stayed like that.

Weiss understood now. Two years, and Ruby had never processed her grief. Finding the killer was all she had. She was holding onto this investigation as a lifeline, as if bringing them to justice would make the pain go away—as if it could even bring her mother back.

It wouldn't. And that was a dangerous mentality that needed to be brought under control before she descended into a downward spiral. The longer she gave herself that false hope, the tighter she'd cling to it, and the more devastating the inevitable disappointment would be. Bottling these kinds of things came with interest.

"I saw her die, Weiss," Ruby eventually whispered.

"I know," Weiss said.

Ruby pulled away and wiped her eyes. Weiss stood and returned with a box of tissues.

"Are dreams always that vivid?" Ruby asked, her face still blotchy.

"More often than not," Weiss said, standing a reasonable distance away from her, growing self-conscious over the level of intimacy they'd just shared. "Most of the time, you forget them before you even brush your teeth."

Ruby hugged her knees to her chest, and it took some time before she spoke again. "I thought sleep would be an escape from this."

The words struck Weiss like a punch to the gut. "Wait, that's why you wanted a cure so desperately?"

Ruby nodded.

"Ruby, that isn't healthy. You're searching for a way to avoid your grief when you need to be learning how to process it."

"I can't. I just can't. Every time I try and move on, I have to imagine a life without her in it—to accept th-that I won't see her again the next time I visit Dad, or when he visits us. I just can't do that or it'll b-break me." She seemed on the verge of tears again, but she was holding them back now.

Weiss pulled a chair over from the kitchen and sat facing her. "Sometimes, you have to allow things to break, or they'll never be fixed."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. I'm the only qualified person in your life to tell you that."

Ruby said nothing.

"Have you never seen a therapist about this?"

"I don't need a therapist." She paused, then suddenly stood and gave Weiss an accusatory glare. "And I don't need you to therapize me. What I need is to know why I can sleep all of a sudden, and why I now have a superpower." She focused on a spot across the room.

"Wait, Ruby, don't—" Weiss started.

The girl teleported with a faint whoosh.

"I'd suggest exercising a bit of restraint with this new ability," Weiss said.

"Why?" Ruby Blinked—as she called it—again.

"Ruby, stop. You're going to over—"

Whoosh.

"—exert yourself."

Ruby was getting better at her landings; she didn't even need to grab onto anything for that last one. But she lost her balance when she tried walking back to the lounge area, now that she was finally done faffing about, and fell to her knees. Weiss didn't even bother getting up.

"I told you so," she said.

"Okay, okay," Ruby said sluggishly. "I see your point." She managed to get up and make it back to the couch, then promptly fell back asleep.

After another couple of hours had passed, Weiss began to suspect that Ruby might be asleep for a while. She was beginning to consider just calling it a night herself when she heard Ruby's scroll ringing. The girl didn't stir. Weiss hesitated before carefully extracting the device from her pocket to see Yang's name on the screen. She decided to answer it, not wanting her to worry.

"Hey, sis," Yang said.

"This is Weiss, actually," Weiss said. "Weiss Schnee."

"Where's Ruby?"

"She's at my place, and currently in the shower." Weiss didn't like the idea of lying to Ruby's sister, but this news wasn't hers to share. Ruby would just have to explain everything when she returned to her own apartment. "She might not be coming home tonight."

There was a pause. "Ohhh. Are you two . . . ya know?"

Weiss furrowed her brow. There was an implication in her tone that she didn't understand. "Um . . . I don't know."

"Well, I would say 'sleeping together' but that phrasing doesn't really work with Ruby, now does it?"

"W-what?" Weiss sputtered. "No! Why would you—? No, I'm not even— Wait, is she?"

Yang's laughter came muffled from the other end, like she'd temporarily moved the scroll away from her face. "Figured you knew. You two have been spending a lot of time together."

"We're friends. And I'm straight."

"Alright, alright. Just make sure she knows that."

"She does."

"Good. So what are you up to, then? Just having a little slumber party or something, minus the slumbering?"

"I . . . suppose that's accurate."

"Alright. Well, I was gonna ask her about dinner, but I guess that doesn't matter. Tell her to text me tomorrow if she doesn't get home before I leave for work, will you?"

"I'll tell her."

"Thanks. See ya."

"Goodbye."

With the call ended, Weiss returned to the living room and placed Ruby's scroll on the coffee table. She stared at Ruby's sleeping face for a brief moment, then quickly looked away, her cheeks warm. Suddenly the girl's comments about Weiss's ponytail being "cute" and Neptune being quick to ask out "pretty girls" had entirely new connotations.

Weiss pushed the subject out of her mind. Those compliments were completely innocuous. Ruby was far from the first woman to call her pretty, and likely wouldn't be the last.

She sat down at her dining table, facing away from her friend, and pulled out her own scroll. She typed "Junior's" into a search engine for about the dozenth time, and finally got results. She'd heard the police sirens pass by not long after Ruby first fell asleep and figured it was only a matter of time before the media caught wind of what happened.

She tapped on an article published twenty minutes ago titled, Vigilante Attacks Nightclub in Broad Daylight, then began to read. Every sentence infuriated her. Not only was Junior not facing any charges, but he was being painted as a victim.

The official story was that Junior had been preparing his establishment for busy hours with two part-time workers, who chose to remain anonymous, when a vigilante snuck in through the vent system and attacked them. The workers, who happened to be paragons, attempted to use their semblances in "self-defense" but were struck by strange devices that seemed to somehow inhibit their powers. Junior fired his personal firearm when that failed, but didn't damage anything other than his own walls. The Protector of Vale impersonator fled the scene before authorities arrived, but witnesses spotted them sprinting across the rooftops away from the club. Motives are unknown, but speculation suggests that the vigilante could have been after the workers, driven by some sort of anti-paragon agenda.

The blatant lying did have one benefit—Weiss and Ruby had been omitted entirely. No one who wasn't present knew there'd been any visiting patrons at the time of the incident, which meant they were in the clear. Unfortunately, Junior's lackeys had also been left out of the article. It would seem they'd run or hidden before Junior called the cops.

The question was, why call? It could only have been Junior or one of his goons. Weiss hadn't done it, and Ruby hadn't been awake to do it. If he'd wanted to avoid suspicion, the smart thing to do would have been to cover up the ordeal entirely. The gunfire wouldn't have reached the streets through the club's soundproof walls. Had he just wanted a chance to defame the new Protector?

It was just more to theorize about. But soon, it likely wouldn't matter, if the impending conversation with Ruby went as poorly as Weiss was anticipating.

Eventually, Weiss could neglect her own rest no longer. So, after checking on Ruby one last time—still fast asleep—she changed into her nightgown and got into bed, leaving her bedroom door open to be safe. It took her a while to drift off, unable to stop reliving everything, but she managed in the end.

Weiss woke to the sound of her alarm; she hadn't dreamt much that night. She got up, not feeling well-rested at all, and made her way to the living room. Ruby was awake and watching TV on low volume, a steaming mug in her hands. She'd tossed her hoodie over the arm of the couch and taken off her shoes, but kept her socks on. Her sunglasses were half folded on the coffee table.

"How long have you been up?" Weiss asked.

Ruby started. "Oh! Morning, Weiss. A few hours." She glanced down at the drink she'd nearly spilled on herself. "Sorry, I helped myself to some coffee. I just really had a craving for it. I can pay you back for it, if you're mad."

"Is there enough for me?"

"Yeah."

"Then I don't care. How'd you sleep?"

"Better, but it's still really weird and confusing."

"Obviously. And your dreams?"

Ruby wouldn't meet her eyes when she said, "None."

Weiss didn't buy it, but she had to use the bathroom too urgently to press it further. "I'm going to take a shower, then we'll talk."

"Okay. Your radiator's broken, by the way. I'm pretty sure I could fix it, but I couldn't find any tools."

"You could?" Weiss was pleasantly surprised, but then the rest of what Ruby had said sunk in, and her eyes dangerously narrowed. "Wait, what do you mean by 'couldn't find'?"

Ruby's eyes widened. "No, I wasn't invading your privacy, or anything! I just looked around and checked the obvious places, like under the sinks. I wasn't trying to snoop."

"Ask, next time."

"Sorry."

"And I don't have any tools."

"Oh. Well, if you want, I could come back sometime with mine and take a look at the radiator for you. I'm pretty handy."

"That'd . . . be great. Thank you," Weiss said with little conviction. She turned toward the bathroom, then paused. "Oh, your sister called last night. She said—"

"I know. I called her after I woke up. Thanks for answering it for me. She would've worried why I didn't come home."

"You're welcome."

Twenty minutes later, Weiss had freshened up and gotten dressed, having taken a shorter shower than she usually would have. She prepared herself a cup of coffee then sat down beside Ruby.

"Wait, you have cream?" Ruby exclaimed after taking one glance at Weiss's mug. "I thought you liked it black!"

"Not exclusively," Weiss said.

Ruby stared down at her own nearly-empty cup. "Well, I wish I'd known that. Here I am drinking coffee with nothing but sugar in it like an idiot."

Weiss just rolled her eyes and took a cautious sip. She watched the TV—it was playing some cartoon she'd never seen before—until Ruby picked up the remote and shut it off.

"So . . ." the girl said. "Any idea why I can sleep now?"

Weiss lowered her mug to her lap, cupping it with both hands, and took a moment to consider her reply. "I've actually put a lot of thought to it, and I have a hypothesis."

"And?" Ruby said eagerly.

"I think it's your price."

Ruby's brow furrowed. "My . . . price?"

"The price of your semblance," Weiss explained. "That's what my mother used to call it. Semblances seldom come freely. They require something from you. Some feed on emotion, or cause pain or hunger—it differs. Mine physically exhausts me, and it—"

"Wait, it physically exhausts you?" Ruby cut in. "Wouldn't it make more sense for it to, I don't know, give you a headache or something?"

"Semblances rarely make sense, Ruby. Now don't interrupt."

"Sorry."

"As I was saying, mine physically exhausts me and can even leave me with a fever if I push it too far. I believe your semblance tires you."

"Okay . . . but why would that keep me from being able to sleep before now?"

"Paragons' bodies work differently than most people's. They have to adapt to their semblance. It's possible that—to put it simply—your body has to conserve more energy than normally needed to make up for what your semblance drains. So unless you use it, you're producing energy faster than you're spending it, which effectively means that you'll only get tired if you teleport."

"So, all I have to do is Blink around my room at night and I'll be able to sleep like a normal person?" She sounded disheartened, like the thing she'd once longed for had lost its appeal.

"That's my educated guess."

Ruby said nothing. It was strange seeing her this somber—a stark contrast to the reckless, often annoying bundle of joy Weiss was used to.

"Ruby," Weiss said. "What did you dream about last night?"

"Nothing," Ruby said without meeting her gaze.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." She stood. "How come I can only Blink a few times, and then I just pass out? That's so lame."

Weiss sighed. "You've never used your semblance before. It'll get easier over time. The first time I healed someone, I was severely fatigued for two days. Now I can do three in a short time and fully recover within twenty-four hours. Now, what did you dream about?"

Ruby pretended not to hear the last part. "So, I just need to practice and it won't tire me as much?"

"Yes. Stop prevaricating."

Ruby had a blank look. "What?"

"You're being purposefully evasive and avoiding the main issue here."

"I don't want to talk about it, alright?"

"Ruby, I'm telling you—as your friend and as a psychotherapist—that this kind of behavior is self-destructive. The longer you keep going like this—"

"But you're not a real therapist, right? It's just a title for you to use your semblance. You haven't gone through any of the training, or whatever."

Weiss gritted her teeth. "I have a master's in psychology. I know what I'm talking about."

"Well, I don't care—that's not the point. I said I don't want to talk about it. It's been two years. I'm fine."

"You are not—" Weiss started, but Ruby stubbornly spoke over her.

"There are more important matters at hand! Like what happened at Junior's."

Weiss narrowed her gaze and tightened her hold on her mug. Just like that, Ruby was back to her usual, aggravating self. Weiss did not want to drop the subject, but knew further arguing would be pointless—Ruby would just sink deeper into her own incorrect view. Weiss had said her piece, and that was all she could do for now. Plus, she needed to conserve her energy for the next argument they were about to have.

"Fine," Weiss relented. "Let's discuss you ignoring my warnings and nearly getting us abducted."

Ruby's eyes shifted toward the floor, and there was some hesitation before she said, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Weiss said after a pause. She wasn't expecting her to take responsibility so readily.

"Yeah. The guy has been working with the cops for ages! I never thought he'd do something like that."

"I warned you—"

"I know, I know. I should've listened. But it worked out in the end, didn't it? It wasn't all bad."

"Not all bad? The only reason we're here right now is sheer luck. And now we're on their radar."

"They'll never be able to ID us. We were disguised, remember?"

"But now Junior's going to tell whomever he's working for that two women—one with a recognizable semblance—are prying around where they shouldn't. It's over, Ruby."

Ruby's eyes widened. "My semblance . . . I can't report this to CAB. Then all the bad guys have to do is break into their database like they did the County Clerk's and they'll know who I am."

Weiss hadn't considered that. "First of all, it's 'the C-A-B', not 'cab'. Secondly . . . yes. You're going to have to be very careful about who knows. And don't even think about keeping this from your sister."

"I wasn't going to! I saw the lies on the news. The police have no idea someone with my semblance was there."

Weiss stared at her. "And if they did, your answer would somehow be different?"

"Well, duh. I still can't have her knowing about—"

"You are unbelievable." Weiss set her mug down on a coaster and stood.

"What?" Ruby defended. "It'd bring up way too many awkward questions. And the only one I'm worried about right now is, where do we go from here?"

"What?"

"I said, where do we go from here? Junior knows the killer—"

"Ruby, are you out of your mind?"

Weiss wasn't surprised, but she was disappointed. She'd hoped that, perhaps just this once, Ruby would be sensible instead of actively insane.

"Huh?" Ruby was genuinely confused, which was all the more infuriating.

"There is nowhere to go from here," Weiss said. "It's over."

Ruby looked hurt. "You're giving up on me, too?"

But Weiss would not be guilt-tripped. "We agreed at the very beginning that the instant we run into any form of danger, we would go to the police."

"But we're so close! We've learned so much—"

"And look at what it nearly cost us! The entire point of doing this ourselves, quietly, was to avoid the chance of the killer knowing someone was on to them. Guess what? Now they know. And if they manage to track us down, they'll kill us, and everything we've discovered will die too."

"They don't know nearly enough to find us."

"You don't know that! Ruby, please. It's time to give this up and let the people trained to do this take over."

"But what if telling the cops is what draws attention to us?"

"Competent authorities are more than capable of protecting us."

"Not if these people have spies inside the VPD."

Weiss hesitated. "There's no evidence to suggest that."

"They'd be pretty bad spies if there was."

"And Yang would be a terrible detective if she didn't suspect anything. Don't you have any faith in your sister?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then what's the issue?" Weiss exclaimed.

Ruby said nothing. A long moment passed where all she could do was stubbornly stand her ground, failing to come up with a response. But they both knew the argument was over. Ruby silently picked up her shoes, slung her hoodie over her shoulder, and marched toward the door.

"Ruby, wait," Weiss said.

The girl looked back at her.

Weiss pointed at the coffee table. "You forgot your sunglasses."

Ruby huffed back over, grabbed them, then left, slamming the door on her way out.

Weiss sat back down; a rosy scent lingered on the couch. She placed her head in her hands, her breathing shaky from raising her voice.

It was times like these that helped her realize why she was incapable of maintaining lasting friendships. Did normal people just concede in their quarrels, even when they were right, in order to preserve peace between friends? Perhaps the only reason she was still close with Winter was that they only saw each other on occasion—there were too few chances for explosive debates. Weiss had shared her entire childhood with her brother, and that hadn't done their relationship any favors. Maybe it was just best for everyone if she kept her distance.

Chapter Text

Weiss hated irony. She'd finally found her answer; she'd discovered what it was that had been driving her to help Ruby investigate Summer Rose's murder. And all it took was the end of the whole endeavor, as well as their short-lived friendship. The answer was, in truth, underwhelming.

It was Ruby.

The initial mockery aside—or what Weiss now understood to have been playful teasing—Ruby had been friendlier to her in two interactions and a handful of emails than most people had been in Weiss's entire life. It had left an unexpected impression on her that she'd been too focused on Ruby's annoying faults to notice. The simple truth of the matter was that Weiss decided to help Ruby because it was a chance to spend more time with her—it was a chance to have a friend.

And she didn't come to that realization until it no longer mattered. Irony—she hated it.

Though she'd spent her childhood learning how to act "proper", obey etiquette, and socialize with her peers, she'd never learned how to build meaningful relationships. Her conditioned behaviors were meant to serve ulterior motives. She needed to conduct herself as a noblewoman should, to maintain a good image and earn respect—not for herself, but for the family and the man at the head of it. She had to know how to speak to people and make good first impressions in order to develop contacts and garner favors. That was in the name of networking—it didn't help her earn any actual friends.

Those habits were expected to follow her into school, too, but it hadn't mattered. Kids her age were intimidated by her last name or afraid of her because she had a semblance. Those who did try to get close to her wouldn't have done so if her family hadn't been wealthy and well-connected. Her few attempts at romance had failed for the same reasons.

So she'd been alone at school. After Winter left to join the military, Weiss had been alone at home. Nothing changed until high school, when she made her first honest friend, but Weiss eventually managed to drive her away, too. Then her father was arrested, the family became scattered, and she was lonelier than ever. The investigation with Ruby was a prime opportunity to not be alone for once, so she'd seized it. A part of her had even dared to believe it might last.

Obviously, she was wrong. Five days without any contact with her was what it took to learn the simple truth buried within her subconscious. It was strange—Weiss had spent half a decade studying the human mind, yet she still didn't understand her own.

More irony.

It was noon on a Sunday. Weiss sat at her dining table, enjoying a bowl of noodles while she wallowed in her own self-pity, pretending she was just fine on her own. Her scroll sat face-up near the napkins, an email from Neptune Vasilias on the screen. She'd received it a couple of days ago but hadn't responded to it. She assumed he'd managed to find one of her psychotherapy ads. By way of clearing the air between them, he'd attached a folder full of intel on Roman Torchwick. She'd skimmed it a couple of times, and it didn't seem to contain much that she didn't already know. She felt stupid for opening it at all, as Torchwick no longer had any relevance on her life, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

The message Neptune had sent was actually kind of sweet. Weiss was tempted to reply, but resisted the urge. She wasn't still mad at him; she hadn't really been mad at him in the first place. Her pride just tended to get the better of her in arguments, no matter how small or petty. It had been a lot worse in her youth, but she'd outgrown her most obnoxious habits. "Don't you know who I am?" are words that had actually left her mouth on more than one occasion, a fact that still haunts her.

Weiss didn't want to get her hopes up again. She didn't want a repeat of what had happened with Ruby, where she starts getting close with someone only for it to inevitably end in disappointment. She was keeping her distance from Neptune.

The scroll started to ring, and a news article about another one of Torchwick's robberies was replaced with Ruby's name. Weiss stared at it, perplexed, before hurriedly dropping her fork and swallowing the bit of food she'd been chewing. She picked up the device and tapped the green button.

"Hey, Weiss. You busy?" Ruby said with a voice that was all too casual, as if nothing had happened.

"Weiss?" Ruby said after not getting a response.

"Um, yes," Weiss said warily. "I mean, no, I'm not busy."

"Awesome. Do you think you could give me a ride? I'm just a few minutes away from your place right now."

It took a moment for Weiss to decide how to reply. "Ruby, nothing's changed. I'm done with the investigation."

"I got that, loud and clear. So what? We're still friends, right?"

"W-we are?"

When Ruby spoke again, she sounded hurt. "Do you not want to be?"

"I thought that you didn't. We had that huge argument."

"Of course I do! People fight, they make up. Big deal. If you stop being someone's friend over one disagreement, then you wouldn't have any friends at all."

Weiss could only stare at her noodles.

"So, are we good?" Ruby asked.

"Yes," Weiss answered, suddenly feeling more upbeat. "We're . . . good."

"Great! So, give me a ride? Pretty please?"

"Why don't you just use your new 'trick'?"

"Huh? Oh, my semblance. It doesn't really work that way. I've been toying around with it a little, and I think I can only teleport to where I can see."

"Oh. Otherwise, I might've been the one calling you for transportation."

"Heh. Would've been convenient. So . . . ride?"

"Fine. Text me your location."

"Sweet! See you soon."

Weiss came to a stop outside a bakery to find Ruby waiting on the curb. The girl promptly spotted her and got in on the passenger side.

"Home, please," she said. A moment later, she remembered to fasten her seat belt.

Weiss hesitated. "Are you sure? Mightn't it be better to go to a police station instead?"

"No," Ruby said firmly.

"The longer you—"

"Can we not do this right now? I just got fired."

"I didn't even know you had a job."

"I worked here part-time, only on the weekends. I guess I've been distracted the past few weeks, and my 'performance has been lackluster', so they let me go."

"I'm sorry."

Ruby shrugged. "It's fine. Can we go?"

Weiss pulled out onto the road.

"Sorry for asking you," said Ruby. "Yang usually picks me up, but I normally don't get off until a lot later. She's working on some important case right now."

"Well, you asked just in time," said Weiss. "I'm selling my car tomorrow."

"Oh? Are things really that tight?"

"No. I can get by, but I've come to accept that owning a car in this city just isn't worth the expense. Parking, insurance, gas—they're a major drain. So from now on, I'll be using taxis and the—" Weiss suppressed a shudder "—subway."

"Oh, come on. The subway's not that bad."

"But they're so dirty! And full of people." Weiss glanced at Ruby long enough to see she was rolling her eyes. "What?"

Ruby chuckled. "Nothing. You know, if you're having money problems—"

"Don't you dare offer to lend me money."

"Who said I was going to?"

"It sounded like where that was going."

"I was just going to say, I still never paid you for treating me, the first time we met."

"I didn't cure you."

"But I should still owe you for your time, right?"

"Forget it."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Well, how about this? I buy you dinner tomorrow, and we can call it even."

Weiss glanced at her. "As friends, right?"

"Um, duh?" Ruby said like it was obvious.

Weiss had to consider it. She'd heard this story before. Willow Schnee, Weiss's mother, had refused to accept payment for curing Jacques Gelé's gambling addiction, as she'd been wealthy enough to lend her services free of charge. As a compromise, he offered to take her to dinner instead. Their wedding was held exactly one year later.

Weiss didn't like that parallel.

"Well?" Ruby said. "We have a deal?"

"You just lost your job," said Weiss. "I don't want to put you out."

"Psh." Ruby waved her hand dismissively. "I only worked so I could buy things I wanted for myself. Video games, comics—stuff like that. My dad pays the bills and Yang covers most of the groceries, so it's not like I really need the lien. Besides, I have savings."

Weiss contemplated a bit longer, then finally accepted. "Alright. But it had better be a good restaurant."

It was after ten minutes of Weiss enduring Ruby's questionable music choice before they arrived. Weiss slowed to a stop, but Ruby didn't get out.

"Could you park and come up with me?" she asked.

"Why?" said Weiss.

"I want to show you something, and we'll have a chance to talk."

"Ruby, if you're going to show me what you added to your 'crime board', then I want nothing to do with it."

"It's not that. I promise."

"Fine. Let's see it."

Weiss parked the car and paid the meter. Ruby led the way up and straight to her bedroom. Once inside, she dropped to her knees and rummaged beneath a bed that hadn't been there before—it looked brand new and noticeably more comfortable than Weiss's.

"Got it!" Ruby emerged and stood with a small cardboard box in her hands. She placed it on the mattress and withdrew from it a dark object that she then presented to Weiss.

It was a mask. Made of a lightweight metal and painted black, it was big enough to cover the entire face. Thorny red vines branched all over its surface. The eye holes had a sleek, slanted shape and were covered by a tinted but transparent material. Above them, at the center of the forehead, a small hook jutted out for some reason. And where the mouth should be were several tiny holes, blocked by something on the other side.

"What is this?" Weiss said with a sinking feeling in her gut.

"It's my mask," Ruby said, shaking it a little to urge Weiss to take it. "I've been working on it all week using my school's workshop. Look!"

Weiss grabbed it as if it might bite her, then turned it over in her hands. Some electronics covered the inside of the mouth area.

"It's made of titanium, with polycarbonate for the eyes," Ruby explained. "I'm still working on the voice modulator, and I haven't given it a strap yet. I'm thinking of doing a headband with a pair of magnets, so I can just pull it on and off—might not be the most secure though."

"And the hook?"

"Oh! That's for the cloak. I'm going to have a little loop underneath the hood so the hook will keep it from flying off."

Ruby took out a piece of paper from the box and showed it to Weiss. On it were several well-drawn sketches for what was unmistakably a superhero. They all included the mask and a red hooded cloak, as well as sections of armor plates in varying sizes and quantities.

"This is your Halloween costume for next month, right?" Weiss said with misguided hope.

Ruby's brow furrowed. "No, of course not."

"Ruby, please don't tell me you're planning what I think you're planning."

Ruby teleported half a foot to her right with a faint whoosh. "Weiss, I have a superpower!"

"You're deranged." Weiss shook her head at the ceiling. "You are an absolute lunatic."

"No, I'm not!" Ruby said. "Despite what you think, I'm not some defenseless little girl. Yang's been teaching me martial arts the past few weeks. I can—"

"A few weeks?" Weiss repeated. "A few weeks. And you think that qualifies you to run around fighting criminals who will almost definitely be armed? Is your few weeks of close combat training supposed to protect you against bullets?"

"No, my semblance is—and the armor."

Weiss couldn't sit still anymore. She shoved the mask back into Ruby's hands and stormed out into the living room. Ruby set the mask down on her bed and hurried after her.

"Look—" Ruby started.

"If you're so determined to die," Weiss said, "there are much faster and simpler methods."

"Obviously, I'm not going to start any time soon. But with the right gear, more practice with my semblance, and some proper training, I can do it. I can be like her."

"Pyrrha Nikos. You think that you can live up to what she did? Ruby, that woman fought through a mechanized army with nothing but a suit of armor and a sword and shield to destroy one of the most devastating weapons ever built from the inside, taking down Salem and herself with it. You think that you can do that?"

"Not at first, but I could get to that point. Pyrrha was my age when she died. Maybe I can find whoever taught her. Or I could find the person who saved us from Junior and they could teach me."

"So, what? You want to be their sidekick?"

"No! More like a . . . protégé."

Weiss sat down and rubbed her temple, and it took her a bit to speak again. "Ruby. Do you even understand how utterly exhausting it is to be your friend? It seems like every time we talk, you're coming up with some new imprudent, harebrained idea that I have to fruitlessly attempt to convince you out of."

"Well I'm sorry that I dream bigger than you and that I believe in myself."

"That's a funny way of saying you grossly overestimate your own capabilities."

"You know, I think I know what the real problem is. You just don't have any faith in me."

"Oh? Really? Okay. I should just have some more faith," Weiss said sarcastically. "Do I need to bring up what happened at Junior's again?"

Ruby balled her fists. "That was one mistake. I—"

She stopped short because the doorknob to the front door had begun to shake. Whoever was on the other side seemed to be having a hard time getting it open.

"I thought you said your sister was working a case," Weiss said.

"She is," Ruby said, confused.

The door finally burst open and two women came clumsily inside, one blonde and the other black of hair. They were locked in a passionate embrace, Ruby's sister being backed into the apartment by the other. They were lost in each other's lips, eyes closed, unaware that the room wasn't empty.

"Yang?" Ruby exclaimed. "Blake?"

The two lovers froze like deer caught in the headlights. Then they hastily pulled away from each other, cheeks blazing, and put a good two feet of distance between each other.

"Ruby!" said Yang in a very forced casual tone. "Wha- why aren't you at work?"

"Why were you making out with Blang?" Ruby demanded. "I mean Yake. I mean— Y-you know what I mean!"

That short exchange was enough time for Weiss to get a good look at the black-haired woman. Her hair came down to her shoulders, and she had amber eyes that seemed to only have spotted Ruby. She was dressed casually—as was Yang—wearing a black vest with coattails, of which the top two buttons remained unfastened.

Weiss stood. "Blake?"

All those times Ruby, Yang, or Sun had mentioned her, Blake Belladonna was the last person Weiss thought they could have possibly been referring to.

"You know her?" Ruby said.

Everyone was staring at Weiss now, the sisters in bemusement and Blake in horror. Then the latter vanished into thin air.

"Blake Belladonna you get back here this instant!" Weiss said.

Whoosh. Ruby suddenly stood with her arms spread wide, blocking the exit. "Oh no you don't."

Blake reappeared not far from her, mid footstep, her mouth hanging open as she looked back and forth between Ruby and where she'd been standing a moment before. "Wha—? How did you . . .? Since when can you—?"

"Since when have you been dating my sister?" Ruby said.

"Since when have you lived in Vale?" Weiss directed at Blake.

"Okay, can we all just calm down before another bombshell drops on us?" Yang said, raising her voice above all others. She didn't seem surprised by Ruby's semblance. She marched over to the door and ushered Ruby and Blake away from it so she could close it. "Let's all just sit down so we can address one thing at a time."

Weiss lowered herself back onto the couch and immediately crossed both her arms and legs. Ruby sat beside her while Blake claimed the seat farthest away from Weiss, who hadn't stopped glaring at her—Blake glanced at Weiss's hair but didn't comment. Yang casually hopped over the back of the couch and plopped herself down next to her girlfriend.

"Okay," she said.

Weiss opened her mouth to speak.

"Ah bup bup!" Yang held up her hand. "No. Me first. Well—" she grabbed Blake's hand "—us first. I owe it to Ruby."

"Yeah, you do," Ruby said, staring at their intertwined fingers. "How long has this been going on?"

"Well . . . remember when we arrested Adam Taurus?"

"That was weeks ago!"

"Two months, actually," Blake offered unhelpfully.

"Hold on," Weiss said, her eyes still on Blake. "Did you just say that you arrested Adam?"

"Hey, princess," Yang said. "Can I finish? One thing at a time, remember?"

Weiss pursed her lips, but waved her hand for Yang to continue.

"Well, it was like a week after that," said Yang. "Blake and I got to talking, and we both admitted we'd had feelings for each other for a while. Then one thing led to another and . . . well, you don't need to hear the details."

Ruby cringed. "Ew, no."

"So, yeah," Yang finished lamely. "That's about it. We're dating now."

"But why did you never tell me?" Ruby said.

"That's my fault," Blake said. "And I'm sorry. We all know how . . . complicated my last relationship was."

Weiss scoffed.

Blake ignored her. "And we didn't even know if the whole being partners while dating thing would even work. I wanted to take things slow—well, slower. I thought it'd be easier to figure it all out if no one knew for a while, so I asked Yang to keep it secret."

"But two months!" said Ruby.

"I know," Yang said guiltily.

"And I had to find out by accident."

"You weren't supposed to be home."

"And you lied to me! You said you were working a secret case!"

Yang winced. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. And I'm sorry. But to be fair, I was working a case; I was looking for clues as to how Blake's such a good kisser . . . in her mouth."

Blake had a slight smile despite the blush in her cheeks.

"We've still got some more work to do before we crack the case," said Yang.

"I've got another lead for us to follow up on later," said Blake.

Yang grinned. Ruby did not seem amused, and Weiss was still impatiently waiting for her turn to yell at Blake.

"If you have something to say, then say it already," Blake shot at Weiss after a brief lull, all traces of humor gone.

"Oh?" said Weiss. "Am I allowed to, or should I keep waiting until you're done discussing your love life?"

"I'm still not over this—" Ruby gestured at Blake and Yang "—but I'm fine putting it on hold for now. Since when do you two know each other?" She pointed from Weiss to Blake.

"Yeah, I want to know that, too," said Yang, now staring pointedly at her girlfriend. "I told you Ruby's been hanging out with her, and you never said anything."

"Not surprising," said Weiss. "Her first instinct when things get difficult has always been to avoid the matter, run away, or disappear. I see nothing's changed."

"Seriously," said Ruby, "can one of you explain—?"

"We were friends," Blake said. "Back in Atlas. For about four years throughout most of high school and a while after."

"Closer to four and a half," Weiss corrected.

Blake rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the example of the kind of behavior that drove us apart in the first place."

"You did that yourself by running around with a man that I warned you about, numerous times, to start a terrorist organization."

"The White Flame I helped start was a peaceful activist group," Blake defended. "And I'm the one who turned them in when I realized what he was planning."

"A lot of good that did. He just started a new, much worse, White Flame in Vale. I should've known you'd followed him here. Could never stay away from him for long, could you?"

"He followed me here! I didn't want anything to do with him after that. And in case you hadn't noticed, Adam's all the way in Atlas Supermax—with your dad—and I'm right here."

Weiss shot to her feet, too outraged to come up with a retort. Four years. Four years since they last saw each other, and the first thing Blake does is throw that in her face?

"Okay!" Ruby placed herself in front of Weiss to try and defuse the situation. "Why don't we all just take a moment to relax and calm down a bit."

"She can take as many moments as she needs," said Weiss. "I'm done here. I have nothing else to say to her." She started toward the door.

"Who's the one running away now, Weiss?" Blake mumbled, just loud enough for Weiss to catch it.

Weiss paused and bit her tongue, then continued out, slamming the door behind her.

Weiss had first met Blake at the start of Sophomore year, the year Weiss had convinced her father to let her transfer to public school. Because of Weiss's last name, they'd gotten off to a bad start. That eventually changed when Blake learned that Weiss, too, was a paragon. Blake apologized for making a snap judgement, and they were able to bond over shared experiences.

But that obviously didn't last forever. Near the end of Junior year was when Blake met Adam. She'd been arguing with a group of anti-paragon bullies at the edge of campus when he happened to walk by. He jumped in to defend her, using his semblance to threaten them. Blake believed him when he told her he'd activated it by accident, but Weiss always had her doubts. The two began dating, and after her graduation, they started their little "activist group" that would grow into something far more nefarious.

The more infatuated Blake became with Adam, the more she and Weiss argued. Weiss knew he was a bad influence on her, but Blake refused to hear it. She often retaliated with verbal abuse on Weiss's father and the STC, which didn't make things better. Then, one day, they had a huge fight that resulted in a silence between the two. A few days later, there was a news story saying Adam Taurus and many other White Flame members had been arrested for conspiring to commit an act of terrorism, the authorities having received a tip-off from someone within the group. Weiss had immediately tried to call Blake—no answer. All further attempts to contact her were also ignored. And that was the unceremonious end to their friendship.

"Wow," Ruby said through a mouthful of tiramisu. "She ghosted you."

"If you want to put it that way." Weiss was poking at what was left of her mushroom risotto—she hadn't had the appetite for dessert. "I suppose it's apt—she can turn invisible, after all."

Ruby's mouth twitched. "Was that a joke?"

Weiss hesitated. "Possibly."

"Yay! There might just be hope for you yet."

"What do you mean by that?" Weiss said, unsure whether to take it as an insult.

"I just mean it's nice to see that you might have a fun side. You're so serious all the time, you know?"

Weiss didn't think that was fair. "Fun". How do you even define that? She found enjoyment in many things, such as reading, puzzle solving, plays, and the opera. She realized those weren't exactly the kind of things most people would jump to call "fun", but that didn't make her a boring person, did it?

She liked to ice skate. She used to do it all the time back in Atlas, though her opportunities nowadays were far more limited. She's quite good at it, too. Going by the arbitrary metric someone like Ruby used, that was objectively fun. Surely that was enough to make Weiss fun as well.

"So, do you have any idea why Blake moved away without telling you?" Ruby said, shaking her from her thoughts.

"I told you. We'd been arguing more and more for a while by then. I assume she just got sick of it. Or maybe she just couldn't bear to admit I was right about her precious boyfriend."

"She must've had a good reason. The Blake I know—"

"There is nothing that can justify her leaving without so much as even saying goodbye."

"You could at least try talking to her. I'm sure she regrets it."

"It's been four years, Ruby, and my number hasn't changed. If she had any remorse, she'd have called a long time ago. I'll talk to her when she apologizes to me."

Ruby bit back whatever else she had to say on the matter, likely because she knew it'd only upset Weiss more, and went back to finishing her dessert.

It was a nice afternoon, in all. Ruby had texted her the previous night asking her to avoid bringing up any topics that would end with Weiss yelling at her. Weiss had agreed to that rule and held her tongue any time she saw cause to bring up Junior's, the investigation, Ruby's mishandling of her grief, or her asinine idea to become a superhero. Consequently, they didn't argue at all throughout the meal.

"Oh, look," Ruby said as they stepped outside the restaurant. "Don't have to wait for a cab."

Indeed, there was an available one stopped at the curb.

"I'm paying," Weiss said as she slid into the backseat beside Ruby. "It's only fair, since you bought dinner."

"Fine. My place first, then." Ruby told the driver her address.

"Yeah, no," said the man in the driver's seat. "Not gonna happen."

The doors locked. The driver reached over to the passenger seat and picked up a cane, which he used to adjust the rear-view mirror to give them a better view of his face. Below a black bowler hat and strikingly orange bangs, Weiss could see the green eyes of Roman Torchwick.

"Didn't your mothers ever tell you not to get in a car with strangers?" he said.

A/N: Credit to my beta readers: Bardothren, I Write Big, and 0neWhoWanders. They're great writers who are a huge help with making this story as good as it can be.

Chapter Text

"So here's what's going to happen." Roman Torchwick shifted gears and pulled out onto the road. "We're just gonna go for a little drive, and we're gonna talk."

"What do you want with us?" Ruby asked. If she was afraid, she was hiding it very well.

Torchwick gave a confused look through the rear-view mirror. "Didn't I just answer that? I swear I just answered that. Cruising and chatting, girls—we're cruising and chatting."

"And then . . . what? You're just gonna let us go?" said Ruby.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you know, and whether you do anything stupid."

Weiss wasn't hiding her fear. Her eyes were wide, her heart was pounding, and she was surprised to look down and see herself tightly clutching Ruby's hand. Weiss loosened her hold but didn't let go. After being pinned against a wall at knife-point and staring down the barrels of several guns, merely being in a car with the most notorious criminal in Vale should be less terrifying by comparison. It wasn't.

"Get us out of here!" Weiss hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

"Not yet," Ruby muttered.

"What?" Weiss was incredulous, but didn't dare to look directly at her.

Ruby raised her voice and directed it toward the front seat. "Where are you taking us?"

"Nowhere," Torchwick answered. "Just gonna circle around for a bit. Not exactly in my best interest to show you how to get to my base of operations when you can just teleport to freedom at any moment."

"How do you know about that?" Ruby said.

A smile appeared on Torchwick's face. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Junior's on my payroll. Now shut up. Not to sound cliché, but I'm supposed to be asking the questions."

"How did you find us?" Weiss asked, surprised by how steady her voice came out.

There was a pause before he replied. "Alright, I'm gonna allow you just that one, Snow White, because I relish the chance to boast. Honestly, I was about sixty-five percent sure it was you two at the club before you reacted to my 'teleport' comment. Oops. Thanks for clearing that up for me."

Weiss's heart sank.

"Those freaky twins of Junior's—god, they creep me out," Torchwick continued, "they mentioned one of you claimed to have a sister for a cop. That really narrowed down the search. And Junior happens to have had dealings with a number of female cops, so I figured I'd start there. Did some digging, found out which of those pigs had sisters, and then it was just a matter of waiting and watching my handful of candidates. Until finally, I get a call that you, Miss Rose, were seen meeting up with someone who matches the description of the other woman at the club. So I stole a cab, moseyed on down here, and waited. Not bad detective work, if I do say so myself."

Neither of them jumped to agree with him.

"So here's the situation," said Torchwick. "Junior meets a lot of people and gets asked a lot of questions—it's in the job description. I told him, 'Anyone asks about me, I wanna know about it.' Then I said, 'Anyone so much as mentions my boss, they don't leave the building. I need to meet them pronto.' And you two just so happened to describe her to a T, right before that meddling asshole in the armor showed up and made my life a lot more difficult. So the question I have for you is, who the hell are you and what do you want with her?"

"Your boss?" Weiss said, acting confused. "There's little guarantee that we're even talking about the same person. There are plenty of tall, pale-haired women in Vale."

"Ah. That would certainly make this a lot easier. But the thing is, you also asked about Bole Maze—a buffoon that she pawned off on me. Now tell me that's a coincidence."

Weiss tried, but she couldn't come up with a decent lie fast enough. Ruby's silence suggested that she was having the same issue.

"That's what I thought," said Torchwick. "You didn't exactly leave much up to the imagination. Now, one more time—who the hell are you, and what do you want with her?"

Weiss glanced at Ruby but was disappointed to find that she didn't appear to have any bright ideas either. They were backed into a corner, and the only way out was with Ruby's semblance. But though Weiss was still holding her hand, the Ruby was evidently fine with staying right where they were.

"Can one of you answer the damn question?" the criminal said after a silence. "I'm a busy man, I have places to be."

"We don't know!" said Ruby, her tone convincingly desperate. "We have no idea who she is or what she's doing. Neither of us have even seen her face."

"Then tell me why you're asking seedy club owners about her."

"We were looking for Bole Maze," Weiss fibbed, her mind working at a mile a minute to come up with something believable. "He . . . harassed me a couple of years ago, on multiple occasions. He made advances on me, and then got aggressive when I rejected him. And on the last occasion, he got . . . handsy. I'm not sure what he would have done if that woman—I only saw the back of her—hadn't called him off. I reported him to the police, but they never did anything, so I tried to forget about it.

"But then I saw him again a couple of months ago. He behaved exactly the same, though he didn't seem to remember me. This time I talked to her sister—" Weiss pointed at Ruby "—but she said they couldn't do anything without evidence. I'd hoped if I could find him again and get his actions on video, it'd be enough to press charges. We didn't have much luck, so we went to Junior and asked about him and the woman. And that's as far as we got."

As soon as she finished, Weiss held her breath. Ruby gave her hand a squeeze. Seconds passed, during which Torchwick gave a few glances at her through the mirror. It was impossible to tell what he thought of her story.

"See, this is why I hate cops," Torchwick finally said. Weiss sighed in relief. "Well, one of the reasons, at least. Justice is an illusion that seldom serves the people who actually need it. But, with that said, Bole's dead. Had to have that loose end killed weeks ago."

"He's . . . dead?"

"Feel free to thank me."

Weiss pretended to be shocked by this "news" as Ruby pondered in silence. The girl freed her hand from Weiss's and rested her head in it, repeatedly tapping her finger against her cranium as she continued to stare up at the driver's seat.

"Don't sound too grateful," Torchwick said sardonically. "I only gave you what you were after."

"I didn't want him dead!" said Weiss. "I wanted him arrested!"

"Hmm." He was quiet as they came up to a stop at a red light. "Here's the deal, ladies—I don't want to kill you. But if I have to, then I have to. And as an accomplished liar, I have to give you props on that little story—I actually still think it's possible you're telling the truth. But that's irrelevant."

Weiss looked over at Ruby, who'd begun kicking her foot. The girl was still tapping her skull, apparently deep in thought, but her eyes were wide and moving between Weiss and Torchwick.

"I need to know that you're not a threat," Torchwick continued. "You two look innocent enough, but I know firsthand that looks can be deceiving. So I'm afraid that—"

As Weiss continued to stare at Ruby, it clicked. After a moment of trepidation, she realized that she had nothing to lose. Her previous hopes that he might let them go peacefully were gone. So, she did as Ruby wanted and lunged forward, thrusting her hand through the open window that divided the front of the cab from the back. Weiss grabbed the side of the criminal's head and closed her eyes.

"What the—?" Torchwick started.

Then she entered his mind.

The first thing Weiss noticed was the thunder, and then the raindrops pelting her skin. As she drew her rapier, unsure what mental illnesses someone as vile as Roman Torchwick could be harboring, she realized she wasn't in the Emerald Forest. She was in Forever Fall, like the time she'd failed to cure Jaune Arc. She didn't know what to make of that.

Weiss took a few steps, looking around for a memory. She couldn't immediately see any, and worried whether she even would. The storm was unprecedented—what else could be different?

A pungent, chlorine-like scent filled the air and then the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked down at her silver weapon just as a metallic taste entered her mouth. She dropped it and threw herself forward. A moment later, a deafening bang shook the forest. Weiss pushed herself to her feet and turned around. She could hear nothing but ringing, but saw a blackened spot where she'd just been standing, as well as the shattered remains of her sword.

For a time, she just stood there, dumbfounded, while her hearing slowly came back to her. She'd never been caught defenseless in a mindscape before. If a Grimm attacked, there was no way to kill it. She could only hope that Torchwick was somehow sane.

When the ringing had lessened enough that she could hear the downpour once again, she set off. It was unclear how accurate the rules of lightning would be here—the current hadn't traveled to her through the ground, after all. But she was here for information, and she wouldn't find it by cowering away from the storm.

She tried to process these new developments, to theorize what they meant, but it was hard to do that and stay focused at the same time. Not being entirely alert in uncertain conditions such as these never ended well.

It didn't take too long to find what she was looking for. Suspended in midair near a sapling was a window. Weiss hurried toward it and stared through the glass. She saw through Torchwick's eyes into what looked like an empty stable. Kneeling before him was a man on his knees, his hands bound behind his back and his face bruised. His gaze darted around, fearful, searching fruitlessly for an escape.

"Your gun, Neo," Torchwick ordered, his voice calm but betraying a hint of excitement. He held his hand out to the right, and someone placed a pistol in it, but his gaze never left his prey. "I've waited a long time for this, Perry."

"They had me dead to rights, man," said the captive. "They offered me a deal—I had no choice!"

Torchwick cocked the gun, which caused his victim to flinch. "But you did have a choice. That's what really pisses me off. You could've chosen not to rob the damn store. We already had the fucking jewelry!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I lost five years because of you!" Torchwick kicked him in the gut, making Perry cry out and keel over onto his side. "I'd say it's too late for sorry, but there was never a time for it in the first place."

He clicked the safety off and aimed the gun, his finger on the trigger. Perry clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the bullet to come. But seconds passed, and it never did. Torchwick lowered the barrel toward the ground and took a few steps closer to his victim.

"In movies, this is usually a mistake," he said, "but I'm going to take the opportunity to monologue. I think I've earned that much, don't you?"

Perry didn't respond.

Torchwick sighed. "We could've built an empire, Perry. We could've filled a lake with lien and sailed a fleet of yachts over it. I've never been a big believer in destiny, but that was mine. You took it from me. That first robbery was supposed to be the first of many. We executed it flawlessly, but you couldn't wait one measly little week until we fenced off the goods. And because of that, you're going to be drowning at the bottom of that lake.

"Oh, yes, there's still going to be a lake. There won't be any yachts, and it's going to be a lot smaller than initially planned—more of a large pond, really—you know what? Fuck this metaphor. It sounded better in my head. Let's try this again.

"Since my time in a cell, I've learned that some things are important enough to make sacrifices for. I wanted to be a multi-billionaire, an inspiration to every kid who swipes a candy bar from a grocery store and falls in love with that sweet, sweet thrill. Now, though, I'll have to settle for a few hundred million. One big heist, the wealthiest bank in all of Vacuo—its contents are mine for the taking, then I retire. You could've been right there with me and the rest of my loyal henchmen. You could've died a wealthy man, Perry. Instead, you'll die in the dirt like the rat you are."

He aimed the gun. Weiss looked away and covered her ears.

"Thanks for staying so quiet through all this," said Torchwick. "You always were a good listener."

"Wait, I—!"

Bang!

Torchwick allowed a few seconds of resonating silence, then said, "How was that? Dramatic enough?"

Weiss turned back around, but the window was gone.

The rain came down harder, and the thunder clapped more frequently. It felt like the weather itself was telling her that she wasn't welcome. She wondered whether it was worth it to continue. At any moment, she could be struck by lightning, or a Grimm could attack—likely a Geist, if any. That'd wear her down in the real world, which wouldn't help her chances of fleeing to safety.

"Leave," Torchwick's voice suddenly echoed all around her, faint. Then again, louder. "Leave!"

Weiss stopped in her tracks, then actually decided to heed his warning. But before she could, another memory caught her eye. She hesitated, standing indecisive for several seconds, and ultimately caved to her curiosity.

Torchwick was walking down a windowless hallway toward a heavy metal door. Weiss could hear at least two more sets of footsteps following along behind him. When he reached the end, he punched a code into the keypad—Weiss instinctively committed it to memory. The door slid open into the wall.

The room was clearly a holding cell, but an unconventional one. It was a lot bigger than a standard police one—about the size of an average living room. Other than the expected toilet and cot in two corners, there was also a shower, and the rest of the space was dedicated to exercise equipment. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all covered in white plates with red light shining through the cracks. Weiss recognized the technology from images she'd seen online—it was a semblance inhibiting chamber. Even the STC hadn't had access to that.

Stranger yet, though, was the cell's occupant. Based on all of that, you'd expect a huge, robust paragon with a powerful semblance. Instead, it was a teenage girl. At least a couple years shy of adulthood, she stood erect with her back against the far wall, her arms crossed behind her. Her brown hair had been unevenly cut close to the scalp, and she was barefoot, wearing only a tank top and cheap, loose-fitting pants. She was short, even for her age and she looked healthy, but no fitter than average. She had one brown eye and one pink, and they both conveyed a palpable fear, but also a strange coldness. It was like she was imagining a hundred different ways to kill the man staring at her, but believed that doing so would be the worst thing possible.

"Wait outside," Torchwick ordered his men.

"Boss?" one said nervously.

"You heard me."

He took a single step into the room, and that was all Weiss could see of that memory, for she suddenly heard snapping twigs and crunching leaves behind her. She whipped around and reached for her hip, forgetting that her rapier wasn't there. She prepared to run, but was stunned by what was approaching her. It wasn't a Grimm—it was Torchwick, dressed as he was in the real world but was unarmed.

And he had no face. No eyes, no nose, no mouth—just blank skin.

"Leave!" Torchwick's voice echoed from the sky once more, louder than ever.

The faceless Torchwick reached Weiss and threw a punch. She barely raised her arms in time to block it, but the force sent her stumbling back. She should've collided with the window, but it was gone. He attacked again, striking with one fist after another. Weiss backed away from the first two, then rolled under the third, coming to a stand behind him. She aimed a blow at his back, and it struck true. At the same instant, the ground began to shake, which gave her pause. That might actually damage him—the real him.

As Torchwick's avatar turned around, Weiss dropped to her knees. She closed her eyes, the last thing she saw being his foot coming for her face. It never connected. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the cab.

"—hell? Agh!" The real Torchwick swatted her hand away and clutched his temple, his face scrunched up like he was suffering from a spontaneous ice cream headache. "Oh, that was a mistake," he groaned through his teeth.

Ruby gripped Weiss's arm. A moment later, Weiss felt a tug in her gut, and then she was falling on her rear outside the vehicle.

"Come on!" Ruby pulled her to her feet and started tugging her away.

Weiss ran with her and didn't look back. She saw that they were going deeper into an alleyway, another street visible at the far end. It didn't sound like anyone was chasing them, but she wanted to get as far away from that man as possible.

They'd only been running for a few seconds when a gust of wind rushed past them, immediately followed by a woman appearing in their path. As Weiss skidded to a halt, she recognized her as the girl from the memory, except older. She looked to be in her mid-twenties now, still standing no higher than five feet tall. Her hair had grown out below her shoulders and she'd dyed the right half pink, leaving the rest brown. Her outfit, makeup, and jewelry were chic to an almost excessive extent, as if to paint as striking a contrast between her past and current self as possible. A pair of gun holsters were strapped to her hips and she rested an open pink parasol on her shoulder. Her heterochromatic eyes didn't look the slightest bit fearful, this time—there was only anger.

"Who are you?" Ruby asked. "What do you want?"

The woman said nothing. She took a slow step forward and closed her umbrella. She twisted the end of the handle and pulled, separating from it a long, thin sword. She took another step forward, having all the poise of a cat about to pounce on its prey. Weiss and Ruby began to retreat backward without taking their eyes off her. Then the woman raised her sword and pointed it at them, holding the umbrella part down at her side like a sheath.

"Whoever you are, I'm sure we can talk about this," Weiss said, her voice shaky.

The woman raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. Then she opened her mouth, wide enough for them to see that she had no tongue. She closed it and smiled at the looks of horror on their faces, then began to advance, faster now.

"Okay . . ." said Ruby. "So that's a no on the talking, then."

Weiss was about to turn and run back the way they came, but then a noise caused them all to halt. Something was coming toward them, something with loud, metal footsteps. Weiss chanced a look behind her and saw none other than the Protector of Vale sprinting to their rescue at great speed. When the vigilante reached them, they effortlessly leaped over their heads and landed between them and the tongueless woman, shield raised and sword drawn.

The woman's glare deepened, and for a moment, she just stood there. Then she sped away in a quick blur and a burst of wind, gone in a second. The hero relaxed their pose and looked around, but it didn't seem like she was coming back. Then they stared up at the rooftop above them and took a stance, one Weiss had seen once before on the day she'd gotten her scar.

"Wait!" Weiss said. "Who are you?"

The Protector hesitated, but said nothing.

"This is the third time you've saved me," said Weiss.

"And the second time you've saved me!" Ruby added.

"Why are you following me?" Weiss asked.

Their sigh sounded strange through the voice modulator. The Protector sheathed their sword and turned to face them. Slowly, as if they were waiting for something to stop them, the vigilante raised their hands up to their head. They pressed something, and the helmet came loose, allowing them to take it off.

Weiss gasped.

Chapter Text

"Wait, Jaune?" Ruby exclaimed. "The Protector's a boy?" She said both things as if they were equally shocking.

"Man." Jaune scowled as he tucked the helmet beneath his arm. "And Pyrrha was the only Protector of Vale."

Ruby's eyes widened even further. "Did you know her?"

A shadow passed over his face, and he gave a slight nod, as if any stronger affirmation would be too painful.

"Wow," Ruby sighed in complete and utter admiration.

"Now hold on a second," said Weiss, having finally been able to gather her thoughts enough to speak. "You're the one who's saved my life three times?"

"Yes," said Jaune.

"You?"

"A simple 'thank you' would've been fine," he said.

"But you're . . ." Weiss trailed off, unable to think of a way to end that sentence that wasn't rude. "Why have you been following me?"

"I've been following Ruby."

The girl blinked. "Me?"

"I put a tracker/listening device on your hoodie," he said. "You never go anywhere without it."

"You did?" Ruby immediately began searching herself for the bug. "When?"

"When you came by for my notes. I was worried you were getting in over your heads, so I stuck it in your hood on your way out the door."

Instead of simply taking off the jacket, the girl awkwardly tugged her hood over her shoulder so she could search it. Even knowing the bug was there, she struggled to find it.

"So that first time you rescued me," said Weiss.

"It was right after our appointment," Jaune said. "I saw those men cornering you from my window, and I jumped in to help."

"And since we borrowed your notes, you've just been following her everywhere?"

"No. I'd been listening in whenever I got a chance in order to see what you two were up to. I heard Ruby talking to her sister about Junior, and then she immediately called you to make plans to visit a club. I had to miss a class so I could be there. After that, I started watching her whenever I could—to keep her safe."

"Why didn't you just tell me—? Ooh! I found it!" Ruby began picking at something stuck to her hood.

"Don't pull on it. It's latched onto the threads," Jaune told her. "You'll ruin your jacket."

Ruby stopped. "It's so tiny. What kind of battery is in this thing? How much did it cost? Was it always red, or does it blend in to whatever it's connected to?"

"It blends in, and I don't know. We shouldn't be talking out in the open like this."

"You first saved me two months ago," Weiss said. "If you've been a vigilante all this time, then why have you only appeared in the news twice—both instances being when Ruby and I were in danger?"

"Because I'm not a vigilante. I told you—Pyrrha was the only Protector of Vale."

"But," said Ruby, "I thought you were her successor."

He shifted his gaze. "I was supposed to be. But I gave that up almost as soon as I started it. I'm only wearing this because you won't stop trying to get yourself killed."

"Thank you!" Weiss said with an exasperated hand gesture.

"The point is, I'm no hero," said Jaune.

"But you saved us," Ruby said. "That's pretty heroic to me."

"I'm nothing special. Most of it's the armor. Look—" he glanced over his shoulder "—like I said, we shouldn't talk here. We need to get somewhere safe."

"Do you know of somewhere safe?" Weiss said.

"Yes," said Jaune.

"Ooh!" said Ruby. "Are you going to take us to your secret lair? The Protector Cave? The . . . Shield Den? Or, uh . . . Oh, the Sheath!"

He stared at her. "What?"

"You know, where you hang up your sword."

"That's . . . actually kind of cool," he admitted. "But there's no lair. It's just a safe house."

"How are we supposed to get there?" said Weiss. "If Torchwick is to be believed, you're not the only one who's been following Ruby. And we won't exactly look all that inconspicuous walking down the street beside you wearing that."

"We'll just have to travel where no one can see us." He brought the back of his arm up to eye level and tapped on it with his other hand, causing a screen to light up.

"Ooh, is that a wrist communicator?" Ruby tried to get behind him to see it, but he shooed her away. "Are you going to call in a self-driving Protector-mobile or something?"

Jaune didn't respond. He continued tapping away at the screen for half a minute, then said, "Oh, there's one right here."

"There's what here?" Ruby said, looking around for something impressive. Weiss couldn't help doing the same, though she reeled in her own curiosity.

The two watched in anticipation as Jaune put the helmet back on and walked fifteen feet up the alley, stopping by a dumpster. He pushed it aside, revealing the manhole cover that had been hidden beneath it.

Weiss stared at it for two seconds, then she said, "Oh you have got to be joking."

"There's a shower at the safe house," Jaune told her with a distorted voice. He drew his sword and used it as a lever to pop the lid off.

"We're nearly there," Jaune announced through his voice modulator.

"Oh thank god." Weiss sounded as if she had a cold, for she'd been covering her face and pinching her nose for the entirety of the hour-long journey. When they reached the surface, she'd be throwing away her shoes and completely repressing this entire experience from her memory. So much vile gunk had gotten on her legs and feet that she'd need at least a dozen showers to be able to feel clean again.

Jaune finally stopped at a set of iron rungs leading upward. Weiss was tempted to insist that she climb first so that she could leave this abhorrent place as soon as possible, but she was wearing a skirt. Jaune led the way up the ladder—he was probably the only one able to lift the manhole cover, anyway. Next went Ruby—who wore pants—and Weiss went last.

They emerged near the Vale Canal, behind a row of industrial buildings guarded by fences. Weiss inhaled as much fresh air as her lungs could take, then let out a massive sigh of relief. She'd been looking forward to basking in the sunlight, but night had fallen while they were down there. City lights were welcome too, she supposed—anything but dank darkness was.

"Hey, we're not far from Beacon," Ruby said after taking in their surroundings. Though she hadn't complained about trekking through the sewers, she had a renewed excitement now that they were out of them—or perhaps that was because their destination was so close, now.

"Pyrrha needed somewhere central for a base," Jaune said. "Beacon's pretty central, too, but she never enrolled."

"Did she go to school somewhere else?" Ruby said.

"No, she . . ." He was silent for a moment, then shook his head and set off. "We'll talk inside."

Weiss tried and failed to guess where this safe house could be as she followed. There were no actual houses anywhere in sight—only apartment complexes across the water. She doubted it could be any of these industrial buildings, as there was no way Jaune could afford one. But, then again, he did own a high-tech suit of armor probably worth an absurd amount of lien.

He stopped at the second to last building—a small warehouse. He punched a code into the fence gate and held it open for Weiss and Ruby, then closed it behind them. They approached from the back, passing a few shipping containers on the way to an emergency exit. The door had no handles, so he opened it remotely with his arm device.

"How do you afford all this?" Weiss couldn't help asking.

"I don't," said Jaune as he waited for the two women to enter ahead of him. "Pyrrha had a friend who designed and paid for everything, including this suit."

The interior wasn't that impressive. There were a few piles of boxes next to empty racks, some wooden pallets littered across the floor, and a single forklift, but there were no wares. A layer of dust covered everything. The building didn't look like it had been used for its intended purpose in a while. If it weren't for the functioning lights and ventilation, Weiss might have assumed it'd been abandoned.

"I'm not seeing a shower," Weiss said.

Jaune walked over to the rightmost wall and tapped on a seemingly random portion of it, which revealed a secret panel. He took off his helmet and right gauntlet so he could scan his palm and retina. It also required a passcode for extra measure. Once he'd done all that, a rectangular stretch of floor raised up and split apart, uncovering a hidden staircase.

"Cool," Ruby sighed. Weiss suspected that she was having the best day of her life, despite their near abduction and potential deaths an hour past.

Weiss heard the floor panel slide shut behind her as she descended after Jaune and Ruby. The stairs went down about the depth of two basements before leveling out. At the bottom was a single blast-door with another electronic lock keeping it shut. This one only asked for a code before admitting them entrance—Jaune had to enter it twice, as he messed up the first time.

"Okay, this is definitely a lair," Weiss said as she stepped through the doorway.

"Right?" said Ruby, who immediately began to run up to and gawk at everything.

The place was a vigilante's lair, no doubt about it. An advanced computer with six mounted monitors sat against the middle of the far wall. Off to the side of that was what almost looked like a metal dresser—a rectangular stand with many drawers along its face. Four metal mannequins were lined up to the left near a weapon rack. The entire front-left corner was left bare, except for a single humanoid robot. There were several cabinets and shelves off to the right, interspersed between three doors. And all of the walls were reinforced, well enough to probably survive a significant explosion.

"Supervillains have lairs," Jaune said. "Superheroes have hideouts."

"What's this?" Ruby examined the currently inactive robot first. It was featureless and all black, its inner mechanisms visible through cracks and joints.

"It's a training bot." Jaune was over by the mannequins, hanging up his sword and shield on a rack. There were two more items on it—a bo staff and a smaller shield, more like a buckler than the kite he'd been using. "You can spar with it and run a bunch of different programs. It's almost as good as a real mentor."

"It knows martial arts?"

"Whatever you can name. It's useless outside of here, though, because it needs several camera angles to work properly, and familiar surroundings."

The pieces of Jaune's armor began mechanically shifting so he could take them off and apply them to a dummy, revealing the regular clothes he had on underneath. Ruby joined him over there, looking at the one mannequin that wasn't naked. It had on a suit of armor similar to his, but was colored white with bronze accents instead of black and silver. And unlike the suit Jaune currently wore, which was androgynous in appearance, this one was clearly shaped for a man.

"What's this one for?" Ruby asked.

"That was my suit," said Jaune. "I only wore it once, and it's just an empty shell now. We moved the exoskeleton from it to this one after . . . the assault."

"We?" said Weiss. She'd been standing back, taking everything in from a distance.

Jaune was quiet.

"There are four mannequins here," said Weiss.

He sighed, then stepped out of his boots, kneeling down to fit them to the model. "At first, it was just Pyrrha. Then there was Re—" he stopped himself and cleared his throat "—two others. And she had one made for me, too. I never wanted to be a vigilante, though. I only asked her to train me so I could defend myself if I ever needed to, but she saw something in me I didn't."

"I always thought she worked alone," said Ruby.

"There were a lot of copycats running around, then," said Jaune. "Not that there aren't now. Everyone thought they were just two more. They only joined her a few months before Salem came, so they never became famous like her."

"What happened to them?"

"They moved to Mistral, chasing the guy who exposed Pyrrha's identity. I'm not sure if they caught him. We're not on the best of terms right now."

"Exposed her? But I thought she turned herself in."

"Wait," said Weiss. "She was arrested?"

Ruby frowned at her. "Well, yeah, duh. You didn't know?"

"I used to live in Atlas, remember? I didn't keep up with the goings-on of this city before Salem attacked."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Well, it was like a week before the assault. She revealed herself on live TV and turned herself in to the police. She broke out not long after so she could face Salem's forces."

"You never wondered why she did it?" said Jaune.

"Of course I have!" said Ruby. "Everyone has."

"There was a bomb," he said. "Beneath the city plaza. This guy—or woman, I still don't know—hacked her scroll and showed her live footage of it. If she turned herself in and revealed her secret to the world, he'd deactivate it. If anyone tried to defuse it or evacuate the area, he'd set it off early. There was no choice to make."

"Oh," Ruby said quietly. She went over to the weapon rack to examine his sword. "Wait, this is dull."

"Well, yeah," said Jaune. "You don't think Pyrrha was out there cutting people in half, do you?"

"Well, no. But swords are supposed to be sharp!"

"It's got other features. It's blunt and heavy, so it's good for knocking people off their feet. You can shock people with it, if you need to. The tip is kind of like a magnetic grappling hook, too—it can shoot out and stick to guns . . . or knives." He glanced at Weiss. "So, it's good for disarming."

Weiss had an internal, "Ohhh," moment. Even after all this time, she'd still never been able to make complete sense of what her savior had done that day. Everything had happened so quickly, and her head hadn't exactly been in its clearest state.

"Awesome," said Ruby. She next went to admire the suit now that he'd fully transferred it from himself to a mannequin. "How does this work? You said it had an exoskeleton. Is this actually the armor that she wore?"

"Yeah," Jaune said. "When she used it, it was mostly just protective, with a few extra features. The exoskeleton is meant for me, so it's like I have her semblance, but even stronger. Pyrrha called it enhanced body strength. She could run faster than anyone else, jump higher, lift more, and hit harder. But I can only do that with the suit."

"So you're not a paragon, then?" said Weiss.

He shook his head.

She couldn't help being impressed. Despite him giving all the credit to the technology, she knew there was more to it than that. Not just anyone could simply put on the suit and do the things he'd done—Weiss knew she couldn't.

Weiss's attention was fully on Jaune as he approached the computer, until Ruby distracted her.

"Hey, Weiss!" The girl had detached the helmet from the rest of the suit and put it on herself. "What do you think? Good look for me?"

"You look like a dunce," Weiss said bluntly.

Ruby's shoulders slumped. "You're no fun."

"I ice skate!" Weiss objected.

Ruby tilted her head. "Huh?"

"Never mind. Just take that thing off."

"Fine." Ruby removed the helmet and tried to return it to the model, accidentally dropping it in the process. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter, followed by a sharp intake from Jaune's direction. Weiss looked over to see he'd whirled around with a frantic look in his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry!" Ruby hastily picked up the dropped object, nervously inspecting it for damage. "It slipped! I don't think I broke it, I hope."

Jaune shut his eyes and took a shaky breath, his fists clenched and slightly quivering. As he released it, out too went the tension in his body. "It's fine. It'd be useless if something like that could break it."

"Oh, right," Ruby said, relieved. She returned the helmet to its place, more carefully this time.

Jaune turned back to the computer and resumed typing something into the keyboard. Weiss watched him, but she wasn't paying attention to the screens. She was connecting the pieces together in her mind.

"You have PTSD," she said.

Jaune froze.

"He does?" said Ruby.

"You said you only wore that armor the one time." Weiss pointed at the suit he'd described as an empty shell. "And you said that you removed the exoskeleton from it after the assault."

Still, Jaune said nothing. He was as rigid as a board. Ruby seemed to be slowly comprehending what Weiss was getting at. Then her eyes grew wide.

"You were there," Weiss said, awed.

"You fought Salem?" said Ruby.

"Yes, I was there, and no, I didn't fight Salem," Jaune said without turning around, his hands clenching the desk. "Pyrrha did that alone. I was down on the ground with Re— the other two."

"What was it like?" Ruby asked. "Did you see her machine up close?"

Jaune didn't answer, then he raised a hand and pointed off to his right, first at the middle door, then the farthest, and finally the nearest, saying, "Bathroom's there, bunk beds are in there, and kitchen is there. There's only one shower, so you'll have to take turns."

"But—" Ruby started to say.

"Just . . . Leave me alone. Please. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Oh." Ruby deflated. There was an awkward silence until she looked over at Weiss and said, "You can have the bathroom first. I need to call Yang—tell her I won't be home tonight."

Weiss continued to stare sympathetically at Jaune's back for a few more seconds, then gave Ruby a nod. The girl pulled out her scroll while Weiss walked to the bathroom, pushing the door open and closing herself inside.

The living quarters had four bunk beds and twice as many trunks, enough for eight people. Room dividers were placed between each bed. When Weiss woke up, she found Jaune still asleep—or pretending to still be asleep—and Ruby was out in the main room, having figured out how to operate the training bot. At the moment, she was just mimicking moves it showed her and practicing her form. The thing spoke in a mechanical voice, giving out simple instructions and feedback, but moved with eerily realistic motions—if she couldn't see through to its inner workings, Weiss might've been convinced it was a real person wearing a costume.

Weiss let her friend be and went to the bathroom, taking another shower—she still felt gross, no matter how thoroughly she washed herself. There was a cabinet in there filled with still-packaged supplies for every need, so she could brush her teeth and shave without fear of using someone's used items. It also had a closet with basic clothes in various sizes, which is where she got what she currently wore—a t-shirt and sweatpants, leaving her feet bare except for a pair of socks. Whoever set this place up had thought of everything.

Afterward, Ruby joined her in the kitchen for a mediocre breakfast. The room contained many shelves of canned and dry foods, a large chest freezer, and a dining table. Needless to say, the food was meant to last rather than taste good. They ate beans and peas while Weiss finally took the chance to fill Ruby in on what she'd seen inside Torchwick's mind.

"The largest bank in Vacuo," Ruby said thoughtfully as soon as she'd finished describing the first memory. "But that heist was five years ago. If he said he was going to retire after, then why is he robbing banks here now?"

Weiss shrugged. "He said that some things are worth making sacrifices for. Perhaps he lost whatever—or whomever—he was referring to."

"Could be . . . What else did you see?"

Weiss recounted the second memory for her, of the tongueless girl in the cell. It made more sense to her in hindsight. Powerful semblances have been at the heart of some of history's most significant conflicts. Salem herself could control metal, according to the CAB—it was postulated that she even had the ability to detect it within the ground, which she'd used to gather gold and other precious metals for funds and the resources she needed to construct her colossal weapon. So it was understandable why a girl with super-speed would be locked away. But who was she to Torchwick, and why wasn't he keeping her imprisoned now?

"It sounds like he's turned her into a human weapon," Ruby said.

"I don't know," Weiss said. "That seems like a bit of a leap."

"Think about it. She was kept in a semblance blocker with only the necessities and exercise equipment, like all he needed from her was to stay alive and stay fit. You said she was basically dressed in rags, right? And he cut out her tongue! He took away her ability to speak so she wouldn't argue against orders or talk back at all.

"The fact is, Torchwick's done all these perfect robberies where he gets away long before the police ever arrive, and so many so quickly. This woman has to be the reason. He acts like he's invincible, letting everyone know who he is and what he's doing, because he has a bodyguard who can protect him from anyone who tries to take him down."

Weiss still wasn't convinced. The girl's theory had merits, but also holes. If this woman was nothing more than a slave soldier, why give her appearance so much personality? The dyed hair, fancy clothes, parasol—it all helped her stand out in a crowd. That seemed counterintuitive.

"There was a girl," said Jaune, catching both women by surprise; he'd entered the room without either of them noticing. "Seven years old when her parents were murdered and she was kidnapped. Rumors had gotten out that she had a speed semblance, so someone took her. The police never found her."

"Where did you learn that?" Ruby asked.

"I found it online last night, with some digging."

"And you think this girl is the woman we saw yesterday?"

"That girl would be around twenty-four right now, which fits. And it's the same semblance. And she was born in Vacuo, the same city Torchwick grew up in."

"See, Weiss?" said Ruby. "She was taken as a child because of her semblance and raised to be a weapon."

Weiss had to concede that the evidence was damning, but something still didn't feel right.

"The timeline doesn't fit," she said.

"What?" said Jaune.

"Torchwick couldn't have been that old when that girl was taken—barely an adult. And he also spent five years in prison, way after her abduction. It doesn't line up."

"Hmm," said Ruby. "Well, someone else must've trained and brainwashed her, then Torchwick bought her . . . or stole her."

"Could be," Weiss admitted.

Ruby looked to Jaune. "That girl—she have a name?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Neo Politan."

Ruby frowned. "Like the ice cream?"

"Two words. Neo, Politan."

"Oh. Well, if my last name was Politan I'd name my kid Neo, too."

"Neo," Weiss repeated, having just remembered. "Torchwick said that name."

Both of them looked at her.

"When?" said Ruby.

"In the first memory. He asked someone named Neo for their gun—well, he demanded it, really. But he never looked at them."

"That proves it, then," said Jaune.

There was a short lull, eventually broken by Ruby. "So . . . what do we do now?"

"We take this to the police, obviously," said Weiss. "There's no other option."

"No," Jaune said.

Weiss stared at him. "Pardon me?"

"No," he repeated. "This is too big for the cops. Torchwick acts like he's invincible because he basically is. They'll never be able to arrest him with this Neo girl at large. A lot of people could die in the attempt."

"That's insane!" said Weiss. "Police have equipment designed specifically for combating criminal paragons."

"Yeah, but they're not prepared for anything like this," said Ruby. "All those tools are useless if she can just run up and kill the cops before they can even try to use them."

"Then there's no hope at all."

"That's not true." Jaune fished something out of his pocket and placed it on the table—a small metal disc with a glass container in the center holding a red liquid. Several needles stuck out along the rim, propping it up a few centimeters like legs.

"What is it?" Ruby picked it up faster than Jaune could try to swat her hand away.

"Be careful!" he warned. "That's a semblance inhibitor."

Ruby rolled her eyes, looking closely at the object she held between two fingers. "Very funny. What is it actually?"

"I just told you," Jaune said without a trace of humor. "Put it down—you might break it."

Ruby obeyed, but still didn't believe him. "That's impossible. Semblance inhibitors are huge—like whole rooms. And they drain a ton of electricity. That's why there are only a handful of prisons in Remnant that have them."

"I'm telling you, this is real. The effect wears off after a few hours, but if a paragon is stuck with this, it completely stops them from using their semblance. I'd let you test it on yourself, but I only have a few—and I've heard it's not exactly comfortable."

"But no one's ever been able to make a small-scale semblance inhibitor before. The closest prototypes are bigger than a person and never got safe enough for human testing."

Weiss noted how knowledgeable Ruby was on the subject. She almost asked why, but then she remembered how desperately Ruby had wanted a cure for her supposed insomnia. When she still believed her semblance to simply be the lack of a need for sleep, the idea of an inhibitor in the shape of a necklace or bracelet had probably been very appealing.

"If this kind of thing exists," said Ruby, "then why doesn't everyone know about it? Why don't all police officers have them?"

"Pyrrha told me the tech is dangerous," Jaune said. "I don't know how it works. I just know that it does. The guy who invented this—the guy who set this whole place up—he doesn't want anyone else to know how to make it, because the wrong kind of people can figure out how to make a lot scarier things from it."

"Like what?" Weiss said.

"I don't know," said Jaune. "Nothing good."

"Like . . . weapons that only work on paragons—mass weapons?" said Ruby.

"Maybe," said Jaune. "I don't know."

"What's to stop people you use these on from reverse-engineering?" said Weiss. "Do you somehow get them back after their powers have been inhibited?"

"No," said Jaune. "It's useless after it's been used—that's what Pyrrha said. I think it's mostly in the chemical. Again, don't ask me how it works. The guy who made it had to have known what he was doing."

"Who is this person?" Weiss asked.

Jaune shrugged. "Pyrrha just said she met him while she was traveling abroad. I don't think he lives in Remnant. I didn't ask too much about him."

"What?" Ruby gaped at him. "How could you not ask about what has to be one of the most brilliant engineers alive?"

"I don't know. I guess I never got around to it. There were cooler things to ask about."

Ruby continued to stare at him as if she couldn't comprehend how he could have said the words he had. Meanwhile, Weiss picked up the small inhibitor, careful not to touch the tips of the needles.

"Be careful!" Jaune said.

"I know!" Weiss said. "I just had another question—why did you call this our 'only hope'?"

"It can disable Neo's speed, which is the main thing stopping Torchwick from being arrested," he said.

"Yes, but how do you expect to be able to get this thing on her? The same issue Ruby brought up earlier still applies. Unless your suit can make you as fast as this woman, you'll never be able to touch her, let alone prick her with this."

"I'll have to try to catch her by surprise. And if that fails . . . The armor's tough enough. Maybe I can tire her out."

"And if she kills you?"

He hesitated. "Then I'll die."

There was a strange look in his eyes as he said it, one that Weiss didn't immediately understand. It made her suspicious, but before she got a chance to question it, Ruby spoke up.

"I'll do it," she said.

"What?" Weiss and Jaune said simultaneously, staring at her.

"I said I'll do it," Ruby repeated. She stood, then—whoosh. She was suddenly on the other side of the room. "You can't outrun instant."

"No way," said Jaune.

"Are out of your mind?" Weiss said.

"And by the way, since when was that a thing?" Jaune asked, gesturing at Ruby.

"She discovered it at Junior's," Weiss said impatiently, "but don't change the subject. Ruby Rose, you are not going anywhere near that woman!"

"I'm the only one who can!" said Ruby. "I'm not going to be able to go out and do it tomorrow or the day after, obviously, but my semblance is the only thing that stands a chance at getting Neo out of the picture long enough to get to Torchwick."

"That—" Weiss began.

"Torchwick needs to be stopped!" Ruby asserted with more conviction than Weiss had ever seen from her. "He's out there robbing banks and killing people, just like he did to Bole . . ." She trailed off, getting a distant look in her eye. "Bole Maze."

"Huh?" said Jaune.

"They never found out how he died, did they?" Ruby said.

"I've not heard anything," Weiss said, not sure where she was going with this.

"It had to be Neo," Ruby said. "It had to have been her that broke in and killed him."

Weiss frowned. "That would make sense. I did wonder why he didn't just pay another prisoner to do it—it would've averted a lot of suspicion. But if he could just send her in, it'd save him the money."

"Exactly. So even if we do manage to take down Torchwick, Neo can easily just break him out."

"She'll be in prison, too," said Jaune. "If we can get that inhibitor on her. It's both of them or neither of them."

"But . . ." said Ruby. "Does she really deserve that?"

"What?" said Weiss.

"I mean, she was taken as a kid!" said Ruby. "She was conditioned and maybe tortured to be a mindless soldier. Doesn't that make her another victim?"

"Someone else turning her into what she is doesn't absolve the things she's done," Jaune said. "The fact is, she's one of the most dangerous people alive and needs to be locked away. We can't do anything to undo what was done to her."

Ruby looked troubled. She stared at the ground, thinking quietly to herself. Weiss could see the gears turning in her head, and she realized the idea Ruby was about to come up with before she even said it.

"Can't we?" Ruby looked up and locked eyes with Weiss.

"What?" said Jaune.

"How does your semblance work, exactly?" she said. "If you could get close to her, could you heal the damage that's been done?"

Weiss bit her lip. She failed to think of a way away from this subject, as she didn't want to lie. She sighed, resigned, and said, "It's possible—maybe even probable."

"Really?" Ruby said excitedly.

"My mother—I inherited my semblance from her—she once helped a boy who'd been taken in by a cult. They'd brainwashed him and ingrained various crazy ideas and beliefs into his head that he clung to even after he was rescued. My mother was able to use her semblance to clear his head of them. If Neo's condition is similar, I could theoretically heal her, as well as erase any loyalty to Torchwick that was forced upon her. But—"

"See?" Ruby said. "We're the only ones who can stop Torchwick! Jaune has the tech and the experience—"

"Not much, really," Jaune said.

"—I have a semblance that can counter Neo's, and you, Weiss, can free her mind!"

Weiss sat there for a moment, unsure of what to say. "This is insane. Jaune, tell her how insane she's being!"

But, somehow, Jaune didn't immediately jump to side with her. Instead, he said, "She's right."

"Excuse me?"

Jaune flinched. "Look, you don't have a lot of options. You're both in the crosshairs of the most dangerous criminal in Vale. It's not safe for you to leave this place until he's out of the picture. You can go back to living your life as normal, praying you're not kidnapped and murdered; you can live down here for who knows how long, hoping that someone else will do what only we stand a chance at doing; or you can take the matter into your own hands."

"Wait, we're not allowed to leave?" Weiss said.

"Um, yeah . . . I'm with her on that," Ruby said with a tone of uncertainty. "I have class in like—" she checked her scroll "—an hour."

"And I have contracts," said Weiss. "An apartment, bills to pay."

"None of that will matter if you're dead," said Jaune. "There's everything you need to survive down here until this is all over."

Weiss took a desperate moment to think, her head spinning. Her sister could protect her, if she moved back to Atlas, which she did not want to do. Winter could convince General Ironwood to bring the military down to Vale to deal with the situation. With enough force, they could likely stop Neo—though not without killing her and losing soldiers in the process. And that was if they even got the chance to face her; a show of power like that would only send Torchwick deep into hiding. There really weren't many great options.

"But what about my grades?" Ruby asked. "I can't just take time off school. I'm supposed to graduate next semester!"

"It won't—" Jaune began.

"Yeah, yeah, it won't matter if I'm dead," Ruby brushed him off. "But Torchwick doesn't know where we are right now, so he won't be able to follow me. And he won't try and do anything when there are witnesses around, right? I could just take the sewer back here afterward to minimize the risk."

Jaune thought about it. "Fine. But you're sending me your schedule so I can walk you between classes. Torchwick doesn't know about me still."

Ruby glanced at the armor. "Are you going to be able to have that with you?"

Jaune looked miffed. "What, you don't think I can protect you without it?"

"That's not what I meant, but . . . Well, it's the Protector's armor," Ruby said.

Jaune scowled, but eventually gave in. "It takes time to set it up, but it can collapse down to fit into a box for carrying around in public. It's a lot quicker to put on that way, too."

"Really? Can I see?"

"Not right now."

Ruby pouted. "Fine. It's a deal, then, so long as I don't miss my classes."

"Hello?" Weiss said, calling attention to herself. "What about me?"

"You'll stay here," said Ruby.

"What, that's it? I have a life, too!" Weiss protested. "If I don't do my contracts, I won't be able to pay my bills, I'll lose my apartment, and my credit will suffer."

"I can't be in two places at once," said Jaune. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Torchwick doesn't even know who I am. He said he only found me because I met up with Ruby."

"Do you really want to stake your life on that?" Jaune said.

She glowered, but couldn't argue. She wasn't going to outwardly admit it, but they were right. He'd seen her face, and she was a Schnee. Even with her dyed hair, it'd be easy for him to recognize her from a family portrait.

"It's just for a little while," Ruby said. "Until we can train and prepare enough to stop Torchwick."

"Now hold on. I never agreed to that!"

"Well, Jaune and I did. Right Jaune?"

It took him a second to realize she'd asked him a question. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Right." His voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Ruby walked back to the center of the room to stand across the table from Weiss, making eye contact. "Look. We're not going to force you to join us. But I think our chances would be a lot better if you decided to. If we succeed without you, Neo will join Torchwick in prison with her mind still in ruins. But if we succeed with you, you might just be able to save her soul."

"What do you want from me?" Weiss asked, frustrated. "I'm not a vigilante!"

"You could be," Ruby said with all the seriousness in the world. "You chose to help people for a living, and you charge a really reasonable rate for it even though it's something that you're the only person alive who can do. And you chose to help me find my mom's killer when you barely even knew me. You can be a hero."

Weiss sank back into her chair and buried her face in her hands. Of all the crazy things she'd heard that morning, this topped them all. Weiss, a vigilante. Ridiculous. And Ruby said that without even knowing what Weiss's semblance had done to Torchwick the previous night—that it might have evolved again to have offensive capabilities.

But the girl's words had somehow resonated with her, and she almost felt . . . encouraged. She looked up, which was a mistake. She couldn't fight Ruby's pleading eyes.

"I . . ." Weiss bit her lip. "I need some time to think about it."

Ruby beamed.

"Well, you've got plenty," said Jaune, "because we still have no idea where to even find Torchwick."

"You could still help out with that, no matter what you decide," Ruby said to Weiss. "There's no risk in surfing the web."

"I suppose," Weiss conceded. "I can look through the files Neptune sent me on Torchwick while you two are off furthering your education."

Ruby frowned. "Neptune?"

"Yes."

"I didn't realize you two were in contact."

"We're not. He sent the email unprompted."

"Oh." Ruby was quiet a moment, then put on a smile and said, "Well, it's official, then—the investigation is back on!"

Chapter Text

Now that Weiss had taken the opportunity to properly go over the files Neptune had sent her, she concluded that almost all of the information was redundant. Most of it she already knew from her and Ruby's time spent researching Torchwick on their own. Some of it gave a little more insight into the criminal's past, but nothing pertinent or useful. There was a rather handy list of locations Torchwick has robbed before, which could be analyzed for patterns, but it was nothing Weiss couldn't have compiled herself.

Out of everything contained in the folder, there was one thing that did turn out to be enlightening. After Torchwick started gaining notoriety, a few images of him began to surface. He was caught walking down the street in old CCTV footage; random people recognized him in the background of personal photos and videos; and one drone enthusiast out in the country managed to accidentally snag a high-definition shot of him exiting a building labeled "Brunswick Farms". There were only a spare few photos and none caught Torchwick anywhere of note or doing anything that wasn't innocuous, which made them useless—except for the last one, that is.

Weiss might have missed its significance had she not been confined alone in a space with so little to do for such a long time. Twice she'd looked at the image without realizing what it could possibly mean. The drone pilot claimed the picture had been taken three years ago just outside Vacuo. At least five years ago, prior to his supposed "final" heist in that same city, Torchwick had shot a man in what looked like a stable. If it was the same location, two years apart, then perhaps he owned Brunswick Farms as some sort of laundering scheme. Giving it a name similar to his own sounded just like the sort of tongue-in-cheek "hide in plain sight" thing he would do.

Weiss wasn't the first one to come up with this theory. A small handful of internet sleuths had jumped on this and done all the digging they could. They'd managed to gather a bit of evidence to back it up, the simplest being the sheer scarcity of information available on the business, as well as its suspicious drop in activity around the same time that Torchwick went public in Vale. Unfortunately, Vacuo's police department claimed there wasn't enough substantial proof to spend resources investigating it, what with their crime rates keeping them so busy that vigilantism is unofficially encouraged there. Crime bosses only active in cities a hundred miles away also weren't exactly their primary concern. Vale's police didn't have the jurisdiction to look into Brunswick Farms, and, for reasons beyond Weiss, the hunt for Torchwick had still yet to become a federal matter. So, at present, a potentially valuable lead was being left out to dry.

Assuming that Brunswick Farms was a money laundering business owned by Torchwick, it was still unclear how knowing that was helpful. It was located too far away for it to be where he was currently hiding out or storing the spoils of his robberies. Perhaps he could be using the branding to disguise trucks used for smuggling contraband. But Weiss didn't have all that much time to ponder it before Ruby and Jaune returned.

She was sitting in a chair she'd moved from the kitchen to the computer in the main room when she heard the trapdoor open behind her. Jaune descended the stairs first, dressed normally and carrying a very heavy-looking cardboard box in his arms that was large enough to block his entire torso and the lower half of his face from view. He dropped it off by the naked mannequin that had been wearing the Protector's armor just that morning.

Ruby approached Weiss, staring at the monitors. "What'd you find?"

"Ruby, you reek!" Weiss pinched her nose and leaned away from her. "Do you have to stand so close?"

"Oh!" Ruby backed up and scratched her head sheepishly. "Heh, sorry. Sewer travel. So . . . what'd you find?"

Weiss could still smell her, but it was more bearable now. She gestured toward the middlemost monitor, then explained what she'd uncovered.

"Hm," said Ruby. "You really think this photo could be the same place you saw in Torchwick's mind?"

"It's just a guess," said Weiss, "but it's possible."

"So, what does this mean?"

"Nothing, yet," said Jaune, who emanated an equally foul odor. "But it's more than we knew before. It might lead to something."

"Or it could lead nowhere," Weiss pointed out.

"You don't have to be such a downer," said Ruby.

"I'm just being realistic," said Weiss. "Now, will one of you two please go shower already?"

"Fine. But give yourself some credit. This will be important—I can feel it." Ruby went to the bathroom, leaving Weiss and Jaune alone.

"I'm actually about to head out again," said the latter.

"Where are you going?" Weiss asked, a bit of an edge to her voice. She didn't find it fair that he was allowed to come and go as he pleased while she was stuck down here.

"To pick up a few things," he said. "I can swing by your place and grab anything you need, if you want me to. I've already got Ruby's list."

"Oh," she said, caught off guard. Her tone softened. "Well, yes, that'd be wonderful. Let me get my keys."

Jaune nodded. Weiss started toward the living quarters, then paused. She pulled out her scroll and set it to add a new contact before handing the device to Jaune. He hesitated before taking it. Weiss left him alone while he began to type in his information. After saving her life three times over, this was the least he'd earned.

She found her keychain on top of the trunk she'd claimed for herself, the only contents contained within being the filthy clothes she'd worn the day before. When she returned, she held out the keys to exchange for her scroll, but then immediately drew them back in toward herself, hesitant.

"What is it?" Jaune asked.

"Why me?" Weiss said, finally getting the question off her chest.

"What?"

"Ruby I get—she's your classmate and your friend. But why me? Why'd you reveal all of this—" she gestured vaguely around the safe house "—to someone you don't even know? Especially after what happened during our appointment?"

Jaune looked at her as if she'd asked what color the sky was. "Ruby trusts you."

"That's it?"

"Well, yeah. What more do I need?"

Weiss glanced at the closed bathroom door, then back at Jaune. He extended her scroll out further toward her. She traded her keys for it, then said, "I'll message you my address and a list of the things I need."

He pocketed the keychain. "Right. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Weiss tried to remember if she'd ever seen him smile—if she had, the memory wasn't coming to mind. It was fascinating to see how differently two people processed death two years later. Ruby buried her grief and found a way to still be bright, bubbly, and happy, despite the darkness she kept hidden. Jaune, on the other hand, let his grief consume him—not trying to disguise how broken he felt except for when Ruby was around, and even then just barely.

The man turned and started toward the stairs, but paused when Weiss called out to him.

"Jaune," she said. "I can try again, you know. I can still cure you—free of charge, of course."

He turned around to face her, taking a few seconds to respond. "Thanks, but . . . I don't know. I don't think I'm ready for that anymore. Pyrrha—she . . ." He swallowed. "She always faced her problems head-on. She never took the easy path."

"Would she really want you to continue to suffer when you really needn't to?"

He stood in silence, a conflicted look in his eyes. His lips parted, but no words came out. After failing to come up with an answer, he turned and left .

Weiss sat down and rested her head in her hand, her elbow on the computer desk. People have a real talent for needlessly punishing themselves. It was something that she herself had struggled with at several points throughout her life. You get so wrapped up in your own misery that you start to believe that you deserve it. So you just learn to live with it, ignoring the solution right in front of you.

She had to wonder about exactly what the nature of Jaune's relationship with Pyrrha was. He had to have really loved her for her death to still be affecting him this way. The question was whether or not that love was platonic. If not, had the late hero reciprocated those feelings? Had either of the two acted on them?

Weiss scolded herself. Here she was postulating other people's romances like some sort of teenage gossip. All that mattered was that Jaune had lost someone very dear to him, and he was hurting because of it. Those other details were unimportant. He'd open up when he was comfortable doing so, and right now he wasn't.

Ruby eventually emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and a fresh set of clothes. Weiss had continued to stare at the search results for "Brunswick Farms" as the minutes ticked by, not accomplishing much else. The goal was to find Torchwick, and she'd come no closer to it in the hours she'd spent trying. This indefinite isolation was going to be pure torture if they didn't manage to find any sort of lead soon.

"Hey, Weiss?" Ruby walked up to her.

"Yes, Ruby?" said Weiss.

"Could . . ." Ruby chewed her lip. "Could you do me a favor?"

"It depends on the favor."

"I need you to call Blake," Ruby blurted. She continued on before Weiss had a chance to say anything. "Torchwick knows where I live, and he knows Yang's my sister. I think she'd be a lot safer staying with Blake until we can get this whole thing sorted out, but I still can't tell her about any of this because she hates vigilantes and she'd never approve."

"Wait, what?" Weiss said.

"So I considered asking Blake to ask Yang to stay with her for a while," Ruby continued, "but it'd seem a lot more important coming from you."

"Did you just say your sister hates vigilantes?"

Ruby pulled out her scroll and pretended not to hear her. "So, call Blake? For me?"

"Ruby . . ." Weiss said dangerously.

"Please? I'm not asking you to make up with her or anything."

Weiss attempted to resist those pleading silver eyes, but she didn't last long.

"Fine." She snatched the scroll out of Ruby's hand. "But don't think we're not coming back to this."

Ruby beamed.

Weiss looked down at the scroll and pulled up Ruby's contacts, finding Blake's name written above an unfamiliar number. She tapped on it, then hovered her thumb over the call button. Seconds passed.

"You alright?" Ruby said.

"No, I'm not alright!" Weiss snapped. "What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, Blake. I know we hate each other right now, but I really need your girlfriend to move in with you.' Do you honestly think she's just going to go along with that?"

"Just tell her how important it is and try not to yell at her. Let her know that it's coming from me if you have to."

Weiss bit her tongue and contemplated for a few moments. Then she stared back down at the big green button, took a deep breath, and pushed it. It began to ring as Weiss set it to speaker mode. She barely got a chance to hope it'd go to voicemail before the call connected.

"Ruby?" came Blake's voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Blake," Weiss said, a curtness in her tone that she couldn't help.

"Weiss?" Blake said, confused. "What's going on?"

Weiss let the silence drag on for a moment, then sighed. "I have something important I need to ask of you on Ruby's behalf."

"Is that why you're using her scroll?"

"Obviously."

There was a pause. "Well, what is it then?"

"We need you to convince Yang to move in with you for a little while."

There was an even longer pause. "What?"

"I said—"

"I heard you. Why?"

"Look, you know I wouldn't be talking to you right now if this wasn't important."

"If you're going to ask something like that of me, then you're going to need to give me a reason. Yang and I aren't anywhere near that stage yet. I haven't even told her that I love—" Blake cut herself short, like she'd given away more than she intended.

Ruby gasped, her eyes wide. "Do you?"

"Wha—? Ruby, you're there?" Blake said. "Then why did—?"

"That's irrelevant," Weiss interrupted, having to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Evidently, Ruby had forgotten the entire point of making Weiss do this. "Will you do it or not?"

"Not unless you explain why," said Blake.

"We can't do that," Ruby said. "I promise I'll tell you both eventually, but for now, I just need you to trust us."

"I trust you, Ruby. But Weiss . . ."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Weiss demanded.

"Well, we're not exactly caught up," said Blake. "We aren't the same people we were four years ago. You've got that scar now, and your hair is a different color. I'm in a line of work I never imagined myself pursuing. We can't just go back to the way things were."

"Who says I even want that? You didn't trust me then, either, when I warned you about Adam. Look where that got you."

"Are you saying if I don't trust you now, the consequences will be just as bad?"

"Of course she isn't saying that," Ruby said, trying to abate the rising tension. "This is nothing like that—nothing that serious. But it is important, though."

"I should hope not," Blake said. "Because you know I'd have to arrest you if you were up to anything illegal."

"Of course you would," Ruby said slyly with a wink.

"You know she can't see that, right?" said Weiss.

"Did she just wink?" Blake asked.

"No!" Ruby blushed.

"Yes," Weiss said at the same time.

Blake chuckled, then fell silent. Ruby glared at Weiss, who might've smirked had it been anyone else on the other end of the line. Several seconds of contemplation passed before Blake said in a defeated voice, "How long is 'a little while'?"

"We don't know," said Weiss. "It's impossible to say."

"A couple weeks?" Ruby ventured. "Maybe more."

Weiss didn't know how to feel about that guess. On the one hand, it was short enough that Weiss's temporary lack of income wouldn't disrupt her life, and she could theoretically return to normal sooner than expected. On the other, it didn't seem like nearly enough time to prepare for what Ruby and Jaune intended to do—if they could even learn the information they needed that quickly.

"And you'll explain what this is all about after?" said Blake.

"Promise," said Ruby.

Blake sighed. "Alright. But if Yang says no—"

Ruby pumped her fist in the air. "Yes! Thank you! She won't say no. Oh, and don't tell her about this, obviously. Make it sound like it was your idea."

"Right. But you know how much she hates people keeping secrets from her."

"Yeah," Ruby shifted guiltily. "But she'll understand."

If Blake believed that, she was the only one. "I hope you're right. Is that all, then?"

Ruby looked at Weiss, a silent prod, but Weiss just crossed her arms and kept her lips pressed together in quiet defiance. Blake still hadn't attempted an apology, so Weiss had nothing more to say to her.

"That's all," Ruby said, a sad look on her face.

"Okay. Bye, Ruby."

Bye, Ruby—no one else. Weiss was affronted enough that she spoke without thinking. "Wait."

There was a delay in Blake's response. "Yes?"

There were a million things Weiss wanted to say to her—years worth of rants and insults she'd come up with in the shower or while trying to fall asleep, retorts for every possible thing Blake might counter with. Now she had her chance, and none of it came out. She wanted to hurt Blake the way Blake had hurt her, but that wasn't the way to do it. Words born from spite and pettiness, nothing more—it'd feel too hollow.

Weiss opted for the truth.

"I just want you to know that despite our differences," she said, "you were all I had. You left me without a goodbye, and I can't believe you were just about to do it again."

Blake was silent. Weiss liked to imagine it was due to shame, but she wouldn't know for sure. She ended the call before Blake could say anything else. A resonating silence hung over the room, broken only by a shaky breath from Weiss as she handed the scroll back to Ruby. She was satisfied with what she'd said, but it did little more than reopen closed wounds.

"You okay?" Ruby said.

"I'm fine," Weiss said shortly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Ruby frowned. She clearly had more she wanted to say, but respected Weiss's answer. She tucked her scroll into her pocket before turning and walking away, pausing to tell Weiss, "Thank you. I feel a lot better with Torchwick not knowing where Yang sleeps."

Weiss just gave her half a smile.

That night, Weiss snuggled up under her favorite duvet. It was too big for the bunk, but comfy all the same. She kept the same pillow that was already here, as her own at home was old and losing its form. The mattress was a bit too firm for her liking and this safe house didn't feel like home, but that still held true for the rest of this city as well. She couldn't complain too much. She was warm, she was comfortable enough, and she wasn't alone.

"Hey, Weiss?"

Weiss opened her eyes to see Ruby staring down at her from the top bunk on the opposite wall. The girl had intentionally tired herself out using her semblance a few minutes ago. She and Weiss were the only two in the room, as Jaune had still yet to retire for the night.

"Yes, Ruby?" Weiss said, irritated.

"I've been thinking . . ." The girl was hesitant. "There's something I've been wanting to ask."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"No. I've put it off for too long already."

Weiss sighed. "Fine. What is it?" Then, after ten seconds of silence, "If you're going to say it, then say it."

"It's just . . ." Ruby continued to delay, then finally brought herself to voice what was on her mind. "What if it's Salem?"

Weiss failed to understand the question. "What if what's Salem?"

"Well . . . the person we've been trying to find—Torchwick's boss, the woman from Maze's memory . . . My mom's killer."

Weiss pushed herself into a sitting position. "Ruby, are you feeling alright?"

"Huh? I feel fine."

"Are you certain you don't have a concussion or anything?"

"Wha—? No, I'm being serious! What if it's Salem?"

"Ruby," Weiss said slowly. "Salem is dead."

"I know that! Or at least we all think we do. I mean, her hair was blonde, just like the killer's. She might've faked her death, somehow."

"That's impossible. Ruby, there is video footage of her corpse being pulled from the wreckage. Multiple news helicopters recorded the exact moment."

"I know, I know," Ruby said. Even she seemed doubtful about her theory, but she wasn't quite ready to give up on it. "But she could've had some kind of semblance that let her fake her death, somehow. Maybe. And I know her semblance was metal control, but it could have changed to something completely different. That's happened before, right?"

"Yes, extremely rarely. You'd have better odds of winning the lottery."

Ruby somehow didn't seem dissuaded by those odds.

"It's not Salem, Ruby," Weiss asserted.

A silence passed, then Ruby said, "You're right. I knew it was stupid. I just . . . couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Why do you almost sound disappointed? Do you want Pyrrha's sacrifice to have been in vain?"

Ruby looked offended. "Of course not! How could—? I just . . ." She deflated. "I don't like that we still don't have any idea who it really is. We've been at this for so long, now."

Weiss felt guilty for what she'd said. Ruby just wanted an easy solution to a complicated problem. With so little information, it made sense for her to latch on to the first theory that might grant her some reprieve from her desperate thirst for answers, no matter how outlandish it was.

"I'm sorry," Weiss said.

"It's okay," said Ruby.

Weiss watched her friend's head disappear back over the edge of the bunk bed to rest atop her pillow. After a few moments, she laid back down herself and let her eyes slide shut, believing the conversation to be over. But then a couple minutes passed, and Ruby spoke again.

"I'm sorry too," she said.

Weiss looked over, but Ruby had evidently been talking to the ceiling. "Sorry about what?"

"Everything." Ruby propped herself up on her elbow and peered down at her once more. "It's my fault we're in this mess—that Junior nearly kidnapped us, that Torchwick knew where to find us, that we have to live down here now. You don't deserve any of this. If you'd never met me, you wouldn't be going through it all."

Weiss didn't know how to respond right away. She looked into those silver eyes, and she believed she was seeing genuine remorse. While a part of her wanted to stay mad at Ruby, the rest was just glad to finally hear her admit her mistakes. She didn't like being angry at her—the dolt just kept giving her so many reasons to be.

"Thank you for saying that," Weiss said. "But I don't regret meeting you, Ruby. It's not like you forced me into this. If I remember correctly, I volunteered for this. I could have backed out at any time—and when I eventually tried to, it's not like I wanted nothing to do with you anymore. Just please stop making so many reckless decisions. And don't keep any more pertinent information from me—like your sister hating vigilantes. Why am I only just now learning about that?"

Ruby gave a guilty smile. "I, uh, didn't think it mattered?"

Weiss gave her an incredulous look. "What?"

"I mean, in hindsight . . ."

"Ruby, you're literally planning on becoming a vigilante—which I still think is an absurd idea, by the way. We're currently living in a vigilante's hideout. How could you possibly think that that wasn't worth mentioning?"

"Well she's not your sister," Ruby argued.

Weiss's eyes narrowed.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I just didn't think of it. There were other things on my mind—other things to talk about."

Weiss relented. "Fine. But can I ask why your sister would hate vigilantes? What about Pyrrha?"

"Well, Yang never hated her in particular, but she wasn't a fan of her, either—she obviously respects her now, though. But she's been on that side of the debate for years. I don't know why, exactly, but it has something to do with her mom—her birth mom."

"Was . . . her mother killed by a vigilante, by any chance?"

"Hm? No, she's alive. But Yang doesn't like to talk about her—Dad doesn't, either. It's kind of a touchy subject."

"Oh." Weiss was silent for a moment. "How exactly do you expect her to react when she finds out about all this?"

Ruby shifted. "She'll understand."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah," Ruby said, sounding like she was also attempting to convince herself. "She'll be mad, but not for too long—I'm her little sister. We're doing what we have to, because no one else can. She'll realize that eventually."

"I hope you're right," Weiss said honestly.

Ruby smiled, but then her face grew serious again. "I know that I'm asking a lot of you. What we're planning is really risky, so I'll understand if you decide not to."

Weiss looked away. "Right."

The silence dragged on until Ruby finally returned to lying on her back and said, "G'night, Weiss."

Weiss lowered herself back onto her pillow, then said, "Good night, Ruby."

Chapter Text

Weiss squared up, her fists raised in a defensive position and her feet carefully spaced apart. She circled her opponent, slowly, waiting for it to strike. The machine darted forward and threw a punch. Weiss moved her arms to block it, as she'd been taught, but it halted its attack at the last second. She didn't even see its other fist coming for her side. The blow was restrained—not powerful enough to do any damage, but it still hurt and sent her stumbling to the ground.

"End," Jaune said. The robot froze and returned to idling.

Weiss's nails dug into her palms as she lay there, propped up on one elbow. "What was that about?"

"You focused your defense on one attack, leaving yourself open to another," Jaune said.

"You never told me to expect that!"

"That wasn't the point. You're supposed to be learning to keep your stance right and protect against a hit."

"I am keeping my stance right," she said through gritted teeth. "If it hadn't—"

"If you had, you'd still be standing," he said. "Sometimes you have to absorb a blow, but it shouldn't take you off your feet."

"I'm doing it exactly as you showed me!"

"You're starting off fine, but you lose your form when you start to circle. You have to focus on maintaining it."

"I'm trying!"

"You'll get it," Ruby encouraged from the sidelines. "Just keep practicing."

"Easy for you to say," Weiss muttered as she stood up and brushed herself off. Ruby had been progressing at an almost prodigious rate in the short while they'd been training. It wouldn't take much longer for her to surpass Jaune. In his defense, paragons with active semblances have been shown to have faster muscle memory than most people, not that that was helping Weiss any. Ruby had also started with a few weeks of practice under her belt with her sister, someone with far more experience than Jaune.

"What is even the point of this?" Weiss said, still angry. "Knowing how to block a punch isn't going to help against an attacker with a gun."

"You asked to learn how to defend yourself," Jaune said. "You have to know the basics to get to the more advanced stuff, like stopping that from happening again."

He pointed at her scar and Weiss's fingers instinctively came up to touch it. He was right. She was being childish. She knew that, but was too frustrated to admit it. It wasn't like she'd expected to master hand-to-hand combat instantly, but after nearly three weeks, she'd expected at least some progress.

"Try watching Ruby for a bit," Jaune suggested. "Study how she does it."

Weiss didn't respond right away. Her gaze lingered across the room, not focused on anything in particular. One of the monitors was visible from the corner of her eye—it displayed a message taking up the entire screen, reading, "22 Days Until Vytal Festival". She set her jaw and turned back toward the robot.

"No," she said. "I want to try again."

"Are you sure you don't want to take a break?" Ruby said.

"I want to try again," Weiss repeated in a firm voice.

Hesitant, Jaune eventually gave in. "Repeat last action."

The machine returned to life and prepared to fight. It waited while Weiss carefully recreated her stance and readied her fists.

"Start," said Jaune. Both robot and woman moved at the same time.

Twenty-two days. That's how long they had to stop Roman Torchwick.

Once upon a time, Weiss had been looking forward to the Vytal Festival. It's a week-long event held every two years by a different country, taking place in a rotating season. This year, it was being organized by Remnant during the fall. Vale, being one of the largest and most diverse cities in the nation, got the honor of hosting it. People from all over the world would be coming here to partake in activities, enjoy a myriad of different cuisines, and immerse themselves in numerous diverse cultures.

Weiss was dreading its arrival.

It all started about a week and a half ago, right after Torchwick's latest robbery—this time, he'd mixed things up and hit a museum, snagging a handful of valuable paintings. More people started to ask why someone this dangerous was still only being pursued by local law enforcement. Federal Investigations made an official statement saying that if Torchwick wasn't apprehended by October 25th, then they'd step in and take over. The last day of the Vytal Festival was October 24th.

The fact that they were stalling at all was odd—that they were stalling until that particular day was downright suspicious. Security for the festival was being handled by the military, so it wasn't like the event was keeping them busy until after it was over. There could be any number of classified factors prompting the decision, to be fair, but Weiss wasn't content to simply accept that without further digging.

The first place she looked into was the Vytal Festival's website, where she found a list of vendors, suppliers, and other associated businesses. Buried within that extensive list was none other than one Brunswick Farms, who was supposedly supplying food.

To avoid jumping to any baseless conclusions, Jaune agreed to take a bus ride down to Vacuo to investigate—it'd been a task to convince Ruby to stay behind. He'd waited for nightfall and broke into the business's main building, which hadn't had a lot of security—or much of anything, for that matter. He'd found an office where he managed to steal some financial records that were very indicative of money laundering, as well as evidence that the owner—a man named Bartleby—did not exist.

There still wasn't enough to definitively name Torchwick as the true owner of Brunswick Farms, but with the current stakes, they had no choice but to work off of the assumption that he was. The fact of the matter was that an illegal business had clearance to operate behind the scenes at an international gathering of hundreds of thousands of people. They could exploit that by smuggling in weapons, bombs, or any other dangerous contraband. If Weiss's suspicions about Torchwick or his boss having some manner of influence with Federal Investigations were correct, the odds that something terrible was going to go down at the Festival became even higher.

Torchwick needed to be brought down before that could happen.

"I know, I know!" Weiss yelled after being knocked to the floor yet again.

"End," Jaune said to the robot. He tried to give Weiss a hand up, but she swatted it away.

"I'm done for today," she said as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Watch Ruby," Jaune saidd. "She—"

"I said I'm done." Weiss stormed off and entered the living quarters, slamming the door behind her—or at least she tried to, but the padded door frame muffled the effect. She sat down on the edge of her bed and took several moments to calm herself, then began to take off her hand wraps. She was halfway through the first one when she heard the door open and close again.

"I'm not in the mood, Ruby," Weiss said without looking up.

"I know how you feel, you know," Ruby said.

"You couldn't possibly."

"Yes, I do," Ruby insisted. "I went through the same thing when I was younger."

Weiss paused and looked up at her—Ruby had seated herself on the bed opposite her. Weiss said nothing.

"Yang's only the best fighter I know because she grew up learning it all from our dad," Ruby said. "He spent years traveling around the world, learning different styles of martial arts from different teachers before he met my mom and settled down. Yang grew up learning from him, and she mastered everything he taught her. Dad even says she's better than him, now. He tried teaching me, too, but I never really got the hang of it. It was frustrating seeing how much better Yang was than me, so I eventually just . . . gave up. That was when I still thought it was just a hobby. I think the only reason I'm doing better now is because I realize how important it is—and I guess being older helps, too."

"Not for everyone, it would seem," Weiss said bitterly. "I just don't understand it. This comes so easily with my semblance."

Ruby tilted her head. "Your semblance?"

Weiss tensed. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"What does your semblance have to do with fighting? I thought you just cured people."

Weiss looked into Ruby's curious eyes and realized it was silly to be embarrassed despite everything they'd been through by now. If there was anyone she could share this with, it was her.

"Promise not to ridicule me," Weiss said.

"Why would I ridicule you?"

"Promise," Weiss demanded.

"Okay, I promise."

Weiss still had to push herself to get the words out. "My semblance is more involved than it seems on the surface."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't just touch someone and instantly rid them of their ailments. I enter a mental landscape, and I have to fight the manifestations of whatever mental affliction or afflictions the person has."

"Really? Like with your fists? What do they look like?"

"With a sword. And they . . . they look like creatures called Grimm." Weiss's cheeks grew warm.

"Grimm?" Ruby looked momentarily puzzled, but then her eyes lit up. "Oh, like from Warriors of Grimm?"

"You've seen it?"

"I've seen every show. Not literally, of course, but pretty much. I've had a lot more free time to kill than most people."

"Right," said Weiss. The fact that Ruby had chosen to spend her extra eight hours a day watching TV rather than doing anything productive didn't surprise her. Still, she felt relieved to hear that her friend liked the show, too.

"I didn't think you'd watch a show like that," said Ruby. "I figured you grew up watching operas and plays and other fancy pantsy things."

"If by 'fancy pantsy' you mean 'dignified', I did. That doesn't mean I never did anything else. I took other liberties whenever I could, only because I knew my father wouldn't approve."

Ruby gave a sly smile. "Really? No other reason? Not because it was fun?"

Weiss glared. "You promised not to ridicule me."

"I'm not! I'm really happy right now—it's like I'm seeing a whole new side of you."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you this."

"Oh, come on. This is a good thing! This makes me like you even more. You're not the easiest person to relate to, you know."

"Don't you have a wealthy father as well?"

Ruby's eyes shifted. "Well, yeah—now. I didn't grow up in high society. But you were telling me about your semblance. So you actually go into people's minds and fight monsters from your favorite cartoon?"

The push for a change of subject did not go unnoticed by Weiss, but she allowed it all the same.

"As ludicrous as it sounds, yes." She proceeded to describe the experience in detail, taking care not to miss the fact that none of it was actually real, despite it feeling very much so.

"That sounds like so much fun! You get to actually be a Warrior of Grimm."

"It . . . can be enjoyable at times," Weiss admitted, though that was a slight understatement. "But sometimes the ambiguity of it can be infuriating."

"For example?"

One immediately came to mind. Weiss bit her lip, feeling guilty over her own hypocrisy. She'd chastised Ruby for hiding her sister's views on vigilantism, but Weiss still hadn't told her everything that had happened during that unfortunate cab ride. Now was as good a time as any, she supposed.

"Like when I used my semblance on Torchwick," she said. "I didn't just watch the two memories and leave. Something unprecedented happened—two things unprecedented happened. There was a storm that destroyed my sword, and I was attacked by him, except he didn't have a face."

"No face? Like no nose, no mouth, no nothing?"

"Yes. I believe it was his mind defending itself against me. I heard his voice, too—coming from the sky, not his . . . avatar, or whatever you want to call it. The thing is, that was the first time I've ever used my semblance on someone who didn't consent to it. So I don't know if my semblance evolved again, or if it was always like that."

"Well . . . does it really matter? It doesn't seem to make much of a difference either way."

"Of course it matters! I loathe not being able to fully understand my semblance."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. That just seems like a pretty minor detail, to me."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't understand. Your semblance is simple. You disappear from one place and appear in another, slightly tired. Because of the stupid way my subconscious processes mine, it's riddled with enigmas. Like the fact that it can also now hurt people instead of healing them, and I haven't the remotest clue as to what extent."

"Wait, what?"

Weiss looked at her, momentarily confused. She'd gotten so caught up in her own vexation that she'd left out the most important part. She took a second to cool down, then told Ruby what had happened when she hit the faceless Torchwick.

"So, technically," said Ruby, "you can just touch someone and do real damage to them?"

"That's what the evidence suggests," said Weiss.

Ruby leaned forward and rested her chin in her palms with her elbows on her knees. Weiss knew that look—she was coming up with a potentially reckless and dangerous idea again.

"It doesn't mean anything, though," Weiss said with the hope of putting an end to Ruby's train of thought. "I don't know how much harm I can do to someone, and therefore I can never use this new ability."

"But that's so powerful, though. It wouldn't even matter if you never learned to fight as good as Yang or Pyrrha—you could just go into someone's mind and do the fighting there."

"If I can't land a punch, how do you expect me to touch someone in order to use my semblance on them? But that's irrelevant, anyway. We're not discussing this. I'm not out to cause permanent brain damage or possibly even kill anyone—not even people like Torchwick."

"Yeah. No, you're right." Ruby looked disappointed. "But if you could control it so all you do is put the baddies to sleep or something, that'd be so handy. I could Blink us right on top of them and you could just instantly take them down. Or you could just sneak up behind them and avoid fighting entirely."

"Why are you talking like this would be more than a one-time thing?" Weiss said, alarmed. "I still haven't even agreed to try to heal Neo."

"I know that. I'm just . . . talking for fun, here. Like what if you could go invisible, like Blake? No one would see you coming, and they'd be asleep before they knew you were there. I don't think the tech exists to mimic Blake's semblance yet, though."

"Of course it exists," Weiss said without thinking. "The STC patented it years ago. But that's beside the point—"

Ruby's eyes lit up. "Really? I've never heard about that."

"Obviously not. The STC didn't exactly shout about their contracts for the military."

"I didn't know the STC was developing for the military."

Weiss gave her a flat look.

"Oh, right," Ruby said with a slight blush. "So how does it work? Obviously, it can't make you completely invisible, right? It'd have to use some kind of really advanced reflective panels or something like that."

"I don't know. I wasn't as informed with the family business as you might think. And I don't have a clue how any of the technology works. I had access to the company database and heard things around the manor during breaks from school, but that's about it."

"Oh. Where would those prototypes be now that the STC is gone?"

Weiss narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"I'm just . . . curious."

Weiss had to consider whether she wanted to humor the question, then proceeded to wonder whether she even knew the answer. After the STC dissolved, the board members and shareholders who hadn't been convicted for white-collar crimes had scrambled to scoop up as many assets for themselves as they could. But things got complicated with Weiss's father—the majority shareholder—being in prison, which resulted in a lot of the asset distribution getting stonewalled by pretty much everyone involved. That was still the case even a year later. As a result of that, a number of STC warehouses and laboratories remain filled with tech and resources that no one has legal access to. A fair amount of those are probably located in Vale, thanks to Weiss's father not hesitating to take advantage of the drop in real estate prices caused by Salem's assault. That meant the tech Ruby was curious about could very well be stored in one of the several workerless STC warehouses located in . . . this very city.

Weiss stood, the gears in her head spinning. A thought had just occurred to her. An enlightening possibility if true, but a troubling one. No, surely the government had already seized anything dangerous the STC had been working on. But what exactly qualified as dangerous?

"Weiss?" Ruby said in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"'My base of operations,'" Weiss quoted beneath her breath. "That implies that he has one main base of operations."

"Who, Torchwick?"

"The County Clerk's office had an STC security system, yet he was able to completely bypass it and erase well-protected data. He's always able to shut off the security cameras as soon as he's finished taunting them. If his targets also . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Ruby said, her words falling on deaf ears.

"There's got to be . . ." Weiss's momentum came to a halt. The STC database had been purged a while ago, and unfortunately, she only knew one person who might have saved the data she needed.

"Weiss!" Ruby said.

Those piercing silver eyes shook Weiss from her thoughts. She blinked a few times, surprised to find her friend standing directly in front of her and gripping her shoulders, as if she were about to physically shake her.

"I . . ." Weiss said. "I need to call my brother."

"Huh?"

"I believe Torchwick could be hiding out in an abandoned STC facility," Weiss said as she took a step back from the girl, whose hands fell back down to her sides. "And I think Whitley is the only one who can confirm it."

"STC facility? That's . . . wait . . . what?" Ruby sounded even more confused, if that was possible.

Weiss grabbed her scroll off of the trunk where she'd left it, then strode out of the room. She barely registered Ruby hot on her heels and Jaune running drills by himself in the corner. Her attention was on the computer on the back wall, her hands taking control of the keyboard and mouse before she'd even stopped walking.

"Form: optimal," the robot said behind her. "Speed: acceptable. Reaction time: needs improvement. Footwork: needs improvement. Suggested action: practice exercises 12b, 12c, 3c, and 3f."

"End," Jaune said as he approached the two women. "What's going on?"

"I . . . wish I could tell you," said Ruby. "Something big, I guess."

Weiss pulled up the list of Torchwick's past robberies on one monitor and a map service on another. She typed "STC" into it, but it only yielded a few locations within Vale. Her fingers drummed on the table. There were definitely more that weren't showing up, but her father likely hadn't registered them under the company name—probably for some clever legal loophole or tax evasion purposes. That effectively ruled out the slim possibility that she might not have to hold a conversation with her estranged sibling after all. But if you can't avoid something, then delay it for as long as possible.

"I think Torchwick could be using STC technology in order to bypass STC technology," Weiss explained. She began to type as she talked, trying to find info on the security of every location the crime boss had hit so far, starting with the most recent. "It would explain his unheard-of number of successful robberies. If my family's tech is the only thing protecting each of his targets, and he has a way to disable it, then there's no way he could ever be caught in the act."

"How would he even get something like that?" Jaune said.

"He'd steal it, probably," said Ruby. "I mean, that's what he does best, isn't it?"

"His earliest robbery—bar the ones from Vacuo—took place after the STC dissolved," said Weiss. "A lot of STC facilities have remained without workers since then, but they still haven't been emptied. Torchwick could have broken into one of them and gotten what he needed, and he might also have made a base out of it."

"Where's your proof?" said Jaune.

"I'm trying to find it."

"Hmm," Ruby pondered. "That . . . would sort of make sense. I mean, it'd be a better place than any old abandoned building since he can be sure no one will randomly stumble into it. And he'd have his own security system ready to go, if he's good enough to get past it himself to override it."

A few minutes later, Weiss's search wasn't panning out for her. She hadn't really expected it to. A part of her found comfort that it wasn't that easy to find what she was looking for—it meant it would be just as difficult for people like Torchwick. But it was still annoying. It would take some time and digging to confirm her theory, and probably wouldn't be possible without more classified intel.

Weiss stepped away from the computer and picked her scroll back up from the desk. The other two were still watching her expectantly. To not keep them waiting, she ripped the bandaid off and finally dialed her brother. The device began to ring. Her heart rate picked up as the seconds dragged by. Then, when she was convinced it'd go to voicemail, he answered.

"Sister," Whitley greeted, his voice the very definition of formality. "To what do I owe this surprise?"

"Hello, Whitley. I . . ." Weiss bit her tongue. "I need a favor."

There was a short silence, then a sigh. "Of course. What other reason could you have to contact your dear brother?"

"Don't pretend that you haven't also been avoiding me."

"That's valid," he conceded. "So what's this favor you mean to ask of me, then? As fortune has it, I'm already back in Atlas."

"You are?"

"Indeed. Only temporarily, however. I'll be departing once more after the Vytal Festival."

"Can't be bothered to stick around for too long, I take it."

He took a moment to choose his next words. "We both have to adapt to the circumstances in our own ways."

The conversation lulled, Weiss unsure what to make of that. Whitley waited for her to speak next—he was nothing if not patient.

Weiss didn't say anything right away. "Have you been to see Mother yet?"

"Of course. Why do you think I came here rather than straight to Vale?"

"How is she?"

"The same." He said it with an unchanged tone of voice, but there was a tenderness in the delay before he spoke.

"Right." Weiss hadn't expected any other answer.

"What's the favor?"

She took a calming breath, pushing the image of her mother's vacant stare from her mind. "I need access to STC archives."

Weiss could almost see his brow raise ever so slightly with the rest of his expression remaining in his well-practiced poker face. "They've been expunged."

"That's why I'm calling you."

"You think that I have backups."

"Don't play games with me. We may never have been close, but I still know you."

Whitley took his time deliberating his response. "Say I did hypothetically have these documents—how do you plan to retrieve them from me? Last I heard, you were still living in Vale."

"Email?" Weiss suggested halfheartedly.

"Don't make me laugh."

"Look, I'm not a computer genius like you. Do an . . . encryption, or whatever." Weiss glared at Ruby's reaction to her ignorance.

"You disappoint me, dear Sister. Nevertheless, I am willing—under the assumption that this is a quid pro quo—to aide you."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, at the moment. But should a need arise . . ."

"Fine, I get it. I'll owe you. So can you send me the files, then?"

"No. I can clone them onto an external hard drive, but you will need to collect it in-person."

"What? Why?"

"It's the only secure method. I will not send this data through the internet—this is non-negotiable."

"The company's dead, Whitley. What's the worst that could happen if someone else manages to get hold of this?"

"I don't know, but I don't care to find out. And you need to cease thinking like that. That we've suffered a lot already does not mean they can't do worse to us still. Someone attacked us. They got Father arrested, toppled the company, and tore our family apart."

"Yeah, I know who—Father."

"You misunderstand. I won't deny Father's crimes, but neither will I deny his cunning. The only conceivable way he could have been caught is if someone exposed him."

"He doesn't exactly have a shortage of enemies."

"Precisely. And I refuse to risk giving them any further opportunities to strike at our family name. So I'll say it once more—this data will remain secure."

"You almost sound like you're planning something."

"I've not questioned the motives behind your request—I'd like to ask that you return that courtesy."

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Fine. But I can't leave Vale."

Jaune opened his mouth and Weiss held up a finger to keep him quiet.

"My ticket to Vale is dated a week before the festival, if you can wait that long," Whitley said.

"I can't."

"That's unfortunate. I believe that puts us at something of an impasse."

"I can send someone else." Weiss looked at Jaune. "A friend."

He looked surprised by the label and it took him a moment before he gave her a nod of assent.

"A friend, you say?" Whitley sounded doubtful. "I don't treasure the idea of handing this outside of the family."

Weiss huffed. "Look at Father, Whitley. He only ever cared about himself and how deep he could make his own pockets. Blood isn't a good way to measure trust."

"Then how much do you place in this friend of yours?" Whitley said.

"Enough. That drive is just as safe in his hands as it is in mine—safer, even."

"So be it. Inform me when he arrives in Atlas, and we can arrange a meeting."

"Okay."

"And don't think I'll be forgetting about that IOU."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Farewell, Sister."

"Whitley?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

After a pause, he hung up.

Progress was stunted without those files, which meant the end of the night couldn't come soon enough. Jaune agreed to catch the first plane to Atlas the following morning, Ruby generously paying for his ticket. He returned that same afternoon, having collected the hard drive without incident, and they were able to start the real work at last. It was a lengthy process to sift through it all.

The first thing they did was examine the inventories of every STC location in Vale, then deduced which of them were worth watching. Any number of things could have been left off the books, so it was difficult to decisively say whether each location had once held whatever it was that gave Torchwick his advantage. But there were plenty they were able to rule out, leaving a select handful for Jaune to place spy cameras around. Then it was just a matter of keeping an eye on the feed as they continued digging.

The following days provided a considerable contrast to the past month. Before, the hours went by slowly, spent grasping at straws and following loose leads, only occasionally coming across something valuable. Training had taken place every few days without a set schedule—Weiss only bothered when Jaune was around to help her, as she made little enough progress even with a human touch and knew soloing the machine would be a waste of time. Ruby put a lot of work into creating her "superhero suit", repurposing parts of Jaune's old armor with his permission. Recreation sometimes took the form of board games that Ruby had Jaune retrieve from her apartment. It was a good way to break up the long stretches of tedium, but Weiss mostly preferred reading ebooks on her scroll instead. Life had been boring, but at least it was peaceful. Following Weiss's call to her brother, the only applicable word was "frantic".

They began training daily. Free time was reduced to a minimum. Ruby stopped using her semblance altogether so that someone would be able to have their eyes on the cameras at all times, though she'd only chosen to sleep less than half the time already. The majority of their available minutes were dedicated to crunching away at trying to find the evidence they needed, always within sight of the monitors. All the while, the countdown kept getting smaller.

They were on the right track—they knew that. The data that Whitley provided contained enough to prove Weiss's hypothesis, but it'd taken a great effort to find it. In some way, shape, or form, Schnee technology was being used to protect every building that Torchwick had robbed in Vale. Only some had full, official STC security systems. Others used ones from different companies that incorporated STC components—that'd been the trickiest bit to uncover. The rest were protected by rather young companies invested in by former STC shareholders—the hard drive had been no help in revealing that part, but they still got there in the end.

So one thing was clear—Torchwick had a pattern. He'd found a vulnerability in Schnee tech and a way to exploit it. Unfortunately, there was still nothing to suggest that he was hiding out in any STC facilities. Not a soul had entered or left any of the potential candidates for as long as they'd watched. They could predict how he'd choose his next target, but still didn't know how to find him.

Then, one very early morning, Weiss and Jaune were woken by some excited yelling.

"It's him! I saw him! Weiss! Jaune!"

For five seconds, Weiss's groggy mind could be nothing but peeved until the meaning of the words caught up with her. She clumsily unburied herself from her duvet and sprang out of bed. Jaune, wearing a messy head of hair and the same clothes he'd had on the night before, was already standing at the computer by the time Weiss hurried through the door he'd left open. She took her place next to Ruby, who pointed at one of the camera feeds. It watched a warehouse that had been owned by an STC subsidiary, which was also now defunct. Weiss spotted a vehicle in the parking lot that had heretofore always remained vacant, but no other sign of life. It was an expensive luxury car painted pure white with gold accents. Its headlights were off, but the taillights and exhaust suggested it was currently running.

"He went inside just a second ago," Ruby said. "He was alone and didn't look like he had any trouble with the lock."

"You're sure it was him?" said Jaune.

"Hat, cane, orange hair—couldn't have been anyone else."

"Where is this?" Weiss said.

Ruby pulled up a list of addresses, each with a number corresponding to one of the spy cameras on the other monitors. Ruby typed one into a maps tool without having to look at the keyboard.

"That's . . . Hey, this is only a couple blocks away from Blake's place," she said.

Weiss pursed her lips. Irony. Ruby wanted her sister away from their apartment so that Torchwick wouldn't know where she lived, so she sent her to stay within walking distance of said crime boss's secret lair—assuming that's what this building was. It was a bit strange how they'd not seen him anywhere near it up until now.

"So . . . what happens now?" Weiss said.

"We watch him, scout the area, and come up with a plan," said Jaune.

"Yeah!" Ruby said enthusiastically. "Then we take him down, once and for all."

Weiss's heart began to beat faster as she continued to watch the still camera feed. This was was no longer this far off thing that may or may not happen. No one more capable was coming to take the burden from them. Ruby and Jaune were going to dive headfirst into danger, with or without Weiss, and nothing could prevent that.

One of the bay doors on the warehouse opened and a man walked out of it. There was no mistaking him. Torchwick stood to the side and waved his hand, signaling the car to change gears and cross the threshold. He followed it back inside, and the door slowly began to close behind him. Before it shut completely, they were able to catch a glimpse of the driver's heeled knee-high boots as she exited the vehicle.

"Weiss," Ruby said.

Weiss met her eyes.

"You're going to have to make your choice now," said Ruby. "We can't form a plan until we know whether you're in or out."

Weiss looked away. "I know."

A silence dragged on. Before either of them decided to comment further, Jaune suddenly dug his scroll out of his pocket, the screen alight. He stared at it a moment before tapping a button and bringing the device up to his ear.

"Hey, Saph," he said. "What? Yeah, I'm fine . . . What news?" There was a pause, then all the blood drained from his face. "What? No. No, that's . . ." He grew silent. The person he was talking to continued frantically chattering away as his arm fell limply to his side.

"Jaune? What's wrong? What happened?" Ruby asked.

He said nothing, staring blankly at the wall behind her.

"Jaune?" Ruby said, more worried than before. "Jaune!"

He finally looked down at her, then swallowed. His lips parted, but his voice was lost to him.

Weiss stepped up to the computer and opened a new tab on a web browser. She searched for the latest news, then let out an involuntary gasp at what she found.

"Oh," was all Ruby could think to say.

The first article was titled, Impostor Protector of Vale Unmasked at Last. It was accompanied by a picture of Jaune in the suit with his helmet off.

Chapter Text

A heavy silence fell over the room, enveloping them like a dense fog. Everything was still as they stood in shock, allowing the news to slowly sink in. The article took up the bottom middlemost monitor, keeping every eye locked on to the incriminating photo of Jaune.

"That's Brunswick," he said in a hollow voice. "I-I never saw a camera."

Torchwick was to blame for this, then. That's why they were only just now catching him entering the warehouse—he'd been in Vacuo for some reason and only just gotten back.

"Jaune," Ruby said softly, taking a step toward him and reaching for his shoulder.

"Dammit," he muttered.

"Jaune, it's going to be—"

"Dammit!" He moved away from her and slammed his fist against the wall. "This is why I gave this up in the first place! I was never cut out for this, I was never going to be like her."

"But you can—"

"Ruby, just . . . stop." Jaune's voice cracked. "It's over."

"We can find a way through this. There's still—"

"I said stop!" He whirled around, a wild look in his eye.

"Hey, don't you lash out at her!" Weiss's sympathy for him, though still present, wavered.

His anger made way for guilt, and his expression began to sober. He stared down at the ground, seeming surprised to see he was still clutching onto his scroll. He ended the call and pocketed the device, freeing that hand to also ball into a fist.

"No, it's fine," Ruby said. "I get it. Let's just . . . give him some space."

"Right," said Jaune, his tone low and empty. "Space. Won't be seeing much of that behind bars."

"You're not going to jail," said Ruby.

"Ruby." Jaune sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling. But I don't need your optimism right now."

Ruby bit her lip. "Alright. So what do you need?"

"I don't . . . I don't know." He was silent for a bit. "I just need to go."

"Go where, exactly?" Weiss said.

It took him a while to voice his answer. "To the cops."

"What?" said Ruby.

"You can't be serious," said Weiss.

"What else am I supposed to do?" he asked. "I have a life, I have family. I can't just become a fugitive. I'm studying law, and my oldest sister's a lawyer, but I can't be cleared if I don't turn myself in."

"But what about Torchwick?" said Ruby.

"What about him?" said Jaune. "He got us—he got me. We missed our chance, and he won."

"No, he didn't! We know where he is now. We can still take him down while there's still time."

"Ruby," Weiss said. "I think Jaune's right. Without him, stopping Torchwick is impossible. And if he goes back out there in that suit, then his chances of being exonerated will be reduced to almost nothing."

"But we're so close! We have what we need. We found him."

"We found him too late," said Jaune. "It's over."

"But—"

"It's over, Ruby."

Ruby's head fell. A long silence ensued before she said in a hollow voice, "So, what happens now?"

"The only option we have," Weiss said. "We go to the authorities. We tell them what we know, excluding certain details—" she gestured toward Jaune "—and hope it doesn't take too many sacrifices for them to apprehend Torchwick and Neo."

Ruby crossed her arms with one hand clawing into her bicep. Weiss wasn't stoked about this plan either, in all honesty. She'd been hoping for something to come along and make her choice for her, but not like this. The cost of stopping Torchwick without the inhibitor and Ruby's semblance was too high, but now there was no other option. They wouldn't stand a chance without Jaune and his armor.

"I don't like it," said Ruby.

"Well it's all you've got," said Jaune. Then, after a few seconds, "Maybe this is for the best."

"What are you talking about?" Weiss said incredulously.

"I already let you down," he said. "I took the helmet off when I shouldn't have, and look where that got us. At least now I can't make any mistakes that would get either of you killed."

"And here I thought Ruby was the optimist."

"You wouldn't have gotten us killed," Ruby said.

"Maybe not. Now we'll never have to know." Jaune stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I should go."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Ruby said. "They haven't even made a call for your arrest yet."

"That we know of. If the cops haven't broken into my apartment already, then they'll be on their way soon. It's better to get ahead of them. The sooner I submit to questioning, the sooner I'll be cleared, right?" He spoke hopeful words with a hollow tone.

"So that's it, then? You're just going to say goodbye and leave us? After all that's happened, after what we just learned?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." Jaune fiddled with the collar of his shirt. His feet were pointed in two different directions as if each had their own idea of where they should carry him. In the end, they came to an agreement and brought him close enough to Ruby to hug her. He muttered something into her ear and, after a moment, she whispered something back. They broke apart and Jaune looked at Weiss, hesitant. Weiss rolled her eyes and initiated the hug herself—her head didn't even reach his chin.

"Be safe, Jaune," she said.

"I will."

"Don't tell them anything about any of this—Torchwick, Maze, us. It'll only make you look more guilty."

"I know." He took a step back and wouldn't meet her eyes, then turned his back on both of them. Having not even taken off his shoes the previous night, he was able to leave without any further delay.

A ringing silence replaced his presence. Ruby sunk down to the floor and hugged her knees. Weiss sat down beside her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"This was all for nothing," Ruby said.

"No, it wasn't," said Weiss. "We gathered a lot of substantial intel. Us not being the ones to act on it doesn't make it a wasted effort."

"None of it matters. We'll tell the cops everything, they'll send in a tactical team, and Neo will just zip Torchwick away to freedom. Boom, back to square one."

Weiss didn't have a response. That was the only realistic outcome going forward. There are no exceptions in the law prohibiting paragons from using their semblances on non-consenting individuals—not even for law enforcement against criminals. Even if the police had access to someone like Ruby who could counter Neo's speed, they wouldn't be able to legally send them after her. It's a glaring flaw in the system, but no one seemed to care to fix it. Weiss's father had given so much money to corrupt politicians, yet he never influenced the rectification of any laws that actually mattered.

"Isn't this the part where you tell me I'm stupid and wrong and that the cops know what they're doing?" Ruby asked after a silence.

Weiss shook her head. "I wish it was, Ruby. But you're not stupid, and the police aren't equipped to handle this situation. Nothing short of miraculously catching Neo while she's asleep or dropping a bomb on the warehouse could guarantee success."

"Well . . . at least I'm not stupid." Ruby paused. "They wouldn't actually do that, would they?"

Weiss wanted to say, "Of course not," but didn't know whether that would be a lie. Instead, she said nothing.

"There's got to be something we can still do," Ruby said.

"There isn't," said Weiss.

She realized she was doing a terrible job of being comforting, but she didn't know what else to say. This was a tragedy, and there were no silver linings.

"Well," Ruby eventually said, "are you sure about that? What if . . .?"

"Do I even want to hear you finish that thought?" Weiss said.

"I mean . . . what if we did it without Jaune?"

After taking a moment to process that suggestion, Weiss repositioned herself so that she could look her friend in the eye. "What if we did what without Jaune, exactly?"

"We take down Torchwick," Ruby said. "Just you and me."

Weiss tried several times to articulate her thoughts, but she was speechless. If she hadn't grown to know Ruby as well as she had, she would've thought the girl was joking. Weiss didn't think there was anyone else who could look at her with a straight face and say what Ruby just did.

Ruby wasn't joking, but Weiss still let out a breathy, humorless laugh.

"Look," Ruby said, clearly trying to stave off the impending lecture. She shifted and crossed her legs beneath herself. "I know what you're going to say—"

"Can we just . . ." Weiss rubbed her temple, "skip past me yelling at you and get to the part where you accept how horrible the idea you just came up with is? I don't think I have the energy to do this again. We keep going around this same circle over and over again. When will you get tired of it?"

"Just me hear me out!"

Weiss only shook her head with her face buried in her hands.

"Neo is the only thing stopping the cops from having a chance to arrest Torchwick," Ruby said. "If we can get her out of the picture, we can tip off Yang and Blake and they can have the building surrounded before Torchwick even knows what's happening, and he'll have no way to escape."

"And the part where we have to get past who knows how many armed criminals without the one person who has any kind of experience with this sort of thing?"

"Stealth," Ruby said, spreading her hands and smiling as if she'd just proposed an airtight solution to the world's most complicated problem.

"Stealth," Weiss repeated blankly.

"We sneak in. I can Blink us past any alarms by aiming through a window. We quietly find Neo, teleport right behind her—I prick her with the inhibitor and you cure her—then we sneak out and call in the cavalry."

"Ruby—"

"I know," Ruby interrupted. "I know what you're thinking. But this isn't going to be another Junior's. We wouldn't be rushing in recklessly and winding up trapped—we'd be going in prepared, carefully. And at the first sign of danger, we bail. I'll Blink us out to safety, and that's it. I'll protect you."

Weiss studied her friend's face and said nothing. She saw a strange look of maturity in those silver eyes—a determined confidence that could almost reassure her that Ruby had learned from her past mistakes.

"But I won't do this without you," Ruby said. "I won't go in alone and pressure you to come along and risk your life just for me. If you don't want to do this, neither of us will. Just don't make any snap decisions like I would—honestly think about it."

As much as Weiss had come to know Ruby, Ruby had come to know Weiss just as well. She'd managed to address every concern Weiss might have brought up. Weiss couldn't help being a little impressed. Perhaps Ruby had learned from past mistakes after all.

Somehow, Weiss was left conflicted. She was uncertain in a situation where a refusal should have come without hesitation. The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity until Weiss finally found the will to speak.

"I'll consider it," she found herself saying. But, deep down, a part of her already knew what her answer would be, and she already regretted it.

Weiss was beginning to wonder if there was another reason as to why she'd foolishly volunteered to help Ruby investigate her mother's murder. Was it possible that a part of her had simply seen a girl in distress and felt the compulsion to help? Weiss had chosen a career where she could aid people in need, despite having a wealthy father who'd wanted to prepare her to head up the family business one day—a multi-trillion lien company with international influence. There'd always been a drive within her to aid those less fortunate than her, but perhaps it was more potent than she'd once thought. That drive was now causing her to put her own life in peril. Could Ruby be right? Did Weiss have what it took to be a hero?

It was a ridiculous notion, somehow becoming less so. It wasn't like the word "hero" was synonymous with "vigilante", anyway. But, with what she was preparing to do, the distinction didn't seem all that relevant. What was relevant was the fact that a girl had been abducted as a child and hadn't known a single day of freedom since. Weiss had the power to change that, and the idea—however unlikely—of that girl dying to a bomb with her master's name written on it was too terrible to consider.

"How do I look?" Ruby stepped into the room and posed with her hands on her hips. She was unrecognizable. A hooded cloak sprawled down her back and stopped at her lower leg, the outside dark red with a brighter shade for the inner lining. She wore a well-tailored suit that covered everything from her collar down to her boots. It consisted of mostly dark colors accented by reds and a touch of silver. It was primarily made of leather, but Weiss knew some armor plates were hidden beneath the material. And to complete the look, Ruby wore the same metal mask she'd shown to Weiss over a month ago.

Weiss, who had just finished getting dressed herself, took a few seconds to look over her friend. It was the first time she'd seen the complete outfit, and it looked impressive—it could have been stolen off the set of a blockbuster superhero movie. Weiss's honest opinion was that the look suited Ruby, but she knew that sort of compliment would go to her head.

"You've looked worse," Weiss said.

Ruby lowered the hood and took off her mask to reveal a grin. "I'll take it!"

Weiss, by comparison, looked rather drab. Due to lack of time and resources, her outfit consisted of dark jeans and the black hoodie Ruby had begun wearing to class after Torchwick had seen her in her favorite red zip-up. "You look so normal!" is what Ruby had had to say about the getup. She'd probably meant it as a compliment, but Weiss hadn't taken it as one. It was the dowdiest she'd ever dressed. Even after losing the family fortune, it was a point of pride that she always presented herself with some class. But, unfortunately, this was optimal for what they were about to undertake, as they both needed to be disguised and hard to spot.

"Did you ever get that voice modulator working?" Weiss asked.

Ruby smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, right! I forgot." She put the mask back on and flicked a hidden switch. When she spoke, she sounded pretty similar to how Jaune did with his helmet, only a bit higher-pitched. "Stop right there, criminal scum! Eh, see? Oh, wait! You still haven't heard my superhero name."

"And I don't want to."

"What? Oh, come on. Of course you do!"

"No, I don't. Asking to hear your vigilante alias would be me approving of you ever putting that costume on again after tonight, which I don't."

"Psh! No it wouldn't. You—"

"Would you take that thing off?"

"Right, sorry." She flicked the switch again and removed the mask. "But you've gotta be at least a little curious."

"I'm not. Besides, it's usually the media that nicknames new vigilantes."

"Usually. Unless the hero beats them to it."

"And you think that you can do that."

"You've just got to be quick on the draw, and I'm pretty fast. I came in first in three of my high school track meets."

"That's . . . I don't see how that's relevant."

"You know I'm gonna tell you the name whether you want me to or not, right?"

Weiss threw up her hands. "Do what you want, but I still don't approve of this."

"I am—" Ruby raised her chin up higher "—The Insomniac!"

Weiss stared at her. "The Insomniac. Don't you think that's a bit . . . identifying to anyone who knows about your semblance's price?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with my semblance—not as far as the public's concerned, at least. That was how I got the inspiration, sure, but it really just means I'll be up fighting crime both day and night."

"And when exactly do you intend to sleep? Your semblance isn't going to keep you up all day and night if you're hypothetically using it to 'fight crime'."

"When does any hero sleep? I'll find the time. But that's not important. Do you like the name or not?"

"I refuse to form an opinion."

"If you don't tell me you hate it, then I'll assume you like it."

"Don't be a child."

Ruby gave her an expectant look, but Weiss didn't give in to her game. She turned her back to her and picked up the gloves that would—excluding the ski mask stuffed into her pocket—complete the ensemble.

"Are we ready then or not?" she asked, picturing Ruby's triumphant face as she put them on.

"I knew you liked it!"

"Just answer the question!" Weiss snapped.

"Of course I'm ready!"

"Then let's go before I change my mind."

Weiss led the way out of the living quarters. Her heart rate, which had already been refusing to drop below one hundred beats per minute for the past hour, began to beat even faster. This was, without a doubt, the dumbest decision she'd ever made. Every fiber of her being wanted to renege on it, but she couldn't. Ruby's plan was sound, so Weiss just had to have faith in it.

"There." Ruby pointed. "That looks like a good way in."

Kneeling next to her atop a building, shrouded by the dark of night, Weiss followed her finger toward the neighboring STC warehouse. A door with a thin, rectangular window on it seemed to be what Ruby was referencing.

"That's an emergency exit," Weiss said, squinting and seeing no exterior handle. "They're meant to be kept unobstructed, which means there won't be anything to provide cover."

"Do you really think that Torchwick follows safety regulations?"

"No, but that doesn't mean we should bet on him going out of his way to break them."

"Hmm." Ruby thought for a few seconds. "I could Blink us to another rooftop so we can see the other side of the building."

"How many times do you think you can do that?"

"I'm not sure. Last time I was able to use my semblance fourteen times before I felt like I was about to collapse. But those were really short distance Blinks. I haven't tried to go all that far yet. There hasn't been a chance, being cooped up all this time. And I don't know how much Blinking with a passenger affects me, either—I haven't done it since Junior's."

"You still need to get us into and back out of the warehouse. Will you be able to manage that if you teleport us to that other vantage point first?"

"I think so."

"You think so? Ruby, we're taking enough risks as is. We can't afford—"

"I can do it," Ruby said. "I know I can."

Weiss scrutinized her face and saw a look of fierce determination. "Okay. I trust you."

Ruby concentrated on their destination and held her hand out. Weiss took it and shortly after felt a violent tugging sensation behind her abdomen. Her ears popped, and then, instantaneously, the two were somewhere else.

After a moment's disorientation, Weiss caught her balance and took in the new view. "I don't know how you can bear repeatedly going through that."

"Going through what?" said Ruby.

Weiss stared at her. "Teleporting! It feels horrible—how can you stand it?"

Ruby shrugged. "It feels good to me."

Weiss gave her an incredulous look. "What? So you don't feel any of the discomfort?"

"No. I feel a bit of a rush, like when going down a short drop on a roller coaster, but that's it. Nothing bad."

Weiss had never ridden a roller coaster before, and so couldn't reference the feeling Ruby was describing. She almost said that aloud, but then realized that such an idea was probably unthinkable to someone like Ruby. Now wasn't the best time to have another small, pointless argument.

"Let's just focus," said Weiss. She studied the warehouse. This view looked upon the more elevated edge of its slanted roof. A line of windows ran along the wall right beneath it. It was dark, but the interior was visible. As far as they could see, this was the only other line-of-sight they had.

"I can Blink us onto the rafters," Ruby said, "and from there down to somewhere out of view."

"Can you? Rafters are thin. You'd need to be very precise to land us up there safely."

"I can do it."

"If we fall—"

"Just trust me."

Weiss hesitated. It was a dangerous proposition—one tiny mistake would end in disaster. But . . . she did trust Ruby. And it wasn't like they had any other viable options.

"How tired are you now?" Weiss asked.

"Well . . . definitely more than if I'd just done a short Blink, but not enough to worry. I've still got plenty of juice left in me."

Weiss relented. "If you believe you can pull it off, then . . . I think this is our best course of action."

"Then get ready." Ruby put on her mask. "This is your last chance to back out of this."

"I know." Following her lead, Weiss dug the ski mask out of her pocket and pulled it over her face, then covered it with her hood for extra measure—her hair was currently stuffed down the back of her shirt, as well, as uncomfortable as it was. Ruby held out her hand, and Weiss took it once again, then felt that familiar tug.

Her fears of slipping and falling off the rafters didn't come true. She skipped straight to the falling, her feet never making contact with the metal at all. Weiss's stomach dropped as she began to plummet for all of half a second before she was teleported once more. Her momentum died in an instant, and she found herself lying on something solid. The ceiling looked abnormally close.

Ruby was already in a kneeling position as Weiss released her hand and sat up. Weiss, having some strong words she wanted to say to Ruby, bit her tongue as she heard a voice that made her skin crawl.

"Ten million? She can't be serious."

It came from below. The two women had appeared atop a heavy rack between a pair of loaded pallets covered in dust. Weiss looked down upon the dimly-lit warehouse to see the top of a bowler hat, its wearer walking by with a pair of greasy-haired goons following behind. One of his hands was up to his ear while the other played with a zippo lighter.

"It could easily go for sixty at an auction," Torchwick said, then went silent for a few seconds. "That doesn't sound like my problem . . . Look, you tell your girls that if their mom wants the painting, then I'll take no less than thirty for it . . . No, I won't settle for twenty-five! Do you not know what 'no less' means?" He muttered something away from the receiver. "I've got quotas to meet and a busy schedule, so if you could stop wasting my time, that would be just fan-fuckin'-tastic . . . Well if that's the way it is, then I'll find another buyer."

"No sign of Neo," Ruby whispered.

She was right. From their current vantage point, there wasn't too much obstructed from view by the other racks. The three men were the building's only apparent occupants. But Weiss knew Neo had to be in here somewhere—they'd just seen her and Torchwick's arrival not even half an hour ago on the camera feed. That was why they'd chosen now to make their move, two days after Jaune turned himself in—it was the first time since then that they could be sure both the criminal and his slave soldier would be here.

"Alright, now that's what I like to hear," said Torchwick. "Now, if I could contact her directly, it'd make setting up the exchange a whole lot easier . . . Fine. So long as I get the money. A pleasure doing business as always, Junior."

He stopped walking as he hung up the scroll. Wait, no. Not a scroll—a cheap burner phone. He pocketed it then turned to his men.

"Perr—shit. I wonder when I'll ever stop doing that. What's your name again? It doesn't matter. Just go tell Neo to add another thirty million lien to the report."

"Right. On it." One of the henchmen turned and started to walk in the other direction, but paused at a sudden exclamation from his boss.

"Dutch! Wait, no. Duke! That's it—your name is Duke. Alright, continue on."

"We need to follow him!" Ruby whispered.

"Obviously!" Weiss hissed back.

The henchman walked along the ends of the racks and away from the one they were currently perched on, meaning they'd have to teleport again to keep track of him. Weiss was getting worried. Ruby would have to use her semblance at least two more times—once to get the drop on Neo and another for their escape. Getting to another shelf would make it three. That number could get even larger due to any number of unpredictable factors, their odds of success going down the higher it went. If Ruby passed out before they could escape the premises . . . The thought was too troubling to bear.

Without even asking if she was ready, Ruby grabbed Weiss's wrist and teleported them two racks over. After taking a second to reorient herself and throw a glare at Ruby—who wasn't even looking—Weiss looked back down at their unknowing guide. Duke arrived at the corner of the building—about twenty feet below them—and took a turn, continuing along that wall until he reached a door that Weiss and Ruby couldn't see from their old position. He went through it into a room that had likely served as an office while this place was still up and running.

"She's in there," Ruby said. "We wait for the guy to come back out, then we Blink inside and make our move before the door closes."

Weiss glanced back up at the windows. They wouldn't be able to see them from inside that room, and Ruby needed to see the outside to be able to teleport them to safety.

"Maybe we should wait," Weiss suggested.

"This is our best chance," said Ruby. "She'll be alone in there, if we're lucky. But if we wait too long, then Torchwick and his two bodyguards could decide to come back this way and join her in there, or she could leave and zoom away and we'll miss our shot."

She was right. It was a gamble no matter what they did, and they didn't have too much time to deliberate. At least Ruby's plan ensured the highest odds of successfully curing Neo.

"Be ready," Ruby said.

Weiss shakily removed her left glove and pocketed it. Her heart had to have doubled in the last minute, but this was about as ready as she could ever be. How are you supposed to prepare yourself to attack a superhuman who'd been conditioned their entire life to be a perfect killer? If Ruby couldn't place that inhibitor, it'd be all over in an instant—their lives snuffed out for nothing. This was insane. What were they thinking?

The door opened and the same man from before exited.

"This is it." Ruby gripped Weiss's right wrist.

What happened next went by too quickly for Weiss to comprehend. All she knew for sure was that they teleported twice, there was a loud crash, and something struck her in the face so hard she wound up sliding on her back across the floor.

"I-Intruders!" A man shouted.

Fast, echoing footsteps approached. Weiss's jaw throbbed, and her head ached, but the pain quickly lessened as adrenaline began to pump through her veins. Her vision sharpened, and she was able to take in the situation. There was a hole in the surprisingly thin wall to the side of the door they'd seen from atop the shelf. Ruby laid motionless on the other side of it, surrounded by fragments of wood with one foot still in the office. Duke stood nearby, looking over his shoulder in the direction he'd come from with his hand on a holstered pistol. Meanwhile, Neo herself approached Weiss at a quick pace with malice in her mismatched eyes, as well as something silver stuck to her neck—the inhibitor. Ruby had succeeded in her part, but Weiss had failed in hers. She'd been too slow.

She glanced at Ruby again. The girl was beginning to stir, but she seemed dazed. It meant that she was still conscious, though. That was enough for Weiss, who—without an ounce of grace—quickly stood back up. She raised her arms and carefully positioned her feet. She knew she didn't stand a chance. Even without her speed, there were probably very few people who could contend with Neo. But winning a fight wasn't Weiss's goal. All she needed was to hold out long enough for Ruby to regain herself and teleport them away.

Neo smirked. Her fist came fast and—to Weiss's surprise—Weiss succeeded in blocking it. That was an outlier, however, as the next hits came ruthlessly and unhindered, despite Weiss's best efforts. She kept stumbling backward, rapidly accumulating more bruises, until her back connected with the wall, just inches away from the new gaping hole. All the while, Neo had a smile on her face. She was toying with her.

"I'm here to help you!" Weiss said desperately. Any second now, the adrenaline would wear off and all the pain would catch up to her.

Neo tilted her head and looked at her strangely. Weiss took advantage of her singular moment of pause and shot her bare hand forward. It made contact with the side of the paragon's face, strands of pink hair tickling Weiss's knuckles. Neo's eyes narrowed in fury and, rather than smacking Weiss's arm away, she reached out and gripped her throat. But it didn't matter. Weiss—with difficulty—finished inhaling, and then entered her mind.

Rain pattered against her skin and the thunder clashed in the sky, as had been the case in Torchwick's mind. She found herself struggling to breathe, as if her airway was still being constricted even in here. But that wasn't even her most pressing concern. As she looked around, expecting to learn which forest she was in, she didn't see a single tree in sight. The ground beneath her feet was ash and stretched off into the distance in every direction. The world was completely barren except for her.

"Leave!"

The disembodied voice boomed from above, somehow both frail and angry. It sounded like that of a little girl, a child whose age couldn't have even reached double digits yet. Weiss realized with a pang of sadness that it was probably the last voice Neo had ever heard come out of her own mouth.

Next came the lightning bolt. Weiss had been ready for it this time. She'd tossed her sword away and already begun running by the time the smell of ozone reached her nostrils. She covered her ears then came to a stop after the bang. Her already unsteady breathing became even more so.

The lack of trees should have made it easy to see far, but the haze of rain, dense clouds, and dark of night counteracted that. Weiss couldn't see anything beyond a hundred feet of her. This was hopeless. She was starting to get light-headed. Even if she could last long enough to find a Grimm, she stood no chance of actually killing it with her weapon. There was nothing she could accomplish here.

Still, though, she stayed, for she feared what awaited her back in reality. The seconds went by, and each hindered breath made it clearer and clearer that she couldn't stay here. Neo's faceless avatar should have shown up and attacked her by now unless Weiss's experience with Torchwick had just been an anomaly. But it was nowhere to be seen.

Helpless, Weiss dropped down to her knees and prepared to exit the mind—to go from one nightmare to another. As she breathed in, lightning flashed off in the distance. It illuminated a dark tower with a large chain on either end linking the top to the ground. Before she even had the chance to be perplexed by this, she was back in the real world.

Neo gasped and stumbled backward, clutching either side of her head in her hands.

"Neo!" a concerned voice yelled out.

Weiss, slumping against the wall as she gulped up as much air she could, looked toward it. Torchwick had already arrived with his other goon, and he looked furious.

"Quit standing there and shoot her!" he barked.

Weiss's eyes widened as she stared down the barrel of two pistols. All she could do was stand there in fear, watching in slow motion as fingers moved toward the triggers.

Whoosh! There was a flash of red. Bang! Bang! A splash of red and a distorted cry. Weiss felt a hand on her wrist, a tug in her gut, and then she was falling.

Chapter Text

Weiss sat in a waiting room chair. Her face was numb from the ice pack she held against it, her ankle throbbed, and several parts of her torso and arms twinged at every slight bit of movement she made. She stared straight ahead but saw nothing. Her mind was blank, simply replaying that moment over and over as the seconds ticked by one by one, trying not to think about the news she might receive.

A flash of red—Ruby's cloak. A splash of red—Ruby's blood. Back and forth her mind bounced between the two images, all the while the ringing of gunshots played faintly in her ears.

"You're here to see Miss Rose?"

The words jolted her back to reality. Her head jerked upward, which caused her to wince. The speaker was a nurse standing by the entrance to the emergency room's central hallway. She was speaking to two people by the reception desk. Weiss recognized one as Ruby's sister. The other—a middle-aged man with short hair the same color as Yang's—introduced himself to the nurse. "Taiyang Xiao Long. I'm her father."

"You arrived just in time," said the nurse. "They've finished operating and she is now resting in stable condition. You can go back and see her. Room 216."

Yang rushed through the door without any further delay, her father only pausing to thank the nurse before following after her. The hospital worker scanned the room for a moment until she found Weiss, who'd remained seated.

"Are you going to come back, too?" she asked.

Weiss bit her lip. She'd felt a wave of relief at hearing the words, "stable condition," but it didn't last long. "I . . . I'll give them some time alone together."

"Okay. You're free to go back whenever you're ready." She turned and left.

To add to the physical pain and overwhelming guilt, Weiss now also felt like a coward. She wanted to go to Ruby—to see with her own eyes that she was okay and that the wound wasn't as bad as she feared. But she couldn't bear to face them. Two bullets had been meant for Weiss—one was in the trunk of Blake's car with the Insomniac outfit, lodged into one of the armor plates. The other was in Ruby's shoulder. She just couldn't look her friend's family in the eyes and tell them how it'd gotten there—that if she'd just done the sane thing and said "no", zero guns would have been fired.

At this point, she had to wonder what she was even still doing here. Her hopes of getting a chance to see Ruby alone were now gone, as the Xiao Longs would likely be staying quite a while. But she couldn't just leave—not after what Ruby had done for her. Where would she even go? Back to a cold apartment with a fridge full of spoiled food? Back to the empty safe house to reminisce over making one of the worst decisions of her life?

It didn't matter. Blake would be back soon with colleagues and a lot of questions. If Weiss chose to avoid answering them by fleeing, Ruby would just take the brunt of it when she woke up.

Her life was a mess.

Bang!

Weiss jumped, then let out a small groan. A man had slammed open the same door Ruby's family members had gone through, his pale red eyes trained dangerously on Weiss. The tilted cross dangling from his neck was what jogged her memory. She'd briefly met this man at the same time she met the mayor.

"Schnee!" he said, his tone more forceful than loud. "Get up. We're going for a walk."

"Sir," said the receptionist. "Please keep—"

"Pipe down," he interrupted without moving his gaze off of Weiss. "Let's go."

"Excuse me?" Weiss said, staying firmly rooted in her seat. "Who even are you?"

"I'm the one with questions to ask. If you feel safe answering them in front of all these security cameras—which I highly doubt—then feel free to stay right where you are. Otherwise you'll get off your ass, come outside, and explain to me exactly how the hell my niece wound up here."

"Your . . . your niece?" Then it clicked. "Wait. You're Ruby's 'Uncle Qrow'?"

"That's right. Now get up and let's get to walking."

Weiss looked down at the floor and felt a cold emptiness settle down deep inside her—it seemed that what she'd dreaded had come sooner rather than later. There was no avoiding this. She had to talk, and she'd have to tell him everything. No lies, no half-truths—no more secrets.

"I'm . . . not exactly fit for walking at the moment," she said.

"Then we'll stand," said Qrow. "Whatever it is, we're not doing it here."

"But my ankle."

"What, you twist it?"

"I don't think so. It's just swollen."

The man turned back to the desk. "Get me a crutch, would ya?"

The receptionist, still affronted from having been cut off before, gave him a stern look. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't just—"

"You can and you will." He pulled out a card and placed it in front of her. "If you've got a problem then take it up with the mayor's office. But right now I'm not exactly in the mood to have my time wasted, so hurry up and get the girl a crutch so she can walk. I can apologize later when I bring it back."

Her reply died before it could reach her lips. She stared down at the card dubiously, unable to determine its authenticity. After a few seconds of deliberating while enduring Qrow's deepening impatience, she seemed to decide it wasn't worth it to argue with him. The woman took the card, left the room, and returned a minute later with the requested item.

"My thanks," Qrow said with an almost sarcastic undertone as he took it from her.

Weiss had experience using crutches—she'd once taken a bad fall when first learning how to ice skate and fractured her lower leg. It was hell at the time, but she was grateful for it now. With just the one, walking still wasn't exactly painless, but it alleviated enough weight to make it bearable.

She followed Ruby's uncle outside and continued until he picked an isolated bench for them to stop at. Her desire to postpone the ensuing conversation as long as possible was overpowered by her need to get off her foot, and she sat down without hesitation. The chill of the late-night Fall air was just another discomfort she had to endure.

Qrow, on the other hand, remained standing. "Oz has been wondering why you've been welshing on the agreement you two made. Asked me to track you down and find out what's been going on, but you've been nowhere to be seen for weeks. Now I'm finding out that my niece has been shot and you're here with her, while Yang seems to be under the impression that Roman Torchwick is somehow involved. It's supposed to be my job to know everything that's happening in this city, so you're going to explain to me in no uncertain terms exactly how this happened and what the hell you and Ruby have been up to. Then you can feel free to explain it all over again to your sister when she gets here."

Weiss looked at him in horror. "No! Please don't tell—"

"Too late. Look, the way I see it, you're either the unfortunate victim of some unlucky circumstances or you're an idiot who got wrapped up in something she shouldn't have. Judging by your reaction, I'm inclined to believe it's the latter. Either way, your big sis deserves to know, and it's high time you started talking."

Weiss bit her tongue, having come up with a number of scathing retorts but couldn't let herself voice any of them. She knew she didn't have the right to be offended. She was an idiot. Ever since meeting Ruby, she'd consistently picked the dumbest possible choices out of those presented to her. If she hadn't let her life be dictated by childish fantasies or loneliness or whatever the hell it was, Ruby would be hale and whole and Weiss would be counting down the days to her next meeting with Winter rather than dreading its imminent arrival.

Her life was a mess, and it was her own fault.

Weiss stared at the ground as she pondered where to even start, but the answer came easily. It all boiled down to her semblance's evolution and her first major mistake—not reporting it to the Civil Anomaly Bureau.

Qrow listened to her story in silence, pardon a scoff or an eye roll here and there. He learned how she first met Ruby, of her witnessing the memory of Summer Rose's murder, and that she volunteered to help Ruby investigate it. Weiss left out Neptune and Sun, skipping straight to telling him how they learned Torchwick had a connection to the killer and recounting the experience at Junior's. Hearing about Ruby's semblance didn't surprise him, but that it sparked an ambition to become a vigilante did. Weiss went a little vague from that point forward, omitting Jaune's reveal and reducing bunkering down in the safehouse to simply, "We went into hiding". She pushed through to detailing what they surmised about Neo and how they managed to locate Torchwick's base, not wanting to give him a chance to question it. Then, at last, she arrived at the events of the present night.

"Then Ruby teleported in front of me," Weiss said. "She took both bullets, grabbed me, and brought us outside, but up in the air. We fell, and that's how I hurt my ankle. Before I could even get a moment to think, Ruby teleported us again—farther away from the building. Then she passed out. She was bleeding and unconscious, so I put pressure on the wound and took out my scroll to call for an ambulance, but then I remembered Ruby saying something about Blake living nearby. So I called her instead. She came in just a couple of minutes and drove us here. I told her about the warehouse on the way and she called it in—that's why she had to leave after we got here. I haven't heard anything else since, but I'm guessing Torchwick fled before anyone arrived."

"That's what I've been told," said Qrow. "Got a whole team down there scouring the place. No contraband anywhere, but it's definitely not been abandoned this whole time. Fat load of good knowing that does us now. Dozens of professionals have been attempting to track Roman Torchwick down for the better part of a year, and here you somehow pull it off in a month—then immediately squander it and reset everyone else back to square one."

"We did what we thought we had to."

"You thought? You didn't think at all—neither of you did. You're just a couple of kids playing 'superhero' while there were real lives on the line. Someone with your level of education should be smart enough to understand that, but I guess not. What? You coast through school on Daddy's money while you still had it? You think that just because you were born without any melanin in your hair it gives you the right to do whatever the hell you want?"

If Weiss had been physically able to, she would have shot straight to her feet. Instead, she had to make do with a mere look of outrage. "That isn't even remotely—!"

"Hush, it's the adult's turn to speak. Nearly two dozen deaths can be traced back to Torchwick since he's been in Vale and you and Ruby were almost added to that number tonight. If you'd just brought this information forward we could've made sure it stopped growing altogether. Instead, you barged in to 'save' a woman you had little evidence is even being held against her will."

"Little evidence?"

"It's this kind of shit that gives paragons a bad rap. You think that just because you have a certain power that you're entitled to use it wherever you see fit, but you're not. I'm no fan of the CAB but people like you help me remember why it has to exist. Nine times out of ten, someone feels that they have to stick their nose where it doesn't belong, they only wind up making things worse. The tenth person pulls through on blind luck, but that doesn't change the fact that they're still wrong. And you're no different."

"But Neo's speed—"

"We would've dealt with it! Do you actually believe that after centuries of violent paragons with apparently unstoppable semblances that one of the most developed nations on this planet never came up with ways to counter them?"

"Of course not!" Weiss had no reason to be arguing—he was just saying everything she was already thinking, after all. Maybe fighting back was just in her nature. Or maybe she just needed a way to distract herself from her own guilt. It was probably both. Whatever the case, Qrow was talking down to her and treating her like a child, and she wasn't just going to sit there and take it.

"But we didn't know what the police would've done and didn't want to risk the chance that whatever it was wouldn't involve taking her alive," she said.

"It's not your business to know—it's your duty as a civilian to report this to the proper authorities. Instead of thinking about the life of a trained killer, you should've been thinking about all the lives she and her boss have taken and will take. It doesn't matter who she was or what's been done to her. The fact of the matter is that now she's dangerous and needs to be taken off the streets by any means necessary."

"Whatever happened to 'rehabilitation'? Mayor Ozpin hired me to heal the minds of criminals in order to prevent them from returning to crime. I was just trying to do the same thing for her."

"Oz hired you to treat people who aren't still active threats to society. Instead, you resorted to literal vigilantism, a topic of which he made his views on quite clear."

"We thought that if there was a chance to save her then we had to try. We understood the risks."

Qrow laughed—short and sarcastic with no humor in it. "Did you now? Oh, well that fixes everything. Ruby may never have full motor control over her left arm again, but that's fine because you both understood there was a chance of that happening."

Weiss's resolve faltered. "She— she what?"

"The bullet hit her brachial plexus. Doctors aren't sure yet whether surgery will be enough to fully repair the damage. You know she wants to be an engineer, right? Can you imagine how difficult that's going to be with a handicapped dominant hand? Someone's going to have to tell her when she wakes up. And eventually she'll need to understand that she's equally to blame for it."

Weiss stared at him, horrified, until her eyes began to water. "Oh god." She buried her face in her hands, and the tears finally began to fall for the first time that night.

An awkward silence passed, broken only by quiet, irregular sobs until Qrow spoke again. His tone still stern, softened just a bit. "Tell me how Jaune Arc fits into all of this."

Weiss hiccuped, then looked back up at him. In her current state, the only response she could think of was, "Who?" which she immediately hated herself for.

"Don't be stupid," said Qrow. "His name's been all over the media for the past couple days. The investigation dug up that he went to high school with Pyrrha Nikos. He's been friends with Ruby for years and this new 'Protector' just happened to save your life twice. I know it's him in the suit, so don't try to pretend it's not."

Weiss tried to come up with something to say, but no words came out of her mouth.

The man sighed. "Look. This whole mess is complicated enough as is. I've spent time behind bars and I'm not about to put Ruby through that. All this stays between us and everyone already involved. That includes Oz, Tai, and Yang—and her girlfriend too, apparently. But if I'm going to sort this out, I need to know everything. Arc's involved—how? And who else?"

Weiss wiped her eyes and studied his face. "What are you saying? You're just going to cover this up?"

"Things are complicated, alright? I just said that. There's a lot more going on here than you or even I understand. Nine percent of unresolved missing persons reports over the past two years have been paragons, most of which have semblances with offensive capabilities. That's up from three percent prior to Salem's assault. It's why I don't want Ruby registering her new ability, or going out and recklessly abusing it."

"You don't trust the Bureau?"

"There are very few people I trust. But that's irrelevant. I asked you a question."

Weiss bit her lip, not seeing any other option but to speak truthfully. She just hoped Qrow was a man of his word and that she wasn't about to seal her friend's fate.

"Jaune was the one who saved us those two times," she said. "Three, actually. He was there when we first met Neo, too. But he's not a vigilante. He only stepped in to protect us because we were in danger—he never sought out to attack criminals. He didn't break any laws."

"Oh yeah? Then how'd he get his hands on the suit?"

"I—" She paused, realizing she'd never asked, and answered with uncertainty. "Pyrrha left it for him."

"That's funny, because the city seized it when they recovered her body from the wreckage. It was stolen several days later. So I wonder how it wound up in Arc's position."

"I don't know. He never said."

"So by the looks of it, if he's innocent of vigilantism then he's still at the very least guilty of stealing from the government."

Weiss had no response to that.

"What else? Did he have anything to do with your little escapade tonight?"

She reluctantly filled in the rest of the gaps, revealing the parts about the safe house and the inhibitor. She told him that Jaune was helping them learn to fight and defend themselves and how he'd planned to help them take down Torchwick. This incriminated him of conspiring to commit vigilantism, hurting her previous claim—something Qrow had been quick to point out.

"That's everything," she said, all her secrets laid bare.

"You're sure? Nothing else you want to tell me?"

The images swam back to the forefront of her mind. A flash of red. A splash of red. Ruby's unconscious, bleeding form. Weiss's eyes began to well up again.

"There is," she said. "I'm . . . I'm so sorry."

They moved Ruby out of the emergency room and to an upper floor where they would be keeping her for at least a few days. Weiss now sat in the nearest waiting room. What she was waiting for, it was hard to say—for Ruby to wake up; for somebody to tell her to leave; for her brain to let her drift off to sleep in that uncomfortable chair so she could have a brief respite from the disaster of a night she'd had.

Her foot was now held safely in a splint after Qrow ordered she let a doctor take a look at it—she hadn't sprained it, luckily, so it'd only take a few days to heal. Afterward, he left via jumping out of a window. With all that she'd seen recently, Weiss had barely even been fazed by it.

A while later, Blake finally returned, looking exhausted. She'd been heading straight for the hallway, but paused when she saw Weiss alone.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Weiss said. She expected a retort and was honestly a little disappointed when she didn't get one.

"How is she?" Blake asked, a pair of pursed lips her only reaction to the snappy reply.

Weiss looked down at the floor. "She's . . . She'll be fine, but they think there could be lasting nerve damage."

Blake cupped a hand over her mouth. "No."

Weiss nodded gravely.

"How?" Blake asked. "How did this happen?"

Weiss said nothing.

"You call me in the middle of the night using Ruby's scroll, saying she's been shot, and then you claim to know where a wanted crime boss is—you don't explain anything on the way here. All this after you and Ruby ask me to convince Yang to indefinitely move in with me for some mysterious reason. I need answers."

"Then get them from Yang—or her father. They know everything now."

"No, Weiss. You—"

"Just leave me alone! I'm not going to relive this all again. Not for you."

Blake's expression tightened, but only temporarily. A conflicted look passed over her face, and then it ultimately settled on shame. It became evident in that moment that the phone call they'd shared a month prior had had a bigger effect than Weiss thought—that her words had been ringing around the woman's head all this time.

"I . . . I know I've been a bad friend," Blake said. "I'm not proud of some of the choices I've made. And I'm not going to ask you to forgive me, but after all that happened with Adam—"

"Stop." Weiss couldn't believe her ears. Leave it to Blake to choose the worst possible opportunity to say what she'd been waiting four years to hear. "This isn't the time for this."

"It's already long overdue. If this isn't the right time, then what is?"

"I don't know. When I'm not sleep-deprived or so emotionally unstable—when things settle down and get less insane. Literally any other time than now."

"Right." A long, awkward silence endured until Blake spoke again. "I'm going to go see Ruby."

"Go ahead."

"Do you want to come with me?"

Weiss hesitated. "I'm fine right here."

"Why? Aren't you her best friend?"

Weiss's heart skipped a beat. "She . . . said that?"

Blake rolled her eyes. "What, you're just learning this now?"

It did seem obvious in retrospect. The only other person Weiss had been as close to as she was with Ruby was her sister. But it was still a shock to have the label thrown at her so suddenly. After all—Ruby had friends that she'd known a lot longer, like Jaune and Blake. That she considered Weiss to be the most deserving of that title . . .

Now Weiss felt even more guilty.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I don't have a right to see her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ruby's in here because of me. I should have taken those bullets—they were meant for me. But she . . . That dolt . . ."

"Oh."

Weiss furiously wiped at her eyes, refusing to let herself cry again.

"But . . . you do realize that if she hadn't done what she did—that if you were in a hospital bed instead, or worse—she'd feel exactly the same. She'd never be able to forgive herself."

Weiss sat in silence. It was true. Honestly, there was just no winning in this situation. Either way, someone wound up hurt while the other tears themselves apart over it. Ruby at the very least had her armor plates to block the worst of the damage. If only Weiss hadn't been too incompetent to figure out how to work the Protector suit. If only she'd just said, "no," and avoided the entire ordeal altogether . . . If only Ruby hadn't pinned that decision on her in the first place.

"Alright," Weiss said. She carefully stood and gripped the crutch—now officially issued to her—beneath her arm. Moving was still painful, but she'd gotten used to it.

"Do you need help?" Blake offered.

"I'm fine," Weiss said, her voice sharper than intended. After a moment, she added, "But thank you."

They walked together to Ruby's room. Yang was standing outside talking to a doctor. She gave a small smile to Blake, but it fell off her face when her gaze moved over to Weiss. Her expression was difficult to read, but it wasn't warm. Thankfully, the detective went back to her conversation and allowed them to enter the room without a fuss.

Inside, Ruby slept in the bed with her father hunched over in the chair beside it. He was a well-muscled man who wore cargo shorts and a vest over a sleeveless shirt. That left his biceps exposed—one with a red bandana wrapped around it and the other sporting a tattoo of a tribal, heart-like symbol. He didn't resemble Ruby at all, but Weiss could tell at a glance that he shared her caring nature. He wasn't the wealthy businessman that she'd been envisioning.

He looked back down at his daughter and let the two women approach in silence. Weiss lingered near the foot of the bed while Blake stood opposite Taiyang and gingerly touched Ruby's face. The girl looked so peaceful. No pain, no concerns, no regrets. Happy while blissfully unaware that she was in a hospital gown with her left shoulder wrapped in bandages and an IV in her opposite hand. The room was silent except for the beeping of her heart monitor.

"Never thought I'd see her like this," Ruby's father said without taking his eyes off her. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"You mean asleep?" said Blake.

Taiyang nodded. "Always conscious, ever since she was born. Raising a kid who never slept was the most difficult thing I've ever done. You'd think it'd be exhausting for her, being awake all the time. But she always had so much energy—always. And now . . ."

Weiss could hear the pain in his voice. If it was this difficult for her, she couldn't even imagine how much worse it was for him.

"Mr. Xiao Long, I'm so sorry," she said. "I never meant for this to happen."

"I know," he said. "I'm just glad she's alive."

"We'll catch who did this," said Blake. "I promise."

He smiled sadly. "That's exactly what Summer would have said."

Blake stood by Ruby's side for a bit longer, then gave her hand a small squeeze before leaving the room to talk to Yang. Weiss was left awkwardly standing there, unsure what to do, so she just hobbled over to an empty seat and sat down, resting her crutch on her lap.

"I won the lottery the day her mother died," Taiyang said.

Weiss gasped.

"Okay, that sounded terrible, but I meant it literally," he said quickly. "I had a ticket. I was home by myself, watching the drawing, and the numbers matched up one by one. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't wait for Summer to get off work to tell her, so I called her. But she didn't pick up. Ruby was off living in a dorm. Yang came home, but my wife didn't. They found her body three days later, cold. It destroyed me. It was weeks before I could pull myself together enough to turn in that ticket. I wasn't sure I'd ever bring myself back from the dark place I was in, but I did eventually—for my girls. I can't bear the thought of losing either one of them, too.

"But if I took it hard, it was nothing compared to Ruby. I can't even describe to you how devastated she was. She refused to let me spend any of the winnings on her for the longest time. I think she felt like the universe was paying us for Summer's life. She'd give up every last cent to have her back, or even just to see the killer brought to justice. God knows I would too."

Weiss understood now why Ruby was always so evasive about her father's wealth.

"So I get why she did what she did," Taiyang said. "For her, having anyone else she cares about die would be worse than dying herself. That's how I know that when she wakes up, she'll tell you she'd take another bullet for you in a heartbeat."

Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythm of the heart monitor was the only thing that broke the lingering quiet that followed. Weiss hated hospitals. She wanted to leave. She didn't belong here—she was more sure of that now than ever. Taiyang's words were no doubt meant to comfort her, but they didn't. It reaffirmed what had been poking at the back of her mind all this time. Weiss hadn't been helping Ruby; she'd been enabling the unhealthy behaviors of a girl who'd never fully processed her grief.

"I . . . I need some air." Weiss stood as quickly as she could without inflicting too much pain on herself and made straight for the door. Outside, Yang and Blake were whispering to each other with their foreheads touching and eyes closed. Weiss tried to hurry past them and continue on her way, but it wasn't that easy.

"Hey," said Yang.

Weiss pretended not to hear her.

"Schnee!"

Weiss stopped but kept her back to them, bracing herself for the next berating. "Yes?"

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I need some air," Weiss repeated.

"What about Ruby? You're just going to leave her after what she did for you?"

"Yang," Blake said softly.

"I'll be coming back," Weiss lied. "I'm just stepping out for a few minutes."

"On that foot?" Yang said cynically.

"Yes."

There was a pause before Yang spoke again. "Just tell me one thing—why? Why'd you do it?"

Weiss gave her an honest answer. "I don't know."

Yang let her continue on without any further protests.

Weiss rode the elevator to the ground floor and limped on her crutch all the way down the hall and out the hospital entrance. Although her excuse had been fabricated, it was nice to breathe in the outside air. But she soon enough found herself wishing she was back inside, as there were no taxis to be seen within the sprawling parking lot, the cool breeze was biting at her skin, and walking alone at night always made her nervous.

She found the nearest bench and sat down, still within view of the glass doors. She took out her scroll and pulled up a rideshare service. It took her a minute to decide on the destination, but ultimately she realized there was only one place to go—home. Jaune had delivered her most recent rent payment for her, so she didn't have to fear finding an eviction notice waiting for her. At the moment, the thought of falling into bed and being able to forget her woes for a few blissful hours was all that was keeping her going.

Less than two minutes after finishing the pickup request, a car rolled to a stop in front of her. Weiss had only a moment of elation at how quick it was before her heart sank. It was a white luxury car, accented with modest amounts of gold. She had seen it before. She knew who owned it.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing the man in the driver's seat—a man she'd thought she'd seen the last of.

"Hello, Snow White," said Roman Torchwick, one hand on the wheel and the other leveling a pistol at her. "Thought I might find you here. Get in and don't scream."

Chapter Text

Weiss settled into the backseat of the car, resigned to her fate. There was a plexiglass barrier separating the two halves of the vehicle with a few small holes in it to let sound through. It would seem that the criminal had learned from the last time they'd sat in a car together and modified his specifically for kidnapping people—the back doors also had no interior handles.

"Toss your scroll and the stick," said Torchwick as he rolled down her window.

"It's a crutch," Weiss said.

"I don't care. Lose it. The last thing I need right now is you with a weapon. Hurry up, we've got places to be."

She had no choice but to obey. Weiss pushed the crutch out through the open window, then reluctantly reached into her pocket. She felt not one, but two scrolls in there. She'd forgotten that she still had Ruby's from when she used it to call Blake. A small glimmer of hope blossomed inside her as she dropped just her own scroll outside, cringing slightly at the sound of it hitting the ground.

"The other one too," Torchwick said.

The feeling shattered. "W-what?"

"You got rid of one scroll, now get rid of the other," he said slowly, as if explaining something to a young child.

"How did—?"

"I'm a man of many talents, Snow White, but patience isn't one of them, so chop chop."

With a sinking feeling, Weiss did as commanded. Torchwick seemed satisfied. The window rolled back up and the vehicle began to move.

She didn't know what to think. Things just kept going from bad to worse. Wherever he was taking her, she didn't like her odds. There was no escaping this. Jaune was in jail and Ruby was in recovery. Even if they weren't, they wouldn't know how to find her. No one was coming to the rescue this time.

The fact that Torchwick decided to abduct her rather than immediately murder her was a small comfort. But perhaps he just wanted to take her somewhere where he could hide her body. It was either that or he wanted something from her; then he'd kill her after he'd gotten it.

Weiss thought about Ruby—about how the last time she'd ever see her, the girl hadn't even been conscious. Weiss would die without ever making reparations with Blake. She'd never get to have a proper relationship with her brother. She wouldn't get to see her mother's condition improve. She'd never see her sister again—her sister who was on her way to Vale right now and would tear the city apart in order to find her, but if she succeeded it'd probably be too late.

"I'm sure you have questions," Torchwick said conversationally, as if he was a professor addressing his students after a lecture.

"Fewer than you'd think," Weiss spat, surprised by her own nerve. But, if she was going to die anyway, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of playing the helpless damsel.

"Is that so? You think you've got me all figured out by now, huh? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you don't know a damn thing about me, Snow White."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

He rolled his eyes at her through the rear-view mirror. "Now there's a question, albeit a stupid one. 'Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.' Really couldn't piece that together? A bit of lipstick and you'd be three for three."

"So you like fairy tales?"

"No need to sound so derisive—you might just hurt my feelings. And I like the original fairy tales—the ones where the evil stepsisters mutilate their feet to fit into the golden slipper and the wolf eats Little Red. Though, I'm not entirely fond of the first version of Sleeping Beauty."

"What, is it not dastardly enough for your liking?"

"Too dastardly, if you'd believe it. Everyone's got a line that they do not cross."

Weiss scoffed.

Torchwick's eyes narrowed at her through the mirror. "You know, I really should stop calling you Snow White. Your hair's not entirely black anymore, now that I've got a better look at you. I should use a better name, since you stopped dyeing it. Like—oh, I don't know—Weiss Schnee?"

"How did you—?"

"After you and your annoying little friend ruined a perfectly good base of operations, I decided to make a small pit stop before heading to the new one. Long story short, the Vale CAB headquarters has terrible security, and I now know what your semblance is."

Weiss said nothing. She wasn't going to admit to anything on the off chance that he was bluffing—doing so would forfeit her only leverage.

"There's more to it than just your little migraine fingers," Torchwick said. "So I've gotta know—what did you mean?"

"Excuse me?"

"You told Neo you were trying to help her. Why? What did you think was in her head that needed fixing?"

She refused to answer.

"You and little miss Ruby Rose broke into my warehouse for a reason. You didn't go after the money or the loot or even myself—instead, you gravitated toward the most dangerous person there, and I highly doubt it was because her innocent-looking face fooled you into thinking she was a hostage."

"She is a hostage!" Weiss couldn't keep quiet at that. "She was brainwashed into servitude and you exploited that for your own personal gain."

A look flashed in his eyes—the same angry look he'd had after Neo recoiled from the effect of Weiss's semblance. But it was fleeting and was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, to be replaced by smug amusement. "Yeah? Is that what you think? Like I said—you don't know a damn thing about me. I never exploited her—I saved her. She was a slave before I came along and would've died as such, but now she's not. She chooses to stand by me because I'm the only one who's ever actually cared for her."

Weiss didn't buy it. She'd seen the memory—she'd seen the hatred and fear Neo had had for the man when he approached her in her holding cell. She couldn't say that, of course. Torchwick only knew what the CAB knew, and the CAB still had no idea that she could see into people's pasts. But it didn't need to be stated to be true. There was no way Neo followed him by choice.

But then again, she'd been a lot younger in that memory. A lot could change in several years. The distress in Torchwick's voice when he'd seen her hurt by Weiss's semblance had sounded genuine. And then there was the other memory, too. Some things are important enough to make sacrifices for, he'd said.

Weiss buried that small inkling of doubt. Roman Torchwick was a liar—he'd admitted to that himself. Nothing he said could be trusted. If he was speaking the truth, then she and Ruby had put their necks on the line for a willing criminal and killer, and she just couldn't deal with that right now on top of everything else.

"What do you want from me?" Weiss said.

"You know," said Torchwick, "despite your claims, you're asking just as many questions as I thought you would."

"What," Weiss repeated, "do you want?"

"What I want is to leave this country and never look back."

Whatever answer Weiss had been expecting, it wasn't that. She glanced out the window as she decided how to respond, noticing a building she'd already seen a couple of minutes ago. "So why don't you? Surely you've stolen more money than you'll ever need by now."

"Not everyone would agree with you." He spoke the words with disdain. "But here's the good news—for me to get what I want, I need you to get what you want."

Weiss's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

"You're going to finish the job."

"What job? Wait . . . you don't mean—?"

Torchwick sighed. "Yes. Obviously. I shouldn't have expected some former rich kid to actually have a brain."

"But why? If she's not brainwashed, then what's the point?"

"I was in retirement, Schnee, and I didn't come out of it willingly. Don't get me wrong—I chose this life because I love it and I'm good at it. But I was perfectly content settling down and leaving all that behind. Then this lusus naturae—" Weiss balled her fists at the slur "—waltzes into my home with a business proposition. She needed a shit-load of money, so who better to procure it for her than the guy that bested Vacuan Central? Didn't take too kindly to being turned down. And when Neo pulled her gun to persuade the bitch to leave, she found herself leveling it at me instead."

Weiss was confused, and it must have shown.

"Her semblance is mind control," he said impatiently. "If I don't play the good little master criminal, she can have Neo kill me and then herself at the drop of a dime."

The pieces were starting to click into place. It would explain how "one last heist" had proven to be just one of the first in a long line of bank robberies. Torchwick had no way of knowing she had seen into his past, yet his words weren't contradicting what she'd witnessed.

"So you're saying you've been extorted into terrorizing Vale?" said Weiss.

"That's exactly what I just said," said Torchwick.

Still—nothing that came out of that man's mouth could be taken at face value. He'd tried to kill Weiss just a few hours ago and hospitalized Ruby.

"Why should I believe you?" Weiss said.

"Do you think I give a shit whether or not you believe me? I told you all you need to know. All I care about is whether your semblance can counteract hers." There was unmistakable contempt in his voice as he uttered the last word.

"I don't know," Weiss said honestly. "I've never even heard of a mind-controlling semblance before. There's no way to know if I could reverse its effects."

"Well, you're going to have to try, because I have no reason to let you go until you do. So here's what's going to happen: We're going to arrive at my new hiding place. You'll keep your mouth shut and pretend this drive proceeded in silence. I'm going to chain you to a pole and you'll wait patiently like a good little girl, and you won't say a word to anyone—especially not Neo. As far as anyone's concerned, I kidnapped you to interrogate you. If Neo even gets the slightest bit suspicious that I'm plotting against the will of our boss, then she'll have no choice but to turn against me—that won't turn out very well for either you or me.

"After a while, we'll chat. I'll ask you questions and Neo will lean on you. Don't let her looks fool you—she can be terrifying when she needs to. As soon as she gets close enough, you're going to use your semblance to break the spell. You'll get to escape with your life, Neo gets her freedom of will back, I regain control over my own life, and all the banks of this damnable city get to rest easy knowing the big bad wolf is gone for good. Everyone wins—except my boss, but who the hell cares what she wants?"

Weiss had several reservations about the proposed plan, but she withheld voicing them just yet. It was the last part of what he'd said that she latched onto. His "boss" was the real concern. Her killing Ruby's mother was what had started all of this. If anything that Torchwick had just said about her was true, it meant she was even more powerful and scary than they could've anticipated.

"Who is your boss?" Weiss demanded.

"Well I'm glad you asked, because I've been itching for a chance to spill all my most confidential secrets," said Torchwick, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I've already risked more than I can afford by telling you everything you need to know. So do you agree to my terms or not?"

"Why should I do anything for you? You shot Ru— m-my friend! You're just going to kill me whether I do what you want or not."

"You can say her name, Schnee. I'm not exactly about to mistake her for one of the other short, teleporting girls in this city. And I don't want to kill you . . . anymore. We all gotta do what it takes to survive in this world and you were trespassing in my territory."

"That was my family's warehouse!"

"The keyword there is, 'was'. Do you Schnees even own anything anymore?"

Weiss opened her mouth to retort but wasn't given the chance.

"Rhetorical question," Torchwick interrupted. "Here's one that isn't—are you going to be smart and comply, or are you going to needlessly complicate matters for the both of us? Need I say it again? We can both get what we want here. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"Even if I could trust a word you say, doing anything to help keep you out of prison is a loss. You've killed people!"

"And most of them deserved it. Don't give me that look! News flash, princess—good people don't often get expensive hits put on their heads. But I didn't go out of my way to kidnap you to discuss morality and ethics, so save your snarky response. Are you going to free Neo or do I have to further persuade you?"

"I don't know how you haven't been caught yet if you're honestly stupid enough to think you've 'persuaded' me at all."

She could see his grip tighten on the steering wheel as muttered beneath his breath. "Why did no one ever tell me that actually trying to be nice to someone would be this exhausting?"

Weiss was too dumbfounded by that statement to think of anything to say.

"Okay," Torchwick said, his impatience starting to crack his persona. "I'm going to spell it out nice and simple for you. You think I'm going to kill you even if you do what I want—I'm telling you that I won't. The smart thing to do is comply so that you at least get the chance to see whether I'm being honest. The stupid thing to do is to act like a stubborn child and piss me off, as that greatly reduces your odds of walking out of this alive . . . Sorry—limping out of this alive.

"And just because I'm feeling generous, I'll even sweeten the pot. I'll tell you the name of my boss once this is all over and done with. That's what you wanted, right? This all started because you went to the shadiest info broker in the city poking around about her."

Weiss said nothing.

"I'm getting tired of driving around in circles and my tank's getting low. You've got until we pass that pizzeria one more time to agree to my terms and then I'm bringing us to meet up with the others. If you don't, I'll have to start using less friendly bargaining chips. It's not just your life I can threaten—you do realize that, don't you?"

Weiss had realized that. He had a point. Without any way of fighting back, the only choice to make was to just shut up and do whatever he asked. It could quite possibly be the first sane decision she'd made since meeting Ruby. She should've already given in to his demands by now, but the idea of doing anything to make the man who put a bullet in her friend's—best friend's—shoulder happy made her stomach churn.

It took another two right turns before Weiss could bring herself to give up her pride. "I don't think your plan will even work."

"What the hell are you talking about?" said Torchwick.

"Even if we assume that my semblance can release Neo's mind from her control, I'm still not sure I could do it. My semblance doesn't work that way. If I try to use it on someone who isn't willing, their mind fights back. It's what happened with you and what happened with her."

"So she needs to consent, or else you're useless."

Weiss bit her tongue. "Essentially."

"Well, that's a bit of an issue."

Understatement of the year, Weiss thought. She had one thing keeping her alive, and she'd just admitted that it probably wouldn't be enough.

Torchwick looked deep in thought as he passed by the pizza place once more. When he came upon the intersection this time, he went straight instead of entering the turn lane. "And there's no way around that little hurdle?"

"I haven't the slightest clue," Weiss said. "I don't put a lot of thought into how to use my semblance on people who don't want me to—that's a felony if you didn't know."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to start putting thought into it, because I'm not letting you go until you figure it out."

Weiss thought about her sister, in a jet on her way to Vale at this very moment. Winter would get here just to have to eventually find Weiss's abandoned scroll and have to file a missing persons report. She'd search the entire city up and down for her, but it wouldn't matter. Then Weiss thought about Ruby. The girl would wake up to learn how serious the wound she'd suffered was, and that the person she'd made that sacrifice for had been abducted and likely killed anyway.

"We're here," Torchwick announced, pulling into the alley between two rundown commercial buildings.

In the break room of an old grocery store that couldn't have been touched in at least a decade, Weiss awoke from quite possibly the worst rest she'd ever experienced. Not only was she still bruised and battered from the events of the previous night, but she'd been forced to sleep on a metal folding chair with her right hand hovering over her head, chained to a support beam through a missing ceiling tile. Her sole comfort was a plump pillow, well-preserved by its plastic packaging—it'd either been left in there by chance or as some sort of attempt by her captor to prove that he really wasn't all that bad a guy after all.

Weiss let out a groan as the full scope of her predicament came back to her, the sound muffled by the metal restraint that covered her mouth. This was actually her life now, for however much longer it lasted. When she'd still been the dutiful heiress to her grandfather's company, it'd been so easy to picture her own death. She'd be elderly and surrounded by multiple children and grandchildren, her influential and well-respected husband by her side if he hadn't succumbed to old age first.

After she'd rejected that destiny and dropped out of business school to forge her own path, it'd become impossible to guess what her life would have looked like by the time she reached the end of it. She liked that—she liked not knowing all the milestones she'd reach and who would be there at her eventual deathbed. But despite the uncertainty, she never would've guessed it would come before she even reached her mid-twenties, and with no one she cared about there to see her off.

Weiss sat up straighter in her uncomfortable chair, looking around to find herself very much alone. She then carefully brought herself to a standing position, putting all her weight on her good foot and leaning on the wall for support. Her bound wrist was now below eye level. She would not be accepting this fate if there was anything she could do about it.

The chain was connected to an electronic and expensive-looking shackle bearing the STC logo—Torchwick had probably pilfered it from the warehouse. A small keypad was the only thing keeping it from opening. She had exactly one idea of what the combination could be—the same one she'd seen him use to unlock a younger Neo's semblance-inhibiting chamber.

"You won't have much luck guessing the code," Torchwick said behind her on her fourth attempt to remember it correctly. "I don't even know what it is."

Instantly deflating, Weiss gave up on the device and turned around to face the man she hadn't heard enter. He held a tupperware bowl of what looked like ramen noodles in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, his cane tucked beneath his armpit. She watched him with an indifferent gaze as he placed the two items at her feet.

"Sit down, Schnee," he said. "I've got a story to tell you."

Weiss did so, but only because her ankle was still torturing her. She glanced down at the water bottle, her dry throat begging to down it one gulp—she hadn't gotten around to drinking all that much over the past twelve or so hours. Even the noodles looked appetizing to her empty stomach. She crossed her legs to elevate the injured foot and stared at him expectantly.

Torchwick leaned against a table and pulled what looked like a scroll out of his pocket, but it had odd dimensions and bore a symbol on the back that didn't match any tech manufacturer that she knew of—an old-fashioned key with a skull in place of the bow. He played with it for a second, then her shackle suddenly opened and the muzzle fell off her face.

"Don't try anything stupid," he said as he pocketed the device. "You'll regret it."

"What is that?" she asked, finally able to separate her jaw again.

"Oh, just a little toy I found." He inserted a cigar into his mouth and lit it with a zippo lighter, not missing the chance to show off his fancy tricks as he did so. After one large puff, he removed it long enough to say, "Oh, I needed that. Neo wants me to quit, but she's not here right now."

After a momentary internal struggle, Weiss dove for the bottle and drank greedily, not caring enough to consider the slim possibility that it was poisoned. As soon as it was empty, she picked up the bowl and began forking noodles into her mouth without a shred of elegance or dignity. Torchwick just took another puff and watched her, seeming bored.

After swallowing her third mouthful, she paused and met his gaze. "What's this story? Don't tell me it's a fairy tale."

"Now I'm glad you asked," he said. "But no. This tale is very far from the realm of fiction, as its protagonist is yours truly."

Weiss ate another forkful in silence.

"I learned at a young age that morality is arbitrary. This is a harsh world that didn't notice your birth and won't remember you when you're gone. In the end, all you can do is whatever it takes to survive as long as possible. Everyone dies at some point, but very few truly live. If all you do with your life is walk down the well-trodden path—graduate high school, go to college, get married, have kids who'll grow to despise you, work a dead-end job outside your field while waiting for that degree you worked so hard for to actually pay off, die full of regrets—then your mother should have saved herself the stretch marks."

"Do you have an actual point?"

"Yes, I have a point. That being, I wasn't about to let myself be railroaded into being no different than any of the other billions of people thrust onto this miserable planet. I decided to live my life unbound by the expectations of those who sought to keep me at the bottom of the barrel. If I wanted something, then I'd have it. I didn't wait until the government decided I was old enough to put some alcohol in my body. And I didn't work two straight weeks in a minimum wage job to be able to afford that lovely flat-screen TV—I took it. Laws were made to control those not lucky enough to be in a position to write them."

He stopped for a moment to take a pull from the cancer-inducing object. "But I had bigger dreams than shoplifting and underage drinking. Worldwide notoriety and wealth beyond what even your daddy could dream of was my destiny, and I'd slowly amassed the skills to get there. I began climbing that ladder and I loved every last second of it. When Neo came into the picture, it should've made my ascent all that much faster. She was a blessing in more ways than one. But, one day, shit changed."

He paused for dramatic effect, staring intently at Weiss as he brought the cigar back to his lips yet again. He probably expected her to have been on the edge of her seat, seconds away from begging him to hurry up and get to the big reveal. But her face remained impassive as she swallowed the last of her noodles.

Only briefly showing his annoyance, Torchwick continued. "Everyone knows you've gotta spend money to make money. We had big plans that required a bigger investment than we had. Luckily, the perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of a CIT—that stands for cash-in-transit, by the way. We were looking at at least a good ten million lien. We hatched a scheme, prepared, and set up our ambush. Everything went according to plan up until we were about to bust open the rear doors and claim the loot. The van's tires were gone thanks to some well-timed spikes, the driver and guards were taken care of—no, we didn't kill them—and the coast was clear.

"But someone dropped the ball. Some idiot redneck bystander decided to take things into his own hands and reaped the full benefits of the concealed carry law, getting a shot off before any of my men—who were supposed to be standing guard to prevent that exact situation—noticed him. The bullet came so close to Neo's head that it literally severed a strand of her hair. That guy I did kill, but surely you understand—he would've dropped dead on his own sooner or later from his brain frying itself trying to figure out what one plus one is, anyway."

Another drag. "But, yeah. That whole ordeal made me come to a realization. No matter how cunning, patient, and calculated my schemes were, there'd always be that risk. I was more willing to take it when it was just my own life on the line, but now I have something more important to worry about. So I decided to give it all up. I consider myself a gambling man, but only when I have a card hidden up my sleeve or a weighted pair of dice to swap out when no one's looking. The life I chose—the life I loved and thrived in—was too dangerous. So we pulled off one last job—a big score to set us up for the rest of our lives, and that was it. The end of my grand—albeit short-lived—adventure, and I welcomed it with open arms. You know everything that happened after that."

Weiss wrinkled her nose; the smoke was really getting to her now. The plastic bowl and empty water bottle were sitting discarded on the floor now so her arms were free to be folded over her chest. Half a minute passed and it became apparent that he had nothing more to add—he just sat there, continuing to work on his cigar as he tried to gauge her reaction.

"You really love to listen to yourself talk," she said finally.

"It is one of my many talents," he agreed. After a bit more silence, he added, "Is that really your only comment?"

"What's there to say? You had a rough childhood, found a love for taking things you haven't earned, and went into retirement, only to supposedly be coerced out of it. I don't see why you felt the need to tell me your life's story. Were you just trying to convince me that you're not secretly ecstatic to be given an excuse to become Vale's number one most wanted?"

"I actually had a very loving childhood—suffocatingly so. And you clearly haven't grasped the amount of effort and risk that goes into my line of work. I've earned a hell of a lot more than someone born into their wealth like you.

"But you wanted to know why I told you all this. It's simple, really. I needed you to understand. I had it all. Every last thing I could dream of. The world was mine—all I had to do was take it. And yet, I gave it up. And I'd do it again—make a choice that the little punk I was in my youth would rather die than ever consider. If I can do that, then I don't think you could ever picture what else I might do for that girl—what I might do . . . to you. Neo's like a daughter to me, and I will see her freed one way or another."

The threat hung in the air for several seconds, and then Weiss laughed. The look of complete befuddlement on Torchwick's face only made her laugh harder. She couldn't help it. Her distaste for irony still hadn't changed, but even she couldn't ignore the humor in it. Her own father would throw all three of his kids under the bus if it got him out of prison. The idea that even Roman Torchwick could be a better father figure than Weiss's was too much to handle. The universe was laughing at her, and she along with it.

"Alright, I've threatened a lot of people and I've gotta say," Torchwick said, "this is new."

After her laughter died out, she explained nothing. She wiped her eyes, crossed her arms, and stared at him. As fleeting as it would be, she'd taken him down a peg. That bothered him, and he failed to hide it.

Torchwick took a long drag and blew the smoke toward her. "I'm just going to assume the point has sunk in. You've had time to brainstorm, and now's your time to tell me what you've come up with."

Weiss didn't answer right away. She had come up with one idea, but hadn't decided whether she wanted to tell it to him. She still loathed the man seated before her with every fiber of her being, but holding back wasn't exactly helping her situation any. And the more she pondered it, the more believable his claims became. Perhaps he actually was only terrorizing Vale because he was under duress.

If that's the case, then what did that say about Neo? Did she even deserve Weiss's help?

But Weiss couldn't forget the little girl who'd been orphaned, taken captive, abused, had her tongue cut out, and been forced to endure many other terrible things for years on end, all because of the great power she'd had the misfortune to be born with. The innocent woman Neo never got the chance to grow into would probably never exist. At the very least, Weiss had the chance to set the bar straight and reduce the number of slaves in the world by one. If Neo took the opportunity for repentance, then all the better.

"The only thing I can see possibly working," Weiss said, "is if I use my semblance on her while she's unconscious."

"Unconscious, eh?" Torchwick said around the cigar in his mouth.

"Yes. It's my hope that if the brain isn't fully active, then it'll be more malleable and unable to fight against me. I've never tried to use my semblance on someone who wasn't awake before, though, so I can't say for certain. But if it fails, at least she'll have no way of knowing I even attempted it and won't suspect anything."

"Hmm." He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, I was afraid you'd suggest that."

Weiss's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Neo doesn't sleep."

"She . . . doesn't sleep?"

"Nope. Weird quirk of her speed—if she doesn't use it, she never gets tired. And she refrains from using it as much as possible."

"She's like . . ." Weiss trailed off in amazement.

"She's like what?"

Ruby. But Weiss didn't say it. Instead, she said, "Nevermind. Why can't you just ask her to use her semblance?"

"Because she knows I'd never do that without good reason. She only breaks out the superspeed when she needs to, so if I can't explain why, she's going to get suspicious and have to report it to my boss, and then it's the end of the line for both of us."

"So come up with an excuse."

"Brilliant! Gee, why hadn't I thought of that?" Torchwick rolled his eyes and put out the cigar on the table, stuffing what remained in his inner coat pocket for later. "I did think of it, and it's not ideal—I'm going to have to rob another bank."

"Oh, yeah. Because we both know how much you hate doing that."

He grinned as he took his cane in hand. "While I can't say this past year hasn't been enjoyable, I'd grown quite attached to the retired life. I want to get back to it. Robbing banks is an artform, Snow White, and takes preparation. So this unfortunately means that our time together, you and me, is going to have to last at least a few more days."

Weiss groaned at the thought.

"But don't worry," he said, halfway out of the room. "Once Neo gets back, we're moving base again. We'll get you some more comfortable accommodations there. For now, though, put your restraints back on."

Weiss looked down at the shackle and muzzle lying on the floor.

"I'll know if you don't," Torchwick said, waving the strange device with the skull key symbol before the door closed behind him.

Chapter Text

Weiss had never considered herself much of a runner. Yoga was her primary form of exercise. She preferred ice skating, but with her current living situation, it wasn't feasible to do as often as she liked, helped in no part by her having spent the past month living in a secret bunker. Before her family had completely fallen apart, she'd occasionally done some ballet routines—her father had had her taking classes for most of her childhood. Even thinking about putting on a pair of ballet slippers now brought back too many memories of him harshly criticizing her recitals. "You are a Schnee! I will settle for no less than absolute perfection!" he'd once said. She'd been eight at the time. For similar reasons, she hadn't so much as sung in the shower in at least a year, despite all the other people throughout her life who'd told her how naturally gifted she was.

But she'd done a lot of running over the past two days, since her ankle's been well enough for her to do so. Her own personal holding cell was the entire underground level of a parking garage—the parts that weren't buried under rubble—so there was plenty of room for it. Other than the few jigsaw puzzles she'd found in the half-crushed RV she slept in, it was the only thing to do, really—trying to find some way of escape had grown tiresome and proven fruitless pretty quickly. Running helped distract her from the horrible circumstances. While concentrating on her breathing and putting one foot in front of another, the negative thoughts had a hard time forcing their way through. She felt sweaty and gross afterward, but her captor was oh so gracious enough to escort her up for a shower and change of clothes once a day.

Shortly after Neo had returned from wherever Torchwick had sent her, they'd ditched the old grocery store and began driving due west—all the way west. They didn't stop until they came upon the edge of the city that had been devastated by Salem's assault. Over the past two years, much work had gone into repairing the damage suffered, but entire blocks that had witnessed her great weapon first-hand were still left in ruins. In the center of one of them was Roman Torchwick's backup location for his base of operations. He'd sent his subordinates ahead to open a hidden path to the parking garage. It made the ideal place to hide out and store all your illegal contraband, and the sublevel—Weiss had to begrudgingly admit—was perfect for containing captives you didn't want escaping. How he'd gotten the electricity running again was a mystery.

For just over half a week, that partially damaged structure was the center for the largest city-wide mafia in Remnant, but not a day longer. For on the third night, Torchwick descended into the sublevel to deliver a message.

"Schnee!" he called out loud enough to carry over to her.

Weiss, who'd been in the middle of running another lap around the room, came to a stop before hesitantly walking over to him. This wasn't the first time he'd shown his face since locking her down here, and it was no more welcome than the last. She much preferred lonely solitude to his presence and the deafening silence to his smug voice.

"I just thought I'd let you know that we're heading out," Torchwick said. "As soon as we finish this job, we'll be back and then you'll do yours. So be ready."

"You planned a bank robbery in just four days?" Weiss said, trying not to sound impressed.

"I'm a professional, sweetheart, it's what I do. All it took was skipping a couple of the usual steps and accepting some additional minor risks. Be back soon." He tipped his bowler hat at her and then left while whistling an old-timey show tune.

She wasn't sure how she felt as she watched the large door slide shut again. She should be relieved. Torchwick would rob yet another bank, Weiss would heal Neo, and then the nightmare would be over. But the "additional minor risks" part had her worried. As strange as it sounded, she was actually rooting for his success here. If he got caught, then who would set her free? Of all the ways she didn't want to go, slowly starving to death was pretty high on the list. Although the idea of Roman Torchwick failing a bank robbery was borderline laughable, Weiss couldn't get it out of her head. Of all the heists to go wrong, it would just have to be the one her life was staked on.

She took off running again at a faster pace than before. The pain in her ankle had mostly alleviated by now. Trying to run on it at first hadn't been pleasant, but she'd pushed through and eventually grown numb to it. The peace of mind running provided had been worth it.

For about an hour and half, she had to stew in her own paranoia until her fears proved themselves unfounded. The door opened once more and Torchwick appeared, looking so casual he might as well have just done a mere shopping run.

"Let's go!" he yelled, impatiently tapping his cane against his shoe.

Weiss—who'd been taking a break—stood and took one step toward him before remembering her one possession. She hurried back toward the RV and grabbed Ruby's hoodie, pulling it over the t-shirt her captor had given her as she made her way toward the exit. The warmth was stifling after the physical exertion, but the flowery scent that still lingered on the fabric helped calm her nerves.

After crossing the threshold for the last time—be that due to either her freedom or her death—she followed a couple of paces back from the criminal. They walked in silence, ascending the incline to the outside and then through the floor level. The staircase was too damaged to be used, so they had to take the parking ramp. At the base of the slope, three of Torchwick's goons sat around a table playing a card game—Weiss recognized one as the man she and Ruby had tailed to Neo in the warehouse. Their boss ignored them and continued on his way.

The second story looked much less barren than the rest of the structure. Three vans were parked in a row beside Torchwick's car. Several large tents had been erected in a U shape and wooden crates were stacked in large piles around them. There were two more men up here—one was unloading duffel bags from one of the vehicles while the other was counting the money inside them and transferring it into boxes. They glanced at Weiss as she walked by but made no comment.

Torchwick entered one of the smaller tents, the only one that had a closed flap. Weiss hesitated for a few seconds before going in after him to find herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. As Weiss raised her hands in alarm, she noticed from the corner of her eye Neo asleep on a mattress on the floor, sandwiched between multiple layers of heavy blankets.

"I realize this might seem a tad unnecessary," said Torchwick, his voice lower than usual but no less arrogant, "but surely you know where I stand on risks and Neo by now. So just do your thing and nothing else, and we can pretend this is a pea shooter."

Weiss glared, then nodded that she understood. Torchwick stepped back, giving her plenty of room to slowly lower her hands and kneel by Neo's head. It was eerie how innocent the woman looked like this. She could have been a normal college student—that shy girl who sat at the back of the class and expressed herself by dyeing her hair a bright color because it was the only way she knew how. No one in their right mind would guess she was a trained killer.

Weiss's heart pounded as she reached out. Her arm looked like it was moving in slow motion, but she couldn't get it to extend any faster. This was it. If she couldn't do this, then there was no hope at all. She couldn't fail—not after everything she'd been through.

After what felt like an eternity, her fingers came to a light rest on Neo's temple. Weiss had to remind herself to breathe. It took longer than usual but, finally, she felt herself being lifted off into another world.

Like the last time she'd attempted this, there was no forest. Empty ashen wastelands sprawled out in every direction. She took that as a bad sign. Unlike last time, however, the weather was clear—no rain, no lightning. Nothing was threatening to destroy the weapon at her hip. She took that as a good sign.

Weiss slowly pivoted in a circle, trying to get her bearings. It seemed to be midday, but a heavy layer of fog still obstructed anything farther than a hundred feet away. She knew what she was looking for—the chained tower she'd only gotten a brief glimpse of right before having to watch her best friend get shot back in reality. But without any kind of physical landmarks to guide her, she had no idea how to get to it.

She tried not to let it worry her too much. Without a hand crushing her windpipe, she had all the time in the world. She would find it, given that she hadn't hallucinated it the first time; it was just a matter of patience.

Weiss drew her trusty weapon and looked up toward the sky, barely able to see a faint glob of yellow through the fog. She decided to walk toward it, as it made as much sense as any other arbitrary direction. As she made her way along, she dragged the tip of her rapier in the ash behind her, marking a path of where she'd been.

Weiss found the first memory after a couple of minutes. Through a window hovering in midair, she saw a first-person view of a much younger Neo. The girl was sitting on the floor of a room where every surface was covered in white tiles. Red light glowed from between the cracks in a grid pattern. Neo picked at the skin on her leg, persisting at one spot until it started to bleed before moving a couple of inches over to do it again. Then—upon hearing a robot voice announce the arrival of her masters—she hastened to roll her pant leg back down and stand with her back against the far wall, staring at the metal door as it opened.

Weiss realized she was watching a memory she'd already partially seen before, but from a different perspective. Roman Torchwick stood at the cell's entrance, looking much like he did in the present—same bowler hat, same cane, and same fashion sense. The only difference was that his orange hair was a bit shorter, and he looked like a giant from Neo's eyes.

"Wait outside," he ordered the two men behind him without taking his eyes off the young paragon.

"Boss?" one said nervously.

"You heard me."

The henchmen glanced at each other before obeying, turning around to walk in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Torchwick took slow, measured strides into the cell. He leaned his cane against the wall by the door so he could spread his hands open to show he was unarmed, bearing a demeanor not unlike that of someone trying to pick up an agitated cat.

"It's Neo Politan, isn't it?" he asked with a gentle tone that sounded so unnatural coming from his mouth.

Neo, of course, said nothing.

He stopped a few feet shy of her. "My name is Roman. You probably don't hear this all that often, but I have a gift for you."

She made no reaction.

Torchwick stepped aside and gestured at the open door. "Come on. It's just out there."

Her gaze flicked between him and the outside of the semblance-inhibiting chamber multiple times. Her uncertainty was clear, but one thing did seem to register—she'd been given an instruction and had to follow it.

There was a slight frown on Torchwick's face as she started toward the exit, her movements stiff and robotic. The thought of slamming the door shut on him and making a bid for freedom didn't even cross her mind, though it was what Weiss would have done with a semblance like hers. Neo traversed through a short corridor ending in a steel door that had been left ajar. The sound of a second pair of footsteps indicated that Torchwick wasn't far behind. What she found in the room beyond, though, made her freeze.

Corpses. Blood, bullet casings, and about half a dozen fresh corpses.

"If it were me, I wouldn't have wanted them to go so quickly." Torchwick stepped up beside her to admire his underlings' handiwork. "Almost ten years they kept you, right? After that, I'd want them to die slowly . . . painfully. I'd have wanted to see them all fall myself. Quick deaths are the last thing they deserved. But it's a cruel world and we don't always get what we want. Lucky for you, I have a compromise."

Torchwick walked to the middle of the room and kicked one of the bodies, one that Weiss didn't realize until that moment was still moving. The man on the floor, unlike his comrades, hadn't been shot—merely tied up and gagged. Torchwick grabbed him by his collar and pulled him onto his knees so he could stare at Neo with terrified eyes.

"The gift I have for you, my dear, is vengeance—the sweetest thing in life. Freedom, on the other hand, is not something that can be given." Torchwick drew a knife and flipped it, catching it by the flat of the blade and extending the handle out toward her. "You've got to take it yourself."

Neo didn't move.

"Look around," Torchwick said after several seconds. "You stand tall—er, as tall as you can—while the men who tortured you, abused you, unmade you, lie dead at your feet. These are not your masters. These are your enemies. And this one?" He pointed to the one still breathing. "He's the top dog. I can only assume you hate him the most."

Neo managed to take one step forward and one step only. Her trepidation was palpable, but her eyes never left the bound man who could only kneel there helplessly. Weiss couldn't imagine what was running through her head.

"Just know that I'm not ordering you to do anything here. I'm offering you a choice. Take this knife if that's what you want to do. Either way, you get to leave this place and never look back. Act for yourself and no one else. That's the only way you can survive in this world."

Neo burst into motion. She rushed forward, took the weapon, and cut her enslaver's throat so quickly that Weiss didn't get the chance to avert her gaze before the young paragon was pinning Torchwick to the wall, leveling the blade under his chin—she had to fully extend her arm in order to reach. Everything had seemed to happen in real-time, but there was a strangeness in her movements and the way everything else remained perfectly rigid. She'd just used her semblance, Weiss realized, which had made time move more slowly for her.

Torchwick, who'd raised his hands in surrender, had the nerve to smirk. "You don't trust me. That's smart. I think we'd get along, you and I . . . if you can accept that there are people on this planet who don't want to hurt you."

It took her a while, but Neo finally stepped back and lowered the blade. She looked around at all the death that surrounded her, and it must have finally started to sink in—everyone who'd made her entire life a living nightmare was dead. Weiss had no way of seeing the girl's lips, but she could somehow tell there was a smile taking form on them.

"Come on." Torchwick brushed off his sleek white coat and knelt to pick up the cane he'd dropped. "Let's get you some shoes, a change of clothes, and a good meal. I could really go for a nice steak right now. You ever had steak?"

Neo shook her head. A moment later, he looked shocked and enraged—Weiss guessed she'd just shown him what her mouth lacked.

"You know, sometimes I wish I believed in hell. It'd give me some manner of comfort, picturing them down there." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure we can find something you'll enjoy."

The rest of the memory was rather uneventful, but Weiss couldn't bring herself to look away. Torchwick and Neo climbed a staircase, progressing past more dead bodies. They made a pit stop along the way where the slavers had kept Neo's limited wardrobe. The exit came into view where about twenty men and women stood waiting. Heavy rain was pouring down outside, beating down on the several SUVs that were still running.

"Get to work!" Torchwick yelled, bringing their attention to him.

Several of the goons picked up the gas canisters they had sitting by their feet and began emptying them all over the facility. Torchwick and Neo reached the large door and he held out his arm to stop her from stepping through it, first ordering one of his henchmen to bring him an umbrella. He opened it and offered it to Neo, and she stared at it for a few long seconds before delicately accepting it like it was the most valuable thing she'd ever held.

After that, the window disappeared.

By the time Weiss finally found the dark tower, she had absolutely no idea how this woman could still harbor even an ounce of sanity. Several more windows had appeared, none as wholesome as the first (and that was saying something). The things Neo had endured throughout her childhood and teenage years were completely abhorrent. The second memory had been the day her tongue had been cut out. The third and fourth . . . Those were too vile to put into words. The few seconds she'd seen of each had Weiss feeling like she'd be physically ill. It gave her a newfound appreciation for what she'd seen in the first, as much as she hated herself for it.

After that, she decided to adamantly avoid so much as glancing at any other windows that crossed her path. Yet, all the while, not a single Grimm attacked her. It didn't make any sense. The notion that—save for her stolen free will—Neo had no mental instability whatsoever was absurd, but there was little evidence to the contrary. Were her mental illnesses just so ingrained as to be incurable? That'd be unprecedented, but so were so many other things about this woman's mind.

The tower was so large that even after Weiss could finally see its looming shadow through the mist, it still took her a few more minutes to reach its base. Up close, it was even more perplexing. The building was cylindrical in shape, but unevenly so. It was black, jagged, and crooked, looking like an unrefined wood carving. At first, she thought it was built out of some type of dark stone—perhaps basalt. But as she got closer, she saw that the material had a glossy sheen to it. Upon touching it, she learned it was glass—not even obsidian, but a dark, opaque glass.

Weiss circled around the tower until she found the cave-like opening that was its entrance—it took her so long she began to fear that she was meant to climb the chains to the top. That would mean she'd have to find them somewhere out in the fog. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. And upon stepping inside, her other fear also addressed itself.

Sitting in the center of the ground floor, illuminated only by cracks and holes in the walls, was a Death Stalker. This one was different from the last she'd faced. It was smaller, more slender, and its colors were inverse—a white exoskeleton with dark armor plates instead of the other way around. The last time she'd fought a Death Stalker, her patient had been a diagnosed psychopath. This time, she suspected sociopathy.

Technically, psychopathy and sociopathy are both unofficial terms that fall under the clinically recognized antisocial personality disorder. Many professionals would claim that there's no clear distinction between the two and both terms can be used interchangeably, but Weiss always disagreed; it appeared her semblance did, too.

The beast charged, its golden stinger coiled back and ready to strike. Weiss held her rapier at the ready and prepared to evade.

She'd killed the last one through use of the environment. There were no trees to drop on the creature this time, but it turned out that didn't matter. The white Death Stalker had a lot more chinks to exploit than its black counterpart. With patience, agility, and precision, she landed many small strikes until it slowed down enough for her to finish it off the same way she'd done before—stabbing it through the eye.

Left feeling a bit worn down but unharmed, Weiss searched the now empty room. It spanned the entire width of the tower and apparently existed solely to accommodate the Death Stalker, as there was nothing else in there at all. After a minute, she found a staircase hidden in one of the darker recesses going up the wall. It had tall, thin steps and no railing, which made it more nerve-wracking to climb than fighting the giant scorpion.

Each floor contained a new foe—a new mental illness. Some were more challenging than others, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Apart from the fact that they were all contained within this strange tower, there was nothing unusual about any of them. Besides the Death Stalker variant, she'd seen all the Grimm before—which included a very minor case of narcissism, strangely enough—but nothing that could represent mind control. Whatever she was looking for—whatever she needed to face—had to be waiting for her at the top.

She cured six afflictions in total before the floors stopped having occupants, the most she'd ever done in one mental incursion. After that, all the floors she climbed were vacant. It was around a dozen of these that she stopped keeping count. And then, finally, she saw outside light shining down on the final set of stairs.

One step at a time, both her heart and mind racing, Weiss ascended to the last floor. And then she was at the top. What awaited her there was not another Grimm, larger and more powerful than all those that came before it. It was Neo.

It was an avatar, similar to what Weiss had fought when delving into Torchwick's mind. It looked like Neo did in the present, just without a face. But her hair was undyed, she wore the same clothes as she had the day Torchwick rescued her, and she wasn't attacking. Instead, she was on her knees, hunched over with her head bowed, unmoving. Most notably of all, her arms were stretched out on either side of her, pulled taut by chains that disappeared over the side of the roof, each link bigger than the last.

Weiss knew what she had to do.

After taking a few moments to ensure nothing was about to get the drop on her, she approached the inert avatar. Her blade struck true, and the right chain severed. Instantly, it was tugged away by gravity and vanished, plummeting down the side of the tower toward the ground. What Weiss hadn't expected, stupidly, was that the other one did the same. Neo's avatar was yanked to the other side and Weiss had to dive to catch her, just barely getting a grip on her recently liberated hand.

While this was happening, a woman's shriek rent the sky. It was not a scream of pain, but a scream of fury. The voice also wasn't Neo's—or what her voice might have sounded like. It was someone else's entirely. Weiss wasn't sure why she was so certain of this, but she was too distracted to give it much thought.

Also assaulting her ears was the stomach-curling screech of her heels digging into the glass as she held onto the avatar with all her might. They were getting nearer to the edge with no signs of stopping. Weiss's muscles felt like they were on fire. She had seconds before she was forced to either let go or fall with it.

Then the avatar, previously limp, moved on its own. Its hand suddenly grasped onto one of Weiss's wrists and began to struggle against the pull as well. It was fighting, just as Torchwick's had done, but this time not against Weiss.

They were slowing down now, but still steadily sliding toward their doom. Weiss released one of her grips to move it further up the avatar's arm, then did it again with her other hand. Slowly, excruciatingly, she pulled herself closer until she was able to wrap one arm around its waist. The chain was now in reach, but her sword wasn't—she'd had to drop it.

Weiss's heart pounded in her chest, and she thought of nothing except cutting the chain. She repositioned herself and stretched one arm out as far as she could. She was just barely able to touch the tip of the blade. Pinching it between her index and middle fingers, she was able to scoot it a couple inches closer. Then another couple inches. Little by little, gathering many cuts throughout the process, she brought the handle nearer and nearer until it was finally in her grasp. Not waiting a second longer, she swung it through the air and straight through the chain links. All tension ceased and Weiss collapsed onto her back, exhausted.

She had only ten seconds to rest and recuperate, because then everything began to shake. Cracks erupted along the surface of the glass. The tower shuddered beneath her. She scrambled back onto her feet, only just beginning to wonder how to solve this umpteenth crisis when it seemed to solve itself. Neo's avatar, far faster than her semblance allowed her to move in real life, zipped away without a moment's hesitation, leaving Weiss alone atop the unstable structure.

She took a few careful steps in the same direction and risked a glance over the edge of the roof. The fog had dissipated, allowing her to see a faint blur running off into the distance through the rapidly growing saplings that had sprouted all over the now green and brown terrain. The ash had disappeared, and it began to snow. That was all the confirmation Weiss needed that her job was done. She knelt, closed her eyes, and left right as the floor gave way beneath her.

Neo woke with a gasp and shot up into a sitting position, having returned to the material realm along with Weiss. She looked shell-shocked, staring straight through the side of the tent with her mismatched eyes. Weiss stood and managed to take one step back before Torchwick shoved her aside to take a knee in front of the person he viewed as a daughter. Having seen the proof herself, she now knew it was no pretense.

"Neo," he said. She made no sign of having heard him, so he repeated himself in a more urgent tone. "Neo."

Neo didn't even look at him. Weiss was reminded of how the psychopathic prisoner she'd cured had looked after she'd left his mind. But this would have to be way worse, as it was six mental ailments that had suddenly vanished from her head instead of two, plus whatever damage may have been left over from the manipulation Torchwick's boss had done.

Torchwick rounded on Weiss with a cold look of fury. "What's wrong with her? What did you do?"

"I cured her." Weiss, having regained her balance, retreated a bit farther. "But her mind's going to need some time to adjust. It's not an instant process."

"You 'cured' her? You were supposed to free her."

"I did!" Weiss still felt anxious, even though he'd left the gun behind with his cane on a foldable table. "I broke the hold your boss had on her. She's free."

"Then what the hell is this about 'curing' her? There was nothing wrong with her."

Weiss had to consider her next words very carefully. While it was a simple fact that there had indeed been several things wrong with her, saying that to the enraged crime lord wouldn't be the wisest idea.

"She's been through a lot," she cautioned. "The kind of impact a childhood like hers had isn't something that just goes away on its own."

Whatever Torchwick had to say in response to that died in his throat, as Neo chose that moment to put her hand on his arm. He looked back at her, but she was still staring off into space. After a few seconds, he said her name again and she was finally able to train a disoriented gaze on him.

Weiss heard rapid footsteps echoing outside the tent followed by a shout.

"Boss!" came a troubled voice.

"He's in there," another replied.

Torchwick stood alert just as a man appeared at the flap. It was the one Weiss had recognized from the warehouse—Duke, his name was.

"Boss," he said. "It's them."

"What?" said Torchwick.

"It's them," Duke said again. "They're here."

"Son of a bitch!" Torchwick muttered, looking worried. He lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair, what almost looked like worry in his eye.

Two more sets of footsteps could be heard approaching at a casual pace. Torchwick glanced at Neo, who'd gone back to staring at the canvas wall, then pulled Weiss's hood over her head before stepping outside. His henchman was right behind him, as was Weiss, who was too curious to stay behind.

This mysterious "them" didn't give off the threatening presence she'd expected after Torchwick's reaction. They both looked around Weiss's age. One was a dark-skinned woman with green hair and red eyes, fashionably dressed in attire that left her arms, cleavage, and midriff exposed. She seemed the head cheerleader type who could go from a bright and sunny attitude to a cruel and toxic one at the drop of a dime.

Her associate was a man with messy gray hair and an eye color to match, dressed in a black suit vest over a white dress shirt and gray pants. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his arms and the collar was folded up, unbuttoned, as if to intentionally detract from the professionalism his outfit would otherwise suggest. He walked with his fingers folded behind his head and the mien of a teenage delinquent, looking bored and indifferent to everything around him, but with just enough smugness to suggest that he believed everyone to be beneath himself.

"Oh great," Torchwick said. "So, the freaks managed to track us down after all."

"Did you really think we wouldn't?" said the green-haired woman.

The other two henchmen had stopped what they were doing to watch the newcomers, on edge but not daring to move.

"No, but a man can hope, can't he?" Torchwick said.

"The boss wants to know why you lied," said the gray-haired man. The pair stopped about fifteen feet away.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that," said Torchwick. "I've told a lot of lies in my time—more than there are stars in the sky."

"Don't toy with us, Roman," Green warned. "You were allowed complete autonomy so long as you met your quotas and returned the favor with full transparency. But now you're trying to hide outside our radar and just ran a job that wasn't on the schedule Neo delivered just a few days ago."

"So what gives?" said Gray.

Torchwick shrugged. "It was a spur of the moment thing. An opportunity arose, so I took it. Sorry if I didn't have the time to run it up the flagpole first. Didn't think you'd complain about me bringing in a bit more income than usual."

"Lying really does come as naturally as breathing to you, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean? I'm as honest as they come."

"Are you really going to make us say it?" said Green.

"Say what?" Torchwick said innocently.

A silence followed that grew more and more tense the longer it endured. Then, quicker than anyone could react, Gray drew a pistol from a back holster and fired it once. Duke collapsed to the ground, dead. Weiss let out an involuntary scream, short and stifled as she clamped her hands over her mouth and stumbled two steps back. Green drew out a pair of knives that then flew through the air of their own volition, piercing the hearts of the other two henchmen right as they'd gotten their own weapons raised. Torchwick clenched his fists.

"If anyone else feels like reaching for a gun," said Gray, "I'd reconsider."

Green drew two more knives and they rose out of her hands to hover above her head—they already had blood on them that hadn't been fully wiped off. "This is your second offense, Roman. Tell us what you're hiding from Neo and your punishment might be light."

"If it's only my second offense, then surely I still get at least one more," Torchwick said.

"This isn't baseball," said Gray. "One warning's all you get. Now start talking."

Torchwick sighed. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. You can consider this my formal resignation."

"Quitting isn't an option."

"I'm afraid that's not up to you. You see, freedom isn't something that can be given—you've got to take it yourself."

At that moment, something came rushing out of the tent behind them. Neo made it all the way to the sinister duo in a second. Then a strange, unpleasant energy pulsed through the room, emanating from Gray. The knives fell out of the air, Neo abruptly slowed to a normal speed, and Weiss felt like a large hand was gripping some metaphysical part of her. Her instincts told her that if she tried to enter someone's mind at that moment, it wouldn't work.

Neo didn't miss a single beat. Gray's gun went skittering across the floor and she proceeded to engage both him and Green in hand-to-hand combat at once. They almost didn't even have enough time to look shocked. Together, they could only just barely keep up with her. Gray did most of the work, employing a kick-heavy fighting style to great effect while his partner helped as best she could. It was a sight to behold. Neo dodged, blocked, and hit with such masterful skill you'd think she still had a superhuman advantage going for her. It was far beyond any of the choreographed fight scenes in those silly action movies Ruby had made Weiss watch with her during their isolation from society.

Torchwick used the distraction to duck back into the tent. This shook Weiss out of her daze, and she tore her eyes away from the brawl. It'd only been several seconds, but who knew how much longer it would last? It could only go on for so long before a winner was decided.

The criminal's words rang in her mind. You've got to take it yourself.

Before she knew it, her feet were moving before her brain could catch up. She ran toward the line of vans and dropped down beside one of the unmoving men, doing her best to ignore the blood pooling around him and the knife sticking out of his chest.

They're just asleep, she told herself, refusing to look at the hollow expression on his face.

After a few moments of rummaging in his pockets that felt like a lifetime, fortune rewarded her with a set of keys. She stood and hastened toward the nearest vehicle. The key didn't fit the ignition, so she tried the next van. That one started. She put it into drive, stepped on the gas pedal, and didn't look back.

Chapter Text

Weiss sat alone in the interrogation room, doing her best not to think about the fact that she'd just watched three people die. A few officers came in while she waited, trying to get more information out of her, but all she told them was that she'd escaped from Roman Torchwick's capture and how to find the parking garage she'd last seen him in. She refused to answer any more questions until she spoke with the mayor or the man named Qrow who worked for him.

She was in there for about forty minutes before a familiar face entered the room. It belonged to neither Mayor Ozpin or Qrow, but to Winter. Weiss stood just in time for her older sister to pull her into a suffocating hug. The emotions she'd been bottling up since first getting in Torchwick's car broke free, and she buried her face in Winter's shoulder. A single sob escaped her, but no tears fell.

After too short a time, Winter tried to pull away only for Weiss to cling on tighter. For the first time in days, she felt safe. That feeling enveloped her like a warm blanket and all she never leave it. She was brought back to the day her grandfather died, old enough to comprehend the loss but too young to cope with it. She remembered crying herself to sleep in Winter's arms, and waking up curled up in bed next to her.

But she wasn't a child anymore. After a couple of minutes, she was able to bring herself to let go. She looked up into her sister's eyes to see disapproval staring back at her, suppressed only by the care and concern Winter had for her. The guilt that had been clawing at Weiss returned in full force and she had to look away.

"Winter, I—" she began.

"We will speak elsewhere," Winter said. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

She didn't answer her. She turned around and took one step before pausing to say something else, her voice softer than before. "I'm glad to see you safe."

"I know," Weiss said.

Winter led the way out of the police station. Outside, a different car was parked where Weiss had left the one she'd stolen. Winter opened the back door for her, then walked around to get in on the other side. As Weiss buckled her seatbelt, she saw a familiar pair of pale red eyes looking back at her through the rear-view mirror.

"How's Ruby?" she asked.

"Recovering," Qrow said. "But she's been more stressed about you than her arm."

"Oh," said Weiss. "Does she know that I—?"

"She will."

"I want to see her."

"That can wait until after we talk to Oz."

The conversation ended there. As soon as Winter had settled in, he switched gears and they set off. The drive proceeded in silence. Weiss leaned her head against the window and watched the city lights of nighttime Vale pass by. The scent of air freshener blew over her, making her feel at ease—it was a stark contrast to the ever-dusty air of the parking garage.

Again, she was reminded of the past—this time, of the day of her grandfather's funeral. She and Winter had been in the same positions with Whitley between them in his booster seat. It'd been their mother and personal driver in the front—their father had been "too busy" to attend. She recalled feeling a strange sense of foreboding. The worst had already happened, yet there was something else looming nearer. Later that day, her mother had her first breakdown, which had been the most terrifying thing Weiss had ever witnessed at the time.

She hoped the rest of the night would turn out nothing like that day.

Once they arrived at city hall, it was a short walk through the empty halls to the elevator. At the top floor, Qrow led the way to the mayor's office and invited himself in without knocking. Inside was the man himself as well as a boy, who looked around high school age, maybe older. He had untidy brown hair, freckled cheeks, and a skin tone that suggested he spent a lot of time in the sun.

"I brought her," Qrow announced as he stepped through the doorway.

Ozpin turned away from the window he'd been staring out of, and the boy looked up at them from a document on the table. He had an uncertain but calm demeanor, with hazel eyes that revealed a slight wisdom beyond his age.

"Oscar," said Ozpin, "please excuse us."

The boy stared for a few moments longer before obeying. "Right. I'll be outside." He grabbed his bag and left.

"I know you've been working long hours lately," Qrow said once the door was closed, "but you didn't have to make the kid stay late with you."

"I asked him to go home hours ago." Ozpin took a seat behind his desk and set his mug down on a coaster. "He insisted on staying."

Qrow joined him on that side of the room and leaned against the far wall. He reached toward his inner coat pocket for a moment before stopping, clenching his fist, and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm delighted to see you in good health, Miss Schnee," Ozpin said to Weiss. "Please. Have a seat."

Weiss did so, but her sister chose to remain standing. Everyone in the room was looking at her—if she didn't have plenty of experience being the center of attention, she'd feel nervous.

"If you would," said Ozpin, "we'd like for you to enlighten us to the events surrounding your disappearance."

Weiss had been prepared for this. She recounted everything that had happened since walking out of the hospital—where she'd gone, what she learned, and what she'd done. It was a much shorter story than the one she'd relayed to Qrow prior to her abduction, but no less significant. When she finished, Ozpin stood and turned his back to her so he could train a thoughtful gaze over his city once again.

"Mind control, telekinesis, and semblance blocking," Qrow said. "Hmm."

"Do you know of any such cleri gemma natura?" Winter asked.

A small smile crossed Weiss's lips. Only her sister would use the scientific term for "paragon" in casual conversation. It was so great to see her again, even though she was dreading the lengthy lecture Winter likely had in store for her.

"No," said Qrow. "Nothing rumored. Oz?"

"Nothing registered either, I'm afraid," said Ozpin. "Not within city limits, at the very least. I'll speak with Director Cordovin to determine whether the CAB knows anything."

"We should get the girl in front of a sketch artist in the meantime."

"I have a name," Weiss said.

"That can wait, Qrow," Winter said, uttering his name with an edge to her tone. "Weiss has just been through a traumatic ordeal and you're not even giving her a second to cope with it."

"I'm sorry if I care more about the fate of my city than your little sister's feelings," said Qrow.

Winter took a threatening step forward but didn't get a chance to say anything else.

"That's enough," Ozpin said, turning around to face the room. "We can discuss this later. There are more pressing matters at hand." He looked at Weiss. "Did Torchwick ever mention the name of the woman he works for?"

Weiss shook her head. "He promised he would after I did what he wanted, but we didn't get the chance."

"That's most unfortunate. These are ill tidings."

"Not entirely," Weiss said. "I mean, Torchwick doesn't want to work for her. Now that her leverage is gone, he'll probably leave Vale alone for good."

"That's if he even survived his encounter with these mystery paragons," said Qrow.

"If? Don't you know what happened yet? Shouldn't the police already be on the scene?"

"They are, but I've not heard back yet. And don't go thinking tonight was some sort of victory. If Torchwick's not dead, then he's still been let off his leash. Best case scenario, he flees the country like he claims to want to. Not that it'll make much of a difference. By the sounds of it, he's little more than a pawn in something far bigger and more dangerous than him—just the poster boy villain to draw the public's attention while the real threats can keep going about their business unnoticed."

"In a game of chess," said Ozpin, "a single pawn can often spell the difference between victory and defeat. Unfortunately, we cannot see enough of the board at the moment to know the severity of our adversary's blunder."

"Criminals don't play by the rules," said Winter. "From where I'm standing, it looks like they have two queens and have been moving their pieces around before you even thought to make an opening."

"And from where I'm standing, I think you should shut up with these goddamned metaphors," said Qrow. "Do they even still have a reason to be here?"

Winter growled.

Ozpin looked at Weiss. "Is there anything else you've failed to mention?"

She considered it, but she couldn't think of anything.

"Then I'll let you both be on your way. I'm sure you're eager to get some rest and enjoy a hot meal after what you've been through."

"Right," Weiss said half-heartedly as she stood. If she was being honest with herself, the only thing she was eager for was to see Ruby.

"The General will be updated on the situation with due haste," Winter told Ozpin.

"You needn't bother," he said. "I'll inform him myself."

"All the same. Come, Weiss."

"Miss Schnee," Ozpin said as they started to leave. Both turned around, but his eyes were on Weiss. "I can understand why you made some of the decisions you did, but—"

"I'm glad someone can," Weiss muttered.

"—in the future," he continued as if there had been no interruption, "I beg you not to leave it until the last minute to warn me of a potential terrorist attack in my city. The Vytal Festival is nine days away—people are coming from all over the world. A great deal of trouble could have been saved had you, Miss Rose, or Jaune Arc decided to come to us sooner."

Weiss bowed her head in shame. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not asking for your apology. I just want you to know that you should never feel afraid to seek help when you feel your life or the lives of others are in danger."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just gave him a meek nod.

The pair of sisters left together, passing the boy named Oscar on the way out. Except for Winter taking out her scroll to order a cab, they didn't say anything until they were outside. Weiss was on edge the entire time, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

But it never came. Instead of the loud, stern reprimand Weiss had braced herself for, all Winter said when she finally spoke was a calm, "Why?"

"What?" Weiss said, at last bringing herself to meet her eyes. They stood right at City Hall's entrance now, no one nearby except for the cars passing through the ever-active streets of Vale.

"When last we saw each other, I told you to be more careful. So, I want to know why you've gotten yourself entangled in something of this caliber."

Weiss looked away. "I don't know."

"That isn't good enough."

"I don't know what you want me to say! I was stupid and I made many, many mistakes and it nearly got me killed. Is that what you want to hear?"

"You know it isn't."

Weiss turned her back on her. "Well, I don't know, then."

"Quit saying that! We both know it's a false statement."

"You seem to know a lot more than I do, so why am I the one being interrogated?"

"I'm just trying to understand the reasoning behind your imbecilic decision-making. Were you trying to prove something?"

"Prove what? And to whom?"

"To yourself—that you're not him."

Weiss opened her mouth, but no words came out. Winter had struck a chord, and they both knew it.

"Is that what this has all been about?" Winter said. "You moved away from home, dyed your hair, and faded into anonymity all to distance yourself from our family name, and now you're jumping at every reckless opportunity to prove that you're a better person than him?"

"Yes," Weiss whispered. She felt a weight lift off her heart at the revelation, one that had been there for so long that she'd grown accustomed to it. A wave of self-loathing replaced it—she couldn't believe that such a simple answer had eluded her all this time.

"I beg your pardon?" said Winter.

"Yes," Weiss enunciated.

When Winter finally broke the silence that followed, her tone was almost gentle. "You've always allowed Father to hold too much power over your life. I'm saddened to see that his incarceration hasn't changed that."

Weiss said nothing.

"You can't hold yourself accountable for his crimes. No one blames you for what he's done."

"Oh, really?" Weiss scoffed. She turned around and jabbed a finger at the scar over her left eye, an action that spoke louder than words.

A pained expression passed over Winter's face and for once, she didn't immediately know how to respond. It took her many seconds to open her mouth again, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a short blast of a car horn—their cab had arrived. Weiss took a moment to carefully examine the driver before getting into the back seat, not giving the discussion a chance to continue.

While Winter was still paying their fare, Weiss was already halfway up the path to Taiyang Xiao Long's house. She reached the door, rang the bell, and waited. Several seconds later, Ruby's father answered with a look of surprise on his face.

"Hello, Mr. Xiao Long," said Weiss. "I'm here to see Ruby."

"Um, y-yeah, of course." He stepped aside and held the door open for her. "I, uh, wasn't aware you'd been found. I'm glad, obviously. Ruby's been out of her mind for days."

Weiss entered and took a brief look around. It was an ordinary home with pictures hung up everywhere—mostly of Ruby, Yang, and Summer, but a handful showed a younger Taiyang posing in front of various famous landmarks. Any other time Weiss might have been more interested in taking it all in, but right now she only cared about one thing.

"Winter Schnee," Winter introduced behind her, "Weiss's elder sister."

"You can call me Tai," said Taiyang. When he saw Weiss about to ask a question, he answered it preemptively. "Upstairs—her door should be open."

Weiss nodded her thanks and then climbed the steps two at a time. There were three doors in the upper hallway, one half-ajar with the sound of a television coming from it. She pushed it the rest of the way open to find a modestly decorated guest room on the other side. An episode of what Weiss recognized to be Warriors of Grimm played on a wall-mounted flat-screen. Ruby sat at a desk with her back to the room, engrossed in a laptop while her left hand worked with an elastic hand exerciser.

"Ruby," Weiss said.

The girl jumped, then whirled around so fast it could've given her whiplash. She stared, wide-eyed, for a moment before running forward and throwing herself at Weiss, who nearly fell over from the impact.

"Careful!" Weiss protested, but then she was hit with a strong waft of that flowery scent that had grown faint on the sweater she wore, and a sense of peace fell over her. She wrapped her arms around Ruby, who squeezed tighter.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Ruby muttered, her voice wavering. "I . . . I thought he killed you."

"I thought he was going to," Weiss said.

"What happened? What did he want? How did you get away?"

"If you let me go so I can breathe, I'll tell you," Weiss struggled to get out. Ruby was a lot stronger than she looked.

"Not yet," the girl said, but her hold slackened a bit. Weiss couldn't help smiling into her shoulder.

It should have made Weiss uncomfortable. This was a level of intimacy she had never grown accustomed to—a closeness she'd never shared with anyone who wasn't only an occasional presence in her life. Yet, with Ruby, it felt natural. She felt safe—as safe in Ruby's arms as she did in her sister's, and that fact had snuck up on her.

"Ruby," Weiss said after a time.

"No," the girl whined.

"Ruby."

Ruby sighed and let go. She met Weiss's eyes for a moment before looking away, for some reason acting suddenly sheepish. She raised her left hand to scratch her neck then stopped, glared at it, and dropped it to her side in an awkward fist, the entire limb quivering all the while.

That was Weiss's fault.

"Ruby," Weiss whispered, sounding like a broken record. She didn't know what else to say.

"It's nothing," the girl lied. "Now tell me what happened."

Weiss was hesitant, but had to agree that discussing Ruby's injury took a lower priority. So once again, she detailed her recent "adventure".

"And he never hurt you?" Ruby said.

"He threatened to—multiple times," Weiss said, "but no."

"I'm glad. About the 'no', part—not the threatening."

Weiss rolled her eyes.

"So . . . mind control. Telekinesis. Semblance blocking. Why do the bad guys get all the coolest semblances?"

"You think the ability to enslave people is cool?"

"Well, I mean . . . bad things can still be cool. Like bombs—it's fun to watch them explode, but like out in the middle of nowhere where no one gets hurt. But I mainly meant the other two. If that guy was on our side, we could've avoided this entire thing!"

"Possibly. But things just got a lot scarier, Ruby. Any number of people could be under this woman's control—politicians, police officers, military officials. She's been biding her time for at least two years. Whatever she's planning, it's going to be big."

"But she can only control one person at a time though, right?"

"What? Why would you assume that?"

"She only used her semblance on Neo. Wouldn't it be safer to use it on both her and Torchwick if she could do multiple people at once?"

Weiss hadn't thought of that. She often underestimated her friend's intelligence—a habit she needed to break.

"Perhaps she didn't see the need to. It could be that there's more of a strain the more people she controls."

"I guess. Either way, we don't have to worry about her controlling the entire world or anything."

"That hardly makes her any less dangerous."

"You never look on the bright side. Torchwick is gone! You saved Vale from him. I just wish he'd told you her name, though."

"I released him upon another part of the world, more like. I did miss your endless optimism, though."

"And I don't know what I would've done without your soul-crushing pessimism."

Weiss pretended to be offended while Ruby stuck her tongue out. Then they shared a brief smile before a sad expression took over Ruby's face.

"I mean it, though," she said. "I was really, really terrified that I'd never see you again. I don't know what I would've done if he'd—"

"Stop," Weiss said. "There's no use thinking about that because it didn't happen. I'm here, I'm alive, I'm hale. Everything's fine."

"It's not fine. Everything you just went through was because of me. And if something worse had happened, then that would've been my fault too. I don't think I ever could've forgiven myself for that."

"You never forced me to do anything. I was perfectly compliant in your admittedly reckless schemes. I knew what I was getting into, and I did it anyway, and that is not something you can take credit for. I'm equally to blame."

"But they were still my schemes, and—"

"Just forget about it, Ruby. More than anything, I just want to be able to put all of this behind us. Please."

Forgetting obviously wasn't easy for Ruby. "Right. It's just . . . Never mind. So, how are you doing? Are you hungry or tired or anything? Dad would be happy to let you stay here."

"Thank you. I'm not really sure where else I'd go. And I wouldn't say no to a shower right about now."

Ruby gave her a couple of spare towels and a set of pajamas to change into and directed her to the bathroom across the hall. She was about to ask Ruby to tell Winter that she'd be sleeping over, but then she remembered that her sister would probably be heading straight back to Atlas, so she went downstairs to say goodbye herself.

"—sometimes feel like punching the guy in the face, too, but I can't believe you actually did it!" Taiyang was saying. "I'm a tad jealous, if I'm being honest. Don't get me wrong—he gets on my nerves from time to time, but he's still a good dude. Great uncle, too, but if either of the girls try and tell you he's cooler than me they're wrong."

"I . . . won't be arguing with you on that," Winter said just before noticing Weiss's appearance in the kitchen and losing interest in the conversation, if she'd even had any in the first place. She met Weiss with an analyzing gaze. "Your disposition seems to have improved."

"I suppose," Weiss said, a bit confused by the curious look on her face.

Whatever Winter was thinking, she kept it to herself. "Are you ready to leave, then?"

"Actually, Ruby said I could stay here—if that's alright with you, Mr. Xiao Long."

"Oh! Well, yeah—more than." Taiyang smiled. "And you can call me Tai."

"Are you certain?" said Winter. "I can upgrade my hotel room to one with a second bed."

"You're staying in Vale?" said Weiss.

"For two days longer, yes. The General has a task for me while I am here."

"What is it?"

"That's confidential."

"Oh. Of course. Well, you don't have to go through the trouble. I'm happy sleeping here."

Winter seemed hesitant.

"I'll be fine," Weiss assured her. "Nothing's going to happen to me here. You don't need to protect me."

She was silent a few more moments, then ultimately gave in. "If that is your choice."

With another hug and assurances they'd speak again tomorrow, Winter left.

Weiss thanked Taiyang for letting her stay and then returned upstairs to take her shower. She sighed as the cool water washed over her. She was actually able to enjoy this. The time limit and the armed criminal waiting on the other side of the door ruined the ones Torchwick had allowed her.

After taking her time, Weiss left the bathroom feeling refreshed. Ruby was already waiting in the hall for her, likely having heard the water stop running, and led her to the last room on the upper floor.

"This was Yang's old room," Ruby said. "After Mom died, Yang insisted on me not living alone in a dorm anymore, so we moved in together halfway between her precinct and Beacon and Dad turned both our rooms into guest rooms. It's still mostly us who uses them, though, since we like to come by some weekends."

It looked nearly identical to the one Ruby was staying in, but it was slightly bigger.

"I love it," Weiss said.

Ruby stared at her. "That's a strong reaction."

"I've spent the last several nights sleeping in the remnants of an RV, and before that a month in an underground bunker. I'm eager to get back to some normalcy."

"Oh, right. I guess I would be, too."

Weiss placed her neatly folded old clothes on a chair and extracted the hoodie from the bottom of the pile. She turned around to give it back to Ruby, but found her friend lingering by the door, seeming nervous for some reason.

"What's up?" slipped out of Weiss's mouth without her even thinking. She was spending too much time around that girl. It was a good thing Winter wasn't still there to hear her say such an unseemly colloquialism.

"I was just thinking," said Ruby.

"About what?"

Ruby hesitated. "You."

Weiss had no idea what to make of that. Ruby shut the door and took a seat on the edge of the bed, patting the space to her right. Weiss, confused, sat next to her.

"I really thought I'd never see you again," Ruby said.

Weiss sighed. "This again? I thought we'd already finished this discussion."

"No! It's not that. I just couldn't stop thinking about if you died and . . . and if I'd never gotten to tell you . . ." Ruby bit her lip then changed course entirely. "I haven't slept since I woke up after that night. Even before that, most nights I don't want to sleep. It's always a coin flip whether I'll have nightmares or good dreams, and more often than not it seems to land on the first.

"And you know what the worst part is? When I do choose to sleep, it's because I want the nightmares. They're always the same. I see my mom in a dark room . . . being murdered by a woman with a clouded face. But I still get to see her, and it feels more real than any picture or any video of her."

Weiss opened her mouth, but Ruby didn't give her a chance to speak.

"And I know it's not healthy and I know you want me to talk to you about this sort of stuff," she said, "but that's not the point. Since that night, it's not her I'm thinking about when I look at a bed. I just hear his voice in my head and know if I Blink enough to feel tired, I'll have to live through it again."

"Ruby, I know getting shot is a traumatic experience," Weiss said, "but—"

Ruby was shaking her head. "You don't get it. It's not the getting shot part that's scary. Sure, it hurt and I wouldn't want to do it again, but I would if it meant protecting you. I'd do it a hundred times over."

Taiyang had been right on the mark.

"The most terrifying part of that night was hearing Torchwick tell his men to shoot you," Ruby continued. "I'm not worried about experiencing getting shot again. I'm worried I might not—that I'll shut my eyes, be back in that warehouse, and try to teleport in front of you, but I'll fail . . . and I'll have to see you how I see her."

A knife of guilt slowly pierced deeper and deeper into Weiss's heart as she sat there, listening to how devastating her disappearance had been for Ruby. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel elated to know Ruby cared this much for her, and she also wondered what she'd done to deserve it.

"When I woke up, and you weren't there, and they told me you were missing—it felt exactly the same as when they found Mom's body. Losing you would have been like losing her all over again, because . . ." Ruby's cheeks were red now as she met Weiss's eyes. "I realized that . . . Weiss, I'm—"

The door suddenly opened before she could finish, and the last person Weiss expected to see at that moment stepped into the room.

"Winter?" Weiss stood. "What are you doing here? I thought you left."

"Weiss." Her sister's expression was grim. "I received a call. I never gave you your scroll, so I returned here post haste . . . It's Father."

Weiss's expression tightened. What could he have possibly done from prison? "What about him?"

"There's been an attempt on his life," Winter said. "He's in critical condition."

"You can't go to Atlas!" Ruby said.

"I've made up my mind," Weiss said as she packed her things.

"But the Vytal Festival's in almost a week!"

"I don't care."

"How can you not care? Even if Torchwick wasn't lying, who's to say his boss won't carry through with whatever he has planned?"

"What do you expect me to do about it, exactly? You know how well our last attempt at playing the hero went. We pulled through on blind luck."

"We pulled through because I promised I'd protect you and I did."

Weiss paused and took a moment to look her best friend in the eyes. "I'm grateful for that, Ruby. I'll never be able to even begin repaying you for what you did for me, but that doesn't change the fact that we never should have been in that predicament in the first place."

"I don't want you to repay me. I can't even write my own name anymore, but it's more than worth it because you're still alive. That's why I'm worried. What if whoever tried to kill your father doesn't stop with him?"

Weiss resumed packing, folding her favorite skirt and placing it on top of the others. "Do you really think that thought hasn't crossed my mind as well? Someone has perpetrated an attack against my family, and my father isn't the only family I have in Atlas. My brother and mother are there, too, and I'm not just going to cower away here in Vale while they could be at risk."

"What are you going to do, then? Try and track down whoever's behind this? What happened to being done 'playing the hero'?"

"Of course not! I just need to see them . . . I need to see him."

"I thought you hated your father."

Weiss had always struggled to put a label on how she felt about that man. She hated what he'd done to her mother; she hated how he'd run her grandfather's company; she hated the way he'd raised her and her siblings. But could she really say she hated him? She wasn't sure—she tried not to think about it too much. More than anything, she just felt the pain of not having the kind of father everyone else did.

Weiss zipped up the suitcase, all ready to go for tomorrow. "He's still my father."

Several minutes later, Weiss led the way out of the sleeping quarters with all the possessions she'd had stored inside the safe house packed into two suitcases. She and Ruby passed by the computer on their way to the exit, its many screens still active. One showed the STC warehouse Torchwick had inhabited, now abandoned but closed off with police tape. Another had a large number 'eight' on it, proving how the Vytal Festival really was just around the corner.

"I'll be back before it starts, anyway," Weiss said as she ascended the stairs.

"Then I'm going with you," Ruby decided, using her good hand to take one of Weiss's suitcases for her.

"Excuse me?"

"I've never been to Atlas, and I've always kind of wanted to—it's the capital of Remnant, after all. It'll be nice to see the place you grew up in."

"But what about school and your recovery?"

Ruby shrugged. They were out of the building now, heading toward the sidewalk where they'd continue for a while before hailing a cab, so as not to draw any attention to the inconspicuous little warehouse that hid the Protector of Vale's base of operations.

"I already took my midterms last week," she said. "Nothing too important's going to happen next week, as we get the second half off and then don't come back until after the festival. And it's not like I'll just stop recovering once we're in Atlas. I don't have any more surgeries ahead, so it's just physical therapy, which I can do anywhere."

"Well . . . fine, but are you sure? I really won't be gone all that long."

"I'm sure. It'll be nice to get away for a little bit. And you've been there for me when I needed you, even when I didn't ask. It's time I returned the favor."

Weiss was about to say more, but then she recognized car up ahead which stopped her dead in her tracks. Stunningly white with gold accents, it was parallel parked between a few other ordinary vehicles, only just having come into view as they came nearer to it.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Weiss said. She'd normally never use such language, but her frustration had just reached its breaking point. Why couldn't he just let her catch just one single break?

The car kicked to life and pulled out onto the road, pulling up beside them. The passenger-side window rolled down and Roman Torchwick looked past Neo at them from the driver's seat. The mute woman smirked and gave a little wave.

"How did you even find us?" Weiss said before he got the chance to make whatever opening remark he had planned.

"I had one of my boys put a chip in your scroll after I picked you up," Torchwick said, "but someone found it and removed it. So, I started feeding you mini tracking devices, and luckily one has still yet to pass through your system."

Weiss was horrified.

"What do you want?" Ruby demanded, taking a step forward and placing herself halfway in front of Weiss.

"Such hostility," said Torchwick. "Look. I'm not here to kidnap you again. Right now, I don't really give a rat's ass about what happens to either of you. A few blocks up that way there's this reputable little jazz club—a nice, public place. Hard to pull anything there. If you want me to keep my end of the deal, you'll meet me there. If you don't show up in thirty minutes, then we'll be on our way out of this awful country, and you can kiss your answers goodbye." He tipped his hat and then drove off without giving them a chance to respond.

It was a short yet thorough debate. They attacked the problem from as many angles as they could.

Neo had lost the fight and was under that woman's control again. Torchwick had decided against retiring and wanted to lure them somewhere Ruby couldn't teleport away from so he could capture them and exploit them for their semblances. He had snipers stationed somewhere and needed to bring them into their line of sight so he could tie off his loose ends. Roman Torchwick, the infamous serial bank robber and mob boss, actually wanted to keep his word and thank Weiss for the service she'd provided him by handing over the information he'd promised.

None of the scenarios seemed all that likely. But after all she'd learned and what she'd seen with her own eyes, Weiss had to believe that the last one was at least plausible. Neo had been under someone's control and Torchwick does care deeply for her—both these things were true. Weiss wouldn't be writing love letters to him any time soon and she still longed to see his face behind bars, but it was proof that some part of that despicable man was still human.

In the end, they both agreed that the rewards outweighed the risks. If he truly had ill intent, walking away right now wouldn't stop him from finding them again. Weiss tried to broach the idea of going in alone, but Ruby wouldn't hear of it—of the two of them, it had actually been her who was more hesitant to go through with this. So together, they hopped in the first cab they saw and rode to the jazz club—but they wouldn't be going in without contingencies.

They pulled up to the building where Torchwick had parked his car. Weiss left her suitcases in the backseat since they'd paid the driver to wait outside with instructions to call the police if they weren't back in half an hour—judging by his lack of an extreme reaction, Weiss guessed it wasn't the first time someone had asked him of something like that. Not only that, but Ruby had set up something of a dead man's switch on her scroll where if she didn't give it her passcode every five minutes, it'd send a message to her uncle with their location and what they'd done. It wasn't ideal, but she couldn't tell him beforehand lest he barge in and try to rescue them before they got the intel they were after.

It was rather busy inside—not surprising for midday on a weekend. Torchwick and Neo sat in a booth in the back, the former wearing a dark trench coat over his usual outfit with his hat angled in a way to cover most of his bright orange hair. This had to be the one point in his life where he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

"See?" he said as they sat down. "I told you they'd show."

Looking mildly annoyed, Neo slipped him some lien which he accepted without comment.

"What happened with those two paragons?" Weiss asked. "How did you survive?"

"I'm good at surviving," said Torchwick. "Always have been. Neo kept them occupied until Thing 1's semblance ran out of time, and then we were gone. She wouldn't kill them, though, because it 'didn't feel right'. Whatever you did to her head seems to have instilled some sort of newfound empathy or whatever."

"You managed to fight them both off without your speed?" Ruby said, impressed.

Neo put her hand on her hip and gave a look that clearly stated she took offense to the idea that she couldn't.

"Who were they?" Weiss said.

"Never needed to know their names," said Torchwick. "I just call them Thing 1 and Thing 2. From what I understand, the guy's some sort of professional assassin and the girl's a random orphan the boss—" he cleared his throat "—my former boss picked up off the street. They're about as close to the top as you can get, as far as henchmen go. You'll rarely see them apart, though, since it's Thing 1's job to train and supervise Thing 2."

"You know all that, but you don't know their names?" said Ruby.

"It's called the art of observation, Red. You hear things, put two and two together, but you can't clue in on a nobody's name—they either tell it to you or they don't."

"Are you telling us that after all of this," Ruby said, "you don't even know the name of the person who killed my mom?"

Torchwick knit his brow. He looked at Neo, but she just shrugged.

"Your boss," Weiss explained. "Or former boss. She murdered Ruby's mother."

You could almost see the light click on in his head. "Ahhh, I see. That explains quite a bit, actually. All your tedious little meddling has been part of some big revenge scheme. I respect that. Still not one hundred percent sure why you became so obsessed with Neo and I, though."

"Neo and me," Weiss corrected out of habit. Torchwick gave her a strange look.

"Do you know her name or not?" Ruby said impatiently.

"Of course I do." Torchwick pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket, just for Neo to snatch it away with a scowl as he was reaching for his lighter. He sighed and turned his attention back to Weiss and Ruby. "I promised I'd tell you, didn't I?"

"Oh, and your word is worth so much," Weiss said.

"True."

Something caught Neo's attention and she sat up straighter. She tugged on Torchwick's sleeve and pointed to something across the room.

"Well, ladies," Torchwick stood and straightened out his coat, "I hate to cut this little chat so short, but it appears I've been recognized. Cops'll probably be here in about five minutes, give or take. Might want to make yourselves scarce, unless you want to answer questions about why you were seen meeting with Vale's number one most wanted." He said the last part as if it was a mark of pride for him.

"What?" Weiss said.

"But you haven't—" Ruby started.

"Her name's Cinder Fall," Torchwick revealed at last. He and Neo left the booth and began heading for the exit, but then he paused and turned back toward them. "Oh, right. Nearly forgot. I've got a bit of a gift for you—I've got no use for it anymore."

He placed a device in Weiss's hands. She turned it over and saw that same strange symbol of a skull merged with a key. "What is this?"

"The key to my success," he answered vaguely. Neo winked from behind him.

"But—!" Ruby tried to say.

Torchwick lifted his hat by way of farewell. "Enjoy your trip."

Then they really did leave. Weiss regretted that they didn't get to squeeze more information out of him—they hadn't even gotten to question him about the Vytal Festival—but she couldn't say she was sad to be rid of him. Soon he'd be on his way out of Remnant, and hopefully out of their lives for good.

Chapter Text

On the backstreets of Vale and above an old antiques shop, hidden from the outside world, was a small apartment. Its owner missed few opportunities to complain about its size. She was used to penthouses and manors, not what she believed to be little more than an attic with its single bathroom and joint kitchen/living room. It was beneath her, but there were no better options.

The money wasn't the issue—far from it. Her meager abode was ideal due to its concealed nature and optimal location. To compensate for it, the woman crammed as much of her lavish lifestyle as she could into the tiny space. Expensive furniture, fancy wine, fine clothing—everything you could ever need to spoil yourself with.

Of course, you couldn't find a single electric source of lighting in any of the rooms. No, instead there were oil lamps, lanterns, candles, and anything else that burned. It was someone's job to keep replacing/refilling them and to make sure they were all lit before she came home. She'd always had a strong fascination with fire—her subordinates didn't understand it, but it wasn't their place to and no one dared to ask.

Currently, she lay in her favorite leather recliner, a deep burgundy and perfectly cushioned to suit her slender figure. She nursed a glass of Chardonnay, a mild reprieve from the torturous tension headache she was suffering from. It had begun almost an hour ago after something unprecedented occurred. Someone or some outside force had fought against her. She'd done her best to struggle against it, but whatever it was had quickly overpowered her—and the iron-tight hold she'd maintained for months was somehow broken. It was vital that she figure out what it was so she could stop it from ever happening again.

Outside the door, unbeknownst to her, two people were arguing—a gray-haired man and a green-haired woman, several years younger than the one inside.

"I don't see why I should be the one to tell her when it's your fault we're even in this mess," said the woman.

"My fault?" the man said. "You're delusional."

"You Blanked the room while Neo was in there. How else could she have gotten free?"

"My semblance doesn't work like that. We tested it long before Neo came into the picture. If you hadn't gotten in the way so much, she wouldn't have handed our asses to us and we could have still brought her back in."

She scoffed. "You wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as you did if I hadn't helped."

"You were sloppy. The second I knocked your knives out of the air you acted like you lost the last six months of training. Care to explain that? You're not using again, are you?" He seized her wrist and pulled it toward him, revealing the crook of her arm where long-faded puncture scars could just barely be discerned.

"Get your hands off me!" She jerked her arm free and drew a knife out of her pocket, which flew out of her hand and hovered midair inches from his face, the point aimed threateningly at his forehead. "I've been clean for years and you know it. But the more you run your pompous mouth the more I wish I wasn't."

He smirked and calmly plucked the blade out of the air, giving it a little twirl and holding it out of reach when she attempted to snatch it back. "Always so fast to jump to your semblance. That's your problem. If you can't hold your own without it then in another situation like that, you're worth about as much as any other common thug."

"I could cut your throat right now and wouldn't need my semblance to do it."

"Oh yeah?" He held the knife by its blade and extended it out toward her. "Prove it."

She tried to grip the handle, but he once again yanked it out of her reach. She accidentally bumped the door in the process, making a sound they both knew wouldn't go unnoticed.

"Cinder may have taken pity on you when you were a troubled teenager," said the man, "but if you don't start proving your value soon, Emerald, then she'll toss you aside just like she did her husband."

"You don't know what you're talking about." With that, she shoved past him and into the apartment.

After hearing the soft bang against the door, Cinder quickly composed herself, replacing all signs of her headache with a calculated expression. Rule number one: show no weakness. She straightened out the chair and swiveled it to face the entrance just in time to see her two most trusted underlings enter. It was immediately clear that they did not have good news to deliver; she'd expected as much.

"Mercury," she said calmly. "What happened?"

"Roman's out," he responded as he slipped the knife into his back pocket. "He and Neo have gone rogue."

"I know," said Cinder, letting a bit of ice into her voice. "I felt it. I asked you what happened."

"Not sure. We tracked him from the bank to some sort of garage where we had to take out a few of his men. We confronted him, then Neo attacked us. They got away."

"That's it?"

"It's all we know."

"There was a girl there," Emerald chimed in.

Cinder turned her attention to her. "And?"

"She disappeared after the fighting started. But I don't think she was just another one of Roman's henchmen. Seemed more like a civilian than anything."

"What did she look like?"

"She was short—not as short as Neo, but definitely skinnier. But she had a hood on, and the lighting sucked, so we couldn't really see her too well."

Cinder turned the back of her chair to them and brought a hand to her temple. Her annoyance that they had nothing of substance to offer was only making her headache worse. "Whoever she is, she's not important."

"She's seen my face," Mercury protested.

"But evidently you haven't seen hers," said Cinder. "If you want to fruitlessly attempt to locate her, do it on your own time. We have more pressing matters to deal with."

"The Vytal Festival?" Emerald said.

There was a long delay before Cinder responded. "I'm calling it off."

"What?" said Emerald.

"But Ironwood—" said Mercury.

"We don't have enough time to salvage this. There will be other opportunities for Ozpin to die. Right now, we need to focus on damage control. It won't be long before Roman's organization falls apart. I want as many of his followers as possible working directly for me now. Whoever doesn't submit . . . take care of them."

"Ironwood's taking over security on the festival," Mercury said. "If we can still carry through—"

The sound of Cinder slamming her wine glass on the table cut him off. "I said there isn't enough time. Brunswick's been compromised. We'd need to rethink our entire plan to make it work. We can't afford to be sloppy. If we want to finish what she started, we can't make the same mistakes. Besides—Ironwood's plenty capable of making himself look like a fool on his own."

Mercury backed off. He knew well enough that any further arguing would be overstepping his bounds. "So what now?"

Cinder ran her fingers through her fading blonde hair. "I want you to lie low and keep your hands clean. And get me some more hair dye. Emerald . . . get to work informing Roman's little mafia that they're under new management."

"You're going out?" said Emerald, who'd just stolen her knife back from Mercury's pocket without him noticing.

"Soon." Cinder stared thoughtfully into the flames of the nearest candle. "It's time to find myself a new thrall."

Chapter Text

"Ruby, we need to—" Weiss began to say as she poked her head through her best friend's doorway.

"Ugh!" Ruby cried out in frustration. She threw what appeared to be a simple scroll across the room, then teleported and caught it before it could collide with the wall. "I don't get it!"

Weiss, attempting not to seem impressed, crossed her arms and waited for the girl to vent.

"I've been at it for hours and I still don't understand how it works!" Ruby said. "If Roman Torchwick can figure this thing out, then why can't I?"

"Say whatever you want about that man," Weiss said, "but you have to admit that he's rather intelligent—he must've been, to pull off everything he did."

"But we're smart, too. We managed to track him down, didn't we?"

"You were shot and I spent several days in captivity due to our imprudent decision-making. 'Smart' is the last thing I'd call us."

The Skeleton Key—that was the name of the mysterious device Torchwick had given them the day before. And that was all they'd managed to learn about it, thanks to the device displaying its name on-screen upon startup like a normal scroll does. Everything else about it, however, was an enigma. Ruby—who was far more tech-savvy than Weiss—had been poring over it since they left the jazz club, but she wasn't having much luck in discovering how it worked or what exactly it did.

They knew that it wasn't a scroll, however much it might look like one. It did not make calls, take photos, store applications, or even have a proper user-friendly interface. All it had was a keyboard and a command prompt that returned "Invalid search" to everything they typed into it. Nothing they tried made any difference. It was a locked vault that refused to give up the secrets contained within.

Once downstairs, Ruby hugged her father goodbye while Weiss knelt to pet Zwei—Taiyang's adorable little mutt that Weiss had instantly fallen in love with—one last time. She'd always wanted a dog as a kid, but her father wouldn't hear of it. "I pay too much to keep this place spotless to have some filthy mongrel tracking mud on my floors," he'd said. No amount of assurances that she'd wipe its paws before bringing it inside would change his mind.

"You be good and keep your nose clean," Taiyang told his daughter. "Atlas is a lot less tolerant of ideas of heroism, and you won't have your uncle there to protect you."

"I know, Dad," said Ruby. "I'm not going to do anything dumb. I'm just going to stay for a few days, explore the city, and come back in time for the festival. Easy-peasy."

He didn't seem entirely convinced. "Well, alright. Just stay safe. And Weiss?"

Weiss ceased her shameless baby-voicing and looked up at him.

"Look after her, won't you?" he said.

"I'll do my best, sir," Weiss assured him.

They left the house with their luggage in tow and made toward the rental van where Winter was waiting for them. When Weiss had asked why they weren't taking a cab again, Winter just said it had something to do with the task she'd been assigned while in Vale. Any further attempts to extract more information out of her had been met with, "It's classified."

"What kind of command prompt doesn't have a 'help' command?" Ruby was back to fiddling with the Skeleton Key using her one good hand as they walked, having evidently chosen not to hear Weiss when she told her to forget about it. "That's like the most important thing you program into it! How else are people supposed to know what the—you know—commands are?"

Weiss sighed. "I don't know, Ruby."

"We know this thing can unlock stuff," she prattled on, not even noticing as Weiss took her suitcase from her and placed it into the trunk. "You saw him use it to open your shackle. And we knew he'd been using something to get through banks' security measures. Why else would he only target places that use Schnee tech in its systems? You said it yourself—he's using Schnee technology to bypass Schnee technology. He must've found the Key in that warehouse somewhere."

"First of all, you've said all this before," said Weiss. They were now buckled into the back of the vehicle with Winter in the driver's seat. "Secondly, this device isn't my family's technology. It bears none of the STC trademarks nor even a passing resemblance to anything we've ever manufactured, and I found nothing relating to it in the files Whitley gave to me. Besides—it doesn't make any sense that that thing could specifically overpower Schnee tech and nothing else. That severe of a vulnerability never would have made it to the production line of a single product, let alone everything we produced."

"Well, it has to do something along those lines. He said it was the 'key to his success'. And then he gave it to you—a Schnee. Why would he do that if it didn't have some sort of relation to you?"

"Don't try to comprehend the mind of a criminal, Ruby. I've been inside his and I still don't. Why are you so obsessed with that thing, anyway? I'd have figured you'd be more focused on finding out who Cinder Fall is."

As grateful as they initially were to have finally received the name they'd been through so much to learn, they'd been met with crushing disappointment upon discovering how much value the name was actually worth. Whether it meant anything to Qrow when Ruby told him, he refused to say. It wasn't a particularly common name by any means, and neither were the two individual names alone. At least, that's what they'd thought. For when typing "Cinder Fall" into a simple search engine, it yielded an unexpected surfeit of results. Even when narrowing it down to just the Cinder Falls within Vale or the surrounding area, there were still quite a few to investigate.

There was a single mother who posted frequent pictures of her kids to social media; a veterinarian in Mistral; a "social influencer" with less than a thousand followers; a dead former city government employee; a first-year grad student; and many others. All of them were named Cinder Fall, yet none had a plausible connection to the murder of Ruby's mother. For all the good it did, Torchwick may as well have just told them the killer's name was Susan.

"I can focus on two things," said Ruby. "It's called multitasking. And we've kind of hit a dead end on that front, anyway, haven't we? This we can still figure out. I just. Need. To. Find. Out. How!"

"Do not throw that out the window," Weiss warned.

"I wasn't going to!"

Sometime later, they came to a stop outside the main entrance to city hall. The statue of the Protector of Vale was gleaming ever-brightly in the morning sun. Two people were waiting at the base of it with their backs turned to them—someone in a wheelchair accompanied by a woman with long hair the same color as Torchwick's. As Weiss stared at the armored figure that struck her with a painful reminder of Jaune, Winter stopped the engine and left the vehicle.

"What are we—?" Weiss began to ask but didn't get a chance to finish. The people at the statue seemed to have been alerted by the sound of the door closing and had turned to face them, which prompted a sudden gasp from Ruby. Now with a better view of them, Weiss could see that the woman was a pale, freckled girl who looked about as young as Ruby, and the figure in the wheelchair was a dark-skinned old man who wore small spectacles and an old-fashioned suit with a bowtie.

"That's Dr. Polendina!" said Ruby, awestruck.

"Polendina?" Weiss said. The name sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't immediately place it.

"Dr. Pietro Polendina! He's one of the most brilliant engineers, scientists, and inventors alive! Dad contracted him to make Yang's arm, it cost a fortune. What's he doing here?"

The man lifted his golf cap in greeting to Winter, momentarily revealing his balding scalp.

"I'm going to get his autograph!" Ruby decided. And without giving Weiss time to say anything else, she bounded out of the car and ran to catch up. Weiss, rather bewildered, followed after her at a much more casual pace.

"Special Operative Winter Schnee," Winter was saying to the pair. "I will be the one escorting you to Atlas."

"Ah, a pleasure!" said Pietro. "May I introduce my daughter, Penny."

"Salutations!" said the orange-haired girl with a bright smile and a salute.

Ruby skidded to a halt beside Winter, looking from her to the pair. "They're coming with us? You're coming with us?"

Pietro was too bemused to respond right away. After a couple of seconds, he opened his mouth, but all that came out was a brief coughing fit.

Winter shot Ruby a scathing look before resuming her usual professional demeanor. "Dr. Polendina, this is Ruby Rose, an associate of my younger sister's, both of whom will also be accompanying us on the flight to Atlas."

Weiss finally caught up and introduced herself. "Weiss Schnee. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I'm a huge fan!" Ruby gushed. "I've been following your work since I was in middle school. You single-handedly designed the semblance-inhibiting chamber used in maximum-security prisons around the world!"

"Oh, well that's only partially true, my dear," said Pietro. "While it's true I developed my design alone, I owe more than just a share of the credit to those who worked on the technology before me, as I couldn't have gotten far without their groundwork."

"Wow," Ruby breathed as if he'd just explained the cure to cancer.

"There were exactly six previous iterations of the semblance inhibiting chamber that became widely used, all made within a few years of each other between 1960 and 1977," said Penny. "My father's was finalized eight years later in 1985 and has remained the most advanced model in circulation ever since, having received only one relatively minor revision that was rolled out in 2011."

Everyone but Pietro stared at her in a stunned silence.

"Uhh," said Ruby, "are you a robot?"

"Ruby!" Weiss hissed, smacking her arm.

"No, silly!" Penny didn't seem at all offended by her comment. "I simply have an exceptional memory!"

Winter cleared her throat. "If we aim to touch down while the day is still young, we should depart now."

"Right you are." Pietro turned his chair slightly so he could give one last forlorn look up at the statue, then gave a nod to Winter to lead the way, who took their bags for them.

"I've got it, Dad." Penny took hold of his wheelchair's handles and pushed him before he could do it himself. Ruby opened her mouth, but he seemed to know what she was going to say.

"I have an electric one back home," Dr. Polendina said. "My own design, of course—but I couldn't get it through customs, so I'm making do with this."

Weiss didn't follow them right away. Instead, she took a moment to gaze at the monument herself. A silver plaque was set into the pedestal on which the armored figure stood.

In honor of Pyrrha Nikos, a woman who sacrificed her own life so that millions of others could live on.

"It is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death."

With all that had happened, Weiss had forgotten about her plans to eventually see it up close. As she looked into the beautiful, sculpted face, she felt a sense of loss, which was strange. She'd never known Pyrrha Nikos. She'd never even heard her name before until she died. But Weiss had spent a month living in her secret hideout, formed a bond with a man she had cared deeply about. There was an alternate universe out there where Weiss and Pyrrha had been friends, and she regretted that she didn't get to live in it.

"Weiss!" Ruby called. Everyone else was inside the van now and waiting on her. Weiss lingered a second longer before hurrying over and joining them, taking the passenger seat while Ruby sat in the back with the Polendinas, talking animatedly to Pietro. It was kind of endearing how star-struck she was by him.

"Why didn't you tell me some world-class scientist was going to be joining us?" Weiss asked.

"It was classified," said Winter, checking the mirrors before pulling out onto the road.

"But it's not like I wasn't going to find out anyway."

"That's irrelevant. I have no business discussing military matters with you."

"I'm your sister."

"You are a civilian, regardless of whether you have been acting as such."

Weiss might have said more, but the note of finality in her sister's tone made her think better of it.

They arrived at the airport in a timely manner, Winter taking them straight onto the airfield rather than parking and going through the building itself. It appeared that she had arranged for a private jet for them to take, which Weiss couldn't be more grateful for. She'd flown coach exactly once in her life when moving from Atlas to Vale, and it had been an absolutely horrid experience. Not only had it been crowded and uncomfortable, having been seated in between two strangers, but they'd also lost the bag containing her favorite towels and bathrobe.

They parked at the hangar and Winter left the keys in the van, Qrow having supposedly promised to come and return it for her. Weiss really didn't understand the nature of that relationship at all. Here he is doing favors for Winter and driving her to the police station when Weiss had escaped from Torchwick, but at the same time, she has the facial expression of having smelled something foul every time his name is brought up. It was a mystery destined to be left unsolved, if Winter continued in her pattern of dodging the subject whenever Weiss dared to raise it.

The pilots were already waiting for them at the base of the plane with the ramp lowered for Pietro. He and Penny boarded first. Weiss chose to take the seat beside Ruby across from them while Winter sat alone in a separate room closer to the cockpit. She felt a bit guilty, but buried it by promising herself she'd change seats after take-off. Right now, she was curious to learn more about this scientist. During the drive, she'd finally recalled where she'd heard his name before—her father had complained about him a couple of times over dinner, calling him a "competitor".

"Do you not have your own private jet, Dr. Polendina?" Ruby asked as the pilots finished loading the last of their luggage on board.

"Oh I don't fly enough to need one," he said. "Penny and I only just came to Remnant for the Vytal Festival, as a matter of fact."

"It's been three years, seven months, and one day since last we traveled far enough away from home to warrant the use of a plane," Penny said.

"If you came to Vale for the festival, then why are you going to Atlas?" Weiss said.

"Your general contacted me some two or three days ago and asked to meet with me," said Pietro. "He didn't give many details, but claimed it was—" He was interrupted by another fit of coughs. Penny put her hand on his shoulder and it soon alleviated, allowing him to finish his sentence. "—urgent."

"Are you okay?" Ruby said.

The co-pilot arrived at that moment and handed him a water bottle. "Please buckle yourselves in. We'll be taking off in one minute."

Pietro thanked him and then was too busy taking a drink to answer Ruby's question, so Penny did it instead. "My father is suffering from a number of physical ailments, but he'll always be fine so long as I'm with him. I'm going into medical school, see?"

"And there's no cure?" said Ruby.

"Unfortunately not," said Pietro. "I was doing temperamental research about a decade past, now. It called for risky experiments—very risky—and I was the only one I was willing to perform them on. I came out of it less whole than I went in."

"You experimented on yourself?" Weiss said, aghast. "Why would you do that?"

He shifted his gaze and seemed to ponder his next words rather carefully. "I required a breakthrough, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself had I not achieved it."

He declined to say any more on the matter, and Penny looked just as eager for a change of subject. Although she was clearly dying to know what that breakthrough was, Ruby had to admit defeat. She chose instead to tell him about how she was studying at Beacon to become an engineer and asked whether he'd be willing to look at some of her designs. He was more than delighted to do so.

The girl waited until it was safe to remove her seatbelt and then retrieved her bag from the overhead compartment and returned to her seat. She ruffled around inside it for a second—Weiss could see how sloppily it had been packed—and in her attempt to find whatever it was she was looking for, accidentally knocked something else out that fell to the ground and rolled several feet away . . . something small and metal.

Pietro sat forward and looked at it, then at Ruby with a strange look on his face—something a lot less casual than what they'd seen thus far. "Where did you get that?"

Whoosh. Ruby Blinked and quickly scooped it up. "Oh, this?" She waved her closed fist, not showing what was inside it. "It's just a pin. I found it at a thrift shop."

Weiss knew for a certainty that that had not been a pin and, judging by the look on his face, Pietro wasn't convinced, either. But, thankfully, he decided not to press the matter, and yelling at Ruby now would only make him even more suspicious, so Weiss would have to do it later. Neither of the Polendinas commented on Ruby's sudden reveal of her semblance, but Penny was now watching her with a renewed interest.

Ruby pocketed the object and went back to her bag, this time successfully extracting some folded-up pieces of paper that she unfurled and handed to the old inventor. He accepted them, but Weiss couldn't help notice that his demeanor was a touch less jolly than before.

It was about forty minutes into the flight when Weiss finally lowered herself into the seat opposite her sister, who was in the middle of typing something on a tablet.

"Any updates?" she asked.

"We've nearly arrived," Winter said without looking up.

Weiss hadn't expected that. It'd taken her over three hours to fly from Atlas to Vale, but that had been a connecting flight. They didn't have to deal with multiple layovers on a private jet.

"Oh," said Weiss. "But that's not what I was referring to. I meant, are there any updates on Father?"

Winter's face remained perfectly passive, though there was a certain rigidity to the way she answered. "He is still stable. I've yet to be informed whether there will be lasting damage."

"And the culprit?"

"The investigation is ongoing."

Winter continued whatever it was she was working on. Weiss frowned. Was she mad at her? Or was the attempt on their father's life affecting her more than she let on?

"Winter . . . You know you can talk to me, right?"

"That's what we've been doing."

"If that's what you want to call this."

She finally stopped what she was doing and looked up at her. "What do you wish to discuss?"

She really had to make this difficult, didn't she? Weiss took a few moments and came up with a new tactic.

"Do you remember that one time when we were kids? Father was away on a business trip and Mother was upstairs with Whitley. It was snowing outside, so I dragged you out to the courtyard and made you help me build a snowman."

"We'd barely finished decorating the head when you mistakenly decapitated it," Winter said with a faint smile. "You were devastated."

"It didn't occur to me that we could just make the head again. I thought I'd actually killed the friend we'd built together and all that work we'd done was wasted. Worst of all, I was scared you were going to be angry with me. But you weren't. You comforted me, assured me we'd be able to fix him and that he'd be alright. You were still just a kid then, too—"

"I was twice your age."

"—but even then you were more of a parental figure for me than Father ever was. You've always put up this facade for my sake so I can see you as this strong person who never shows weakness and always has all the answers. But I'm not a kid anymore. You don't need to do that now."

"You don't need me anymore," Winter said, sounding as if it was something she had to force herself to come to terms with.

"Of course I do! The point I'm trying to make is that we're both adults now. It's okay for you to need me as well."

Winter stared at her. She was difficult to read, but her silence made it clear enough that Weiss had caught her off guard. After contemplating, she said, "I understand."

"Do you?" Weiss said.

"Yes, I do. And I appreciate the sentiment."

Weiss wasn't entirely satisfied with that response. Winter noticed as much and added, "There will be time to converse further in Atlas. Right now I have an email I need to finish. We'll talk more when I'm off duty—I promise."

Content to hold her to that promise, Weiss left her to her work and chose to spend the rest of the flight in Ruby's company—she had a bone to pick with her, anyway. She found the girl sitting in a seat with its back facing the Polendinas, once again attempting to unlock the mysteries of the Skeleton Key. Pietro looked to be having a nap while Penny bobbed her head in tune to whatever music she was listening to through her headphones.

Weiss sat across from Ruby and said with a low but stern voice, "What are you playing at?"

Ruby looked up, bemused though not altogether surprised at the abrupt scolding. "Uhhh . . ."

"Why did you bring that thing?"

The girl frowned as she held up the Skeleton Key.

Weiss sighed. "The inhibitor, Ruby."

"Oh!" Comprehension finally clicked on behind those silver eyes. "Well, why wouldn't I bring a couple? There could be an emergency or something."

"A couple? Jaune said there's only so many of those left!"

"And they're no good just sitting around in a drawer. Look, it's not like I'm planning to use them. But if something happens where we really need to, you'll be glad I brought them."

"Fine. Assume you don't use them. Winter's not coming back with us to Vale—how are you expecting to get those through customs?"

Ruby opened her mouth, but she didn't have a clever answer for that one. After a few moments of thinking, she just decided to dodge the question entirely. "Well, I'm sure I'll think of something. I mean, it was never going to be easy to get past the metal detector anyway, was it? Not with this bullet in my shoulder."

Weiss felt a twinge of guilt, and then was offended that Ruby would even think to pull that card. She couldn't say anything, of course. To think that one tiny lump of lead was all it took to end an argument now.

Conceding defeat, Weiss crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.

"You know," Ruby said after a couple of minutes of silence. "Your sister's about exactly what I expected."

"What do you mean by that?" Weiss said.

"Well, with what you told me about her, I've been picturing an older, scarier version of you. It looks like I was right."

Weiss was flattered. "You really think we're that much alike?"

"I mean, not totally. You, you sometimes have this icy exterior, but I know you're secretly a big ol' softie. You're nice, you're caring, and occasionally affectionate." Ruby wouldn't look at her as she said this, and her cheeks looked as pink as Weiss's felt. "But Winter seems a lot more closed off."

Tell me about it, Weiss thought.

"She comes off like a really strict teacher, kind of, but I can tell she really cares about you a lot."

"We have that in common, you and I. Me with Winter and you with Yang, I mean."

A shadow passed over Ruby's face. "Yeah," she said.

Weiss had known Yang wouldn't be happy after learning about all the antics Ruby had been getting up to and lying to her about, but Ruby had told Weiss things were alright between them. That reaction didn't sound to her like things were alright. Weiss didn't get a chance to comment on it, though, because as she was considering what to say, the plane gave a sudden lurch.

"What was that?" Ruby said.

It had felt like their trajectory had been very sharply changed and then immediately corrected. Pietro woke with a start and Penny lowered her headphones with a look of simple curiosity.

Then came two muffled explosions outside the plane, one right after the other. There was an abrupt drop. Worry quickly grew into panic. Across the aisle, Pietro opened the shutter on his window to reveal empty sky where the left wing should have been. Weiss didn't even have to open her own to know that the right one was missing, too.

They were going down.

Chapter Text

Weiss's stomach leaped into her throat as she sat there, rooted to her seat and frozen in fear. She felt lighter, barely connected to her seat as they dropped in altitude. This was it. After everything she'd been through and managed to survive in Vale, it was a plane crash that was destined to end her life. She didn't even do anything stupid this time!

"Come on!" Ruby said, her voice barely registering. Weiss allowed the girl to pull her to her feet and drag her toward the front of the jet. It was a struggle—Weiss had to grab onto every seat she passed to keep balanced. Pietro was breathing heavily and gripping his armrests tightly. Penny—much respect to her—kept her composure as she comforted him, though even she couldn't completely hide her worry.

The door to the next room opened right before they reached it, in which Winter appeared wearing a parachute.

"The pilots are dead," she said as the plane gave an ominous creak. "Electrocuted by the console. If we want to survive, we need to jump now. There are more parachutes in the back."

"But we don't know how to use a parachute!" Weiss said, panic setting in. Penny was already heading toward the back of the plane in search of more parachutes.

"Then you'll learn!" Winter said. "We haven't got much time and there are no other options."

"My semblance!" Ruby said.

"What?"

"I can teleport! I can get me and one, maybe two people to the ground with my semblance!"

There was another creak. Penny reappeared holding a parachute in each hand, trudging her way back up the aisle. The plane shuddered violently and Weiss almost tumbled into the seat she was clutching onto for support. Then, without warning, a crack appeared in the floor beneath them. A second later, the entire jet split in two.

"Pen—!" Pietro tried to cry out, but a coughing fit interrupted him.

In the blink of an eye, the back half of the plane was gone from view, Penny along with it. They could just barely see the parachutes ripped out of her grip before she disappeared. Wind was now whipping around the inside of the cabin, stealing away cups, cushions, and Pietro's golf cap. Winter—with difficulty—marched right up to the edge and stared out into the open sky. Weiss grabbed her wrist as she passed, afraid that she was going to leave her. Winter turned and took just enough time to give a meaningful look, not to Weiss, but to Ruby. Then she wrenched her arm free and dived out after Penny.

Weiss stared at where her sister had been standing, shocked. She felt Ruby take her hand and squeezed back on it for dear life. Ruby pulled her over to Pietro.

"Dr. Polendina!" she shouted, barely able to make herself heard. "Grab my hand and don't let go!"

The next thing Weiss knew, there was a tugging sensation in her gut, and then they were in free fall. She felt Ruby's hand clutched in hers and nothing else. She kept her eyes shut tight and was waiting, praying, for the nightmare to be over.

Another tug, and they were no longer falling. All the momentum they'd been accumulating a second previously was gone in an instant. They were safe.

Weiss felt the cool, hard ground under her back. For a moment, she just laid there, but then her eyes snapped open and she propped herself up on her elbows, peering up at the sky. There was no sign of Winter or Penny, but she could see the front half of the plane plummeting toward the ground. She followed it for about ten seconds until it crashed off in the distance. Whether the impact could be heard from here, she didn't know; her ears had popped a while ago from the air pressure and now all she could hear was ringing.

She lowered herself back onto her back and for a solid minute, she stayed like that, in awe of what had just happened. Were traumatizing, life-threatening events just something that she has to deal with now? How many more would she have to endure before her life could go back to being somewhat normal? She'd managed to go her entire life without a single one, and now she was on her—what was it, sixth?—in three months. At this rate, she'd have her own PTSD to take care of before Jaune ever let her heal his.

It was the cold that eventually brought her back to her senses. Fall had only just begun, and they were close to Atlas, which was infamous for its harsher weather. She was just glad it wasn't snowing yet, though that was little comfort with the chill wind biting at her skin. Why hadn't she worn a coat onto the flight?

Weiss got to her feet and properly took in the scenery. They'd landed in a forest, which would put them a good several miles south of Atlas. The evergreen pines had not turned orange like the trees back in Vale's parks, their needles bearing the same thin layer of frost that coated the ground. They definitely wouldn't be able to walk the rest of the way, not in these conditions and not with Pietro missing his wheelchair. But they were close enough that surely their crash wouldn't go unnoticed, which was pretty much the only silver lining in this situation.

Ruby was helping Pietro move so his back was against a tree. Both looked uninjured, but neither of them seemed to be in the best shape. Ruby's left arm was quivering worse than ever and she looked on the verge of collapse. Pietro was once again being assaulted by his throat, but the coughs weren't subsiding as easily as they had done before.

"You okay?" Ruby called over to Weiss, her voice drowsy.

"Okay" was the last word Weiss would use to describe herself at that moment. But she heard her, which meant her ears had cleared up, so that was something. She was unharmed—physically, at the very least—and safe, which she knew was what Ruby was really asking.

"Yes," Weiss said, getting up and walking over to her, "but you're not."

"Pssh," Ruby said as she failed to stand up, instead stumbling and landing in a sitting position. "I'm fine, totally fine."

"Rest." Weiss put a firm hand on her shoulder, preventing the girl from trying again. "You've never teleported that far before, or with two other people."

"Fine . . ." Ruby said, though it didn't seem she had much choice in the matter. No sooner had she laid back than had she fallen asleep, unconsciously curling up and hugging her arms to her chest.

Weiss pulled Ruby's hood over her head to give the girl a bit of extra protection from the cold before checking on Pietro. His coughs had finally let up and all his focus was on some twigs and leaves on the ground beside him.

"Try to collect some wood and stones, my dear," he said, sounding unusually calm for someone who'd just watched his daughter thrown into free fall without a parachute fastened. "Smoke will make us easier to find. It'd also be best if we're not icicles by the time help gets here."

"Shouldn't we try to contact someone?" Weiss found her scroll undamaged in her pocket.

"If only that was possible."

Weiss was confused by what he meant until she unlocked her device to find the words, "Out of range" displayed at the top of the screen. This, of course, didn't make any sense. They weren't nearly that far away from the city.

"No service?" she said in disbelief. "How can there be no service?"

He had to wait until he finished coughing before he could answer. "I suspect outside interference. Time more to discuss it once the fire's going."

"Right," Weiss said, though she still didn't move. "Do you . . . think they're alright?"

"Certainly. Now the resources, my dear."

She wished she had his confidence. Winter actually had a parachute when she jumped and Weiss was barely keeping a lid on her worry.

It took almost half an hour, but with Pietro's patient guidance, Weiss managed to build a functioning fire with the materials she'd gathered and the tinder he'd ignited. She kept glancing over at Ruby as she worked to check on her, but the girl was perfectly fine, except for some slight shivering that just made Weiss want to finish the work faster. The result wasn't the grandest campfire in the world, but it emitted enough heat to keep them somewhat comfortable and a thin column of smoke that would hopefully be noticeable from the sky.

All the while, her mind didn't stop racing. "Outside interference," Pietro had said. All the odds had been stacked against them, almost as if to make absolutely sure that no one aboard that plane would make it off alive. The wings, the pilots, the service—the more she thought about it, the more certain she was of the unsettling truth that what had happened to them was no accident.

"Who could've done this?" Weiss sat on the ground with her arms crossed tightly across her chest, staring into the flames.

"Who indeed," muttered Pietro, his head leaning against the tree as he watched the sky. His voice sounded more hoarse than usual. Weiss wished she could get him some water. Perhaps it wasn't such a blessing that the weather was so clear after all—if it was snowing, they could melt that down to drink.

"Why would they do this?"

The old man said nothing. It didn't matter. Jacques Schnee is nearly murdered, and then two days later, a plane carrying two of his daughters is sabotaged. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Someone had declared war on Weiss's family. Perhaps it was stupid to come here after all.

It could've been anyone. Her father wasn't exactly the most respectable man alive; he was in prison for a reason. With all the smaller businesses he'd destroyed, political bribes he'd given, workers he'd mistreated, and all the other toes he'd stomped on, it'd be faster to list everyone who didn't want him dead.

Weiss tossed more sticks into the fire as the girl next to her shifted in her sleep. If she were awake, she'd find some way to look on the bright side. Weiss did her best to emulate her way of thinking, and as a result, had to admit that things could be a lot worse. If Winter had managed to catch Penny and get safely to the ground, then it was quite possible that Weiss's decision to come to Atlas had saved lives. If she hadn't, Ruby wouldn't have come with her, and then more than just the pilots could have died . . . two innocent people whose names she'd never even learned.

Things could be a lot worse, but they could be a lot better, too.

The unceasing rustling of branches in the wind was eventually broken up by the sound of helicopter blades. Weiss listened as it grew louder until she was able to see the vehicle descend and land somewhere nearby. Several minutes later, a group of four soldiers emerged from the trees.

Weiss followed them to the clearing they'd landed in, one soldier carrying Pietro and another carrying Ruby. She was apprehensive to board another aircraft so soon, to say the least, but it wasn't like there were any other options.

"What about Winter and Penny?" she asked as the rotors began to rev back up.

"We've got other teams searching," the one beside her answered. "Our priority is getting you lot to safety."

And sure enough, once they were in the air, Weiss could see two more helicopters hovering low over the treetops. She even saw another column of smoke and thought it could be them, until she realized it was one of the plane's engines burning beside half of a broken wing.

Weiss tore her eyes away from the window and kept them on the floor for the rest of the short flight. That way, she could imagine Winter and Penny had already been found and were in another helicopter not far behind them.

Atlas was a unique city. Being home to Amity Base—the largest military base in Remnant, which also doubles as the headquarters for the Department of Defense—Atlas has no municipal police department. Instead, law enforcement was handled by enlisted soldiers stationed in several smaller bases located around the city in place of precincts. Similarly, all of Atlas's prisons were under the direct control of the military. It was due to these facts that the city sports one of the lowest crime rates in the country, and that vigilantism was almost non-existent there.

The helicopter landed at one of those smaller bases, where General Ironwood himself, the highest-ranking military official for the past decade, awaited them. Weiss had met him before—her Father had invited him over at the manor a couple of times to argue about decisions that affected STC imports/exports—but she had never exchanged more than simple pleasantries with him. This time was no different.

"Miss Schnee. I'm relieved to see you in good health," was all he said to her before moving on to dish out orders to his underlings. Weiss might have imagined it, but he almost seemed a bit distracted.

The three of them were moved to a medical ward to be examined for injuries. Weiss and Ruby were cleared and left to rest—Weiss with a blanket draped over her shoulders and a cup of coffee in her hands—and Pietro was taken into another room for a more thorough analysis. He tried to insist his respiratory problems were pre-existing, but his incessant coughing hindered his arguments.

Weiss's cup was half empty when someone came by to question her about the crash. She was getting so used to recounting near-death experiences that she almost launched straight into it, but then a thought came to her. They'd want to know how they survived without any signs of parachutes or wreckage anywhere near where they were found, but she couldn't tell them. Ruby's semblance was still unregistered. Saying too much would get her into a lot of trouble, so Weiss just mumbled something about "it all happened so fast", apologized, and refused to elaborate until she could speak to Winter.

It probably wouldn't make a difference. This wasn't something that could just be swept under the rug. Ruby's semblance would have to come out into the open and the Civil Anomaly Bureau would get involved. The best they could hope for was that the CAB could be convinced that Ruby had only just discovered her semblance today.

Weiss stood. If they had any hope at all of passing off that lie, they needed to get everyone in the know involved, including Pietro. She just had to hope she could talk to him before he said anything, if he hadn't already. He had no idea Ruby was unregistered—he might not even understand the full scope of what that meant, being from a different country with different regulations.

Weiss was about to step out into the hallway when she heard urgent voices that gave her pause.

". . . lost a lot of blood. We're bringing her into intensive care."

"Good. I want to receive immediate updates on any changes to her condition."

"Yes, General."

"Please, sir." That was Penny's voice. "Allow me to assist you. My—"

"You've done enough," said Ironwood, not unkindly. "The professionals will take it from here."

Weiss peeked out into the hallway and saw a group of people heading toward her with a gurney. It didn't take her long to realize it was her sister lying unmoving in it, her uniform tattered and bloodstained, red matting the white of her hair. Penny's clothes were in a similar state, though she moved without showing any signs of pain or injury.

"What happened?" Weiss demanded as fell into stride alongside them, not caring that she was speaking to one of the most powerful men in the country.

Ironwood halted and turned to face her and Penny, the doctors continuing onward with Winter and disappearing around a corner. "Miss Polendina here should be able to inform you. I want you both to wait back in the ward. All you need to know now is that Winter is presently stable and we believe her life is no longer at risk, though she is still gravely injured and requires treatment. You will be permitted to see her afterward."

"No longer?" Weiss said.

"Please, I can still help—" Penny tried to say.

"Your father will be wanting to see you as soon as possible," said Ironwood. "I've sent him word of where to find you. You should be there when he returns."

The man left with a quick gait in the same direction the doctors had gone with Winter, not giving them a chance to protest further. Weiss had half a mind to ignore his instructions and follow him anyway, but Penny had grabbed her wrist and was trying to lead her back toward where Ruby lay sleeping. In the end, Weiss's desire to stay by her sister's side was overpowered by her need to know how she'd gotten hurt in the first place.

Back in the ward, Weiss immediately rounded on the poor ginger-haired girl, who just happened to be the only other person present to take the brunt of her fury. "What. Happened?"

"Your sister attempted to save me," Penny said with a gentle voice. "However, when she finally caught up with me, we were already too close to the ground. The parachute opened, but it couldn't slow our descent quickly enough. We landed badly, broke several bones and hit our heads, and she was impaled by a loose branch."

"Impaled?"

"I healed her," Penny quickly continued. "As best I could. I covered the most urgent damage, but there was only so much I could do for everything else given the circumstances."

"What do you mean you healed her?"

Penny held up her own arm and gave it a firm pinch. Weiss watched in amazement as the marks left by her fingernails rapidly faded and then vanished entirely.

"I'm a paragon," Penny said. "My body heals itself at an accelerated rate—that's why I'm perfectly healthy despite suffering as much damage as your sister—but I can use it to help others, too, to a certain extent. It's more effective the more I understand the injury. If I could be there for your sister's analysis, I could do more for her. I'm sorry."

Weiss gaped at her, her emotions beginning to level out. "You're . . . sorry? You saved her life!"

Penny smiled. "And she saved mine."

Weiss felt a very fleeting urge to hug her, which was absurd as they'd only just met. Ruby was rubbing off on her too much.

"Dad!" Penny said before Weiss could decide on a more appropriate way to show her gratitude. Pietro had reentered the ward in a wheelchair pushed by the same doctor who'd looked them over earlier. Penny wasted no time in hurrying over to embrace him.

Weiss left them to it and returned to the bed she'd sat on before where she could continue to worry about her sister in silence. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders—Weiss knew she was alive now, though not how long it'd take her to recover. Winter could be up and back to form by the end of the day with the help of Penny's semblance, but there's no way they'd ever allow that. They were in Atlas—one of the last places in Remnant any paragon would go to be treated with respect. That's why Weiss had left in the first place . . . one of the reasons, at least.

First her father, now her sister—two Schnees brought to near death within three days. It wouldn't end here. Weiss had come back for her father, but that would have to wait. If all her family members' lives were in danger, then first and foremost, she'd have to break a promise.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day crawled by at a snail's pace. Weiss's request to leave the facility had been denied and she still wasn't allowed to see Winter until the doctors had finished with her. Weiss wasn't tired, Ruby was still asleep, and apart from asking them to keep quiet about Ruby's semblance, she didn't want to disturb the Polendinas. She had nothing to entertain herself with except her scroll, which she could hardly even focus on with everything swimming through her head.

The longer she bored herself to death in that quiet medical ward, the more she realized just how angry she was. She was angry with Ironwood for keeping her locked up like some misbehaving child. She was angry at whoever was behind this whole mess. She was angry at whatever sick, twisted god decided to turn her entire life into a giant circus act. And, as unfair as Weiss knew it was, she was angry with Winter for leaving her behind and nearly getting herself killed without so much as a final glance at her.

Weiss pocketed her scroll, having been blindly browsing through news articles without comprehending a single word. She didn't want to waste any more of its battery, since she no longer had a way to charge it. Her cord was burning somewhere in the woods along with the rest of her luggage—something else she was angry about. She should have been glad at least to have service again, but she wasn't making any real use of it.

She'd managed to overhear why it'd been lost in the first place from some soldiers passing in the hallway. By the sounds of it, right before the crash, the plane had completely vanished off their radar. That's why it took so long to send out rescue teams. The working theory is that the person behind this attack managed to establish some sort of artificial dead zone just outside the city, then waited for the plane to enter it before initiating the sabotage. Perhaps the hope was that any potential survivors would get eaten by a wolf or something before anyone realized they needed rescuing. Whatever the case, it further solidified just how dangerous and capable this unknown enemy was. Weiss doubted that Torchwick could have pulled off anything of the sort.

Having grown tired of waiting, Weiss got out of bed and strode across the room. It'd been hours now and she'd still not heard anything about Winter's condition, and there was no way she was waiting until morning; she wouldn't be able to fall asleep even if she tried.

Halfway toward the hallway, a bit of movement from Ruby's bed gave her pause. She could have sworn she saw her eyes open for a second, but the girl was apparently still in a deep sleep. Deciding she might have imagined it, Weiss continued on her way.

Out in the hallway, she turned the same corner she'd seen General Ironwood turn, then began glancing through every door's window. She got to the end of the hall without seeing Winter in any of them.

"General Ironwood instructed us to remain in the ward," a voice said as she debated whether to turn left or right.

Weiss jumped and found Penny standing behind her, a curious look on her face.

"What are you doing?" Weiss demanded. "Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"General Ironwood instructed us to remain in the ward," Penny repeated. "You appear to be disobeying those instructions."

"I'm looking for my sister."

"General Ironwood said you would be permitted to see—"

"I know what he said! And I don't care."

Penny tilted her head, staring contemplatively at her for several moments before finally saying, "I saw a sign pointing intensive care toward the east side of this floor."

"I— um, thank you," Weiss said warily, still not certain the girl wouldn't try to stop her. She turned back toward the intersection, but still had no idea where to go.

"That way." Penny nodded toward the right.

"Thanks." Weiss set off again, then paused once more when she realized that Penny was still following her. "You're . . . coming with me?"

"Yes."

Weiss waited, but she offered no elaboration. "Why . . .?"

Penny frowned. "Do you not want me to? I'm sorry, I merely wished to express my gratitude to her, should she be awake."

"Oh. Well, fine, just please stop walking behind me. It's creepy."

Together they proceeded until they spotted another sign showing they'd reached the ICU. Weiss grew nervous when a couple more soldiers passed by going the opposite way, but neither paid them any mind. Before she could start looking through windows again, Penny spotted a room up ahead with a partially open door. Weiss reached it first.

Inside, Winter was lying awake in bed. Her leg was in a sling and her stomach wrapped in bandages, but she looked less pale than before. She was talking to General Ironwood who sat in a chair beside her, wearing an expression that one could almost describe as soft. Neither noticed Weiss watching them, unable to hear the words being spoken.

Weiss felt two emotions: a heavy sense of relief, as well as a strong desire to get as far away from this room as possible.

"Where are you going?" said a confused Penny, struggling to match her pace.

"I saw what I needed," Weiss said. "I'm going back."

"But don't you want to speak with her?"

"No."

Penny was smart enough not to press it further. They continued in silence, not slowing down until they were back in the hallway right outside the ward where Ruby and Pietro still remained.

"I noticed your friend was pretending to be asleep when you left," Penny said, showcasing her complete lack of social awareness. "Why was that?"

Weiss couldn't answer her.

The next morning, they were moved to Amity Base where they'd be staying for the duration of their time in Atlas. Weiss, Ruby, Penny, and Pietro were all given tiny rooms in a building near the perimeter. They were also forbidden from leaving the grounds without express permission and a guard to accompany them.

"Any single person aboard that flight could have been the attacker's intended target," Ironwood had said. "Until such a time as the culprit is apprehended, you will all be treated as if there is still someone aiming to kill you and be granted the utmost protection. That crash should never have happened and stands as a failure on my part to keep you safe during your journey. So you can consider yourselves my personal guests while you are here, though I know it can't even begin to make up for what you went through."

The base was basically a small city in and of itself. There were buildings scattered in every direction, all connected with paved roads constantly in use by various military vehicles—Ruby was enamored by the tanks driving by. In sections of the base on the way to the quieter part where their accommodations stood, you could see troops jogging while raising their knees to their chests, practicing their shooting, and running through obstacle courses. These were the well-trained men and women the people of Atlas trusted to protect them, not vigilantes.

Weiss saw Winter once that morning, right before they left. It was a brief interaction where Weiss was more closed-off than her for once, and then they were loaded into separate vehicles. Weiss's behavior did not go unnoticed by Ruby, who made one attempt to pry before accepting that Weiss did not want to talk about it.

Ruby didn't notice that Weiss was now also mad at her, however, as she was too invested in the Skeleton Key and behaving unusually distant even when the device was stowed away. Weiss didn't understand why her friend was acting like this, but she had too much on her mind to give it much thought. That's why when she went to Sergeant Clover Ebi—the man in charge of overseeing them—with a request to go into the city, she went to him alone.

"Okay," Clover said without taking much time to consider it.

"Really?" Weiss said, having expected some resistance.

"Yes. Marrow here will be your guard."

"What?" said a darker man with long, green hair who had to be only a handful of years older than Weiss. "Clover, surely my time is better spent—"

"The rest of the team has already got the other leads covered," Clover cut in. "This is directly related to the case, so perhaps you'll learn something useful." It didn't sound like he much believed his own words.

All further protests shut down, Marrow reluctantly led Weiss to a truck and opened the passenger door for her, all the while muttering about "babysitting", "grunt work", and "beneath my rank". Weiss abstained from commenting, as she was just glad to be getting what she wanted.

The psychiatric hospital was only a twenty-minute drive away. It was a medium-sized building with two levels and was about a block down from another, much smaller base. Marrow parked at the back of the parking lot next to a group of several more military trucks.

"As you can see," he said, "it's well-guarded. We've had it like this for the past few days. No one who doesn't belong here is getting in. That alleviate your concerns?"

It did. But she'd already come this far.

"I still want to see her," Weiss said.

They exited the vehicle and approached the building. Weiss harbored a small contempt for the building. It shouldn't have to exist. If it were up to her, she'd go inside and cure every last one of its residents. But even though she hadn't been treating the law with too much respect lately, there were still some that she couldn't break. She can only use her semblance on people who consent to it. In the case of those not well enough to do so themselves, the decision falls to their family . . . family who'd rather let their sick relatives continue to suffer than allow a "lusus naturae" touch them.

A lone soldier armed with an assault rifle manned the entrance, who gave Marrow a nod and let them through. Inside, there were several more either patrolling the hallways or stationed at various locations throughout the building. On the upper floor, there were two flanking the entrance to a large room that had music coming from within.

Inside, there were tables, chairs, and couches strewn about, occupied by the building's various patients, tended to by the staff. There were a couple of televisions mounted on the wall playing soap operas on low volume—the patients in front of them either showed no interest at all or watched with rapt attention, nothing in between. A piano sat at the far end of the room by the window, which was the source of the music—a slow yet happy melody that Weiss knew. She could almost feel the keys against her fingertips as the notes met her ears.

And there, isolated from the others with two more soldiers to herself, was a middle-aged woman with snow-white hair, empty eyes, and a sad expression permanently etched on her face. She sat upright with perfect posture, her hands folded over her lap, but didn't look at all present in her own body. She had an uncanny resemblance to a porcelain doll.

Weiss started toward her while Marrow hung back by the door, but then the pianist finished his song. A couple of patients clapped, most didn't notice, and one continued to sway on the spot as if the music were still going. It was when the man stood from the piano bench and took a small bow that Weiss realized it was her brother. He sported the same main physical features as his sisters—white hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He was shorter than Winter but taller than Weiss—though not by much—had a slender build, and his face naturally rested in a polite yet confident expression. He constantly gave off the impression of someone trying to act humble but was unable to completely hide the fact that he believed himself superior to you. He caught her gaze and gave a warm smile.

Weiss hesitated for a few moments before changing course and crossing the length of the room.

"Keine Lossprechung," she said. "I thought you hated that song."

"I also hated olives, at one point," said Whitley. "You learn to appreciate things as you get older. It reminds me of simpler times, when my biggest annoyance was something as innocuous as you playing the same song at every single practice. I see you've dyed your hair." There was a a bit of disdain in the way he looked at her black ponytail.

Weiss chose to skip past the comment. "I wasn't expecting to run into you here."

"Nor I you. I wasn't confident you'd come at all."

"Of course I came! Father's attack concerns me just as much as it concerns you."

"More so, it seems. I'm not much concerned by it at all, personally."

"Excuse me?"

"It was another inmate who made the attempt on Father's life, and he's expected to make a full recovery. Honestly, the tightened security around this place is an unnecessary precaution. You needn't work yourself up over this."

Weiss was so taken aback by literally everything he just said that she almost couldn't decide what to address first. "Work myself up? Winter and I nearly died in a plane crash yesterday, only two days after Father's attack. She's still bedridden. But that's nothing to 'work myself up' over, right?"

It was Whitley's turn to be surprised. "This . . . is the first I'm hearing of this. I'm sorry, that must have been dreadful."

"Someone is out to get us. This security is more than necessary. And what makes you think it was another inmate that attacked Father? No one's said anything to me about that."

"I pride myself on keeping well-informed. But honestly, the timing of this accident of yours could very well be happenstance."

"It was sabotage. Even Ironwood thinks so."

"And who's to say you and our dear elder sister were the intended victims? Was there no one else aboard that plane?"

Weiss thought of Pietro, but who'd want to kill a harmless old scientist? "Yes, but—"

"By the sounds of it, there was hardly any time between you deciding to come to Atlas and actually departing. It's highly unlikely anyone with malicious intent could have even known you were aboard that plane. Coincidences aren't uncommon. There's no evidence your crash and Father's attempted murder are in any way connected, nor that any more such events are yet to come. Put it out of your mind, and try not to do anything . . . ill-advised." By the way he was talking down to her, you'd think she was the youngest and not him.

"What's that supposed to mean? Don't you even care that Winter and I nearly died? What am I saying? Of course not—you always hated Winter."

He looked genuinely hurt by that. "Winter and I may have never seen eye to eye, but don't think me so cold-hearted."

Weiss brushed him aside. "And what about Father? You were always his favorite."

He had a steely look in his eye as he said, "And thus the one whom his actions have hurt the most. I'm done talking about this. Listen, this chance encounter affords us an opportunity. There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. Will you meet me at the old family manor later today?"

"What? Why there? We don't own the place anymore."

"That's not a problem. Does one o'clock work for you?"

Weiss, becoming increasingly suspicious, only just noticed how costly his clothes looked. "What have you—?"

"One o'clock," he repeated. He turned toward the entrance, then hesitated as their mother entered his line of sight. When he spoke next, his tone was softer, more sincere. "Don't expect too much from her. I've been here every morning since I arrived, but . . ." he sighed. "Do let me know if things turn out differently this time."

Marrow stopped him on his way out, but their interaction was brief. Then her brother was gone. For a moment, she just stood there, flooded with mixed feelings about that conversation. She checked her scroll—it was only nine. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. There were still four hours before she either met Whitley or stood him up. There were more pressing concerns at the moment.

Weiss approached the two soldiers, who moved to give her a bit more privacy with the solitary patient. Weiss pulled up a chair and sat directly across from her, and the woman continued to stare blankly, oblivious to everything.

"Hello, Mother," Weiss said awkwardly. "I'm back."

Willow Schnee made no sign of having heard her.

"I know I said that the next time I came here, I'd be able to help you. I . . . don't think I'm able to keep that promise." Weiss mourned the loss of her notebook—the one containing all the knowledge she'd gained of her semblance, both from her own experiences and from the woman in front of her. She'd always held out hope that that notebook held the answers she sought—that if she cured enough people and learned enough about her semblance, she'd have enough clues to piece together how to heal the mind of the one person she wanted to above all others. Now that notebook was little more than a pile of ash somewhere in the Atlesian forest. She feared that when she got around to trying to recreate it, she'd forget a crucial detail.

"I'm settling into Vale alright," Weiss said. "It's a lot more exciting than Atlas, though that's not always been a good thing. The people are generally more accepting, even though the bar was set pretty low. I've been able to help a lot more people than I could've done here.

"I . . . I also met someone. Her name's Ruby, and I'm not sure how it happened, but she became my best friend. She's literally saved my life multiple times. I think you'd like her. I ran into Blake again, too. She's dating Ruby's sister, funnily enough. I still haven't forgiven her for leaving the way she did, but . . . we'll get there, I think."

Weiss's words caught in her throat as the vivid image of a pristine gravestone came to mind—someone else's memory of another time a daughter spoke about her life to a mother who did not hear her. Weiss stared into her mother's face, as hollow and lifeless as that framed picture of Summer Rose, and her will to keep talking died. She no longer wished to be here. And yet, it wasn't until a couple of minutes later that—startled by an unexpected voice—she stood.

"Miss Schnee! What a positively splendid surprise to see you here. Nearly didn't recognize you with that hair."

Klein was a balding, portly man with a large mustache and stood even shorter than Weiss. He was her mother's main caregiver here. Back when her mother was first admitted and Weiss came to visit regularly, his jovial and benevolent nature had become one of the sole highlights of her life. He was among the few things that actually made her sometimes miss Atlas.

"Klein!" Weiss had to recompose herself. "I didn't see you on my way in. I thought you might not be working today."

"Perish the thought! If I wasn't, I couldn't have stumbled into you here, so unexpectedly. I trust I know why you are here?" He side-eyed the soldiers, then lowered his voice and put on a playfully serious expression. "These ones have been a real pain in my backside."

Weiss giggled, but she quickly grew somber again. "I take it you heard about my father, then."

"Indeed. Although, it appears there's plenty I still haven't heard about." He gestured toward her face. It took her a second to realize he was talking about her scar.

"Oh, right," she said, habitually running a finger along it as she often did whenever she remembered its existence. "I hardly think about it anymore."

That was true, although she still couldn't keep her mind from wandering to the same dark places every time she looked in a mirror.

"I'd be delighted to hear all about it, but I'm afraid I'm on the clock and have a schedule to keep," said Klein. "Your mother's due an appointment with her psychiatrist. If you're sticking around a bit longer, we can talk more some other time."

"I'm not sure how long I'm staying. I didn't think that far ahead. I just know I plan to be back in Vale in time for the Vytal Festival."

"Then we'll have plenty of time. But as for right now . . ."

Weiss looked back at her mother. "Can I just have one more minute with her? I . . . I need to try . . . at least once, while I'm here."

"Of course, of course." Klein stepped back to give her some space.

Weiss sat back down and scooted her chair closer to her mother. Already bracing herself for disappointment, Weiss slowly raised her hand and touched her mother's cheek—the woman didn't seem to notice. Weiss closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and . . . nothing happened. And the promise was broken.

Weiss sighed and lowered her hand, an icy dagger finding its way into her heart. She felt the tears about to well up, but she had long since learned how to fight them back. Weiss stood and turned her back to the woman. She saw Marrow had crossed the room and was now staring out the window across the parking lot.

Klein gave her a sympathetic look but knew better than to make any reassuring comments. "Come, Willow dear. It's time to go."

Weiss's mother moved obediently at his touch, allowing him to gently guide her into a standing position and lead her to the door, but her gaze never shifted and her expression stayed the same. The two soldiers followed after them.

Weiss waited until they had plenty of time to have traveled and vacated the hallway before catching Marrow's attention so they could finally leave this depressing place.

Chapter Text

"Why isn't Whitley being forced to stay at Amity with us?" Weiss asked on the drive back.

"None of you are being forced to do anything," said Marrow. "He refused us. You have every right to as well, but if you want to keep enjoying the General's hospitality and our protection, then you need to follow our rules."

Weiss had no issue with that. She was perfectly content being safe in the heart of the largest military in the world and having a trained soldier as her personal bodyguard. But she couldn't explain why her brother didn't want that. He couldn't actually believe everything that had happened was just an unfortunate series of events—he had to realize the danger they were all in. So what was he playing at?

She felt like he was hiding something. What had he been up to this past year when he hadn't even been in the country? Why was he suddenly alright with having contact with her after all this time of avoiding her? What did he want to meet her for? And what had he meant when he told her not to do anything "ill-advised"? It was like he was expecting her to do something stupid. Granted, her track record over the past couple of months didn't exactly invalidate that, but it wasn't like he knew about what she'd been up to with Ruby.

Although the idea of denying Whitley what he wanted by not showing up was appealing, Weiss's desire for answers swayed her decision in the other direction.

"I have somewhere else I need to be today, at one," she said.

"Take it up with Clover," said Marrow.

"But can't you—?"

"I've got more important things to do than chauffeur you around all day. This is a one-time thing."

Weiss didn't press it further. When they arrived back at Amity Base, Weiss followed Marrow into the administrative building, hoping to ask Sergeant Ebi for another foray into the city. She was supposed to see her father in Atlas Supermax sometime that day as well, so she figured she could meet Whitley either before or after that.

Inside, Clover was holding a scroll in his palm. He was joined by three other people—a pale and lanky man with a shaved head and a poise to rival Whitley's; a tan and rather muscular woman with a short brown ponytail and her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders; and, the shortest of the bunch, a woman with skin only a bit lighter than Marrow's and white highlights in the brown of her low cut mohawk. They all wore uniforms identical to Marrow's: the standard white and navy blue, but with unique red accents that Weiss hadn't seen on any other soldiers. According to their name tags, they were called Vine Zeki, Elm Ederne, and Harriet Bree, respectively.

"Ah," said Clover. "Marrow just walked in with Weiss Schnee, sir."

"Good," Ironwood's voice said from the scroll. "Detective Amin, report."

"I encountered nothing out of the ordinary, General," said Marrow. "All was secure. We ran into Whitley Schnee, but he's continuing to reject our protection."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir." The other three seemed amused by his lack of findings.

"Thank you. Sergeant Ebi has further instructions for you. Everyone else, you have your orders."

"Yes, sir," they all said in unison. A click indicated that the call disconnected.

"Weiss," Clover said as he pocketed his scroll. "Since you're here, I think it's a convenient time for you to meet the team who is working to track down the person or persons responsible for the attempt on you and your relatives' lives. These four—you've already met Marrow—are my Ace Operatives, Atlas's most qualified detectives."

All eyes were on her. Vine gave her a calculating look, Elm smiled, and Harriet appeared to be sizing her up, unimpressed.

"It's nice to meet you," Weiss said courteously.

"Come on, let's move," Harriet said to her associates after giving only a nod of acknowledgement to Weiss. "Don't be too far behind, Marrow. We might need you to sniff something out."

The three left, leaving Weiss alone with Marrow and Clover.

"You should get back to your quarters," Clover told her. "We'll update you on any major developments."

"Actually, there was something else I wanted to ask you," said Weiss. She then posed her request.

"I'm sorry, but no," was his response.

"Excuse me?"

"With the current state of things, the General doesn't want you visiting your father until after the prison's gone into lockdown, which doesn't happen until nightfall. And we can't justify spending more resources escorting you into the city three times in one day."

"But—"

"I'm afraid this isn't open to discussion. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to reschedule."

"I— I understand," Weiss said, surprised by her own disappointment.

Once outside, Weiss took out her scroll and stared at her brother's name at the bottom of her contacts. She was about to dial it when she noticed the vehicle parked directly in front of the residential building she was staying in—a black SUV with tinted windows, quite unlike every other vehicle you could see within the base. Weiss decided to investigate, an excuse to put off making the call.

She found nothing out of the ordinary inside until she reached Ruby's room, which was adjacent to her own. She heard a voice through the door that she didn't recognize. Not bothering to knock, she opened it and stepped inside. A very short old woman in a nice suit stopped in the middle of her sentence and turned to face her. Ruby, who was sitting on her bed, gave Weiss a wide-eyed look, a silent plea for help.

"And you are . . .?" said the old woman, annoyed by the interruption.

"Weiss Schnee," Weiss said. "Who are you?"

"Oh!" The woman's attitude rapidly changed. "Miss Schnee, I didn't recognize you! What fortuitous timing, as I had some questions to ask you as well." She extended her hand. "Caroline Cordovin, director of the Civil Anomaly Bureau."

Weiss's heart sank. She'd suspected that the CAB might show up, but not so soon. And she definitely hadn't expected the director herself to get involved. With all the questionable decisions this woman had made during her many years at the head of the CAB and the controversial stances she held, Weiss couldn't say she was particularly excited to be meeting her.

"And what questions would those be?" Weiss said, keeping her voice polite but refusing to shake her hand.

"We'll get to that in a bit." Cordovin retracted her hand and crossed her arms behind her back—if she was offended, it didn't show. "If you'll wait outside while I finish up with your little friend here, we can talk alone."

"I think I'd rather stay."

"I'm afraid you're confused. Ruby Rose has admitted to using an unregistered anomaly. Like every other anomalous in her position, she's claimed her anomaly to be a recent discovery. This cannot be verified without speaking to both her and her known acquaintances individually to ensure I get the full story without any falsifications."

Semblances used to be officially called "anomalies", and paragons were referred to as "anomalous". This was decades ago, but the Bureau never rebranded accordingly. Weiss now understood why. Calling Cordovin old-fashioned for still using the old terminology would be a vast understatement. It was just one sign among many of how outdated and mishandled this branch of government was.

"I'm familiar with the process," Weiss said coolly. "But it's going to be sort of difficult to question all her 'acquaintances' while we're in a different city than them. Also, why is the director of the CAB getting involved in something as minor as unregistered semblance usage? This is below your pay grade."

"Unregistered anomaly usage is quite far from a 'minor' infraction as far as I'm concerned, Miss Schnee. But I'll have you know, no, I don't usually personally involve myself in these matters. However, it is one of my duties to investigate where there are possibilities of anomalous involvement in major incidents, such as the sabotage of a military-sanctioned aircraft in the capital's backyard."

"You think Ruby had something to do with that?"

"It is a slim possibility. There were three anomalous aboard that plane, two of which have unregistered anomalies."

Weiss's heart skipped a beat, for a moment thinking she somehow knew about Weiss's evolution that she still hadn't reported. She then realized the woman was likely referring to Penny as the other unregistered "anomalous".

"Penny's foreign," Weiss said.

"An illegal?" Cordovin exclaimed, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

"What?" Weiss looked at Ruby who merely shrugged, just as perplexed as she was.

Cordovin cleared her throat, regaining her composure and almost looking embarrassed. "Apologies. Of course, young Miss Polendina is the daughter of an esteemed scientist directly vouched for by General Ironwood—and not being a resident of Remnant, as you correctly pointed out, she does not fall under my bureau's jurisdiction. You, Miss Schnee, are both registered and a member of a highly respected family, albeit with one notable exception. The only variable unaccounted for is your unregistered friend, Miss Rose."

"I am registered!" Ruby said.

"But under a false anomaly—your so eloquently nicknamed 'insomnia'. This new teleportation ability of yours is not registered, which is what's important."

"If you have so much respect for my family name," said Weiss, "then shouldn't the fact that I trust her be good enough?"

Cordovin gave a pitying smile. "Respect I may have, but you'll find I don't put much faith in a Schnee's judge of character after what became of the man your mother married."

Weiss bit her tongue. She did not reciprocate this woman's respect in any way, and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep that fact hidden. Fortunately, she was saved before she could say anything rash.

"Caroline!" said a welcoming voice—Clover had arrived. "I thought I recognized your car."

Cordovin tensed, then put on a polite smile that did not reach her eyes. "Sergeant Ebi."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you. I just have a handful more questions to ask these two, then I'll be on my way."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that."

The corner of Cordovin's mouth twitched. "You can't allow me to do my job?"

"Your job is not to harass the General's personal guests."

She dropped the fake smile. "There was anomalous involvement—"

"There were paragon victims," Clover said. "If we uncover any evidence of actual paragon involvement in this, we'll be in touch. But as it stands, this investigation is beyond your authority."

She didn't seem able to come up with a rebuttal to that, so she changed course. "Putting that aside, Ruby Rose has still admitted to unregistered anomaly usage, which irrefutably is my bureau's business."

"Which is why we notified you of said usage and cleared her of any suspicion of malicious intent behind it. Once she receives an official summons in the mail, she'll have a fourteen-day window to appear before her local CAB office for questioning. Without proof of a crime committed, you can't force her to answer any sooner."

Through gritted teeth, Cordovin admitted, "That is the protocol."

"Then we're done here," said Clover. "Allow me to walk you to your car?"

"I can see myself out, thank you." She gave one last look at Weiss and Ruby, then left without another word.

"Thank you!" Ruby said to Clover. It was clear she hadn't held up well under Cordovin's interrogation.

He nodded. "Try not to make an enemy of that one."

Once he was gone, Weiss found that Ruby had shortened the gap between them and was giving her a stern look.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone," Weiss said.

"What? Of course I noticed! You just disappeared without saying anything while there's someone out there who wants to kill you. I was worried!"

Weiss felt a bit guilty about that, but not enough to make her forget her annoyance toward the girl. "I had protection, I was perfectly safe. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make a call."

"What? No, wait!"

Ruby's protests fell on deaf ears as Weiss stepped out into the hall and dialed her brother, closing the door behind her for a bit of privacy. He picked up after just two rings.

"Whatever you have to say, I'm sure it can wait a while longer until we speak in person," he said. "I'm rather busy at the moment."

"I'm not coming," said Weiss.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't make it. We can talk now, or we'll have to reschedule."

"And why can't you make it? You've only just arrived. I can't imagine you have too much else going on."

"I'm not allowed to leave the base without an escort, and no one's available. So I'm stuck here."

"You're not allowed? I forgot, were you enlisted in the military like our dear elder sister? Or perhaps you've been detained and never mentioned it."

"No, but—"

"Then they can't disallow you to do anything. Need I remind you that you have a debt to me?"

Weiss paused. "So that's what this is about? You're calling in your favor?"

"I am."

"And why can't it wait?"

"As I've already said, I'm rather busy. I have time to talk at one and that's it, and I'd like to get this taken care of before I depart for Vale soon."

"You're leaving? After Father's just been attacked?"

"Me staying isn't going to change anything."

"Have you even been to see him?"

"I've been to Atlas Supermax exactly once in my life, and that was after he was first incarcerated. I will not be going there again."

"Why?"

"Irrelevant. Will I be seeing you soon?"

Weiss bit her lip. It should have been an easy choice, but she did owe him. And her curiosity and suspicion had only increased since the start of the call. What exactly had his schedule so full? She had to know.

"Fine. I'll . . . figure something out," she said.

"Great. I'll see you in a few hours." He ended the call.

Weiss didn't like her new habit of breaking rules. It drew an ugly similarity to Roman Torchwick. Laws were made to control those not lucky enough to be in a position to write them. She couldn't let herself adopt that kind of mindset. Yet she'd just looked the director of the CAB in the eye while having an undisclosed evolution to her semblance, and here she was debating how to break yet another rule—a rule set in place for her own safety, no less. Her rebelliousness was adding up.

That was a worry for another time. Right now, her biggest concern was figuring out how to get out of Amity without being seen, and preferably back in as well. The solution was obvious, and she'd just given it—that is to say, her—the cold shoulder. It also solved the safety concern, in the unlikely event anything dangerous were to occur; Ruby had already saved her life several times.

Weiss sighed and turned back around. She'd barely knocked once on Ruby's door before it was whipped open. Ruby was standing there looking annoyed.

"I need your help," Weiss said, doing her best to not appear sheepish.

"Where was that two minutes ago?"

"Hey, you're the one who's been avoiding me ever since we got here," Weiss defended. "Excuse me if I take offense to that."

"What? No, I haven't been . . . avoiding you," Ruby said without meeting her eyes.

Weiss cocked an eyebrow.

"I've just had some stuff on my mind, alright?"

"Then talk to me about it."

"It's not important. You've got enough to worry about, what with your dad and your sister and an evil mastermind trying to hunt down you and your entire family."

"If it's going to keep you at a distance while I need you here for me, then I believe it's extremely important."

"Talking to you about this won't really help that," Ruby muttered.

"Why?" Weiss said, feeling a strong urge to wring her neck; the girl was being more irritatingly mysterious than her brother.

"It doesn't matter," said Ruby. "Look, I'm here for you, alright? I promise. It's just not the time for that conversation . . . not anymore."

Weiss studied her for several long seconds. "Does this have anything to do with whatever you were going to tell me at your father's house?"

A noticeable hint of red rose within Ruby's cheeks. "What did you need my help with?"

Reluctantly, Weiss allowed her the change of subject. "I need your semblance to sneak into the city so I can meet my brother."

"Oh. Okay. Wait . . . what? You just got back to Amity, and now you need me to smuggle you back out?"

Weiss succinctly explained the situation, mentioning how Whitley wanted to cash in his half of the quid pro quo they made for the STC information that helped them locate Torchwick, but glossing over where exactly she'd bumped into him.

"So, Clover let you go before," Ruby said, "but he won't now? Why?"

"Honestly, I got the impression he just wanted to get rid of Marrow before, but now he needs him," said Weiss. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course I will. But in exchange, you're going to tell me where you were today."

Weiss wasn't sure she wanted to, as she knew where telling the truth would lead, but she didn't like lying to Ruby. "I went to see my mother."

"Oh," said Ruby. There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere as well as the tone of her voice, as they'd reached a touchy subject and they both knew it. "You never talk about your mom."

She didn't—and for very good reason. The last person outside her family Weiss had talked to about this had been Blake, who couldn't exactly relate to her plight, what with having two living parents whose biggest malfeasance was loving her too much—that and being politicians. But with all these emotions brought back to the surface, now was as good a time as any to open up again, and there was no other person who could understand better than Ruby.

"Hey, I'm here for you, remember?" the girl said after several seconds of silence.

Weiss checked her scroll, noting just how much time she still had to kill. With a steadying breath, she invited herself into Ruby's room and took a seat on her bed. Ruby closed the door and pulled up a chair to sit across from her, not saying anything.

"All semblances have a price," Weiss said. "Some are steeper than others. My mother's semblance is the same as mine, but her price isn't. Mine exhausts me on a physical level, but hers . . . it drains on her mentally."

"Okay . . ." Ruby clearly didn't see the full scope of what that meant.

"Every time she used it, it took a very small piece of her with it—so small that she didn't even know what her price was until it was already too late. Eventually, it added up and there was no fixing it. The theory is that her semblance saw the damage her mind was going through, and it tried to passively cure it, similar to how Penny's semblance works. And that still required a price."

Understanding dawned on Ruby's face. "So her mind was trying to heal itself, but it was also hurting itself by doing so."

Weiss nodded. "Her semblance degraded her mind faster than it healed it. She became unstable. She began to have episodes. And it kept getting worse and worse, until one day there was just . . . nothing left of her."

A hard lump was farming in her throat, and she found herself struggling to choke the emotions back now that she'd said it all out loud.

"Oh. So she's . . .?"

"She's alive, but completely catatonic."

"And you can't help her?"

Weiss shook her head. "I've tried. My semblance just doesn't work on her. I don't know why. I think it might have something to do with the fact that I got my semblance from her. Or it could be something else. She told me, back when she was still . . . whole, how there were a couple of instances where she tried to heal someone but her semblance inexplicably had no effect on them."

"I'm so sorry. I thought I had it bad but . . ." She didn't finish the thought. Instead, she tried to take a more positive spin on things. "I mean, at least there's still hope, right?"

It wasn't hope that Weiss had—it was desperation.

She wasn't sure when the tears began to fall, or whether it was her or Ruby who initiated the hug. She just knew that one moment she was sitting alone on the bed, and the next she was wrapped in Ruby's arms with her face buried in her shoulder, infrequent sobs escaping her. It wasn't unlike the day Ruby first discovered her true semblance and she'd woken up panicked and yelling from the first nightmare of her life—one motherless daughter comforting another, both of whose deepest desire was nothing more than closure.

"You'll find a way," Ruby whispered. "If anyone can, it's you."

Part of Weiss believed her. The rest couldn't forget the years of trying and numerous failed attempts. And so, she cried on. What's more, she found that she didn't care. Where a past, lonelier Weiss would have felt shame for showing such weakness, the current one felt only comforted by the fact that she had someone in her life she could be so safely exposed to.

At noon, Ruby knocked on Weiss's door and didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"You're late," said Weiss.

"You're ready, then?" Ruby walked in without being invited, ignoring Weiss's comment.

Weiss looked up and down the hallway to make sure it was clear before shutting and locking the door. "Of course I am. Where's Penny?" She realized she hadn't seen Penny all day and was worried she might notice they were gone.

"Studying," said Ruby.

"For what? Isn't she supposed to be on vacation?"

Ruby shrugged. "Are we leaving or what?"

She was right, despite being the one who'd shown up two minutes late; the sooner they left, the sooner they could be back and the lower the likelihood of them getting in trouble. Weiss joined her by the window and took her hand. Her room had a better view, which is why they'd decided to teleport out from here.

One unpleasant sensation later, they were outside of Amity without any hiccups. After another few minutes, they found a cab and set off for their destination. It wasn't as instantaneous as in Vale, where every other car you saw was a taxi, but Atlas was still a busy city and it didn't take too long.

"So you really don't know what your brother wants from you?" Ruby asked during the drive.

"Not a clue," said Weiss. "And I have no idea why he wants to meet at the family manor. That was one of the first things we lost when Father was convicted."

"Maybe he bought it?"

"He can't have," Weiss said, though unable to hide her doubt. "We were each left with a bit of money after the dust settled, but not even remotely enough for that. I can't imagine him being able to earn enough in such a short amount of time, either—he might have two degrees, but he had Father's reputation to deal with."

"You don't think he could be caught up in anything illegal, do you?"

Weiss was about to give a firm "No," as her answer, but then she changed her mind. A year ago she would've never been caught so much as jaywalking, but she wasn't the same person she was then. The brother she remembered would never have committed any crimes without good reason, but who knew how the time since their family fell apart had changed him?

"I expect I'll find out," she finally said.

They arrived just under half an hour early. The mansion Weiss had grown up in looked no different than the last time she'd been here, yet now it somehow felt so alien. It was like her memories of the place were from a past life, even though it hadn't been that long at all since she'd had her own room there. The one she could most vividly recall was the day she stepped out the front door for what she'd presumed to be the last time; she'd been nervous of what the future had in store for her, but also immensely satisfied with the knowledge she'd never be coming back. But the ability to call the place "home" had been long gone to her even then—her mother had taken that with her the day she was committed, leaving Weiss alone with just her father, Whitley, and the ever-changing household staff.

She didn't want to go back inside. She didn't even want to be back in Atlas so soon. Why did her father have to go and get himself attacked? The day she came back to Atlas was supposed to be a triumphant day. She was supposed to have grown as a person and adapted to her new life outside her family's shadow, overcome her past woes and traumas, ready to return with all that put well behind her—and most importantly of all, having attained all the knowledge and experience she needed to rectify her failure as a daughter. But she hadn't made any progress at all, and she felt like she'd be starting back at square one whenever she returned to Vale.

"You alright?" Ruby asked, standing beside her outside the gate.

"I'm fine," Weiss lied. "We should find some way to occupy the next twenty minutes."

"Can't you just go in early?"

"No." Respect for precise punctuality was one trait she and her brother shared.

"We could get some ice cream. That always makes me feel better."

Weiss gestured around the large, affluent neighborhood they currently stood in. "Where exactly do you expect to find ice cream around here?"

"I don't know. What's your suggestion?" Ruby said defensively.

Weiss considered for a moment, then turned away from the gate and set off down the sidewalk. Ruby followed, but she didn't get any answers from Weiss about where they were going. They soon reached the end of the street where a bench waited just around the corner, protected by the shade of the two trees planted on either side of it. Weiss sat down and invited Ruby to sit next to her. From here they had a partial view of the main city's skyline. There were a handful of skyscrapers visible, Schnee Tower not among them—or what had once been Schnee Tower. None were as impressive as even the least noteworthy of those in Vale.

"I used to come here a lot as a kid," Weiss said. "Usually after school. I'd make my driver let me off before we reached the house and I'd come here to read or work on homework . . . or sometimes I'd just do nothing but enjoy the private moment away from all the suffocation at home."

"It must've been pretty cold out here during the winter," said Ruby.

"It was worth it. This was the only place where I felt like I could breathe. After I convinced Father to let me transfer to public school and I met Blake, I didn't come here as much. But then she found Adam and started spending more and more time with him, and then she left without saying anything."

Sitting here was far more nostalgic than Weiss had been expecting. This bench, this view, these trees—they weren't something she ever found herself looking back upon. She was pretty sure that the last time this place had occupied any space in her mind was the last time she'd actually sat here. It was never significant, even back then—little more than an occasional respite.

Yet, now, she could recall so many instances of her time on this bench—every detail of each one, down to exactly what she'd felt at the time. Anxiety, several days in a row, as she built up the courage to ask her father to transfer. Irrational anger after a really pointless argument with Blake, turning to annoyance with herself for continuing to dwell on something so stupid. The biting cold as she huddled within her jacket on a late fall night, yearning for the warmth of her bedroom but not wanting to face the reality of a home without Winter in it.

So many memories tied to this little bench she hadn't even remembered existed until several minutes ago.

"If only you'd been born in Vale," Ruby said, "or I'd been born in Atlas. I didn't really have a lot of friends growing up. We could've really used each other back then."

Weiss met her eyes—those stunning, silver eyes—and experienced something surreal. What should have been a simple glance at her friend's comforting smile instead sent a jolt through Weiss's body. It was more than the way Ruby looked at her that Weiss didn't understand, but also in the way that Weiss perceived Ruby. It was like her brain failed to pair the image of the woman in front of her with the Ruby Weiss knew, leaving her looking upon a stranger—someone Weiss knew she should recognize, but couldn't. And for that fleeting instant, Weiss was intrigued.

As it quick as it came, the moment passed—less than a moment. Ruby was still Ruby, and Weiss was left wondering if she'd ever taken the time to notice just how pretty the girl was.

"Yeah," Weiss said with a fluttering breath, already pushing whatever she'd just felt into the back of her mind where it would probably be forgotten before it could ever be understood. "If only."

Weiss distracted herself with the view, watching the cars passing through the streets of her home city. She'd spent her whole life here, but now it was so alien to her. A few months away and it felt like an eternity, like her memories of this place were someone else's.

Minutes ticked by in peaceful silence, until Weiss noticed that Ruby had pulled the Skeleton Key out again and was back to toying with it.

"You still haven't figured that thing out?" Weiss said.

"It's not easy, alright?" said Ruby. "I don't think it's meant to be intuitive. I think whoever made this didn't want anyone else to be able to use it. But I feel like I'm getting close. There are only so many inputs I can try."

Weiss watched her work for a bit, observing with a guilty pang how much she struggled with it. Ruby first tried holding it in her right hand, only for the quiver in her left to make it too difficult to touch the buttons she meant to touch. When she switched to the other way around, the unfamiliarity of using her non-dominant hand combined with not being able to hold the device still yielded similar difficulties.

"Has your arm not gotten any better?" Weiss asked.

"Stop," said Ruby.

"What?"

"I don't want you worrying about that. This was my mistake, my choice, and that's that."

"You took that bullet because of me. Of course I'm going to worry about you!"

"I took that bullet because of myself—I took it for you. If I'd just been better, you never would have been shot at at all."

If she'd been better—not if she hadn't suggested the plan that Weiss had agreed to in the first place.

"You don't regret even going to that warehouse?" said Weiss.

"I mean, in hindsight . . . sort of? I don't like the outcome, but with what we knew then, it was still the right thing to do."

Weiss had conflicted feelings about that, and Ruby noticed as much.

"Not everyone has a semblance like mine, and not everyone has the kind of tech Pyrrha left behind," she said. "But those of us that do, we've got to hold ourselves to a higher standard, you know? I could do a lot of good with my semblance—help a lot of people. And if I don't, then that makes me a bad person."

"Is that what you really want? To help people? Are you sure you're not just trying to live out some comic book fantasy?"

"Why does it have to be one or the other? I idolize superheroes, both real and made up, because of all the good they do—not because of their cool powers or awesome costumes."

Weiss, despite her doubts, saw truth in her eyes. "But you realize this obligation you feel is just as fictional as those comic book characters, right? Choosing not to put your life in constant danger does not make you a bad person. There are other ways to make an impact."

"What about you? Your semblance is amazing! You can help people that literally no one else can. Would you be able to live with yourself if you just decided not to?"

"The difference is that I don't have to risk my life to cure people with my semblance."

"And what if your price was the same as your mom's?"

The words struck Weiss like a punch in in the gut. And after many seconds had passed, Weiss still didn't have an answer.

"What would you do then?" Ruby pressed.

Weiss checked her scroll and stood. "It's almost one. Let's go see what Whitley wants."

Chapter Text

"I can't imagine growing up in a place like this," Ruby said. "I'd probably get lost all the time."

After buzzing the main gate and being admitted entrance, the two women were now walking up the brick driveway that led to the manor. It wrapped around a large, opulent fountain placed at its midpoint and was flanked by well-trimmed hedges. On the other side of those were rows of trees planted throughout fields of luscious, green grass.

The manor itself was impressive enough that you could see it even from the street, despite the fence and the distance between them. It stood four stories tall and was almost half the length of a city block. It consisted mainly of marble, along with a handful of other pale-colored materials. Intricate pillars acted as supports all along the exterior and rows of windows covered the walls. Everything about the property was just so grandiose, immaculate, and . . . utterly shallow. It was like a gold-plated dog house—made to impress everyone except those it actually sheltered.

Weiss's grandfather had built it with the aim of comfortably housing multiple generations at once as well as all the staff needed to accommodate them. But then he died and "Jacques Schnee" became the only name on the deed. Weiss's father hadn't waited long before beginning renovations—he added extensions, a personal golf course that he never used, doubled the size of the pool, and added a bunch of other unnecessary bells and whistles. He'd married into this family, so he'd put in extra effort to make sure everyone knew just how high his status truly was.

"I hardly ever visited most of it," Weiss said. "I never would've bothered learning the entire premises if it wasn't proper for me to always be ready to give guests a tour."

"Will you give me a tour?" Ruby asked.

"We don't have time for that. The sooner we get back, the less likely it is that anyone notices we left."

"Oh, right." Ruby's disappointment failed to impede her childlike wonder. "How big was your room?"

"Larger than your apartment."

"Whoah."

Ruby continued asking questions until they reached the end of the path. Weiss half-listened, answering on autopilot as she thought about her own questions she wanted answered. Whitley awaited them at the door and greeted them both without commenting on the fact that Weiss had brought a guest to what he had most likely intended to be a one-on-one meeting.

The interior was completely empty, which was a stark contrast to Weiss's memories of the place. When she had lived here, there'd been suits of armor, rugs, vases, candles, and other gaudy decorations. Someone had come in and cleaned out anything and everything that hadn't been nailed down. The emptiness somehow gave it more life—like a blank canvas, ready for some other dysfunctional rich family to move into and paint with bad memories.

"Come upstairs." Whitley led the way up the wide staircase directly opposite the front door.

Ruby was still noticeably impressed walking through the interior, despite the lack of any decor—it didn't seem like she'd ever seen such a high ceiling or broad corridors.

Weiss quickly realized where they were going. Whitley led them down her least favorite hallway and, sure enough, stopped right outside what used to be their father's office.

"Really?" Weiss said. "You couldn't have picked any of the other million rooms in this place?"

"It was a matter of convenience." Whitley entered a code into the electronic lock, and a clicking sound came from the door. "The new owner didn't remove everything."

"The new owner? Meaning that isn't you?"

He opened the door without answering her and held it open for Weiss. "Your associate can wait out here while we converse. It won't take too long."

"My name's Ruby," said Ruby, seizing what she evidently saw as the first opportunity to introduce herself.

"A pleasure," was all he had to say in response before turning his attention back to Weiss. "Shall we?"

"I suppose we shall." Weiss gave Ruby an apologetic look and then entered—she felt there was a good chance that the girl was already back to fiddling with the Skeleton Key by the time the door closed.

Truth be told, Weiss hadn't been inside her father's office too many times; he'd valued his privacy. Even still, she could tell that the room had been left entirely untouched all this time. Perhaps Whitley had been the first to get past the lock, due to either having learned the code from their father or having the skills to hack it open.

Behind the desk was a large painting of Jacques Schnee himself in his younger years. On top of the desk were a few candles as well as an open laptop that didn't belong—it was probably Whitley's. A chandelier hung from above and two shelves took up the entirety of the side walls, filled with books: cultural classics, expensive first editions, biographies of influential people, business manuals, etc. Scattered among them were plaques, statuettes, other baubles, and photographs of Willow, Weiss, and Whitley. Winter's picture was absent since it was no secret that she'd been disowned, but the others had to stay so to maintain the illusion that Jacques Schnee actually cared about his family.

"Have a seat." Whitley went behind the desk and began rifling through the drawers.

"You couldn't have at least taken the painting down?" Weiss said as she sat across from him.

"Hardly worth the effort." Whitley withdrew a few spare documents and placed them on the desk. "But if it makes you feel better." He swung the painting forward on its hinges so they wouldn't have to endure their father's gaze before finally sitting down himself. Weiss wondered whether the safe that had been concealed behind it was empty.

"I needed a temporary place to stay and work out of," said Whitley, "and one of my new friends happened to have procured the deed to this place and allowed me to use it. No use furnishing a new office in a different room when this one works perfectly fine and I'm not staying long, besides."

"Your 'new friends'?" Weiss said.

"Business partners, investors, whatever you'd like to call them. I haven't just been seeing the world this past year, I've been networking—proving to powerful people that I'm just as valuable as Father was at his prime, but without his obvious downsides."

Weiss gave a humorless laugh. "And they believed you? No one would want anything to do with a Schnee after what happened with Father."

"Is that why you dyed your hair?"

Her silence was as clear an answer as any.

"While you chose to forsake our heritage," said Whitley, "I sought to reclaim it. I never said it would be easy, nor quick, but I've made great progress."

"Progress towards what exactly? What are these business partners of yours investing in?"

"The STC, of course."

"The— What?" Weiss said in disbelief. "Are you insane?"

"I don't believe so, but who am I to say? Aren't you supposed to be the expert in such matters?"

"Who would ever buy an STC product again? People hated the corporation even before everything fell apart, and even more so now, not to mention that whole malfunctioning devices disaster."

"I aim to restore the company that Grandfather started, not the one Father turned it into. Some rebranding is inevitable, of course. I'll do away with the data mining, I'll treat workers a lot better and encourage them to unionize, and I won't be exploiting labor from third-world countries. With the right measures and some patience, I can rebuild the goodwill that was lost."

"I doubt you'll be reconquering the economy with that strategy."

"Who said that was my goal? I have no delusions of becoming the CEO of the number one technology corporation anymore—that was Father's vision for me. All I want is to lead a successful business that would make Grandfather proud, and to prove to the world that Father's legacy does not represent us all."

Weiss supposed it made sense. The day she'd dropped out of business school to pursue her psych degree, the CEO's seat had become Whitley's destiny, whereas before he'd merely aimed to be CTO. It wasn't altogether surprising that he still yearned for some approximation of that power. In all honesty, Weiss could see herself working toward the exact same goal in another reality where she hadn't been born a paragon.

"If that's true, then I wish you luck," Weiss said, and she meant it.

"Thank you," said Whitley.

"You'll have to deal with Father eventually, though. His sentence ends in three years. He won't just remain idle."

Something on Whitley's screen caught his eye. His brow furrowed, but he simply closed the laptop and then acted as if nothing had happened. "Sooner, most likely. He'll be out on good behavior—of Father's many faults, a tendency toward violence has never been one of them."

The ghost of a sting upon Weiss's cheek argued otherwise, but she chose not to disclose that detail.

"I'll have lawyers, friends, and resources," Whitley continued. "He'll have none of that. I'll be prepared."

"I hope you're right. Now, what did you need from me? You can't be expecting me to want to partner with you on this."

"Of course not, you're underqualified. All I need from you—" he slid one of the documents toward her "—is a signature."

"What is this?" Weiss picked it up and began to read.

"As you're well aware, every shareholder within the STC who escaped the same fate as Father scrambled to salvage as much as they could from the company before dissolving it, fighting amongst each other for the most valuable assets. I managed to acquire a handful myself—namely several of Grandfather's designs and patents. The only reason I was able to do this without any kickback is that they're the legal property of the Schnee family, rather than just Father in particular."

Weiss was only half-listening to him, too busy going over what he wanted her to sign. She didn't fully understand what she was seeing, but she wasn't too happy with it. "You want me to sign over everything our family has left to you?"

"Try not to overreact," Whitley started, then continued to speak over her predictable scoff. "I don't want everything. Grandfather's sword, mother's jewelry, family heirlooms, et cetera—all of that will remain in storage where it belongs, which you will retain access to. All I'm asking for is that you relinquish your claim to the aforementioned assets that form the very foundation upon which I'm building my business."

"That's all? Just one of those designs is probably worth hundreds of millions of lien alone. That seems like a fair trade for a hard drive," she said sarcastically.

"Understand that if you don't sign this, you still won't have any ability to take these away from me nor to do anything with them yourself. All it'll do is give you grounds upon which to contest my sole ownership in court, a case which you'd lose."

"Then what's even the point of this?" Weiss wasn't sure why she was upset, in all honesty. She didn't care about those assets. She'd never do anything with them if she had the chance to, let alone sue her own brother over them. She had no interest in starting her own business and was too prideful to sell them. Doing so would be giving her grandfather's legacy over to some stranger.

"This is merely a formality," said Whitley. "Winter renounced her rights to family property years ago, Father was stripped away from his, and Mother . . . That just leaves you and me. My partners don't wish to move forward while you still present a liability. In the unlikely event that you did decide you wanted to fight me for the only thing currently giving my proposed company value, it could be a costly and potentially lengthy process that we'd rather avoid, regardless of the inevitable outcome"

"I think I understand," said Weiss, her suspicions of ill-intent ebbing away. She still felt like his motivations were too pure, but none of this was uncharacteristic of him nor did it harm her in any way, but she couldn't shake the feeling he was hiding something more. "I'll still need to read this."

"Feel free. Do note that the family lawyer is the one who wrote this for me, and they represent all our best interests. Pay special attention to paragraph five. I'm offering you and Winter both shares in my company, should either of you choose to accept them."

Weiss was taken aback by this. "Really?"

"Of course. You're family."

"Even Winter?" Weiss said dubiously.

"Do you accept or not?"

"I . . . I never asked for your help."

"Nor did I imply you needed it. This is just what Mother and Grandfather would have wanted. It wouldn't be fair of me to rebuild what Father took from us and leave you with nothing. They'll be yours to hold or sell as you please, once the company actually exists, of course."

Weiss was still hesitant. "Is this why you answered?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You'd been ignoring me for a year. Every time I tried to call you, you never picked up."

"To be fair, you gave up fairly quickly."

Weiss pretended not to hear him. "And then all of a sudden you texted me after I got attacked, and you actually answered your scroll when I called you a couple of weeks ago. Is this why? You wanted to soften me up because you already had something you needed from me?"

Whitley, for once, didn't have an immediate response. "I . . . won't pretend that wasn't a factor. But I had time to reflect while I was away, and I came to accept that we—that is to say, you, me, and Winter, as well as our relationships with each other—are products of our environment. We all had to cope with our upbringing in our own ways, even if it put us in conflict with one another. It's time to move past that and start fresh. Father destroyed our family, but that doesn't mean we can't now mend it."

He sounded genuine enough, and his words resonated with Weiss. She'd found herself thinking the same things at times but, if she was being honest, had been too cowardly to take the first step.

"Does that mean you've been in touch with her?" she asked. "With Winter, I mean?"

"I have," said Whitley. "We've reached a common ground."

"That's good to hear. You know she never hated you back, right? She didn't want to be at odds with you. But you chose Father over her, over the both of us."

"I'm aware. This is a conversation I've already had."

An awkward silence hung in the air. Weiss took the opportunity to continue reading the form. She wasn't exactly well-versed in the technicalities and intricacies of legal matters, so she could have easily overlooked something sneaky written in there, but it all looked reasonable to her. Hoping she wouldn't later regret it, she decided her brother deserved the benefit of the doubt and put her signature at the bottom of the page.

"Thank you," said Whitley. "Eventually, when we have the time and are not as busy, we'll need to meet with a notary public to authenticate this, but for now, this will satisfy."

"Of course." Weiss stood. "If that's all, then I should be going. I don't want to keep Ruby waiting."

"No, you shouldn't," Whitley agreed. He crossed around to the other side of the desk and offered her his hand. Weiss felt a brief impulse to hug him, but they weren't quite there yet, so she shook it and turned toward the door.

"You have an interesting taste in friends," Whitley said.

Weiss paused. "What does that mean?"

"First the cofounder of a terrorist organization, then the scraggly, blonde vigilante. You seem to choose the ones worth the most trouble. What kind does this one get you into, I wonder?"

He was as astute as ever.

"She has a good heart," Weiss said. "They all do."

Whitley said nothing, and so she left. All in all, she felt relieved. She'd expected this meeting to go a lot less amicably.

Once outside the office, it was clear to Weiss that something had happened, as Ruby's eyes were wide and she looked like she was bursting to tell her something.

"What—?" Weiss started.

"Are we leaving?" Ruby blurted out.

"Yes, but—"

"Then let's go." Ruby cast a glance at the closed door and then set off at a quick pace.

Weiss had to hurry to keep up with her and was getting concerned. "What's gotten into you?"

"I got it to work," Ruby said in a low voice, but for some reason didn't sound too excited.

"What?"

"The Skeleton Key! I figured it out! Invalid search. You have to set a radius for it to search for compatible electronics before it can do anything. I found the right command, and it showed a sort of map. I was able to see three different scrolls, the lock to the door, and I think I hacked into your brother's computer."

"You what?"

"It was protected, I couldn't access much. But I found a video. He must have had it open on his desktop or something. I downloaded it onto my scroll. I'll show it to you once we're outside."

"What? No! I don't want to see my brother's personal videos. What were you even doing watching it?"

"I didn't mean to! But you said he was acting fishy, and it was right there! I couldn't help myself. But you're really going to want to see it. It's prison security footage."

Weiss tried to stop, but Ruby grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

"Ruby, slow down!" Weiss said, almost tripping over her own feet. "What do you mean it's prison security footage? Of what?"

Ruby didn't answer her, instead keeping them moving along until they were out of the manor, and even then only slowing down to a reasonable pace once they'd passed the fountain. Then she took one last look back at the mansion before pulling out her scroll, pushing play on a video of what looked like an interrogation room. In it, the shortest of the Ace Operatives stood across from where a heavily-tattooed man in a jumpsuit sat handcuffed to a table.

"You already know what I'm going to ask. Do I have to go through the trouble or are you going to make this process easier on the both of us and spill your guts now?" Harriet Bree asked.

The inmate shrugged, appearing thoroughly dejected. "The longer this takes, the less time I spend in solitary."

"Fair enough. Why did you attempt to murder Jacques Schnee?"

"I got a call. Someone on the outside promised they'd get me out if I killed him."

"Elaborate. How did you 'get a call'? On what phone?"

"The wall phones. I went to call my mom, but someone called me first before I could put in her number."

"Those phones are outbound only and we don't have any record of this call taking place."

He threw his hands up. "That's what happened."

"When did this occur?"

"About a week ago."

"Who was this person you spoke with?"

"I don't know. It was some dude. He never told me his name. He said to just listen and not say anything, and then told me I'd find a knife hidden in one of the supply boxes down in maintenance where I work. He said to wait for more instructions, and then use it to kill Schnee. If I did that, he'd break me out of here."

"When did you receive these further instructions?"

"I didn't."

"What do you mean, 'you didn't'? If you didn't get your orders, then why are we here right now?"

"I saw a chance and I took it. Me and Schnee were alone in a hallway, there were no guards, and I had the knife in my boot. So I stabbed him . . . right when a door opened and that CO caught me."

"You're aware that every inch of this facility is under surveillance, right? You'd have still gotten caught even if they hadn't walked in on you, but Jacques Schnee might not have survived, which would have only served to worsen your punishment."

The inmate didn't say anything.

"Whoever contacted you appears to have put a lot of thought into this plan," said Harriet. "They were patient. Why were you in such a hurry that you recklessly acted before getting their say-so?"

"I was fine with waiting, but I was getting nervous. The longer it took, the more likely I was to get caught with the knife. And I was hoping if I killed him sooner, I'd get out sooner. I knew the Vytal Festival would be a good opportunity to smuggle my way out of the country, but it didn't seem like it'd be going down before then."

"And now you're still stuck in here, going off to the Little Sister to spend time in solitary confinement with an extended sentence."

He sighed. "Seems that way."

"What else can you tell me about this man?"

"I don't know nothing about him."

"You didn't recognize his voice at all? He didn't say anything that could clue you in as to how he knew you?"

"He didn't sound like anyone I ever knew or would know. He sounded pretty full of himself, and he had kind of that 'rich person' accent, you know? And he never said anything other than what I just told you."

"If you don't know this person, then why did you put so much trust in him?"

"He got a knife in here, didn't he? That's like the holy grail around here. People would do anything for so much as a porno mag, but y'all crack down anytime someone even mentions the word 'contraband'. If this dude can get a knife in, then it's worth a shot that he can get me out, right?"

"You'd take another man's life for just a chance at freedom?"

"Sounds like a damn good deal to me. I did a lot more for a lot less before I landed myself in here."

"Of course you did. Now, is there anything else you'd like to mention?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then I think we're done here."

The video ended there, and along with it the contentment Weiss had felt after the unexpectedly cordial meeting she'd just had with her brother. This video had been on his computer. It was undeniable proof that there was some sort of mastermind scheming from the shadows, and yet he'd gone on about "happenstance" and not being concerned by any of this. Just when all her suspicions had been alleviated, they'd come back tenfold.

Weiss pivoted on her heel and began marching straight back up to the manor, but Ruby quickly teleported in front of her.

"Wait!" the girl said. "Do you really want to confront him right now? He's going to want to know how you found out about this and he'll know what I did!"

"He doesn't have to know. And so what if he did? He hacked into a federal facility. It'd serve him right to get hacked back! He could get double Father's sentence for that alone." Weiss attempted to go around her, but Ruby continued blocking her path.

"Maybe he didn't see this video until after you met earlier?"

"In just a few hours? No. Also, he already knew it was another inmate who carried out the attack when I'd never heard anything of the sort. This must be how. Now would you please move?"

"No, just think for a second! He could have a perfectly valid reason for having that video on his laptop—"

Weiss opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't get the chance.

"Or he could not," Ruby pressed on. "But since we don't know for sure yet, now's not the time to do something reckless—especially not when we need to be getting back to Amity before anyone notices we're gone. Let's not show our hand while we still can't see his."

It was the irony of Ruby telling her not to do anything reckless that made Weiss stop and reconsider.

"Maybe you're right," she said.

Ruby blinked. "I am?"

Weiss shot her a look.

"I mean, of course I am! It's just . . . I didn't think that would work. I'm not used to being on this side of things."

"You're right about the hand thing. I need to find out exactly what he's up to before I confront him. You didn't see anything else while you had access to his computer?"

"No. Like I said, it was pretty well-protected. I don't think I would've been able to even see this video if he didn't already have it open. But I was able to see the file path when I copied it over to my scroll. He had it saved in a folder called 'Wrath of Partridge'."

"Wrath of . . . Partridge? What does that even mean?"

Ruby shrugged.

"Nevermind. Let's just worry about it once we're back at Amity."

"So we're leaving?"

"Yes. The sooner we're away from this place, the happier I'll be."

Chapter Text

Sneaking back into the base was as simple as sneaking out. They took a cab back to their vantage point and with the help of Ruby's semblance, they were back in Weiss's room without a fuss. Now within closed walls without a cab driver to overhear them, they took to discussing what they'd learned.

"'Wrath of Partridge'," Ruby muttered. "Not 'Wrath of the Partridge'. So it's like a name, right? Like a codename or something? Ooh! Or a supervillain name? Nah, that'd be such a lame supervillain name."

Weiss didn't have much input on the matter. That didn't mean she wasn't interested, of course. The formless entity who'd just barely failed in killing three out of five Schnees now felt tangible. It was a man. He spoke eloquently and with an ego. He was patient, resourceful, and potentially tech-savvy. Weiss was starting to paint a mental picture of this unexpected adversary, which was more than could be said before watching that footage. Still, she didn't have much to say. Her main focus was on wondering what her brother had to do with all this.

On the surface, it seemed plausible that he was doing something similar to what Weiss and Ruby had done with Torchwick: using felonious means to go about tracking down a dangerous criminal. If that was the case, it'd mean just about every single thing he'd said to her at the psychiatric hospital had been a lie—did he even not hate olives anymore? It'd mean he did care that their father had almost been killed, which was a strange truth to hide. Perhaps he just didn't trust Weiss and wanted to keep her from suspecting what he was up to. A much darker possibility that Weiss didn't even give the light of day was that he hadn't been lying and really wasn't concerned about their father's life, and he was attempting to hide his own involvement in the incident.

Pushing that absurd thought aside, she deliberated how best to go about uncovering whatever it was he was truly hiding. She'd wait at least a day before calling him again, and then she'd just have to ask him the right questions to weasel information out of him without him realizing what she was up to. That was the tricky part. Lying was a delicate art form that you were required to master to maintain your status as a social elite, which is exactly what their father had groomed Whitley into becoming.

Both women were distracted from their thoughts by a knock on the door. They hadn't even been back for ten minutes yet, which was fortunate timing.

Weiss answered the knock to find Penny waiting in the hall.

"You've returned!" the girl said happily.

"Returned?" Weiss said, alarmed. "We never left."

"Are you positive? Because I knocked multiple times earlier and got no response. I heard you talking just now, so I assumed you'd returned from wherever you went."

"We were taking a nap," Weiss fibbed.

Penny tilted her head. "Together?"

"No!" Ruby blurted, making Weiss jump—she hadn't realized her friend was so close behind her. "No, not together. Separately. In our own rooms."

Penny had a curious look on her face, but she didn't have the mien of someone who knew they were being lied to. She looked like she was innocently trying to make sense of conflicting truths.

"Alright, fine," said Weiss. "We left, and now we're back. But you didn't tell anyone that we were gone, right?"

"I don't recall mentioning your absence to anyone, no," Penny answered.

"Could you please keep it that way?" Ruby asked. "We weren't really supposed to leave the base."

"Oh, you left the base?" said Penny. "I had just assumed you'd gone somewhere else within Amity."

Weiss internally scolded herself. That would have made for a much simpler lie.

"Uhh," was all Ruby had to say.

"What did you need from me, exactly?" said Weiss.

"I went to see your sister earlier to offer my assistance in accelerating her recovery," said Penny. "She accepted and is now back on her feet. While I was there, she happened to mention your semblance, and I was hoping to procure your services."

Weiss was relieved to hear about Winter despite the fact that this would make it more difficult to continue avoiding her. She was still angry with her, though she wasn't fully sure why. It was about more than Winter leaving her behind in the plane to rescue Penny. She wasn't really upset by that at all, if she was being honest with herself—that was just what resurfaced years of emotions she never knew she'd been bottling up. Weiss loved her sister more than anything, which is why it hurt so much that they rarely ever got to see each other and that they couldn't have the relationship she wanted—the kind of relationship that Ruby and Yang had.

Weiss needed time to sort through these feelings before she spoke to Winter again. A long conversation was overdue, and she wasn't going to go into it underprepared.

"I understand you require a fee?" said Penny.

"What?" Weiss said, distracted. "Oh, right. No, of course not. You saved Winter's life. I couldn't even begin to repay you for that."

"Are you certain? It really wouldn't be any inconvenience."

"I'm sure." Weiss stepped aside to clear the way into her room. "We can do this now, if you want."

"Sensational!" Penny practically skipped her way inside.

"I should probably leave," Ruby said.

"You can stay," said Penny.

"Really? Don't you want some privacy?"

"Nope! It'll be like we're a group of friends, 'hanging out'!"

"Uh, this isn't really the type of thing friends usually do together. But if you want me to stay, then I guess I will."

"Excellent!"

Weiss, although finding this extremely unusual, posed no objections. After she closed the door they all sat down, Penny taking the chair, Weiss sitting on her bed, and Ruby hopping up and perching herself on the table.

"So, which disorder did you need my help with?" Weiss asked.

"I believe my case to be entirely unique," said Penny, "and for you to fully understand, I need to reveal an important detail about myself to you. Do you both swear to keep this a secret?"

"Of course," said Weiss. "I adhere strictly to client confidentiality."

"And my lips are sealed," said Ruby, performing the associated gesture with her uninjured hand.

"Great!" said Penny. "I am the world's first and only artificial paragon."

Weiss scrunched her brow. "What does that—?"

Ruby gasped. "You are a robot!"

"Incorrect," said Penny, once again seeming entirely unoffended. "What I mean is that I was not born with my semblance. What I was born with is a very rare and very deadly disease. It is incurable and usually kills its host between nine and thirteen years of age, if not sooner. I was nearing fatality by the time I was ten.

"My father, of course, tried everything he could to save me. He did his own research and testing, hired others to do the same, and even found a paragon woman with the ability to heal her own body and also to mend the injuries and illnesses of other people to a certain extent. It all proved fruitless. In the end, when it looked like I didn't have much time left, he resorted to an untested and potentially deadly process he'd theorized to be possible—copying a paragon's semblance and imbuing it into someone else. If he didn't attempt the process on me, my disease would have killed me anyway, so there was nothing to lose.

"Fortunately, it worked. That same paragon woman who failed to cure my disease herself allowed my father to copy her semblance from her DNA and turn me into a paragon. The semblance works a lot more effectively on its host than on other people, so once it had taken to me, my disease began deteriorating and was eventually eradicated entirely. My body did, however, sustain some damage in the process. Most of it was treatable, but there were two lasting side effects. I lost an eye, which is now replaced with a porcelain prosthetic, and I also suffered a total loss of memory before my newly acquired semblance could mend the damage to my brain.

"I lost the first ten years of my life and the entirety of the person I had been up until that point. I had to learn everything again from scratch, even how to walk and speak. Evidence suggests that those memories are irretrievable, which is why I've made it one of my life's goals to never forget anything again—or at least to remember as much as I possibly can. But I believe if there's any chance at all of recovering my lost childhood, it'd be through you, Weiss Schnee."

She told her story rather quickly, which didn't really give much time to process all the information she'd showered upon them. That was why, when she abruptly finished speaking, there was a long silence while Penny patiently waited for Weiss and Ruby both to wrap their heads around it all.

"So . . ." said Ruby. "You're, uh, technically like nine or ten years old right now, mentally?"

Weiss felt like that was probably an insensitive question to ask, but she wasn't entirely sure. So she left it to Penny's discretion, who, predictably, did not seem affronted and answered in her usual, upbeat demeanor.

"On a technical basis, yes. In actuality, not quite. While I came out of the operation with the brain contents of a newborn, my brain was not the size of a newborn's. I was able to retain more information much faster, which allowed me to mature at an accelerated rate. I am just as much of an adult right now as either of you."

"I still can't believe the first time your father tested such a volatile science was on his own daughter," said Weiss.

"It wasn't," said Penny. "He experimented on himself first, but the semblance didn't take to him like it did me. That failure taught him what he needed to know to improve the odds when it was my turn. The downside is it also gave him a resistance to my semblance that can't be bypassed. I can still help him a little bit, but I am unable to restore him to full health."

Weiss recalled what Pietro had said about performing risky experiments on himself about a decade ago, and him not being able to live with himself had he not achieved a breakthrough.

"Wow," said Ruby. "Your dad must really care about you."

Penny nodded. "Oh, he does. He loves me very much, and I love him. I could not have a better father."

I could, Weiss thought, dreading visiting her own later that day.

"So how did Dr. Polendina actually do it?" Ruby asked, unable to contain her fascination. "How did he manage to copy a semblance from one person and give it to you? That's sci-fi level stuff, like time travel and cybernetic enhancements. Could it work in reverse? Could he remove a semblance from a paragon?"

Weiss nearly shuddered at the thought. She knew there'd be many paragons who'd give anything to have that done to them—like Ruby when she thought her semblance just took away her need to sleep—but there were too many ways to exploit a science like that. And it wouldn't just be criminals seeking to use it against their enemies—there'd be politicians attempting to legalize its use against convicted paragon felons, which would be abhorrent. Maybe some would deserve it, sure, but this wasn't like revoking their gun rights; it'd be like chopping off one of their limbs. A paragon's semblance is a part of them and to take it away without their consent would violate their most basic human rights. That's not to mention the falsely convicted paragons that would suffer unjustly, as well.

"I've already told you as much as I can. This is a very dangerous science that can do terrible things if perfected and put into the wrong hands," said Penny, aligning perfectly with Weiss's train of thought. "This is why my father wishes for it to remain strictly confidential. He has dedicated much of his life to studying semblances, paragon biology, and related fields, so he understands the potential ramifications better than anyone."

Ruby seemed disappointed but she clearly understood.

"Are you certain it was wise for you to tell us, then?" Weiss asked.

Penny frowned. "You promised you would keep what I told you a secret. Are you implying that you cannot be trusted?"

"Of course not! It's just that you barely know us."

"I know that you're a beloved family member to a highly respected Special Operative of the Remnant military, and that you and Ruby share a strong bond. If neither of you can be trusted, then your elder sister cannot be trusted, which would mean that Remnant's military cannot be trusted. Also, you've both been nice to me."

Weiss thought that was a rather naive outlook, but it made sense given everything she'd just learned about this girl.

"Listen, I can attempt to restore your memories," said Weiss, "but I can't promise it'll work. I've cured cases of amnesia before, but if your loss of memory was caused by physical damage to the brain, it's probably beyond my capabilities. I can heal the mind, not the brain itself."

"I understand," said Penny. "An attempt is all I ask for. You see, my mother died only two years before I was expected to. The least I want is to know whether my memories of her still exist somewhere in my head, or if they've truly been erased entirely."

Weiss and Ruby could empathize with that pain more than she knew.

"Are you ready then?" Weiss asked.

Penny nodded.

Penny's mindscape took the form of the Emerald Forest, which gave Weiss a sense of comfort. Every single time she'd found herself in Forever Fall, something new and unheard-of had happened. Unfortunately, there was no other good news to be had throughout this expedition, for it turned out identically to the time she'd failed to cure Ruby's supposed insomnia.

Amnesia takes the form of one or more Ravagers—ugly, bat-like creatures of Grimm—the quantity dependent on the severity of the loss of memory. In Warriors of Grimm, Ravagers could only be found in deserts, but Weiss's semblance didn't strictly adhere to the cartoon's rules. That meant that it wasn't geography stopping her from finding any of the creatures within the Emerald Forest—it was the fact that Penny simply did not have a mental illness in the form of amnesia. There were no Grimm of any kind within Penny's mind, for that matter, which meant the girl was completely sane. Weiss even took the time to view every memory that presented itself to her to ensure they weren't from before the procedure, and none of them appeared to. Seeing firsthand just how good of a father Pietro was only deepened Weiss's jealousy toward Penny. It didn't feel right snooping this much through someone else's personal memories, but Weiss needed to do it to form a definitive answer. And that answer was that there was nothing she could do for her.

Penny took the news pretty well. She didn't seem surprised, but she was clearly disheartened. Since they still had several hours to kill before Weiss went to see her father, Ruby brought up her ice cream idea again and the three of them went out to a parlor that existed within the base near a few fast-food restaurants. Ruby ordered a strawberry cone with sprinkles, Weiss was briefly tempted by Neapolitan before quickly changing her mind to vanilla with chocolate syrup, and Penny had a caramel sundae. It was a pleasant outing where it seemed Weiss and Ruby had made a new friend, at least for as long as Penny remained in Remnant. Penny and Ruby especially seemed to hit it off particularly well, both having just the right amount of dorkiness to complement each other.

"You appear to have some sort of uncontrollable tremor in your left arm," Penny commented at one point when Ruby struggled to wipe her face with a napkin.

"Hm? Oh, right. Yeah, I have nerve damage. It's pretty recent, so we don't know yet whether . . ." Ruby's eyes suddenly lit up. "Wait. Can you heal nerve damage?"

"Absolutely!" said Penny. "I've even succeeded at curing total waist-down paralysis before. I'd be delighted to assist you with your impairment. However, things like this require precision and I'm afraid that without access to scans of what I'm attempting to heal, failure is almost guaranteed."

"I'll call my doctor and get copies of my MRI pictures as soon as we're back in Vale!" Ruby had a newfound hopeful glint in her eye that gave Weiss a warm feeling inside.

After finishing their dessert, Penny returned to the guest housing, alone for as long as her father was still preoccupied with whatever work the general had brought him to Atlas to do. Meanwhile, Weiss and Ruby ventured to the nearest commissary to do some shopping using the money Ironwood had given them in compensation for their lost luggage. They already had toiletries provided for them and didn't have to worry about food since they were getting free meals, but there were other things they needed such as preferred hair products, makeup, clothes that actually matched their usual styles other than what they'd been wearing when the plane went down, cookies (Ruby insisted this was a necessity), scroll chargers, and a few other things—the bare minimum needed to maintain their normal lifestyles while on this disaster of a vacation.

Even when that was done, they still had several hours to kill. Weiss surprised Ruby when she suggested they go outside and do some sparring, but the girl was all for it. Perhaps it might have been sensible to give up on learning hand-to-hand combat considering Weiss was so bad at it and they were no longer planning on invading a criminal's secret hideout, but she still remembered how she'd felt on the day she'd gotten her scar and how Neo had humiliated her at the warehouse. She never wanted to be a damsel in distress again. She'd never be on the same level as Pyrrha Nikos, but she'd be kicking herself in her old age—assuming she lived that long—if she hadn't at least managed to match Jaune. This type of skill wouldn't save her life against whoever had sabotaged that plane, but she'd be glad to have it sooner or later.

By the time dinner came around, Weiss wasn't feeling too bad about her performance despite her recent lack of practice. Perhaps it had something to do with going up against Ruby rather than the training bot. The machine was almost too perfect, but at the same time too inflexible. In the end, it was just repeating the same pre-programmed movements as needed and not actually fighting you. She understood now what Jaune meant when he talked about it not being as good as a real mentor. Even just squaring up against someone like Ruby who was still inexperienced herself made a noticeable difference.

"You need more muscle," Harriet had said when she'd spotted them while walking by. "Hit the gym. Get some meat on those skinny little arms of yours. You can have more speed and agility than your opponent, but it won't matter if you don't have the strength to actually take them down—by the looks of it, you don't have any of the three."

Weiss tried not to let the comment cut too deep, though she knew the detective had a point. She'd always sported a rather petite figure, which was optimal for things like dancing and ice skating. This? Not so much. Maybe she should look into building up a bit more tone when they got back to Vale. Yoga was fine and convenient since she could do it at home, but she didn't push herself too hard with it and other forms of exercise would probably get her there faster. She'd consider asking Ruby how she'd gotten so deceptively strong.

Besides the dig at Weiss's physique, Harriet did have a few tips for the both of them before leaving them be, which proved helpful. She seemed far more experienced in this regard than Jaune, who was competent though not remarkable.

After a shower and some dinner, night had fallen and it was time for Weiss to see her father for the first time in a year. Clover assigned a couple of lower-ranking soldiers to escort her to the prison instead of Marrow. It was a long drive, made longer by her dread for what was coming conflicting with her desire to hurry up and get this over with.

Ruby had asked her why she was going and what she expected to get out of this. Weiss hadn't been able to give her a satisfying answer. All she knew was that she couldn't so readily go the rest of her life not caring whether her father lived or died. He didn't deserve her sympathy, and he'd never earned her love. Weiss should just cut him out of her life and stop letting him hold a permanent space in her mind, but it wasn't that simple. You can't just write off your own flesh and blood as irredeemable that easily. After all he'd done, he was still her father. Maybe his time in a cell had changed him; maybe experiencing his own punishment allowed him to regret that which he inflicted on others. Deciding if she was going to forgive him should wait until she saw for her own eyes whether he was making an effort to deserve it.

Atlas Supermax was a veritable fortress. It stood outside the edge of the city and consisted of a trio of square buildings a few hundred feet wide, each one taller than the last. They were colloquially known as the "Little Sister," the "Middle Child", and the "Big Brother". An outer wall connected two dozen guard towers that were manned day and night, surrounding both the prison as well as a stretch of empty land with a mile-long radius. Anyone who spent even a second looking at the facility knew that it was designed by people who had the wrong definition of the word "correctional".

The Big Brother housed most of the lesser inmates and was also where the offices of the warden and other senior staff were located. The Middle Child was the best of three evils, having the least terrible accommodations and also playing host to most of the recreational programs—if you had to serve time in Atlas Supermax, you'd be praying to get assigned here. The final building was deceiving. Despite being the shortest of the three, it also contained a large underground section where all the semblance-inhibiting chambers were built. The absolute worst of the worst criminals in all of Remnant were sent to live out their sentences in The Little Sister, paragon or not.

The Middle Child was the only one Weiss had ever been inside, and she'd prefer it stay that way. She hadn't felt comfortable for a single second even in the minimum security prisons in Vale, and the majority of those inmates had been minor offenders. Just approaching this facility was enough to start her skin crawling, and she knew it wouldn't stop until they were back outside the perimeter and well on their way back to the city. There was a scene in the series finale of Warriors of Grimm where the warriors rode toward the Grimm Queen's stronghold, all knowing what unspeakable horrors awaited them inside. Seeing the three towers loom over Weiss as the van got nearer instilled a very similar feeling of anxiety that she'd felt when watching that episode as a child, afraid for the lives of all her favorite characters. She knew nothing too traumatizing would happen—it was a kid's show, after all—but that didn't alleviate the tension.

Finally, what Weiss had come to Atlas for could wait no longer. Weiss and her two bodyguards exited the vehicle and entered the Middle Child. The building's head of security awaited them inside and escorted them to the elevator and then to the infirmary. Weiss had never been in this far before as the visitation center was on the ground floor. Now that she had, she could safely say that every floor was practically identical—long hallways, gray walls, white lights, and the occasional window in the shape of a long rectangle, just short enough so that no human could fit through it even if they did manage to break the glass and cut away the security wire. It was all equally depressing no matter where you went within the facility.

The infirmary itself was no different. The beds were all bolted to the floor with cuffs to restrain the patient's hands and feet. Three were obscured by curtains, and behind one of them lay Weiss's father.

The soldiers assigned to Weiss's protection waited back by the entrance while the head of security walked her to the occupied bed at the far end of the room, pulling the curtain aside to reveal a face that immediately triggered many conflicting emotions within Weiss.

"Finally come back to bask in your poor father's misfortune, have you?" said Jacques Schnee. "Or was your previous claim that you wouldn't give a damn about what happens to me in here just another broken promise?"

Chapter Text

Weiss sighed as the head of security walked away to leave them some privacy, already willing to place a bet on how this conversation would go. "Hello, Father. How are you feeling?"

His expression tightened. "You want to know how I'm feeling, do you? Someone carved a hole in me—a walking graffiti criminal lowlife who by all legal accounts is both my peer and my equal," he said with utter disgust. "I have to shower every morning in front of a dozen other reprehensible men. I'm being forced to do menial labor for ten lien an hour and still have no funds in the canteen to substitute the thrice-daily slop with something with even a tiny scintilla of flavor. Everyone I've once considered an ally has left me in the dirt including those rotting here with me. I don't even know how long it's been since one of my children last visited me but it's been long enough that I'm questioning whether your mother's genetics skipped you and your hair has actually always been black, or if you've really chosen to insult me by dyeing it. Does that tell you how I'm feeling, my dear daughter?"

Weiss crossed her arms. She was amazed. The hostility wasn't unexpected, but the sheer bitterness was more than she knew he was capable of. The last time she'd seen him, her father had been angry and vindictive, but still very much the same prideful and arrogant Jacques Schnee she'd always known. The man lying before her was an empty shell of the influential tycoon he'd once been. He didn't appear to have accepted any responsibility for landing himself in his current predicament yet, still feeling wronged and victimized—but instead of making threats and plotting the downfalls of every last participant of this great betrayal, all he could do now was hate and curse the world and everyone on it for ripping him away from his ivory throne.

"At least you have some perspective of the working conditions you put the majority of your employees through," said Weiss.

"Our lowest-earning workers made a hundred times what I'm making in here," her father argued.

"That's still barely above minimum wage and doesn't factor in the workers you exploited from other countries with even worse labor laws than we have here."

"What do you want from me? Do you want me to apologize? Do you want me to see the error of my ways? The decisions I made turned Nicholas's business from a mere 'company' to a two hundred trillion-lien corporation."

"And now it's worth nothing because your greed—"

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "Spare me the lecture. I've heard it all before. Greed this and greed that. What nugatory tommyrot. I didn't do it for money. I had money. I conquered the economy simply because I could and people feared and respected me for it. I gave you and your siblings a prosperous life that billions around the world would do much worse than I have to see a fraction of. You have no right to complain. I provided you with everything you ever wanted. I paid for your singing, your dancing, your ice-skating. I placed you in the most prestigious school in the entire city and didn't deny you when you decided you'd rather attend a lowly public school instead. You had unlimited hot water, three gourmet meals a day, the finest clothing, the most comfortable bed money could buy." There was a very faint wistfulness in his voice as he spat out that last sentence. "You had everything because of me."

"I would have had all of that even if the STC had stayed the size that Grandfather had left it, and I'd have still been happier with none of it if I'd only just had a father who actually cared about me."

"That's easy enough to say after you've already benefited so much from my riches. You'd have been nothing without me." What he didn't say hurt far more than what he did. He didn't even try to refute her last point; he was beyond pretending he ever had any love in his cold heart.

"I've been doing just fine this past year. Maybe I deserve no better than you, but that just gives me more right than anyone to say just how deplorable you are."

Weiss flinched as her father made a sudden jerking movement with his arms, hindered by the cuffs binding them to the side of his bed. He clenched his fists and scowled. "You're as disrespectful as ever. Is this why you've come here? You came all the way back to Atlas just to slight me?"

Weiss wanted to laugh. She'd spent her entire life catering to his every demand, allowing him to railroad her down a path he'd set out for her before she'd even been conceived. All she'd tried to do as a child was meet his expectations in the hopes of receiving at least a bit of praise because God knows honest affection was never on the table no matter how perfect a daughter she was—Whitley, who'd been a perfect son in their father's eyes, was living proof of this. Simply having the free will to think for yourself—even if only once in a blue moon—was all it took to be "disrespectful" to her father.

"I honestly don't know why I came here. I suppose it's just simple courtesy to check on family members when they're attacked by knife-wielding lunatics—not that you would know." Weiss touched her scar absentmindedly. "Whatever I was looking for here . . . I don't think I'm ever going to find it."

With a heavy heart, she realized there was nothing left to say. Her father seemed to have noticed as well, as he spoke up right as she was about to start walking away.

"Wait. You are going to find who's behind this, are you not?" he said.

Weiss frowned. "What? Why me?"

He rolled his eyes. "You were always an inquisitive child, seldom missing an opportunity to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Don't tell me you've outgrown that trait now that it might actually serve some good."

Weiss hesitated. "Whatever I do, I won't be doing it for you. Don't expect to see me here again."

"Is that another promise?" her father sneered.

She ignored him and left.

Weiss sat in the back seat of the humvee with her head resting against the window; they'd just taken off and weren't even outside the prison's walls yet. The soldiers guarding her both sat up front in silence, oblivious to the tears she was holding back. She was grateful for that. She didn't need anyone else judging her while she was already judging herself harshly enough.

It was hard to say how she felt. She really hadn't expected too much from him, but she'd still managed to delude herself into hoping for something—anything—better than that. This should be all she needs now, the last straw before cutting her father out of her life for good. So why wasn't it? He'd already caused her so much pain and he was still doing it, but only because she continued to let him.

She envied Penny in more ways than one. It was a cruel world where a sweet, innocent girl like her can never remember her own mother while Weiss has to go through the rest of her life knowing exactly who her father is. It wasn't fair.

Weiss was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn't until several seconds after everything suddenly went dark that she registered that something was wrong. The vehicle came to a stop and the two soldiers looked around as they muttered to each other, clearly just as confused as she was. All the lights around the facility had gone out, leaving it illuminated by nothing but the night's sky. A minute later, alarm sirens began to wail. Immediately, the soldier in the driver's seat stepped on the gas pedal while her partner talked into his radio.

"What's going on?" Weiss asked.

"Never you mind," said the driver, accelerating to double their previous speed. "We're getting you out of here."

Weiss was concerned, but not overly so. Atlas Supermax was the most heavily fortified prison in the nation—their protocols to handle riots, gang fights, attempted escapes, and whatever else had a higher success rate than the next best prison's ability to serve dinner. This would surely be taken care of before they even reached the city.

The lights came back on a few minutes later right before they arrived at the gate, yet the sirens didn't stop. What was more, it was now joined by the faint pop! pop! pop! of what could only be gunshots going off in the distance.

He's trying again, Weiss thought. She was here for the second attempt on her father's life, this one not even bothering with subtlety.

They rolled to a stop, but the gate didn't open. There was no one in the booth. The guard in the passenger side got out and began trying to force his way in, impeded by the locked door. Meanwhile, Weiss stared out the back window and saw the tiny figure of a person literally flying away, unsupported by anything, with a spotlight attempting to follow them. The gunshots seemed to be guards failing to snipe the paragon out of the sky.

Nearer to the towers on the ground, more people were sprinting away from the shortest of the three at full speed. A blinding flash of light suddenly erupted from one of them, bright enough to even cause Weiss a few seconds of disorientation from a mile away. Another laid down a trail of red smoke that slowly spread out and enveloped the grounds, obscuring their escape. Just outside of the smoke, Weiss could barely make out one figure exiting the building before immediately diving and burrowing into the dirt as if it were water. For some reason, there didn't seem to be any guards in pursuit of them.

A helicopter took off from on top of the Big Brother and began firing warning shots down in front of the fleeing convicts while someone spoke words through a speaker that Weiss couldn't discern. The flying paragon, who'd made it three-quarters of the way toward the outer wall, decided to turn back and help their fellow escapees. They shot straight toward the helicopter. When they reached it, they pulled the pilot out of the cockpit and sent them falling to their doom, caught at the last second by a paragon whose semblance was apparently enhanced jumping. The jumper knocked the pilot out and left them laying there before retreating into the smoke. The flier's attempt to make the copilot meet the same fate was halted when one of the snipers finally hit their mark. The paragon went limp, and their body plummeted to the ground.

Before Weiss had to see any more, she heard the passenger side door open and close once again. The driver didn't hesitate to take off now that the gate was open, speeding their way back to Amity and leaving the chaos well behind them.

The following morning, Weiss, Ruby, and Penny watched the news together in Ruby's room.

"Last night, the supposedly most secure prison in Remnant, Atlas Supermax, had not only its first ever successful escape attempt, but its first dozen," said the reporter. "That's right. The previously infallible prison has suffered what is confirmed to be a mass breakout. It is still unclear as to how this incident occurred and who orchestrated it, but what we do know is that somehow an entire cell block of semblance-inhibiting chambers was temporarily shut down, and a reported nineteen paragon inmates were able to make a bid for freedom. Of those nineteen, four died in the attempt and only three were recaptured alive. We've also been informed that eight soldiers serving as prison security were killed, and nine more were gravely injured."

"Regarding the twelve inmates who successfully managed to flee the prison grounds," said the co-anchor, "exactly half have already been tracked down by the military and brought back into custody, and the hunt is ongoing for the remaining six. We have not yet been able to ascertain the names of all these fugitives, but General Ironwood himself has announced that Tyrian Callows is among them."

A chill ran down Weiss's spine.

"Yes," continued the anchor. "As difficult as it may be for many to accept, Salem's infamous lapdog is on the loose once again after being two years into serving his fifty life sentences. For those somehow unfamiliar with him, Tyrian Callows was a serial killer who operated out of Vacuo for many years until becoming, for reasons still unclear, devoutly loyal to Salem and her organization. He single-handedly committed the Vacuan City Hall Massacre that resulted in the deaths of nearly every one of the city's officials, playing a pivotal role in her temporarily taking total control over the city right before her march on Vale. He is personally responsible for over two hundred murders, not counting those still unverified nor the casualties suffered as a result of his service to Salem."

"The CAB has his semblance on file as the ability to manipulate emotions," the other newsperson informed. "Due to the one hundred percent fatality rate of his victims, there are no witnesses to shed light as to precisely how he uses this semblance against them, and so we can only speculate. It is worth noting, however, that failed attempts at interrogating him have yielded only that he has a strong obsession with fear."

Nothing else of interest was reported. "Please take caution," "lock your doors", "we'll keep you posted as the situation further develops", etc. The only other thing they had to say was that the warden had stepped down and Ironwood would be personally selecting their replacement, which was a given. There was no one alive who could keep their job after letting something like that happen under their watch.

"I do not understand how something like this can have occurred," said Penny. "Is this not what the Atlas Supermax facility was specifically designed to prevent?"

"You would think," said Weiss. She was just as clueless as Penny was. After getting back to Amity, Clover had taken a second to make sure she was unharmed before ordering her to return to her room and stay there until further notice while he debriefed with General Ironwood and the soldiers who'd guarded her. Later, someone came by to inform her that her father had not been attacked during the breakout, as the Little Sister had been the only tower affected. This just raised a whole new plethora of questions.

The timing of this incident was too close to everything else to be a coincidence. The person who'd tried to have Weiss's father killed had already exploited the prison's vulnerabilities once, which made them the most likely candidate to have orchestrated this mass breakout. But if he could do something like this, why wouldn't he try to kill her father again? If that wasn't his goal, then what was? Who among the paragon escapees was the person he intended to free, and what did he need from them?

Whomever it was, Weiss felt fairly confident that it couldn't be Tyrian Callows. No one could control him. It was doubtful whether even Salem herself had ever had full control over him. Some of her surviving subordinates had testified to seeing him lash out and kill some of their own well before she died. To try to use him to get something you wanted would be suicide.

"That is an unusual-looking scroll," Penny commented.

Weiss, who'd previously been staring through the muted television with unfocused eyes, found Penny curiously watching Ruby fiddle with the Skeleton Key. Weiss quickly plucked it out of her hand and looked at the screen, seeing a bunch of shapes and connected lines in varying shades of blue.

"Hey!" Ruby protested.

"What do you think you're doing?" Weiss hissed in a low enough voice that only she could hear. "I thought you already figured this thing out?"

"I did! And now I'm using it to . . . try and find out what the military has dug up on all this so far." She said the last part very quickly and quietly, as if in hope that Weiss wouldn't be able to make out what she'd said.

Weiss took a deep breath and massaged her temple. After she was sure she could speak calmly, she held a finger up to Penny, who looked very confused, and then continued to whisper to Ruby.

"You know exactly how stupid I think this is, right?"

"Mhm." Ruby nodded guiltily.

"And you know I'd be yelling at you right now if Penny wasn't here, right?"

"Yep."

"Then we can just pretend I did and skip to the part where I take this away from you and never let you touch it again."

"What? No!" Ruby tried and failed to snatch the Skeleton Key back from Weiss before she could slip it into her pocket.

"What are you two talking about?" Penny asked.

"Nothing important," Weiss said as she got to her feet. "I'm going to go for a walk."

She waved goodbye to Penny, ignored a glare from Ruby, and then left without any further preamble. Mainly, she wanted an excuse to talk to Ruby in private, who would no doubt be following after her any second now. But a walk really would be a good way to clear her mind as she tried to process the fact that she was currently in the same city where the most dangerous serial killer currently living was roaming free.

Ruby caught up with her as she was leaving the building. "What was that about?"

"I can understand you using the Key in such an asinine way," Weiss said, "but what I can't understand is why you had to do it right in plain view of Penny."

"You heard her, she thought it was just a scroll. You're the one who made a big deal out of it."

"I had to stop you before you actually managed to infiltrate the Remnant Military's network."

"Well, you had nothing to worry about, anyway. I wasn't able to. It's got a limited range and we're not near enough to any access points. Are you really not going to give it back to me?"

"Of course not. You figured out what it does and how to work it. Well done. We don't need to turn this thing on ever again. I'm sure we could probably get in trouble just for possessing it. The last thing we need is to get caught using it to commit cyberespionage against the federal government."

"But what if we need it for something and I haven't practiced enough with it to do it?"

"What could you possibly need it for? And trying to find classified information on an investigation we have no right to access doesn't qualify."

"It's your family Partridge is targeting. Why shouldn't you get to know everything?"

"Partridge?" Weiss repeated, withholding the fact that a part of her agreed with what Ruby was saying.

"Yeah, remember? Wrath of Partridge. I was doing some digging on it and couldn't find anything. But I was talking to Penny and she—"

"You told her about this?"

"No, not everything. I just asked her if she had any idea what it meant since she's pretty smart. And would it really be that big of a deal if we did tell her? She let us in on a pretty big secret. It's only fair that we give her that same trust."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because knowing our secrets can get her into trouble. It wouldn't be fair to return her trust by making her an accomplice to your cybercrimes."

Ruby sheepishly scratched her neck. "Okay, yeah, I guess you have a point, there."

"And I wouldn't be so quick to disclose secrets to someone who revealed the existence of confidential and dangerous technology to two people she doesn't know and has no reason to trust."

"I like to think she's just a good judge of character. We are good people after all."

"You're obtuse."

"Well, whatever. As I was saying, I talked to Penny and she remembered this old myth. You know that saying about flying too close to the sun, right? Well, there was another story about the same inventor guy from that one. He took on his nephew as an apprentice and was teaching him how to build and craft and stuff, but got jealous because the kid was a prodigy. His nephew invented a whole bunch of things he'd never thought of and probably would have eventually surpassed him. But one day, the inventor acted on impulse and killed his nephew out of spite."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Weiss asked.

"Well, the nephew's name translates to 'partridge' in English. In some versions, a goddess even turns him into a partridge right before he dies in order to save him. So I think 'Wrath of Partridge' means the revenge of a victim of envy. Which of your dad's enemies was he jealous of?"

"My father considered it a personal offense if anyone wasn't envious of him. If he was ever jealous of anyone else, he'd never admit to it. He'd just do what he does with everyone he considered a threat and quietly lash out at them and try to discredit their name."

"And there's no one who—?"

"My father's done it too many times. It'd be impossible to narrow down the list to this so-called Partridge. Do we have to call him that? It sounds dumb."

"I mean, if you just let me have a go with the Skeleton Key again, then maybe I could—"

"Forget it."

Ruby pouted in a way that Weiss, for some reason, found kind of adorable.

Come lunch, Weiss was facing a predicament. She'd come to Atlas because her father had been attacked. Now that she'd seen him, there was nothing left for her to do. She loathed doing nothing, yet, doing something meant doing something that Ruby would do.

Someone probably should have come to talk to her and Ruby by now about returning to Vale. Since it seems everyone had forgotten, they should be going to Clover to ask him about it. But, inexplicably, Weiss didn't. She had nothing left to do in Atlas, yet she wasn't trying to leave. Tyrian Callows being on the loose here only gave her further incentive to want to be boarding a plane as soon as possible, but still she sat twirling ice cubes around the bottom of her glass with a straw.

"You are going to find who's behind this, are you not?" her father had said.

Of course she wasn't. Why would she ever go out of her way to meddle in the affairs of dangerous criminals when there were higher authorities much more capable of doing so?

Oh.

Weiss found Sergeant Ebi in his office talking on his scroll, his door left open. She waited outside for him to conclude his call before entering and saying, "I want to help."

Clover looked bemused. "You want to help with what?"

"I want to aid in the investigation. It's my father who was stabbed. It was my sister, my best friend, and I who nearly died in that plane crash. It was me who was minutes away from being potentially killed by paragon escapees. I want to help you track down the person behind all of this."

"You know I can't allow that."

"Why not? I have a right as a civilian to volunteer my assistance in criminal investigations."

"And we have the right to deny your help for any reason, especially in circumstances that prove to be a conflict of interest."

"My interests don't conflict with yours at all. All I want is for this person to be brought to justice."

"You're still too close to the situation. Your sister has already abstained from involving herself in this for the same reason. And regardless, it's too dangerous for you to be doing anything like this while there's a target on your back. We need to keep you safe within Amity."

"I can help without leaving the base. Just ask my sister or even General Ironwood. They know what I'm capable of. I can be a valuable asset."

"The answer is no," came a firm voice from Clover's scroll. Apparently, he hadn't hung up—he'd just put it on speaker.

"Winter?" said Weiss.

"I do know what you're capable of," her sister said from the other end of the line. "You're capable of acute short-sightedness and prone to acting recklessly without giving much consideration to the risk you put on yourself and others. You will be staying well away from this."

"But I managed to find—" Weiss cut herself off before she said too much. She knew Winter had reported her and Ruby's activities involving Torchwick to the general, but Clover still knew nothing about that.

"You managed a fluke and nothing more," said Winter. "The answer is no and that's final."

The line clicked as Winter ended the call.

"I'm sorry, Miss Schnee," said Clover.

"Please," Weiss pleaded. "I can't just sit around here doing nothing while other people are facing my battles for me."

"Then, if you'd like, we can begin making arrangements for your flight back to Vale. I'm sure you're eager to get back home and get ready for the Vytal Festival."

"No," Weiss said quickly. "I mean, I am, but not yet. Ruby still wanted a chance to see the city while we're here. Would it be possible to have someone escort us outside the base again?"

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises while all those escaped convicts are still on the loose."

"I understand."

Weiss left the room filled not with disappointment, but with a renewed determination. She'd do her part to track down Partridge whether she had permission or not, and Ruby would almost definitely be on board. And there was nothing "short-sighted" or "reckless" about this. She'd found Torchwick's base of operations when no one else could. Perhaps she could pull off something similar again. If she succeeded, then great. If not, it wasn't like she was interfering in the Ace Operative's investigation by failing to conduct her own. What was the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

Whitley wasn't answering his scroll. Weiss attempted multiple times to call him, both before and after deciding to go through with this, and they all went straight to voicemail. He was her only lead. If she couldn't talk to him and if Clover wasn't giving her any alternatives to pursue, then she only had two options: give up or sneak out again.

Ruby was sitting on a bench outside the residential building, engrossed in her scroll until Weiss came up and sat down beside her. Weiss had just seen the Ace Operatives on their way out of the base. With fewer people around to notice their absence, now was the best time to do this.

Ruby didn't say anything at first. Neither did Weiss. She was still second-guessing whether she should actually say what she was planning to, and not because she was worried Ruby would refuse; she was conflicted because she knew the girl would say yes.

"They arrested Junior," Ruby said conversationally.

"Really?" Weiss said.

"Yeah. It must've been because of Uncle Qrow and Mayor Ozpin. He'd still be out there if it wasn't for us."

"You mean if you hadn't dragged me into his club and nearly gotten us killed?"

Ruby shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, that. I was thinking of going back there once we're back in Vale. It'll probably be abandoned, or at least run by someone new who isn't a criminal . . . hopefully. There might be some clue I could find with the Skeleton Key, maybe. You think this is a terrible idea, don't you?"

Weiss hesitated. "Well, if Junior and his ruffians are truly out of the picture, then an attempt seems harmless enough. But the likelihood of finding anything is extremely small."

"I know. I'm just trying to think of new leads. With Torchwick gone, the Key is the best shot we've got of digging up any secrets. We'd just need to find where to use it."

Weiss realized that without the mystery of the Skeleton Key to keep her mind occupied, Ruby was veering back into the obsession that had gotten them into so much trouble back home. Weiss had known this would happen sooner or later, but it was in Ruby's best interest if she delayed that for as long as possible. That meant the girl would need another distraction.

"Fine," Weiss said. "You can have the Key back."

Ruby's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Temporarily," she clarified. "You will use it exactly when and where I tell you to, and then you'll give it back to me."

"Wait, you want me to hack into something?"

"Yes. I'm . . . I'm going after Partridge, and I'll need your help to do it."

Ruby stared at her in surprise for several seconds, then grinned, which only worsened Weiss's apprehensions. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"God, I hope not." Weiss ran her hands across her hair and adjusted her ponytail. "I just . . . If there's something I can do to help resolve this situation, I want to do it. But this is going to be nothing like our fumbles during the investigation into what happened to your mother. I am not going to take any risks."

"That's what we said the first time."

Weiss, thinking about it, was horrified to realize that she was right. "I changed my mind. I'm not doing this."

"No! I think this is good! At least tell me your plan, first."

"I don't have one. I just know that Whitley knows more than he's letting on, so I wanted to see what else you could learn using the Key if we went back to the manor."

"That doesn't seem so bad. But I think you're right that we should do things different this time. We—okay, mostly me—made a lot of bad choices before. You know I'll always be there to protect you, but I'd like to not have to as much as possible. So I say we think things through more."

Weiss was impressed. "That's very mature of you."

"Yeah, well . . . I've just been thinking a lot. Pyrrha wouldn't have made the same mistakes I did. If I'm going to be The Insomniac, I need to be able to start thinking like a hero, and not just trying to fight like one."

Weiss had forgotten that's what Ruby wanted to call her vigilante alter ego. "That's such a ridiculous name."

"Ouch," Ruby sounded genuinely hurt. "I thought you said you weren't going to form an opinion!"

"I'm sorry. But if you had to follow that theme, then I would say you just drop the 'c' and call yourself Insomnia. It flows better."

Ruby looked thoughtful. "Hm. I kind of like that. Sounds kind of menacing, though."

"But it doesn't matter, regardless."

"Are you saying that because you still think you can change my mind about this?"

"No, but that still doesn't mean I approve of it. I'm saying that because it compromises the entire 'secret identity' aspect of vigilantism. The CAB knows about your semblance now and its association with the word 'insomnia'. If a teleporting superhero shows up and starts calling themselves that, you're going to be the first suspect."

After several seconds of silence, all Ruby had to say was a single dejected, "Oh."

"I'm sure you can come up with some other equally ridiculous alias."

"Well, yeah. I have ideas. I just . . . really liked this one."

Weiss hadn't expected her to be this disheartened about this. "Why is that word so important to you?"

"It's always been a big part of my life, you know? I mean, I've never actually had insomnia. That's a whole different thing that people really suffer from. My semblance never let me sleep, but it always kept me feeling healthy and wide awake. Insomnia's still what I called it, though, and it had its own challenges I had to struggle with. But also, it's . . ." Ruby blushed slightly. "Well, it's what brought us together."

Weiss hadn't thought about it like that. Lately, Ruby's presence in her life had been a constant she was just grateful to have—something she both feared losing and also took for granted. It was amazing that if not for that one little "condition", Weiss would have never met Ruby and she'd be living a much lonelier—albeit safer—life.

"Oh well," said Ruby. "I guess it doesn't matter too much right now. Did you still want to try to find out what your brother's hiding?"

"Yes. No. I mean . . ." Weiss stood, feeling indecisive despite knowing there was never any real doubt as to what choice she'd make. "I'll decide on the way."

Outside the gate to the manor, Weiss and Ruby waited after ringing the buzzer. Only silence stirred from the other end.

"I guess he's not home," said Ruby.

"He did say he's been rather busy," said Weiss. "I can't question him, but at least your job will be simpler."

"Want me to Blink us inside?"

Weiss tried the buzzer one more time just to be safe but was met with the same result. "Can't you just try to use the Key instead?"

"I already did. Also, blinking's faster." Ruby grabbed her wrist and then teleported them all the way to the front steps.

Weiss stumbled on the landing and had to grab onto Ruby to steady herself, who she then proceeded to smack on the arm. "Warn me before you do that, you dolt!"

Ruby ignored her and took to examining the Skeleton Key. "It's not seeing anything. We need to go inside."

"Obviously," said Weiss, still scowling. "Try to access the security cameras. I'd prefer it if Whitley never knew we came back here."

Once inside, Weiss started leading them toward her father's office. She felt nervous. No one had answered the buzzer, but there was still that slim chance that someone was here to catch them breaking and entering, made easier by them announcing their arrival a minute ago. She hoped they could find something useful and get out of here as quickly as possible.

"Got it!" Ruby said as they climbed the last steps of the staircase. "I see the cameras. Aaaand there's the footage. I really love this thing."

"You can access the feed? How much?" Weiss asked.

"Hmm. Looks like it's got a few weeks stored. Oof, that's a lot of gigabytes. I've gotta clear some space on my scroll."

"What could possibly be taking up so much space on your scroll?"

"Games, pictures, videos. Mostly games. I always forget to uninstall them when I quit playing them."

"Just use mine. There's hardly anything on it that wasn't there when I bought it."

"Alright. The Key sees your scroll, too." Ruby pushed a few buttons. "It's transferring."

Weiss felt her scroll vibrate once in her pocket. Sure enough, there was the progress bar. "That thing is way more powerful than it has any right to be."

"I know, right? It's crazy. It doesn't even seem like it's really 'hacking' anything. It's like it's just already got full access to any piece of tech it sees."

"How is that possible?"

Ruby shrugged. "I just know it doesn't work on everything. It didn't see the buzzer outside or the gate lock. It couldn't see the TV in my room, either, but it saw the one in Penny's, which was a different model."

"So it really does only work on Schnee tech."

"I told you. You still don't think the STC had anything to do with making this thing?"

"I doubt it. I would've found something about it in the files we got from Whitley if they did. And plus, it'd be just way too risky. To deliberately implement such a powerful exploit into every piece of technology they made would create way too big of a liability for very little gain. Remember when one faulty component made all those products horribly malfunction? They had to fire their CTO and their PR still never fully recovered."

"I mean, the STC was already pretty scummy before that, too. It just took a bunch of people getting hurt before it really tipped the scales against them. It didn't really help that their products started to kind of suck after that, either."

Weiss felt a twinge of contempt at that statement, still harboring an unwarranted sense of pride for the family business. She had to remind herself that the STC that collapsed wasn't the family business—it was her father's business. And Ruby was right. That incident had marked the beginning of a drop in quality and lack of innovation in STC products that allowed their competitors to finally start catching up.

"Just open the door," Weiss said as they arrived at her father's old office.

"Done," said Ruby. The lock clicked.

Once inside, Weiss made straight for the desk. Whitley's laptop was absent—he hadn't even left the charging cable—but everything else looked the same. The desk drawers were mostly empty save for an unopened bottle of champagne, a watch display case that was missing its watches, a collection of magazines that featured her father on the cover, and a photo album containing images of him shaking hands with various influential people.

"I always knew your dad had a pretty big ego, but . . . isn't this taking it a little far?" Ruby was staring at the portrait on the back wall.

"Good thinking," Weiss said, immediately giving up on the desk and pulling the frame forward so they could see the vault.

"That's a mechanical lock," Ruby observed. "Key's no good. You think your brother's got anything important hidden in there?"

"It's not likely, but it's worth a shot. Have you found anything yet?"

"No. The Key only sees our scrolls, the door lock, and the cameras."

"Go look around, then. I'll try guessing the combination."

"On it, boss." Ruby saluted and then left the room.

Weiss rolled her eyes and began racking her brain for significant numbers. But, try as she might, she couldn't think of any particular combination her father or Whitley would be attached to. Either of them would have likely done the intelligent thing and chosen something completely arbitrary. Still, Weiss thought it was worth at least attempting relevant dates and birthdays. Sooner than expected, though, Ruby returned.

"Um, Weiss. You really need to see this." She sounded concerned.

Weiss perked up. "You found something?"

"No, it's more like someone's about to find us."

Ruby showed Weiss the Skeleton Key. On it were several camera angles from around the manor. One showed the front gate where all four of the Ace Operatives currently stood. It seemed like the tall and bald one, Vine, was attempting to get through the lock.

"Is this live?" said Weiss.

"Yes."

"What are they doing here? Do they have a warrant?"

Ruby shrugged. "I don't know, but we really need to get out of here before they get in."

Weiss was about to agree, but then her scroll began to vibrate. It was Whitley, calling her at a far from inconspicuous time. Did he know where they were? Whatever the case, she wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. They had time before the Ace Ops got inside.

"They're past the gate," said Ruby.

"Let's go around the back. Lock the door again and see if you can erase us from the security footage." Weiss set off at a moderate pace as she answered the call. "Hello, Brother."

"Sister," came Whitley's voice. "Now that I'm off my flight, I can finally return your calls. What was it you had to say that required my attention so urgently?"

"Your flight?" Weiss repeated. "So you actually left in the middle of all of this?"

"I already delayed my ticket once due to this incident. I could not afford the inconvenience of doing so again. If I don't show up, the hotel will give my reservation to someone else, and then it'd be next to impossible to find somewhere else to stay during the Festival."

"With all that's happening, the Vytal Festival is your biggest concern?"

"My business is my biggest concern, but progress is steady and I have time to spare. It's not often you get the opportunity to attend the Vytal Festival in your home country, one with double the funding of the previous two Festivals combined, no less."

"You're unbelievable."

"I resent that."

"I cannot believe that you're not even the slightest bit curious about all of this."

"Of course I'm curious. But that's all it is—curiosity. It's not something worth dwelling on. Whatever comes of it, my presence in Atlas won't change anything. I'll learn the truth as soon as qualified personnel uncover it, same as everyone else. I implore you to be content with the same."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Only you can," Whitley replied. "I just thought I'd give my take all the same. And, as abrupt as this is, I actually have to go already. But could you lend me a favor? The next time you're in the city, I'd like to request that you stop by the manor and collect my tablet for me. I believe I forgot it in my old bedroom. You can return it to me when you arrive in Vale. I'll let the gardeners know to hide a spare key near that bench you always favored."

Weiss paused, tempted. He'd left his tablet here. Could he have anything of interest stored away on that?

"What are you doing?" Ruby hissed. "They just passed the fountain!"

No. He wouldn't have told her where to find it if there was anything on it he didn't want her to know about. His room was on the opposite side of the manor. She'd come back for it at a less precarious time.

"I'll see what I can do," she said as she resumed walking.

"Thank you," said Whitley. "You can call again later, and then we can discuss whatever it was you called me about in the first place. But I really do have to hang up now. Farewell, Sister."

Weiss put her scroll away and picked up the pace. She took them down a right turn leading straight toward the back of the building.

"Hey, Weiss," Ruby said a few minutes later. "Take a look at this."

Weiss moved closer to her so she could see the Skeleton Key. The camera watching the entrance hall showed them the Ace Ops entering the manor. Harriet, Vine, and Elm chose to go down the eastern corridor on the ground floor while Marrow lagged behind. He was acting strange. He kept kneeling down, looking around at the ground in front of him for a couple of seconds, and then repeating the process a few steps away.

"What's he doing?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know," said Weiss.

Eventually, Marrow stopped doing whatever it was he was doing and took off with a quick pace. He climbed the stairs and traveled the same exact path Weiss and Ruby had. He stopped for a minute when he reached Weiss's father's office but then continued on after realizing he couldn't get inside.

Weiss and Ruby reached the end of the hallway they were in and followed the left fork only briefly until they reached a particular window. From it, they could see a clear view through the trees in the backyard to the street on the north-western edge of the property. Weiss took the Skeleton Key back from Ruby without asking and shut it off.

"We're done here," she said as she tucked the device into the same pocket as her scroll, dismissing Ruby's protests. "Now get us out."

Ruby seemed to be contemplating the best way to argue her way into getting the Key back, but then her eyes suddenly focused onto something over Weiss's shoulder. "Oh, shoot, he's here!"

Weiss turned around, alarmed, but she didn't see anything. Then, without warning, Ruby grabbed her hand and teleported them to the curb. When Weiss recovered from her disorientation, it was to see a smirk on her friend's face. Sometime soon, Weiss would have to find a way to pay her back for that.

Having spent far less time than expected at the manor, they decided not to head back right away. They'd been overly cautious the last time. Amity was a large base. It'd be difficult to find them even if they were still there, exploring around the parts they hadn't yet seen. If anyone attempted looking for them, it'd be a stretch to assume they'd left.

They still couldn't stop anywhere or partake in any activities, as that was a distraction and time investment that they really couldn't afford right now. Instead, Weiss simply asked their cab driver to do a scenic drive around the city before taking them back to Amity. It wasn't much, but it allowed Ruby to get a feel for Atlas and to see most of the important sights up close. It was worth doing this now in case they didn't get another chance before they had to fly back to Vale. Ruby seemed to appreciate it, and it gave Weiss time to start sifting through the security footage they'd acquired. She was determined to not let this excursion be a total waste.

"Atlas really is a lot different than Vale," Ruby said at the end of it. "Everything here's so much more . . . I don't know, cleaner, I guess? More organized. It's a lot greener, too. In Vale you've only really got a handful of parks and you'll see some trees on the sidewalk here and there, but it's mostly just buildings, buildings, and more buildings. Atlas has actual lawns and landscaping. I also like how the skyscrapers are all spread out, instead of being grouped up in the middle, and how there aren't as many of them."

"This is the capital," Weiss reminded her. "It has to be more presentable, otherwise other countries will think less of Remnant as a whole. Now, are you going to use your semblance or not?"

"Oh, right. You ready?"

"Would you care if I wasn't?"

Ruby responded by grabbing her arm and teleporting them into Weiss's room. Weiss swallowed her discomfort and then took a seat on her bed, appreciating the warmth of the inside air in contrast to the chill breeze that was picking up outside.

"So, what now?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know," said Weiss. "I don't like the implications of the Ace Ops investigating Whitley. But I suppose it means we're on the right track."

"You think there's a chance he might be wrapped up in all this?"

"I want to believe he isn't. If he was, why would have flown to Vale?"

"He could've been lying."

"That would be par for the course at this point. Whatever the case, the only lead we have on Partridge is finding out whatever Whitley knows about him. I just need to keep searching for the answers in these videos." Weiss pulled out her scroll and, noticing its battery was low, plugged it in.

"Make sure you charge the Key, too," said Ruby. "It was on sixty percent when you stole it from me."

"Right."

Ruby stood awkwardly for a bit, unsure of what to do with herself while Weiss was busy with her scroll, until finally saying, "Welp. I guess I'll go see what Penny's up to."

Left alone in her room, Weiss continued doing what she said she would. She fast-forwarded the footage as much as she could without risking missing anything, but the strange thing was that she'd seen absolutely nothing so far, neither shady nor innocent. She'd gone back a few days, yet the only time Whitley had even been to the manor was the time Weiss and Ruby had met him there. The only people that seemed to visit it regularly were a small team of gardeners that came in the early mornings to do their jobs.

She didn't have too much time to think about it, though, as a knock on her door soon interrupted her work. She got up from her bed and opened it to find Marrow in the hallway, who seemed surprised she answered.

"May I help you?" Weiss asked politely, well aware of how suspicious this timing was.

Marrow looked over her shoulder into the room before responding, not finding anything. "Do you think this is a game?"

"Excuse me?"

"You already almost died once here. You would have if it weren't for your friend's unregistered semblance. What do you think you're accomplishing by throwing yourself back into the line of fire?"

Weiss crossed her arms. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Is that so?" He sniffed the air in her direction, which caused her to take an uncomfortable step back from him. "You were at that mansion at the same time as us. Why?"

"That's a lie," Weiss said, wondering how he could have possibly known that. No one was that good of a detective. "I don't even know what 'mansion' you're referring to."

Marrow appeared to consider her for a moment, his eyes distrustful. Finally, he said, "You can leave the base and break the rules the General put in place for your protection all you want, but if you keep going the way you're going, you're going to get in a lot more trouble than just getting kicked out of Amity. Let it go. If I catch you meddling in our investigation again, I'm going straight to Clover . . . and then your sister."

Weiss swallowed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hmph," was all he had left to say.

Weiss closed the door and then leaned her head against it. There goes yet another thing she had to worry about.

Chapter Text

Invalid search.

Weiss hummed thoughtfully to herself. She typed in, "Search 30 feet."

Invalid search.

"Search radius 30 feet."

Invalid search.

"Radius 30 feet."

Invalid search.

"30 feet radius."

Invalid search.

Weiss huffed and turned off the Skeleton Key. She couldn't imagine how Ruby had the patience for this. Weiss already knew what the Key was looking for and she still couldn't guess the correct command. It was just as well. She couldn't be tempted by the device if she didn't know how to use it. One momentary indulgence of curiosity was enough for now.

A few minutes later, Ruby finally knocked on Weiss's door and poked her head inside. She was wearing a fresh set of clothes and her hair was damp, having recently come back from a jog. Weiss had turned down the offer to join her, opting to stay inside where she didn't have to do anything that reminded her of her time spent held captive in a ruined parking garage.

"You're cutting it close." Weiss stood and joined her in the hallway.

"We've still got five minutes," Ruby said.

Together, they made their way to the nearby canteen where Penny hovered around an outdoor table while Pietro sat in his wheelchair. He was busy with something on his scroll, but Penny noticed them immediately and waved them over. The two girls sat down, unsure of why he'd asked to meet them here.

"Ah! Good evening." Pietro greeted them as he put his scroll away. "Could we have a moment alone, sweetheart?" he said to his daughter.

"Of course." Penny stood and gave him a brief squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll get some coffee. Would you two like any?"

"Sure," Weiss said. "Black, please."

"Milk and four sugars," Ruby requested.

With that, Penny bounded off and the two girls turned their attention to Pietro.

"So what did you—?" Ruby started to ask.

"'It is in passing that we achieve immortality,'" said Pietro. "'Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death.' Do either of you fully understand the meaning of these words?"

"That's the quote in front of Pyrrha Nikos's statue," Weiss recalled.

"That is true, but those words originate not from the Protector of Vale, but from another vigilante who devoted her life to the city of Styx in my home country."

Ruby gripped the table and leaned forward. "The Grim Reaper?"

"Indeed."

"Wait," said Weiss. "Isn't that just an urban myth?"

"Certainly not," said Pietro. "The Grim Reaper has fought crime for decades and saved countless lives, as anyone from Styx could attest to."

"She's been around even since my uncle was a kid," said Ruby. "He used to tell me stories about her when I was a little girl. She was one of the first superheroes I ever looked up to."

"Superhero?" Weiss repeated, still dubious. "So she's a paragon. What's her semblance?"

"No one really knows," said Ruby. "That's part of what makes her so mysterious."

"There are many conflicting rumors," said Pietro. "It keeps her enemies on their toes. But I'm afraid we've veered off track. Now, you know the dogma and where it stems from, but you haven't answered my question. What does it mean?"

"It means we live on even after death through the legacies we leave behind," Ruby said. "And Pyrrha . . . well, with what she did, she left a pretty big one that's not going anywhere any time soon."

"That's right," said Pietro. "Now, I wanted to ask the both of you this: What legacies do you hope to leave behind after you're gone?"

Neither woman said anything at first. Weiss could tell Ruby had expected that question about as little as she had, and was just as unprepared to answer it.

"Might I ask why, Dr. Polendina?" Weiss finally said.

"It's important to put our goals into perspective," said Pietro. "I've done a lot through my years—made my contributions to science and left my mark on the world of technology. But when my time comes, the only legacy I'll care to have left is that my daughter gets the chance to create hers. We all aspire to do great things, and sometimes we succeed. But that's often not enough. So before you go spending too much of your life focusing on the wrong things, ask yourself whether they'll make the legacy you truly want to create. If not, then you need to find and pursue what will before it's too late."

A heavy silence followed. What kind of legacy did they want to leave behind? Weiss hadn't the slightest clue how to answer that. With Partridge actively hunting down her and her entire family, she wasn't even sure she'd live long enough to create any sort of legacy.

"But why are you asking us?" Ruby asked, seeming equally unsure of herself.

"Penny thinks rather highly of the both of you," Pietro said. "I wanted to see for myself the potential you have. Think about my question. You don't have to tell the answer to me. No, think nothing of it. All that matters is that you can find it for yourselves."

"Is that really the only thing you wanted to say to us, Dr. Polendina?" Weiss said.

"For now, it is."

Weiss felt that there was almost definitely more to this than he was letting on, but it was clear he wasn't about to tell them what that was. So, she figured it best to move on to what she and Ruby had discussed earlier. "Well, then, if you don't mind, would it be alright if we ran something by you?"

"Why, of course."

"The thing is," Ruby said, "you're pretty well connected, right? Well, we were wondering if you could recognize any of the people in these pictures we have, or at least point us in the right direction."

"I can try, for sure," said Pietro, "though I must warn you, my memory isn't what it once was."

Weiss pulled out her scroll and showed him the screen. Through all her digging into the manor's security footage, she'd learned a few things. The last time Whitley had been at the manor before meeting Weiss there had been the day of their father's attack. He had been living there for a brief period until then and had also met with a handful of people. A few Weiss knew, as they were either important in the tech industry or had some sort of past affiliation with the STC. The rest she and Ruby didn't know, so they agreed to ask Pietro whether he did.

"Hm. Well, this young fellow—" Pietro pointed at the picture of a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties "—I tuned into a ceremony where he won an award in engineering. Can't recall his name, I'm afraid. And I don't know any of the rest, but . . . Oh, dear. This woman—I saw her face a little bit ago on the news. She just died."

Megan and Marion Lachs, a pair of siblings, were found stabbed to death in their office earlier that day. They were the sole employees of their own small company that developed and maintained an obscure software popular among programmers. Megan had met with Whitley at the manor about a week ago. Since the security cameras didn't capture audio, it's impossible to say what they'd discussed, though it was a reasonable assumption that Whitley had simply wanted her to join his business. Why she and her brother had been murdered a short time after this was another question entirely.

Finding out how the Lachses' murders were connected to everything else that's been going on was a tall order. Weiss and Ruby didn't have any ideas other than trying to examine the crime scene—which was obviously impossible—so they had no choice but to pursue other avenues. They still couldn't identify most of the faces the Skeleton Key had revealed to them, but there were some they did know and even a few they could track down. So, for the third time, Ruby teleported them out of the base.

They started by visiting the main building of a smaller subsidiary company once owned by the STC. The company's CEO was among those who'd visited Whitley at the manor. That meeting can't have gone well, as the first mention of Whitley's name prompted his secretary to threaten to call security. The next two people they tried were just as fruitless—the head of an accounting firm and a data analyst, both of whose offices were closed when they arrived.

After three pointless cab rides, it was starting to get rather late, though it hadn't exactly been too early in the day when they started. Not wanting to push their luck too far, Weiss chose one more name to gamble on before calling it a night.

She and Ruby arrived at the home of Cooper Myrtle, one of the few STC board members who hadn't been convicted of any white-collar crimes. Weiss had spoken with him a couple of times when her father had invited him to the manor, but other than that she didn't know him. He seemed like one of the more genuine businessmen she'd met, which wasn't as comforting as she would have liked.

"Do you think he'll talk to you?" Ruby asked as they approached the front door. "I mean, we are just showing up at his house out of the blue."

"We'll see." Weiss rang the doorbell.

They waited, but no answer came. Weiss tried again. She hadn't heard anything, so, considering the possibility that the doorbell was broken, she tried knocking. The door, unlatched, opened at her touch.

"Hello?" Weiss called out. When there was still no movement from inside, she tried the doorbell again. This time she was able to hear it.

"I think something's wrong," Ruby said.

"He's just not home," Weiss said. "And he forgot to close his door properly. It happens."

"No, look." Ruby was looking through the window. She pointed at a doorway where a black liquid and shards of ceramic were spilled on the floor. "Who makes a mess and then just leaves without cleaning it up?"

"Perhaps he was running late. That'd explain why he didn't lock his door."

"I really feel like something's off," Ruby insisted. "We should go take a look, at least."

"Ruby, that's trespassing!"

"But it could be an emergency!"

Weiss bit her lip. She did have to admit the circumstances were rather odd. "Alright, fine. We'll just take a quick peek inside."

Ruby showed no signs of triumph over having convinced her, which meant she really was worried.

Weiss pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped over the threshold, making sure Ruby was still close by so she could teleport them at an instant if need be. She kept her eyes open, looking around for any other oddities as they slowly headed for what she assumed to be a dropped mug of coffee.

The instant they could see through the open doorway, Ruby was proven right. Weiss gasped and stumbled backward; Ruby grabbed her to keep her balanced. Lying on the dining room floor, staring up at the ceiling as a crimson liquid pooled around him, was Cooper Myrtle. Ruby hurried forward, presumably to check his pulse or try to help him in some way, and then she stopped just shy of the blood. It was already too late.

"Ruby, we need to go," Weiss said in a hushed voice. She took several tentative steps forward until she could reach out and grab her friend's wrist. Now closer to the body, she could see several darker spots on his once nice white shirt—stab wounds.

Ruby said nothing. She simply continued to stand there in a stunned silence. Weiss was about to drag her out of there, but then a shiver ran down her spine as a sinister laughter came from across the dining room beyond its other entrance.

"Oh, what little birdies have found themselves in my nest?" The laughter grew louder, more maniacal, until its source entered the room.

Tyrian Callows was not a man who could ever be accurately portrayed through a screen. The sharpest image of him was like a badly-drawn cartoon compared to the real thing. A camera could not capture the aura of malevolence that radiated from his mere presence. A lens could not see the unbridled lust for sadism that Weiss saw in his golden eyes. No photograph could convey the terrifying image of death he truly was.

He entered the room at a leisurely pace, grinning. He jumped up and crouched on top of the table, looking down at them like a starving man beholding a grand banquet. His dark hair hung in a greasy mop, the back of it braided into a tight ponytail. He still wore the same red jumpsuit of a Little Sister inmate, the sleeves ripped off at the shoulders and the buttons ripped open to reveal his scarred chest.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, somehow widening his smile even further. "The fear. I never grow tired of the fear."

"Ruby!" Weiss yelled, tightly gripping her wrist and desperately wondering why she hadn't teleported them to safety yet.

Tyrian looked stunned, and then a second later, outraged. He descended upon Weiss faster than she could process and pinned her against the doorframe. His thin build veiled the great strength he possessed.

"You dare?" he spat with absolute fury, inches away from her face. Weiss tried to turn her head away, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. "You think yourself equal to her? You're nothing! You're not her, you're not my goddess, you're not my goddess!"

"I-I never said I was!" Weiss pleaded.

"Liar!" he bellowed.

Weiss clenched her eyes shut, no longer able to bear the sight of him as she waited fearfully to become as riddled with holes as the man on the floor.

"No no no no no. No! Look at me!" said Tyrian.

Weiss refused. She couldn't open her eyes even if she wanted to.

"Look at me! Tell me, tell me how! You're not my goddess! Look at me!"

With the final words Weiss felt a sharp point pressed into her stomach, not hard enough to break skin yet but hard enough to send a message. With a great effort, Weiss opened her terrified eyes and saw not Tyrian Callows, but the severely scarred face of the man who'd once sliced a gash over her left eye. She recalled how she felt on that day. It didn't even begin to compare to what she felt now.

She remembered Jaune jumping in at the last second to save her then, though she hadn't known who he was yet. No one was coming to save her this time, and she didn't know why. Ruby was right here, but she wasn't doing anything. Something was wrong. Perhaps . . . perhaps this time it was Weiss's turn to save her.

She concentrated on the contact of Tyrian's hand on her chin, and she prayed it was enough. She'd never done it this way before. Her eyes closed once again and she took a deep breath, then she felt herself leaving this world for another.

In the Emerald Forest, Weiss immediately dropped to her knees and took the time to catch her breath. Then she let out an anguished, furious scream.

Why? Why did these things keep happening to her? Of all the things, of all the people . . . She swore she wouldn't take any risks, and she hadn't. All she'd done is try to talk to a man at his home. This wasn't fair!

Minutes passed, or what felt like minutes—in the real world, no time had passed at all. She tried to calm herself. If she was going to get herself and her best friend away from this serial killer unharmed—god, that's such a surreal challenge she had to face—then she needed to be thinking coherently. And, now allowing rational thoughts to cross her mind, she realized she hadn't taken even a moment to observe the mindscape.

Slowly, Weiss stood. She looked around and saw the trees of the Emerald Forest and no signs of movement from any direction. It was a miracle she hadn't been swarmed by Grimm already. It was night, and the weather was clear . . . Why was the weather clear? Every time she'd entered someone's mind against their will, she'd been met with a storm and a lightning strike that destroyed her rapier. But there was no voice from the sky demanding her to leave, and there was no faceless avatar trying to fight her off, either. Did that mean Tyrian wanted her here? Or was he somehow incapable of resisting her?

How do you go about curing a person who was this completely and utterly deranged? Was it even possible? If you take away the psychopathy, what does that leave? She'd be changing the very fabric of his being. Even if he survived the process, the man he currently was would be effectively dead. The world would be better off, but that wasn't something Weiss was prepared to do to anyone, even Tyrian Callows.

It didn't matter. She was thinking too big. She had two things she needed to accomplish while in here—to potentially learn whatever she could about who had broken him out of prison, and to cause some kind of disruption in here that could distract him long enough for Ruby and her to escape.

As she began to move amongst the trees, it was as if her semblance had sensed she was ready. A window appeared up ahead, and from a distance she could see only darkness through it. She approached slowly, alert for Grimm and fearful of what she was about to witness.

Tyrian stood atop a roof, looking down upon a woman traveling the sidewalk alone at night. It didn't look like anywhere in Atlas, which meant it was likely Vacuo. He followed her from his vantage point, leaping from building to building to keep up with her. When she finally turned down an alleyway, he began to giggle to himself.

Weiss knew what she was watching, and she didn't like it. This isn't what she was after, yet her curiosity kept her eyes glued to the window. She'd look away before having to watch this innocent woman get murdered, but this could at the very least give her an idea as to how his semblance works.

Tyrian hopped down to the nearest fire escape and nimbly descended toward the ground, his laughter growing more sinister and excited. He jumped the last two levels and landed less than twenty feet away from the woman, who finally heard him and turned around.

Weiss gasped. Tyrian's victim had blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and the shadow of a face that you could tell was once beautiful, but was now hollow and sunken and tainted by Weiss's knowledge of future deeds.

Tyrian giggled gleefully and took a leisurely approach toward her, in much the same way he had just done to Weiss and Ruby. He pulled out a knife which he twirled through his fingers, accidentally cutting himself with it but seeming not to notice. Salem made an upward flicking motion with her hand and the knife flew out of his grip and into the sky. Tyrian's laughter ceased immediately and he froze.

"Fear," he said, sounding genuinely confused. "Why have you no fear?"

Salem smiled coldly and took measured steps toward the serial killer. "Fear belongs to those who have yet something left to lose."

Tyrian drew another knife and lunged at her. This time, she ripped a ladder off the fire escape with hand movements alone and used it to pin him to the alley wall. She used her semblance to take the second knife from him, this time catching it. She walked right up to Tyrian, who was immobilized, and pressed the tip of the blade against his cheek. Weiss, looking through Tyrian's eyes, could not see it happen but she vaguely felt the memory of her slowly cutting him, and him grinning as a result.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice full of wonder.

Salem sent the ladder away with a wave of her hand, freeing him. He made no sudden moves, staying there of his own volition, entranced. She cupped his face with a single palm and looked directly into his eyes.

"I am your goddess," she said.

Tyrian dropped to his knees and prostrated himself before her feet.

In any other circumstances, a view inches away from Salem's face would be the most terrifying thing Weiss had ever seen. The woman's semblance wasn't even close to the scariest part, either. That eerie calmness, those eyes completely devoid of soul, and the ease with which she was able to manipulate and bend a psychotic murderer to her will—witnessing it firsthand contextualized her wickedness in a brand new light.

Weiss had heard and read a lot about Salem since the assault, as had most of the world, yet none of it had prepared her for what she just saw. That memory made her out to be an even more imposing figure than before, sure, but with that came the understanding that where people like Tyrian Callows never got the chance to be truly human due to their mental illnesses, Salem was different. She was a person who'd been broken and corrupted to an extent Weiss didn't know was possible. There was an innocent version of Salem that had died long before Pyrrha had sacrificed herself to kill what remained. That was the scariest part of that memory.

As Weiss continued to wander, pondering what she'd just seen while also getting more and more uneasy the longer she went without seeing any Grimm, the second memory appeared to her. There was something strange about this one. Where all other windows hovered in midair, perfectly unmoving, this one wobbled ever so slightly, and cracks spread across its surface.

Wary, she approached and looked through into some sort of meeting room. There were five chairs around a table, two of them vacant. Salem sat at the head with Tyrian across from her. To her right was a large and muscular man with slicked back brown hair and a beard without a mustache. He wore an unzipped green motorcycle jacket over a tight-fitting black tank top. His expression was perfectly impassive as he stared straight ahead.

A scroll began to ring on the table in front of Salem. She answered it in speaker mode and said, "I expect good news."

"All preparations have been taken care of here." A woman spoke from the other end with a cold yet familiar voice. "Our newest member has performed his task admirably."

"He hasn't!" Tyrian spat suddenly. "He failed! Because you betrayed us!"

"Well done, Cinder," said Salem. She—as well as everyone else—behaved as if they hadn't even heard Tyrian's outburst. "With the vigilante problem taken care of, there's nothing left stopping us from proceeding. We shall begin our march at dawn."

"Understood," said Cinder and the large man in unison.

"No!" Tyrian yelled. "We can't! We'll fail, you'll die! We must delay! My goddess, I beg of you!"

A strange warping effect crossed the room, and Salem turned her head in a stiff and robotic motion to look Tyrian in the eyes. "You are right. We will delay. Thank you, Tyrian. It is heartening to know that you, at least, remain loyal."

The glass shattered and the frame fell to the ground, the memory gone. Weiss didn't get nearly enough time to try to process this one, as she soon felt the ground trembling beneath her feet, ever so slightly. She held her rapier tight and prepared herself. A short time later, no less than six Death Stalkers erupted from the trees and surrounded her. Knowing she was far outmatched, Weiss dropped to her knees and closed her eyes. Hoping for the best, she returned to the real world.

The present Tyrian immediately let go of her and recoiled, collapsing into the puddle of Cooper Myrtle's blood. He sat in a fetal position and began to repeatedly smack himself in the head. "No! No! It's not true! She lives, she lives! We delayed, we succeeded! She lives!"

Weiss ran over to Ruby, who still hadn't moved an inch, and grabbed her shoulders. Ruby's face was completely petrified, frozen in such an intense fear that Weiss hadn't known she was capable of. This was the girl who'd infiltrated Torchwick's warehouse and taken a bullet for Weiss without hesitation. Yet here she stood, immobilized with complete and utter terror.

"Ruby!" Weiss shook her.

Ruby blinked and her expression turned to one of confusion. "Weiss?"

"Come on! We have to go!"

Ruby seemed to suddenly remember where they were and what was happening. A steely determination took over her. She turned her head to look out the window, grabbed Weiss's hand, and teleported them to safety.

Chapter Text

Silence. From Cooper Myrtle's house back to Amity, and then for a while after, there was little more than silence. What was there to say after something like that? Other than the destination to their cab driver, nothing. They couldn't even call emergency services to report what they'd seen, as terrible as it felt to leave and pretend they were never there. In the day and age where payphones were all but nonexistent, it was impossible to place an anonymous tip that couldn't be traced back to them. But if Weiss and Ruby had managed to come across Myrtle's dead body while his murderer was still on the premises, then someone else would surely find him soon enough.

"I'm sorry," Ruby finally said. She sat on her bed with a blanket draped over her shoulders, holding a cup of hot chocolate close to her body. It wasn't particularly cold in the room, but the chilling atmosphere of Myrtle's house had followed them back here.

Weiss, resting on the floor with her back to the wall, her coffee sitting untouched beside her, said nothing.

"It's my fault," Ruby said. "I urged us to go in there. It was Junior's bar all over again."

"That's not true," Weiss said, a firmness in her voice that surprised even herself. "You had a hunch, and your hunch was right. It was . . . it was the right thing to do. There was no way we could have known. We were just unlucky."

Ruby didn't look too reassured. "I couldn't protect you. I promised you I would, but . . ."

Weiss contemplated several different things to say, but the only word that came out of her mouth was, "Why?"

"I don't know. I was just . . . so scared. I couldn't move, I couldn't even think. As soon as I went into that room, all I knew was fear—worse than anything I've ever felt before. It was like when Torchwick ordered his men to shoot you, but a billion times worse."

"His semblance," Weiss said. "The CAB says he can manipulate emotions. He must have instilled such an intense fear in you that you were completely petrified. That's what he does to all his victims."

"But it didn't work on you?"

Weiss shook her head. "It didn't work on Salem, either."

"Salem?"

Weiss recounted her version of the experience, all the way up to the end of Tyrian's first memory. "So he tried to do the same thing to her that he did to you, but it didn't work . . . and that's why he revered her so much. I suppose he was so shocked that it didn't work on me because she was the only other person that's happened with."

"So . . . he doesn't make fear, he amplifies it? He latches onto whatever fear is already there. Because Salem wasn't afraid, his semblance didn't affect her."

"What about me? I was absolutely terrified."

"Hm . . ." Ruby thought for a while on that. "Maybe it's your semblance?"

"What?"

"You can fiddle around with people's minds, so maybe it also keeps other people from being able to do the same to you? Like a mental shield or something."

"That's . . ." Weiss thought about it for a bit, and then she abruptly stood. "Ruby, you're right!"

Ruby looked alarmed by the sudden shift in Weiss's attitude. Weiss was smiling—something she'd been certain up until a moment ago she'd never be capable of again after what they'd been through. "My semblance makes me immune to other mind-influencing semblances. My mother's semblance makes her immune to my semblance!"

Ruby caught on almost immediately. "The inhibitors!"

"Yes! That's something we never considered before because it was impossible for me to use my semblance on her while she's in an inhibiting chamber, as I'd have to be inside it, too." With the small-scale inhibitors that Pyrrha's mysterious benefactor had invented, Weiss could temporarily disable her mother's semblance, which would disable her immunity to Weiss's semblance.

Ruby reached into her pocket and took out one of the small metal discs. Of course she had it on her person.

"I've only got the one, though," she said as she gave it to Weiss. "The other few I brought were in my carry-on bag when the plane went down."

"And why wasn't this one?"

"It was, but I fumbled it, remember? It fell out when I was grabbing my designs to show Dr. Polendina."

Weiss gingerly held the tiny object, staring at it as if it was made of the purest platinum. All this time spent healing strangers, studying her semblance, and recording abstract findings, and none of it mattered now that the solution was suddenly in the palm of her hand.

"What do you want to do?" Ruby asked. "Do you want to go right now?"

Weiss shook her head and pocketed the inhibitor, careful not to prick herself with the spikes. "Tomorrow. They wouldn't let me see her this late. And . . . there's something else I still need to tell you."

Weiss described the second memory to her, including its strange abnormalities. "It didn't seem like a completely fabricated memory. I think it was—I don't know—like a manifestation of his own self-delusions. He literally worshipped Salem, so it's impossible for him to comprehend a world where she's dead."

"So it was a real memory," said Ruby, "but altered? Cinder really worked for Salem, and she betrayed her . . . maybe. This is huge! This is— This is . . . What can we do with this?"

"I'm doubtful that this information brings us any closer to actually finding her, but it's another piece of the puzzle. She must owe her current position of power to the connections she gained under Salem. But that doesn't give us any new leads, as any of Salem's associates we know of are already in prison . . . Tyrian excluded."

"What about the big dude?"

"I saw his face, but that's it. Wherever he is, it's probable that he's as dangerous as Cinder is if Salem trusted him enough to seat him next to herself."

"If that memory was right before the assault, then they were in Vacuo. He might have stuck around, but that's probably a long shot. If were to ask around—"

"—we'd have another Junior's."

Ruby sighed. "Right . . . But Vacuo's crawling with vigilantes! If we could get in touch with some of them, we wouldn't have to go talking to any criminals."

"Vigilantes are criminals," Weiss reminded her.

"Yeah, but the good kind. And even the cops love them over there, so what they do is basically legal."

"Unenforced crimes are still crimes."

"But they're cool crimes."

Weiss rolled her eyes, but couldn't hold back a smile. She was content that Ruby could, even for a moment, forget about what Tyrian had done to her head and return to her usual, bubbly self.

By the next morning, Cooper Myrtle's murder had reached the news . . . as had a few others. Another stabbing victim was an editor of a magazine that had made a name for itself by frequently criticizing large corporations and capitalism in general—the STC had been one of their favorites to abuse. On top of that, there was the STC's former head of quality assurance who had since been hired at another large tech company, a journalist who'd often painted the STC in a positive light, a corporate litigator who'd opposed the STC in a number of legal cases, and an accomplished software engineer that didn't seem to have any connections to the STC. All had suffered the same deaths, and it was likely that there were more still that had yet to be discovered. Proximity in time to Tyrian's escape from Atlas Supermax was driving speculation that this was his handiwork, but the only hard evidence supporting that was Weiss and Ruby's run-in with him, which only they knew about.

Of the newest victims, only the software engineer had met with Whitley at the manor. That made three. It was still too many to be a coincidence, but this meant there was a different common factor linking the people that Tyrian—or whoever he was working for—was targeting. There were several that had some sort of past involvement with the STC, be that either in opposition or support of them. It was impossible to say what each of the victims had done to earn Partridge's ire with the information they had.

"Doesn't it seem kind of sloppy to you?" Ruby asked.

Weiss swallowed her bite of breakfast before saying, "What does?"

"All of it. I mean, there are professional hitmen out there who are really good at making people disappear without a trace."

"That would seem more practical, and I doubt he wouldn't have the funds for it," Weiss said.

"Right. If Partridge just wanted these people dead, I feel like sending a serial killer after them is the worst way to go about it. It draws attention to what he's doing."

"You're not wrong. It's clear that simple retribution isn't his only goal. If he just wanted my father dead, why did he order that other inmate to wait for a signal instead of just having him strike at the first opportunity? It's all part of a more elaborate scheme. There has to be a strategy we're not seeing. Perhaps these murders are meant to divert attention away from something else."

"Like what?"

Weiss sipped her coffee. "I don't know."

The two girls continued to eat their food while bouncing theories back and forth. None of them seemed plausible. The one they were both thinking but neither voiced was that Whitley was behind all of this—that he was either working with Partridge or he was Partridge. He's a skilled hacker, which matched Partridge's methods. People he'd recently met with were turning up dead. The Ace Ops had investigated the family manor where he was supposedly staying. And their father's attacker had described someone who sounded full of himself with a "rich person accent". That could easily apply to Whitley, but it could also apply to eighty percent of the businessmen in this city.

Despite all the evidence piling up against him, Weiss just couldn't convince herself that it was true. She and Winter had often been at odds with Whitley during their childhoods, but the animosity between them could never have grown to an extent such as this. She wanted to believe he'd meant what he'd said about mending their family. There was something else at play here—there had to be.

By the time Ruby finished eating, Weiss's tray was still half full. Weiss hadn't even touched her food in the past several minutes, her hand closed around the inhibitor in her pocket instead of her fork.

"You okay?" Ruby asked.

Weiss gave a half-hearted nod. In truth, her appetite had been killed by anxiety. She was confident this little device was the answer she'd been searching for—she was physically incapable of believing anything else at this point—but there were so many variables she couldn't predict. What if it was too late? What if curing her mother wasn't enough to bring her back to who she was before? Would she wind up like Penny, having no memory of her past life and having to redevelop from a state of mental infancy? If not, would she hate Weiss for how long it'd taken her to reach this point?

"You don't have to do it today, you know," said Ruby. "It might even be better to wait until Partridge is arrested . . . you know, so she's got one less thing to worry about when she's better."

"If I allow myself to postpone this now," Weiss said, "then I'll never stop making excuses to do so."

Those words appeared to have an unexpected impact on Ruby, but Weiss was too distracted to fully notice it.

"Let's go," Weiss said. "I'm doing this now."

She stood, but Ruby remained seated.

"Are you okay?" Weiss asked.

"Weiss, I'm . . ." Ruby bit her lip, then met her eyes and put on a warm smile. "I'm here for you."

Weiss returned it. "I'm excited for you to meet her."

After disposing of their garbage and returning their food trays, the two women started toward the administrative building where they'd find Clover. They couldn't just sneak out again this time, since there were soldiers at the psychiatric hospital who'd catch them. But there was no need, regardless. No one would deny a request like this.

"Hey!" A soldier called out and jogged up to them, causing them to halt. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties. Judging by his badge and uniform, he was a specialist. "What are you two doing?"

"Excuse me?" Weiss said. As far as she was aware, they were doing nothing out of the ordinary.

"I've been waiting for forty minutes," said the specialist. "Are you coming or what?"

"Uh, coming where?" Ruby was confused as Weiss.

"I think you might have mistaken us for someone else," said Weiss.

"Weiss Schnee and Ruby Rose," the specialist said, staring at them as if they were the ones acting strange. "I'm supposed to escort you into the city."

"Since when? We were never told of this."

He looked really concerned now. "You told Sergeant Ebi you wanted to go back into the city. He arranged for me to take you today at eight a.m. He sent someone to tell you last night."

Weiss and Ruby exchanged a look. There was a good reason why nobody was able to find them last night, though they weren't about to divulge that.

"Right," Weiss said. "Sorry. I've had a lot on my mind lately, I must have forgotten."

"Where are we going . . . again?" Ruby said unconvincingly.

The specialist looked relieved. "That's up to you. You've got three hours to spend—well, less than two and a half, now."

"And it's just you escorting us?" said Ruby.

"Yes."

"They sent two with me both times before," said Weiss. "And that was when I went alone."

"And that was before the Atlas Supermax breakout," Ruby added.

"Well, yeah. Obviously, that's made us shorthanded at the moment," said the specialist. "Do you want to go or don't you?"

"Of course I do," Weiss said warily. "I'd like to go confirm something with Sergeant Ebi first, if you don't mind."

"Confirm what?"

"I want to go see my mother again. You have soldiers positioned at the facility, and I want to be sure I won't get turned away for showing up without notice."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"It wouldn't hurt to be safe, though," said Ruby.

"You'd only be wasting your own time." The specialist checked his watch. "You won't be able to do a whole lot at this rate."

"We're okay with that." Weiss took one step to move past him and he suddenly reached for his holster.

"Don't," he warned, confirming their suspicions.

"Who are you?" Ruby demanded.

"Just come with me," the specialist said. "I won't hurt you, we're just going for a drive."

"To where?" said Weiss.

"I won't ask again."

Whoosh. Ruby teleported behind the man, swept his legs out from beneath him, and even managed to take his gun from him all in one fluid move. With suspicious proficiency, she partially disassembled the pistol and tossed its parts in opposite directions.

"Who are you?" Ruby asked again.

Weiss felt a strange enjoyment in watching her best friend pull off this maneuver.

"Please," the specialist pleaded. He sat up and dropped all attempts at intimidation. "Just come with me. My husband and kids went to Vale for the Vytal Festival. This . . . this man has pictures of them from inside their hotel room. I can't protect them there."

"Who?" Weiss asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I got a call, and then a message with too much information for it to be an empty threat. All I know is that I'm supposed to take you to Schnee Tower."

"Schnee Tower?" Weiss repeated, taken aback.

"Please," he said again. "I don't know what he'll do to them."

"What did he sound like?" Ruby asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Young, I guess. Not a child, I mean, but didn't sound like my age. And he had a sort of formality to the way he talked."

"Alright." Weiss felt a sinking feeling in her chest. "Alright, we'll go with you."

Ruby looked at her and nodded. Weiss saw a determination in her eyes, conveying the guilt she felt for not being able to protect her from Tyrian and her strive to do better this time.

It didn't matter whether the man was lying. Extortion was perfectly in line with what they knew of Partridge so far, and it wasn't Weiss or Ruby's place to gamble on innocent lives. It was easier to believe this man's family did exist and they really were in danger, as nothing about this situation would change if they weren't.

After the dissolution of the STC, Schnee Tower had become a highly sought-after asset. It was a tall, flashy building with over seventy floors located in the middle of Remnant's capital. Whichever corporation managed to scoop it up would have immediately obtained a large step up in the race to take the STC's place at the top of the economy. Unfortunately for them, they hadn't accounted for the fact that it had been Weiss's father who'd overseen its construction. The building was very overdesigned, cut any and every corner that didn't affect its aesthetic and grandeur, and was exceedingly expensive to maintain compared to other skyscrapers of similar size in Vale. Overall, it was incredibly inefficient to actually utilize, and only companies like the STC could afford to take that sacrifice.

Most potential buyers had been driven off after getting a thorough analysis of the vacated tower, but a few maintained their interest. Three in turn had purchased it and attempted to set up operations inside, but eventually sold it off at a loss. Whoever owned it now had left the building untouched for the past several months. Weiss suspected they were either planning renovations to make it a more viable headquarters or demolishing it to build a new one in its place—the latter would likely be cheaper. The question now was, if Partridge was having them brought here, was he the one who currently owns it?

"Inside," said their coerced abductor.

Weiss and Ruby exited the vehicle and stepped up to the front entrance of the building. Once bustling with hundreds of underpaid and overworked employees, now it only contained whatever unimaginable horrors Partridge had in store for them.

A few people passed them on the sidewalk and paid them no mind, ignorant of the stakes forced upon the two girls. Weiss looked behind her to see the soldier still in the driver's seat. He gave a motion of his head, so she and Ruby went in alone. The door was unlocked. All they had to do was stay long enough for Partridge to know this soldier had performed his task obediently, and then they could escape.

The uncertainty as to where they should go didn't last, as a ding! and the sound of elevator doors opening drew their attention as they stepped into the lobby. They approached it and reluctantly entered. The doors began to slide shut automatically before they could even consider which floor to go to, and a woman's voice said, "Going down." Ruby quickly grabbed Weiss's wrist and teleported them back outside of the elevator right before it finished closing.

"What are you doing?" Weiss hissed, the back of her mind appreciating that she was starting to get used to the discomfort of teleporting, as awful as it still was.

"There's only one sublevel, right?" said Ruby. "So we're taking the stairs. I'm not letting him trap us in that thing."

"I somehow doubt he'd bring us all the way here just to kill us in an elevator of all things."

"I mean, I do too, but no risks, right?"

Weiss, though peeved by Ruby surprising her with her semblance yet again, appreciated the caution. "Right. No risks."

They descended the staircase slowly with growing anxiety. The basement was dedicated solely to maintenance, and it showed. It was cold, dark, messy, and colorless. Jacques hadn't cared for the comfort of his employees when the money was better spent making the rest of the tower even more gauche.

"You're late," someone spoke over the intercom. The speaker quality was just as poor as everything else down here, but the voice was unmistakable. "Hello, sister."

"So it really is you." Weiss felt numb, still unable to believe it. It was like she was listening to someone else speak from her own mouth.

"Deduced it on your own, have you? I underestimated you."

"Where are you?" Ruby was looking around. "Too afraid to face us in person?"

"My time is too valuable," said Whitley's voice. "You expect me to step foot in that blasted monument to Jacque's ego? Never again. A successful businessman delegates."

"Why?" Weiss said. "Father, Winter, me. You hate us that much that you'd actually try to kill us? Your family?"

"Don't make me laugh. If I just wanted you all dead, you'd be dead. It's always been about much more than that."

"Um, Weiss?" said Ruby.

Weiss didn't hear her. "Then what is it?"

"Do you have ears?" said Whitley. "I've said my time is valuable. I didn't bring you here to unveil all my secrets to a dead woman."

"Then why am I here?"

"Weiss!" Ruby succeeded in catching her attention this time. She was standing in the corner, having pulled the tarp off of a pile of explosives.

"To be buried beneath that eyesore," Whitley answered.

Whoosh. Ruby appeared next to Weiss and immediately teleported them both back to the stairs.

"Wait!" Weiss took a single step back into the room and called out to Whitley, to whatever remained of the brother she thought she knew. "I found a cure for Mother! I finally found it. I can heal her!"

There was a pregnant pause, and then Whitley's response: "I don't care."

"Come on!" Ruby had to start dragging Weiss back toward the stairs for her to break out of her stunned state.

Together, they climbed as quickly as they could and reached the ground level with surprising ease, expecting the explosion to go off at any moment. But it never came.

They burst through the front doors and found that the single military vehicle they'd arrived in was now joined by several others as well as a black SUV. Soldiers stood in front of them with their guns drawn facing the entrance. If the man who'd brought them here was still present, Weiss couldn't see him.

"Hands up, on the ground! Now! Both of you!" One of them shouted as soon as they exited.

Weiss and Ruby froze, too shocked to obey the instructions. The Ace Operatives and Clover were there looking stoic except for Marrow, who wore a grim expression and didn't look directly at them.

"Weiss Schnee, Ruby rose," Clover said heavily. "You are hereby under arrest for the assault and coercion of military personnel, as well as suspicions of aiding and conspiring with Whitley Schnee to orchestrate the mass breakout at Atlas Supermax and the subsequent killing spree carried out by Tyrian Callows. You are also suspected of assisting in the murders of two military pilots and the sabotage of a federal aircraft."

"What?" was all Weiss could think to say.

"Please, you don't understand!" Ruby pleaded. "The whole building's about to come down, we have to go!"

"What is this nonsense?" Caroline Cordovin, dwarfed by the people surrounding her, used her voice to call attention to herself where her stature failed to do so. She looked very pleased with herself, as unwelcome as she was by Clover and everyone else.

Marrow stepped forward and sniffed the air. "No, she's right. I smell nitroglycerin. There's dynamite inside, a lot of it."

Clover instantly took his words at face value and began barking orders. "Evacuate the area! Block off all roads in a three-block radius! Call for backup! Get a bomb squad, EMTs, and firemen here immediately! I want pedestrians off the streets—inside and underground . . ."

Weiss zoned out the rest of his words as everyone kicked into action. Marrow and Elm came forward to cuff Weiss and Ruby and escort them towards a vehicle.

"I warned you to stay out of this," Marrow said in a low voice.

"We're innocent," said Weiss. "We had nothing to do with any of this!"

"I believe you."

"Why?"

"Call it a hunch, call it me being naive. It doesn't change anything."

That was when the bombs went off. Boom! Boom! Boom! Three deep, reverberating explosions shook the world in quick succession. All the windows on the first several floors shattered at once, raining shards of glass onto the streets. The building visibly shifted on its foundations, tilting toward one corner and enveloping its surroundings in a thin cloud of dust.

Weiss barely even registered being shoved into the back of the vehicle as she stared up at the tower, transfixed. If there weren't so many lives at risk—if its destruction hadn't been the weapon in her own attempted murder—she might have even celebrated seeing it come down.

But it didn't come down. Leaning at a dangerous angle, its joints creaking, it came to a rest and remained still. Marrow and Elm entered the front seats and kicked the engine into ignition. As they drove off and rounded a corner, the building disappeared from view, still standing.

Chapter Text

"Give me the Key," Ruby whispered, her eyes pointed toward the front seat.

Weiss barely heard her, and it had nothing to do with volume. Her thoughts were so completely preoccupied that she might not have registered the girl's words at all if it wasn't for the "Ruby's having a stupid and reckless idea again" alarm going off in her brain.

"Ruby, this isn't the time," Weiss said, her voice hollow.

"I know. Your brother just tried to kill us and . . . we should probably talk about that. But we're being wrongfully arrested and we can't let them find the Key on us. I promise I won't use it. I just don't want things to get any worse."

The alarm faded. Weiss moved her cuffed hands toward her pocket and withdrew the Skeleton Key, passing it over to Ruby as discreetly as possible. The movement was autonomous, her mind already pushing the subject to the back of her mind as her thoughts drifted off once again. She vaguely noticed that Ruby seemed to be trying to do something with the device despite it still being off. Weiss couldn't bring herself to wonder what.

She couldn't really process her thoughts at that moment. Funny, really, that having a master's degree in psychology does absolutely nothing to help one understand their own. She wasn't dwelling on what had happened or wondering why she'd survived her brother's grand plan to kill her, or even feeling the betrayal just yet. At that moment, she was thinking about her mother.

There had been an incident when Weiss was twelve. This was back when they didn't know the full extent of her mother's mental decline, and alcoholism had been her biggest problem. It was such a small thing. Her mother couldn't find her favorite wine glass anywhere, and she refused to drink without it. Weiss would have left it at that, a momentary strike of fortune, but her mother had gotten increasingly upset—snapping out, borderline frantic. Forced to wait much longer, the woman would have likely just drank straight from the bottle with nothing to moderate herself with.

Weiss had just wanted her mother to calm down, so she went searching for the glass. She'd recalled seeing her brother near one of the first-floor closets earlier that same day, and decided to investigate it on a whim. It had been in there, on a high shelf, situated perfectly so that it fell and shattered when she'd tried to climb up and retrieve it.

At the time, she'd thought Whitley had set her up to take the blame for it—perhaps his idea of a prank, or just a way to hurt her. In hindsight, she'd come to realize that his intentions had been pure. There were other, more subtle plots afterward that she'd also suspected his involvement in—a couple of missing wine deliveries, a jammed lock on the cellar door, and likely others she hadn't discovered. A naive prodigy's fruitless attempts to help combat their mother's addiction. She had no evidence they were his doing, and she wouldn't have confronted him or told on him if she had. In that matter, their interests had aligned. She'd just been old enough to know that nothing he did would change anything, and he was smart enough to pull it all off without anyone else catching him.

Whitley had always been a schemer. Weiss had known he was smart enough to be Partridge, but a small part of her still thought he was too smart to be Partridge. Everything she'd seen so far just made the mastermind behind it all seem so incompetent. He'd left so much evidence pointing toward him. He'd brought her all the way to Schnee Tower, and not only had the explosives not gone off in time to kill her, but the building hadn't even collapsed. Honestly, he was better than this.

But the evidence was impossible to ignore. What had happened to that younger brother that sought only to regain his loving mother? What changed to make him turn his nose up at the solution Weiss had to that? Did it truly not matter to him anymore, or had he simply called her bluff, not knowing she'd been telling the truth?

The vehicle came to a stop. They weren't in Amity. It looked like they were at some other, smaller base further into the city. It was about a quarter of the size of a regular city block, surrounded by roads with a gated entrance on each side. Walls enclosed the area with one multistory building at the center and a few smaller ones around it. There were also outdoor areas for training, exercise, and drills. Weiss recalled passing a couple of other bases since leaving the vicinity of Schnee Tower, so she wondered why they'd stopped at this one in particular.

Marrow and Elm exited the vehicle, and Ruby took the opportunity to furtively stuff the Skeleton Key down the front of her shirt—whatever she'd been trying to do with it during the drive didn't seem to have worked. Weiss's cheeks grew warm and she quickly looked away. She felt the presence of the inhibitor in her pocket, but she didn't have the requisite measurements to hide it in the same manner. She'd be too wary of the spikes to attempt it, regardless. She just had to hope they wouldn't question what it was if they searched her.

"Say nothing, ask for a lawyer," Weiss muttered. "Understand?"

"Right to remain silent," said Ruby. "Got it."

Inside the tall building, Elm patted them down one at a time and took all their belongings into holding. Weiss had gone first, feeling nervous as the soldier found the inhibitor and placed it into a plastic bag along with her scroll, a compact, a few spare hair ties, and a cheap wallet holding nothing but the money she'd been given for her lost luggage. She was dreading having to replace all her cards and IDs once she was back in Vale.

Once Elm was done with her, she started on Ruby. Weiss waited, expecting her to discover the Key, but she never did. What happened instead is that a weight suddenly appeared in Weiss's pocket, but she didn't dare check it right then and there. Elm cleared Ruby and they were both led downstairs and locked into separate semblance inhibiting chambers. She understood now that this base had probably been the closest one to Schnee Tower that had these installed.

Weiss had never had the misfortune of being inside an inhibiting chamber before, yet it wasn't unfamiliar to her. Not only had she seen the interior of one through Torchwick and Neo's views of the same memory, but she'd felt the effect of one before, too. It was like a constant pressure surrounding a part of her that wasn't physical—the same feeling she'd had when Cinder Fall's gray-haired subordinate had used his semblance in the parking garage. It was more intense now, though. It felt less temporary—like a piece of her had been separated and was locked away somewhere else, getting farther and farther away the longer she was in here.

She hated it. This wasn't equivalent to binding someone's hands together—this was equivalent to cutting them off with the knowledge that they can be seamlessly reattached later. An irrational part of Weiss resented Pietro for having designed this room—blamed him for the immense discomfort she was enduring. But it was a necessary technology. She understood that. Without it, there'd be no guaranteed way to safely contain criminal paragons. Without it, there'd be those rare few that were almost impossible to imprison, like Adam Taurus. There'd be a lot more unjustified uses of capital punishment on paragons, and paragons only. It was ironic that, as violating as this room felt to be in, its existence actually prevented paragons from being more dehumanized.

Weiss stuffed both her hands into her pockets and sat down on the edge of the cot. She felt the Skeleton Key there, where it hadn't been when she'd entered the building. Knowing there were likely cameras watching her, she left it where it was and kept her face passive while she wondered how Ruby had pulled that off.

The minutes passed slowly until the door finally opened once again. Weiss wasn't surprised to see her sister on the other side.

"Come," said Winter.

Weiss stood and exited the chamber without a word. Almost immediately, an immense wave of relief flooded through her. She wanted to wrap her arms around that intangible part of herself that had been taken away and never let go, but that was of course impossible. She cherished every single second she was outside of that room, even if it meant being in the presence of the one person capable of making her feel as awkward and ashamed as she'd ever felt.

Marrow stood outside an interrogation room, and he exchanged a meaningful look with Winter as she led Weiss inside. It was one of the ones without the one-way mirror, where an arrestee could also have a reasonable expectation of privacy while speaking with their attorney.

Winter pointed a remote at the camera in the corner of the room and it shut off. "Sit."

Weiss did. "You know I—"

"Silence." Winter stood on the opposite side of the table, facing away from her. Her arms were folded behind her back—a mannerism she shared with Whitley, though his was a lot less tense.

She can't even bear to look at me? Weiss thought.

"I was under the impression that you had actually learned something from your misadventures in Vale," Winter said.

"But I didn't even—!" Weiss tried to protest.

"Did you or did you not leave Amity Base multiple times without permission, despite being expressly ordered not to? And did you or did you not utilize your acquaintance's unregistered semblance to do so, no less?"

"Yes, but—"

"Were you, or were you not trespassing at the old family manor, knowing we no longer own it?"

"Marrow told you?"

"Were you, or were you not," Winter continued as if she hadn't spoken, "at the home of Cooper Myrtle around the time of his murder?"

Weiss was too taken aback to come up with a response to that one.

"Your fingerprints were found at the scene of the crime," Winter elaborated.

"You know we had nothing to do with that!" said Weiss. "He was already dead when we got there. We just wanted to talk to him. Tyrian Callows did it!"

Winter still wasn't facing her, but there was the slightest movement of her head, a clenching of her hands, and a brief pause that indicated that it was her turn to be surprised. "You saw Callows?"

Weiss nodded, then quickly realized how pointless that was. "Yes. His semblance—he uses it to amplify fear. He petrifies his victims. It didn't work on me."

"So you discovered the scene of a murder and you chose not to report it?"

"We knew someone would find it anyway. Tyrian would have been long gone by the time anyone got there even if we had."

"You think that's an excuse?" Winter demanded.

"We were traumatized! I think it's understandable if we weren't thinking clearly."

Winter looked at her watch. Weiss knew she was calculating how many hours had passed between now and then—the amount of time they'd had to come to their senses and do the right thing.

"Can you at least look at me?" Weiss slammed her hands on the table and stood, anger that had been building up for years now finally spilling out.

Winter slowly turned around. Her face was as stoic as ever, but there was a sad look in her eye that she failed to hide. "Why can you never just leave things to the people who know what they are doing?"

"Roman Torchwick would still be out of retirement if we hadn't done what we did," Weiss defended.

"You're patting yourself on the back for the single, ultimately inconsequential silver lining that came from your string of reckless and dangerous decisions. Just because things didn't turn out as horribly as they could have doesn't mean you weren't in the wrong. You both could have died!"

Weiss didn't back down, despite the guilt clawing at her heart. She was too stubborn for that. Winter was saying things she already thought about herself and, if anything, that only made Weiss want to argue more. "'Ultimately inconsequential?'"

"Torchwick is a single talented criminal in a network that will quickly replace him. His organization and the ones pulling his strings persist without him."

"Cinder Fall. She's the one pulling the strings. You nor anyone else would even know that name if it wasn't for us."

"Your reward for helping a wanted criminal evade justice."

"He never would have been caught regardless."

"You don't know that!" Winter said, emphasizing every word.

Weiss crossed her arms. "Maybe not. What I do know is that a woman who spent most of her life as a slave is now free."

"A woman who voluntarily chose to follow Torchwick into a life of crime."

"It wasn't a choice! She never had a chance to be anything else. Now she does. I gave her that chance, her right to choose."

"So you stand by your actions? You truly have no regrets?"

No, Weiss thought immediately. She regretted a lot of things . . . so many things. But there was no changing the past. As much as she tortured herself over them, it was harmful to dwell on her mistakes. She had to believe that what she and Ruby had gone through hadn't been for nothing—that those experiences meant something. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?

Whatever answer Winter took from her silence, Weiss didn't know what it was.

"And your actions since arriving here?" Winter asked.

"We didn't even do anything that wrong! All we tried to do was sneak out and talk to people. I just wanted to help."

"You acted predictably, and once again with complete disregard for the safety of yourself and those around you. And thus you put yourself in a position where our brother could easily frame you as his accomplice."

A silence followed her words as the weight of the present situation finally caught up with Weiss. Whitley was Partridge. Her own brother was the one behind all the terrible things that had happened in the last few days. The fight went out of her, and she wanted nothing more than to turn to her big sister and get all the answers, like when they were kids. But it wasn't that simple now, and there was still too much left unsaid.

Weiss lowered herself back into her seat. "You really believe it's him?"

"The evidence points to no other suspects," Winter said heavily.

"What did he say to you? He told me you'd reached a common ground."

"He painted a picture where three siblings could define their relationship with one another by their own actions, and not those of their parents." She paused. "It was a nice picture."

"And you believed him?"

"I wanted to." Winter sighed and uncrossed her arms, relaxing a bit, but the mental toll Weiss was putting her through began to show. "This doesn't look good for you, Weiss. Nor your acquaintance."

"My best friend," Weiss corrected. "And we're innocent."

"Mayor Ozpin and the General can be quite forgiving, but we're already past the point where your actions can be covered up again like your meddling in Roman Torchwick's affairs. Depending on the amount of fabricated evidence that has yet to come forward and how much of it we can disprove, it's plausible for a jury to exonerate you. But that won't placate Director Cordovin."

"There's no proof Ruby willfully used her semblance before registering it."

Someone knocked on the door.

"You think that will stop her?" said Winter. "Any paragon who gives so much as a hint of illegal activity is a target to her. That includes you." She turned and placed a hand on the door handle. "Our time is up. You can trust Marrow, but don't forget your rights."

With that, Winter left. The door closed behind her, but in the brief time it was open, Weiss could hear the arguing voices of Marrow and the other Ace Operatives. A minute later, Marrow entered alone.

"What happened to the tower?" Weiss asked him, realizing she hadn't gotten the chance to ask Winter.

"Still standing." He took a seat opposite her. "But the damage can't be fixed. We've evacuated the surrounding area and we're bringing in a controlled demolition team in case it doesn't come down on its own."

Good riddance, Weiss thought, though she tried not to let her reaction show on her face.

"Let's cut the small talk," said Marrow. "We've got five minutes alone, and then the others are coming in."

"I won't answer any questions without a lawyer present," said Weiss.

Marrow sighed. "I'm trying to help you, here."

"Why? You don't even know me."

He hesitated. "Your sister saved my life once. I owe her more than this. That's why she asked me to try and look out for you—seemed to know you'd get yourself into trouble here. I didn't do the best job on that front."

"That's why you didn't tell anyone else we were at the manor?"

"Just work with me, and I can bring the truth to light."

"You're a paragon, right?" Weiss said.

"Heightened sense of smell, yes. But that's—"

"Your teammates don't seem to respect you. Is your semblance the only reason you're on the squad?"

His face hardened. "Are you trying to antagonize me?"

"I'm just confirming my suspicions."

"This isn't relevant. I need you to tell me what you know about your brother's plans, and why you think he targeted you."

Weiss shook her head. "I'm sorry. I refuse to speak without a lawyer."

"You're not helping yourself. You know that, right?"

Weiss crossed her arms. She felt slightly guilty, but she had to do what was in her best interests. "I'll be happy to talk—once I have a lawyer."

"Alright. I tried." He stood, and then he left.

Her interaction with the other Ace Ops wasn't too different. Her refusal to cooperate tied their hands. Weiss chose to forfeit her right to a phone call, as the only people she'd go to in a situation like this were already in the same building. She couldn't call the family lawyer either, since Weiss knew they were in contact with Whitley. So all she could do now was wait for a public defender to arrive.

The chamber emitted a perpetual buzzing noise, barely audible but becoming more and more noticeable the longer the quiet dragged on. It instilled an even deeper sympathy in her for Neo, and even for the inmates of the Little Sister. The chambers meant to be occupied indefinitely contained means of entertainment to avoid subjecting prisoners to the full cruelty of solitary confinement, but Weiss still couldn't imagine living like this day in and day out. This was maddening.

There wasn't even a valid reason for them to inhibit her semblance. She healed people's minds. Even with what the CAB didn't know about it, she couldn't use it to try anything illegal here. Ruby, at least, could teleport. It made sense for her. Weiss, on the other hand, had no means of attempting to escape, not that she ever would.

Escape.

Weiss sat up straighter. The cycle had repeated itself several times before she finally noticed. The buzzing had changed. It was no longer persistent like the hum of a refrigerator. It was now cutting in and out, rhythmically.

Buzz. Pause. Buzz, buzz, buzz. Pause. One letter at a time, the message was conveyed slowly enough that she could interpret it without much difficulty.

"Escape?" she said aloud.

The cycle interrupted, and a new one began. Game is rigged.

"Who are you?" Weiss asked.

His real target. The chamber door clicked, and then the buzzing went back to repeating the previous message. Escape.

Weiss averted her gaze from the now unlocked door as if merely looking at it was enough to tempt her into another stupid decision. "No. Absolutely not. I've done nothing wrong. I'm not about to make myself a fugitive."

Game is rigged, the buzzing messaged again. Prove your innocence. No one else can.

"How am I supposed to believe that? I don't know who you are. You could be him."

I am a friend of the Protector.

Weiss couldn't think of a reply to that before the next message came—the exact address of the warehouse that concealed the hideout she'd briefly lived out of.

Could she trust this faceless person? There was still so much about Pyrrha she didn't know. Jaune had mentioned that two other vigilantes had worked with her, and there was also the mysterious benefactor who'd set up the hideout—who'd made her armor and invented the inhibitor that would save Weiss's mother. Could this be one of them? There were very few people who could have given that address.

Game is rigged, the buzzing messaged yet again. All his plans are succeeding. You lose if you stay.

"Not all of them," Weiss said. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"

As intended.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

The next message was another address, one she didn't recognize. Talk in person. Distraction imminent. Escape. Need you both.

"Why?" Weiss said. "Why us?"

No response. The buzzing had returned to its normal drone. Weiss, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, walked forward and placed her hand on the chamber door. She hesitated. Staying would mean entrusting her fate to others while she knew the odds were stacked against her. Leaving would make her a fugitive, but she'd be taking matters into her own hands. Seconds passed, and then the buzzing ceased, the lights cut out, and she was shrouded in darkness. The effects of the chamber faded, and the desire to never feel them again played a part in what she did next.

As Weiss pushed the door open, she thought about Roman Torchwick. He might be one of the few people who knew where the Protector's hideout was; he'd bugged her while she'd been his captive, after all. But he said he'd be leaving the country now that he and Neo were no longer under Cinder's thumb, and Weiss believed him. No, it wasn't suspicion that he might somehow be wrapped up in all of this that crossed her mind at that moment—it was his words, spurring her into action like they had once before.

Freedom isn't something that can be given—you've got to take it yourself.

Chapter Text

Weiss could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she entered the dim hallway that was illuminated only by red backup lights. This was stupid. This was beyond stupid. If there'd been a soldier here . . . No. Her faceless ally wouldn't have unlocked the door if the way wasn't clear. Getting caught here and now wasn't the main concern. It was what comes after she escaped that terrified her—tracking down her brother, clearing her name, hoping that was enough to forgive fleeing custody. Even if she pulled it off and everything went right, that didn't mean there'd be no repercussions for this choice. But she feared the repercussions of staying and playing right into Whitley's hands more.

Weiss stopped outside a chamber up the hallway, the one she'd seen Ruby put in before she was locked into her own. Weiss contemplated leaving her here, to not force Ruby to shoulder the same risks she was taking. This was Weiss's gamble, not hers. But she wasn't confident she could even escape at all without Ruby's semblance, and Weiss knew the girl would never forgive her if she went alone.

The door opened before she could finish making her decision, and Ruby stepped out.

"You heard him too? With the chamber noise?" she said.

"Yes, we need to hur— Wait, 'him'?" said Weiss.

"The friend of the protector. It's got to be Pietro, right?"

Weiss stared at her for several seconds, and in that time the only thing she could come up with to say in response was, "What?"

"Think about it! He's the world's leading expert on paragons and semblances. He made the semblance inhibiting chambers used all around the world, and he also discovered how to copy a paragon's semblance and give it to a non-paragon. That's something everyone thought was impossible, at least with current tech. Sound familiar?"

"Ruby, this isn't the time for wild—"

"The small-scale inhibitors! If Pietro was able to do what he did to save Penny, then he's got to be the same person who figured out how to inhibit semblances without a chamber. So if he made those, then he also built Pyrrha's hideout and could probably find out that we were using it with Jaune—"

"I get it," Weiss cut her off. She had to admit that the theory had some merit, though it was still a stretch. This wasn't the place to discuss it, though. "But we really need to focus on this . . . crime we're in the middle of committing. Oh god, this is really stupid."

"Oh, right. Do you have the Key?"

"Yes. How did you—?"

"Not the time, right? Give it to me so I . . ." Ruby's eyes drifted to the battery-powered lights on the wall. "Right. He cut the power. It's not going to help us."

"Then let's go! Someone's bound to check on us soon."

"Okay. Stay close to me." Ruby led the way toward the stairs at the end of the hallway. They weren't likely to find any windows to teleport from down here in the basement.

There was no resistance as they ascended the staircase with cautious footsteps, pausing upon reaching the ground floor. The only window here was on the door leading out to the main hallway. Ruby peeked through and then reached for the handle, but Weiss stopped her.

"Let's keep going up," she said.

"Why?" Ruby asked.

"The main floor is bound to have the most traffic. If we don't want to run into anyone, we should head to the roof. You'll get a much better view there, anyway."

"But what about our stuff?"

"We've already got the Key. We don't need anything else."

"We should at least grab the inhibitor. The whole reason I brought them to Atlas was for insurance, and now we know Tyrian's out there, and he's seen our faces."

Weiss bit her lip. That inhibitor was the most valuable thing in the world to her right now. She didn't want to throw it away on someone like Tyrian Callows.

Ruby seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "If we have to use it, there's always more back in Vale for your mom. You won't be able to cure her at all if you're dead, and the inhibitor could save our lives."

"It's too risky," Weiss said. "What if we get caught?"

"I won't. Wait here." Ruby winked, and then she teleported away.

"Wha—? You dolt!" Weiss hissed, though no one heard her. The back of her head connected with the wall as she leaned against it and proceeded to wait, her arms crossed and foot tapping anxiously.

For a full minute she remained alone in the stairwell, then someone else entered—and it wasn't Ruby. Weiss's heart sank as a door opened above her and a pair of footsteps began to descend the stairs at a quick pace. She flattened herself against the wall so she wouldn't be visible if the newcomer looked over the railing, but she had maybe fifteen seconds at best until she was discovered. She knew leaving and hiding somewhere else was her only option, yet she hesitated. If Ruby came back at the wrong time . . .

Whoosh. Ruby returned with a self-satisfied smirk and two plastic zip-seal bags in her hand. Weiss, feeling an immense wave of gratitude toward her, immediately clasped her hand over the girl's mouth and pointed up. Ruby's eyes widened, and she quickly understood. She grabbed Weiss's wrist, stepped forward, and teleported them both.

Weiss blinked away the disorientation and didn't dare move an inch for fear of making noise. Ruby held onto her to keep her from stumbling as the footsteps, now beneath them, continued moving farther away without pause. Several seconds later, a door opened and closed down below, and then there was silence.

Weiss sighed in relief. Her foot slipped as she tried to straighten herself, having landed on the very edge of a step. Once she regained her balance, Ruby let her go.

"Told you I wouldn't get caught," she said with a nervous laugh.

Weiss smacked her arm. "I told you it was too risky, you absolute dunce!"

"We made it through, didn't we?" Ruby defended half-heartedly.

"Barely."

Ruby could only sheepishly hold up the bag containing Weiss's belongings, wearing an apologetic smile.

Weiss snatched it from her, still fuming. "Let's go."

The roof was vacant. An empty helipad took up most of the space and there wasn't much else to see beyond the usual ventilation systems and antennae. The building wasn't the tallest around, but they were high enough up to see past the base's walls and a considerable distance into the rest of the city.

"So, which way was the place he wanted us to go?" Ruby asked.

Weiss walked closer to the edge to get a better feel for their location, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. It took her a few seconds, and then she pointed east. "That way, somewhere."

"Alright. Then . . ." She formed binoculars with her hands and stared off in the direction Weiss pointed. "Hmm. Not a whole lot of options. I guess I can Blink us to that other rooftop over there and then we can climb down the fire escape. Go from there."

Weiss had to agree that there weren't many places in view where no one would see them appear out of thin air. "Fine, then hurry up and—"

Bang! The stairway door slammed open. Weiss and Ruby both whipped around to see Marrow standing there, looking slightly out of breath. He approached slowly, a taser drawn and leveled at them. "Don't. Move. Stay right where you are."

Weiss tried to think of something to say, but she didn't owe him any explanation. His appearance here didn't change anything.

"Come back to your cells right now, and this never happened," said Marrow. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but—"

"We're going," Weiss said. "And you're not stopping us."

"You! Step away from her! Now!" He adjusted his aim toward Ruby, who'd just made a reach for Weiss's wrist.

Ruby, reluctantly, raised her hands and followed his order.

"Stay," Marrow ordered. "One movement and—"

"I get it," said Ruby.

"Whatever you were told, it's a trick," said Marrow. "You know that only bad things can come from this, don't you? There's not a single way that escaping here ends in your favor."

"I don't believe you," said Weiss. "The game's rigged against us, and I don't intend on losing."

"The g—? Oh, come on. You have no motive! The evidence against you is still minimal. Your charges will never even make it to court, and if they do, there's no jury that will convict you—so long as you don't actually commit a crime! Also, who talks like that?"

"I know my brother," Weiss said. "Whatever he has planned, you won't beat him. If I stay here, then I'm just a sitting duck with no means of fighting back. Let us go."

"No. Who do you think—?"

Whoosh. Ruby teleported behind him and tried to execute the same maneuver she'd used earlier against the soldier who'd taken them to Schnee Tower. But Marrow was ready for her. The instant she disappeared, he rolled forward, spun around, and fired the taser. Whoosh. Ruby teleported again before it could hit her. Weiss felt a hand take hers, a tug in her gut, and then they were gone.

"Are you going to be alright?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah, I think I'm mostly past the point of suddenly fainting from using my semblance," said Ruby. "Unless I take it too far, you know? I'm woozy, but I'm fine."

"If you're sure. I'll go down first." Weiss descended the ladder at the bottom of the fire escape and then watched as Ruby went next, worried despite the girl's reassurances. She wasn't at all confident that she'd be able to catch Ruby if she fell, but she'd be ready to at least try.

Ruby had teleported them three times in a row to different buildings to ensure Marrow wouldn't be able to tell which way they'd gone. That wasn't quite comparable to teleporting three people from the altitude of a free-falling plane to the ground, but it was still significant. Nevertheless, Ruby made it to the sidewalk without issue and was able to stay on her feet.

"Where do we go from here?" she said. "Walk the rest of the way?"

Now that the situation called for less urgency, Weiss took the time to input the address their rescuer had given them into the map on her scroll. It led to an unlisted building two miles away between a bowling alley and an embroidery shop.

"We can't," said Weiss. "Too many opportunities to be spotted. They likely already have an APB out for us. We need to get off the streets as soon as possible."

"Take a cab, then? Have them drop us a block or so away?"

"If the driver remembers our faces and reports us, it'll vastly narrow down the area they'll have to search for us."

"Well, what's your idea?"

"Public transportation. The subway is usually rather busy, meaning we could blend in, but there's still a chance someone or a camera sees us, and I don't want to get cornered underground with you as tired as you are. So—"

"We've got the Key. Cameras wouldn't be a problem."

"If the Key works on whatever ones are down there. Regardless, leaving a trail of disabled cameras in our wake would be just as bad. We'll take the bus and try to keep our heads down. It's not great, but it's the safest option we have."

"Alright. Lead the way, then."

Weiss took a bit of time to plan their route, then made sure to turn off her scroll as soon as she was done—Ruby, having already done the same, had pointed out that they could be tracked via cell tower given enough time. Staying in one place for too long was a bad idea, so Weiss picked a stop that they could reach around the same time as the bus's arrival. Minimizing direct interaction with people was also optimal, so it was fortunate that no transfer was needed. Pay the fare, go to the back, avoid eye contact.

"So far so good," Ruby muttered as they took their seats.

Weiss stared out of the window and said nothing. She was just glad the bus had arrived on time. It was possible that the Schnee Tower attack could have resulted in delays, but there was no way to plan around that.

"I didn't think you'd know Morse code," Ruby eventually said once she grew bored of incessantly drumming her fingers on the armrest.

Weiss kept her sight on the passing surroundings, her eyes darting every which way for any sign of trouble. "It was a required subject when I was still in private school, for whatever reason. Where did you learn it?"

"I went my entire life without ever sleeping until recently, remember? I had a lot of time to learn a bunch of useless skills. I also memorized the alphabet in binary, three hundred digits of pi, and the entire scripts of my top five favorite movies."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "You did all that, but you never learned a second language?"

"Does HTML count?"

"I don't know what that is."

"Then, nah. Too boring."

It was a nerve-wracking ride. Twice, Weiss had to quickly duck her head back as a military vehicle drove by in another direction, gone by the time she looked back. Her paranoia made her wonder if one or both of the vehicles were lurking behind out of sight, tailing them, but the rational part of her knew that wasn't likely.

"This is us," she said on the fifth time the bus slowed to a stop.

Weiss followed Ruby into the aisle and then onto the sidewalk. From there, it was a five-minute walk to their destination. If Ruby was as on edge as Weiss was, it never showed. Weiss admired that about her. No matter how bad things got, the one thing she could always be certain of is that she'd be able to lean on Ruby so long as they were together.

The building the address led them to appeared to have been some sort of auto shop at one point, judging by the two garage doors next to the right of the glass entrance. None of them opened.

"It's locked," Ruby said.

"Teleport us inside," said Weiss.

"Hold on." Ruby nudged her head to the right.

A group of four was passing by, heading into the neighboring bowling alley. The girl wore a pair of those shoes with wheels in the heels and carried herself with a peppiness and hyperactivity that made Ruby look docile. Weiss would have wondered how the three boys could tolerate being friends with her, if only their outfits weren't as loud and eccentric as she was.

"You sure this is the right place?" Ruby said once the group was out of sight. "If he wanted us to meet here, why wouldn't he leave the door unlocked?"

"Of course it's the right place," said Weiss. "Just hurry before anyone else comes by."

Ruby hesitated, taking one more look around to ensure they were in the clear, then did as she was told.

The lobby was dark, cold, and empty. The light from the windows illuminated the spiderwebs in the corners as well as a layer of dust that covered just about everything. Trying the light switch did nothing but prove that there was no power running to this place.

"Hello?" Ruby called out, her voice echoing.

No response.

"Let's try the back," Weiss said.

There was nobody there either. Weiss, beginning to wonder whether they were at the wrong place after all, led the way to the only area they hadn't checked: the garage. There was a black van parked within, but it didn't look abandoned like everything else. It looked clean, and the faint smell of exhaust suggested that it had been running recently.

A door opened on the other side and someone that they couldn't see stepped out.

"I'm glad you made it," said a voice that made Weiss's blood run cold.

The speaker walked around the vehicle from the driver's side door to reveal himself to them. Whitley wore the same suit he'd had on two days ago when she'd spoken to him at the manor, but it was now wrinkled and less pristine as if he hadn't taken it off since then. His hair also looked greasy and slightly unkempt, and he had bags under his eyes. As much as someone who carried themselves with such elegance and dignity could be, he was a mess. But none of that fully registered within Weiss. All that sat at the forefront of her mind was that it was him, and he was here.

"You took longer than expected," he said. "I had begun to worry."

Ruby stepped forward and held a protective arm out in front of Weiss. "What's in the van?"

He didn't seem bothered by her, his gaze never leaving his sister. For what felt like an eternity, there was silence. Then, with nothing in her head at that moment but blind rage, Weiss pushed Ruby aside, marched forward, and punched her brother.

Whitley's eyes widened in shock as she approached, and he immediately collapsed to the ground upon the strike making contact with his face. Weiss, feeling only a small sense of satisfaction at his complete loss of composure, wasn't satisfied. She drew her fist back again, but Ruby caught it and held her back.

"Wait!" she said, then repeated her question to Whitley. "What's in the van?"

"Nothing." He didn't move, still staring at Weiss with a hand on his cheek. He was trying to come off cool, but he still had the dumbstruck look of someone who'd just been hit for the first time in their life. "You have been training."

"Or you're just weak," Weiss spat. "Ruby, let me go!"

"Just hold on!" Ruby didn't have to exert too much effort to keep her restrained, despite Weiss's best efforts. "He wouldn't corner himself here if he didn't have something up his sleeve!"

No, he wouldn't, Weiss thought. She finally stopped fighting and cast a nervous glance at the van's rear doors, a semblance of clarity finally starting to take hold.

"See for yourself," Whitley invited.

Once Ruby was sure Weiss had calmed herself, she let her go. But she remained wary and didn't approach the vehicle.

"You open it," she said to Whitley.

He made no objections. Slowly, with his palms spread in a placating gesture, he stood and took two steps closer to the back of the van.

"Stop!" Weiss said suddenly, running over all the possibilities of what could be inside—a trap, a bomb, hostages, mercenaries . . . Tyrian Callows.

Whitley didn't listen. He quickly wrenched the doors open and stepped back, raising his hands above his head. Weiss and Ruby both made small, identical movements but ultimately remained in place—a reaction resulting from a simultaneous desire to rush forward and stop him as well as to retreat away from whatever he'd just unleashed.

But it was empty. He'd told the truth—there was nothing of interest contained within. By all appearances, he truly was completely alone and helpless . . . But that wasn't like him. It was him who'd led them here. There was no reason to do that if he had no leverage. There had to be something, some scheme or trick or—

"There's nothing," Whitley said. "I did not bring you here with ill intent. I'm being framed. And I need your help."

An eternity of silence followed his claim. Weiss met her brother's eyes, and she tried desperately to interpret what she saw in them. The siblings had never been close to each other, not at any point in their lives. They'd grown up together, eaten countless meals at the same table, slept in adjacent rooms, yet they had been separated by a great chasm of their own loyalties—Weiss's to Winter, and Whitley's to their father. But there was always a mutual respect that persisted despite their differences. And there were always commonalities that should have led to a bond as strong as that between any normal pair of siblings—their stubbornness, their pride in their family name, their love for their mother, their strive to not only succeed but to excel, and their desire to hear even one word of genuine praise from a father who cared equally little for both of them.

Was it still too late?

"Listen to me now," said Whitley, "for now what I speak is true."

That was a Warriors of Grimm quote. Weiss didn't remember ever telling him of her fondness for that show, though it wasn't too shocking that he'd managed to find out anyway.

"I told the lies I told and put up the facade I did in an attempt to keep you as uninvolved as possible," he explained. "I knew you'd be unable to sit back and watch things unfold without retaliating in some way—we're too alike in that regard. It was a vain hope that if I convinced you that I was unconcerned by Father's attack, you would be as well. When that failed, I called you while you were snooping at the manor, intending to lead you into the soldiers who happened to be there at the same time. I'd preferred you be in trouble with them, as it'd limit your ability to continue meddling—doing so could only lead to you proving yourself a threat to someone far worse."

"Partridge?" said Ruby, earning a quick glare from Weiss.

"Indeed." He glanced at the girl with an unexpected amount of respect in his eye. "I went to the prison after Father's attack under the pretense of visiting him but changing my mind at the last second. I never actually saw him. I only needed to get far enough in to plant a backdoor into their systems so I could gather information on the perpetrator. What I found was a symbol of a bird, hidden somewhere only another hacker was likely to find it—a declaration of war meant for my eyes alone.

"I came to Atlas for the reason I said I did—to see mother and establish connections for my business before attending the Vytal Festival in Vale. Then I received this challenge, and I decided it was a battle that I had to fight and I alone. I didn't want you, Winter, nor anyone else earning Partridge's ire.

"But, loathe as I am to admit it, I've come to realize that I can't win this by myself. I've been ten steps behind at every single juncture, no matter what I do. Every stratagem I've employed has only served to strengthen their goal of framing me, which is something I learned far too late. I'm at a severe disadvantage in that I still do not know the identity of my enemy, while they have the means to learn everything about me. You two, however, each present less predictable variables. Together, I believe we might stand a chance at victory."

The lingering doubt Weiss had been holding onto made her want nothing more than to believe his words. Everything that happened, all the evidence pointing toward him, how haggard he looked here and now—none of this made sense if Whitley truly was the mastermind behind it all. The pieces could finally start to fit together if someone else was pulling the strings and using him as a scapegoat. But . . .

It had been his voice berating her in that basement. He'd sabotaged their plane. He'd staged a breakout at Atlas Supermax, set one of the deadliest serial killers alive loose onto the streets. He'd tried to drop a building on her. It was all him . . .

Right?

"Show me," Weiss finally said.

"Pardon?" said Whitley.

"I need proof."

"I wouldn't have needed to break you out of custody if it were that simple."

Weiss took out her scroll and held it up, her thumb over the power button. "Winter's searching for me as we speak. As soon as I turn this on, she'll be able to triangulate my position and have a team here within minutes."

"That sounds accurate," he said. "I'd prefer it if you didn't."

Weiss walked forward so she was close enough that she could reach out and touch him. "Do you consent to me using my semblance on you?"

His brow furrowed. "I'm not mentally ill."

"We'll see." She extended her hand to him, palm up, and waited for his answer.

After a brief hesitation, he placed his hand in hers. "I consent."

She entered his mind.

Chapter Text

Whitley knocked and promptly received a muffled, "Enter," in response. He opened the door and stepped into the office.

"You wished to see me, Father?" he said with a prepubescent voice.

"Sit." Their father sat behind his desk with a large portrait of his younger self on the wall behind him, different from the one that hung there in the present day—he used to commission a new one every few years.

Whitley obeyed.

"I've just finished speaking with the academy. Your advancement has been approved. You will be attending high school come the end of summer."

"As expected."

"Indeed. You will be enrolled in honors classes for all core subjects, and opportunities for dual credit will begin in your sophomore year. I expect your grades to remain absolutely perfect."

"Of course, Father."

"Class begins on the thirty-first of August, but you will be attending orientation the day before with the rest of your peers-to-be."

"And Weiss as well?"

"No," he said as he laced his fingers together, his elbows resting on the desk. "It does not seem that that will be the case."

There was a delay in Whitley's response. "Why is that?"

"Your sister has chosen to attend public school going forward."

Again, it took a few seconds before Whitley spoke. "It's because of her semblance, isn't it?"

"That is one of the excuses she gave, yes."

Weiss, watching this through her brother's eyes, felt . . . betrayed? No. That emotion wasn't hers—it was Whitley's.

"I had thought we'd be equals," her brother said, his tone lower than before.

"You are not equals," their father asserted. "You having now skipped three grades while she only skipped one does not change that. As much as she wastes her potential, there is a reason why she is set to take my seat in the company and not you—and it is not simply because she is older. You still have a ways to go before you prove yourself more deserving of that honor."

Whitley shifted his gaze to the floor. "I would never wish to steal it from her."

"Look at me."

Whitley, after a moment, did as he was ordered.

"That is precisely why you do not yet have what it takes to do what I do."

The window vanished, and Weiss was left standing alone among the trees of the Emerald Forest. That was the second memory she'd come across. She'd come in here prepared to find their mother's first episode sooner or later, and lo and behold, it had showed up immediately. She didn't watch it.

Weiss set off in search of the third window, her rapier sheathed at her side. She wasn't expecting to run into any Grimm. She believed Whitley when he said he wasn't mentally ill, but that alone didn't absolve him. A mental illness isn't requisite to be a bad person; you don't have to be a sociopath to take someone's life. As far as Weiss had been able to see, Roman Torchwick had been completely sane, though it was also possible she just hadn't spent enough time in his mindscape to see proof of the contrary. Regardless, it'd take something far more concrete to prove her brother's innocence.

The memory she'd just seen didn't contribute toward that goal, but still her mind lingered on it. Her father had painted her in an unexpected light, no doubt to foster a sense of competitiveness in Whitley. He'd done the same thing to Weiss, often insinuating that he'd rather have Whitley take over as CEO than her if she didn't improve. She'd never thought to doubt it until now, because of course Whitley would make a better successor in their father's eyes.

The two siblings had both spent much of their lives striving to meet their father's impossible expectations. Where they differed is that Whitley had done it for him, and Weiss had done it in spite of him—it was her pride in the family name, her grandfather, and the company her grandfather created that caused her to submit to their father's control so willingly. She'd always thought that distinction created a great disparity between their individual upbringings. Now she knew that wasn't true. Whitley had gone through the exact same things she had—maybe even worse, considering how much more susceptible he'd been to their father's manipulation.

Sooner than expected, another window appeared before her. It showed a view even lower to the ground than the last. Whitley was entering the dining hall and taking his seat at the table beside their father.

"You're late," the man said.

Whitley turned his head to glance at the clock, which showed he had arrived not even thirty seconds past six o'clock.

"I'm sorry, Father," he said. He didn't sound any older than eight. "It would seem I'm not the only one."

"No, you are," their father said. "Your mother is resting off a migraine, and your sisters will not be joining us for the next three days."

"Why not?"

"They've gone to Mistral. There's a new opera playing over there that Winter wished to attend, so she requested to make a full trip of it to show Weiss around the city. Your mother insisted it'd be good for them, so I allowed it."

"But . . ." Whitley started to say, trailing off.

"Speak in complete sentences, boy."

Whitley cleared his throat. "Yes, Father."

A silence lingered until their father spoke again. "You're wondering why you didn't get to go with them."

Whitley hesitated. "Yes, Father."

"The reason is that they didn't want you." He spoke with feigned disinterest, but Weiss knew he'd taken great care in choosing his words. "Winter planned the entire excursion, and thus it was up to her to invite you."

"But that's not fair," Whitley said, his voice starting to rise ever so slightly. "Why does she always seem to favor Weiss over—?"

"Watch your tone," their father snapped. "Losing one's temper is not becoming. Now enough discussion. It's time to eat."

Whitley, his fists clenched, didn't dare disobey. "Yes, Father."

As the window faded, Weiss thought back on that trip. It didn't sound right to her. When Winter had first brought up the idea, she'd spoken as if all three of them would be going, but it had been Weiss—a younger, more selfish Weiss—who expressed disappointment that it wouldn't just be her and Winter. Their father had latched onto that and said it was just as well since he needed Whitley at home regardless, despite Winter's attempts to persuade him otherwise.

Winter had never willfully favored Weiss over Whitley. She'd tried repeatedly to reach out to him, and he'd rebuffed her every single time. This was the reason why. There had never been a chance for him to have a relationship with either of them because their father had been actively working against it.

Briefly, Weiss wondered why he would do that, but the answer came easily. It was strictly because they had each other that Weiss and Winter were who they were today—that they could be true to themselves and not become what their father tried to shape them into. She imagined a world where she'd never had Winter to go to, to lean on, to receive encouragement and tough but genuine love from. She'd have stayed in private school. She wouldn't have given up on her business degree. She never would have left Atlas. She never would have learned how to form meaningful bonds like the one she'd once had with Blake and the one she now had with Ruby. She'd have been a perfect, sycophantic child.

If not for Winter, she would have been just like Whitley.

The next memory showed their father on the other side of a window wearing plain beige clothes. Whitley sat across from him and grabbed the corded phone off the wall. A prolonged silence hung over the scene before the older man picked up the one on his side.

"Hello, Father," Whitley said.

The man, his expression unreadable, said nothing.

"They've . . ." Whitley swallowed. "They've re—"

"Speak in complete sentences, boy." Their father's voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable hint of suppressed rage within it.

"They've resolved to liquidate the company."

A long delay preceded their father's response. "I see."

"There was nothing I could do. With your position vacant along with those of half the board, it didn't take long to reach a unanimous decision. Nothing would have changed even if I had a vote."

"Nothing you could do, is that right?" Another pause, and when he spoke again, the hint of anger was more pronounced. "Interesting, really, how you're the last of my children to come see me."

Weiss felt the words cut her brother.

"I've been scrambling to pick up the pieces," Whitley said. "They're attempting to strip us of everything we have left. It's taken all my effort to save what little I can. I was the only one present throughout the entire legal process."

"For all the good that did."

Hypocrite, Weiss thought.

"There's still the appeal," said Whitley.

With a noise that barely came through on the phone, their father slammed his fist down on the table, and then his tone was just below shouting. "There is no appeal. Do you understand that? You already know the result as well as I. Things like this don't happen to people like me!"

You mean accountability? Weiss thought, failing to not let the man rile her up.

"There are other entrepreneurs who've done much the same or worse as I," their father continued, "and the most they'll ever see is a fine or a slap on the wrist, because that's how the system works. That's how capitalism works. I was good at it, and now I'm here, having to hear from you about how they're destroying my greatest achievements as we speak."

"Achievements?" Weiss said aloud in disbelief, too affronted to hold it back. His negligence and callous exploitation ruined countless lives all around the world, and he called those achievements?

"You're saying this was orchestrated," Whitley said, oblivious to Weiss's outburst.

"Of course it was orchestrated!'' their father said. "It took you this long to figure it out?"

"I'll find them, Father," Whitley promised. "Whomever they may be. I won't let them get away with this."

"You already have! My word. After all this time, after everything that's happened—still, you have not the gall to speak for yourself or to take power into your own hands. Still, you come to me—as I'm in here—and behave so obsequiously." He let the words hang in the air for several moments, then added, "You're a bigger disappointment than your sisters."

Weiss suspected that the emotions she sensed from these memories were only a portion of what Whitley had actually felt. So if the hurt and betrayal she was feeling were this overwhelming, she could only imagine just how wounded her brother had truly been in this moment.

"I've skipped several grades of school," Whitley said, his voice more vulnerable than Weiss had ever known him to be capable of. "I got perfect scores on every test. I have a master's degree in both software engineering and business, and I'm only twenty. I've lived my entire life, striving in every moment to be exactly who you wanted me to be." Whitley waited for some sort of change in their father's expression, but there was none. "None of us could have ever been good enough for you, could we? There isn't a single universe where you're satisfied with any of the children that you raised."

"You think I wanted children?" Jacques said. "I courted your mother because of who her father was. I impregnated her because having an heir would cement my eventual position as CEO of Nicholas's company. In an ideal universe, none of you would have ever existed."

A tense stillness ensued. For a while, all Whitley could do was sit and stare. Then, with an eerie calmness, he replaced the phone onto its holder, stood, and walked away.

As the window vanished, Weiss slowly slumped into a sitting position. She felt numb. Deep down, nothing new was learned. But still, to hear it all said aloud by him, so coldly and brazenly . . . It forced her to accept a truth long buried—that she never truly had a father and never could have. That missing piece Weiss had spent so long searching for didn't exist. There was no changing him. This hole in her heart would never be filled.

Weiss hugged her arms to her chest, taking slow, shaky breaths. She struggled to process this wave of emotions, unable to tell which were hers and which were Whitley's. And on top of that, a new fear was starting to form. None of these memories exonerated her brother—if anything, they just established motive. She wasn't sure she could handle having hope dangled in front of her and then ripped away once more.

Before she was ready for it, another memory appeared before her. Whitley was looking over a railing at a gorgeous canyon with a sparkling river snaking through it far, far below. It was noon with clear skies, allowing the sunlight to sparkle off the surface of the water. The lack of wind lent to an enduring tranquility, only hindered by the sound of passing vehicles behind him that suggested he was on a bridge. The landscape didn't look like anything in Remnant, which meant this must have taken place after the previous memory during his time abroad.

For a few minutes, that was all there was. Whitley said nothing, hardly moved, and soaked in the view. Weiss couldn't help but appreciate it along with him. There was no rush in here, after all.

"I promise it won't look as nice on your way down," a lightly accented voice eventually said.

Whitley looked to his right to see a man approaching, mid-twenties at the oldest. He had a laid-back demeanor to him and was somewhat handsome, but his cheap and loose-fitting attire was holding him back.

"I have no intention of finding out," Whitley said, returning his gaze to the canyon.

"You sure about that?" The stranger leaned against the railing right beside him. "'Cause you've got this real . . . heavy aura about you."

"I'm certain."

"Then what brings you around? You don't look like you're from here, but you don't seem the tourist type, either."

Whitley didn't answer, and the stranger didn't push him to. The wind picked up a little bit as the lull in the conversation persisted.

"And why, pray tell, are you here?" Whitley eventually asked.

The stranger turned around so he was almost sitting on the railing, his back to the canyon. "Well it's a nice day, yeah? I missed the sun. My little sister died a few months ago, so I switched to night shifts for the lighter workload. Good to spend my day off taking a long, midday walk now and again."

"That's quite a forthcoming answer."

"It helps, you know. You tend to feel a lot lighter when you don't keep as much bottled up inside."

"Even with someone you're not acquainted with?"

"Especially with people you don't know. Secrets don't mean much to those you'll never see again."

After a pause, Whitley asked, "How did she die?"

The stranger met his eyes, then turned his head to cast a grim glance over the edge of the bridge.

"My sympathies," Whitley said.

"Last thing I ever said to her, I called her a coward. I guess she wanted to prove me wrong." The stranger let out a deep sigh. "But you can't change the past—only learn to accept it."

"Did you?"

The stranger gave a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Of course not."

Whitley's attention was now fully on the man, more fascinated by him than the canyon below. He watched as the stranger pulled out a pack of cigarettes and proceeded to place one between his lips before lighting it.

"Want one?" the stranger said after a long drag.

"I'll decline," said Whitley.

"To each their own. So what is it, then? What beguiles you?" the stranger said in a light jab at Whitley's manner of speaking.

"I don't believe you know what that word means."

"You lose someone too?"

Whitley hesitated. "No, not quite."

"Daddy issues, then?"

Whitley didn't say anything, but his reaction seemed to give away the answer.

The stranger shrugged. "Fifty-fifty guess. Pretty rich boy out seeing the world, sad and alone, hair dyed despite the fancy suit. Gotta be some sort of crisis at home."

"My hair isn't dyed."

The man cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh no? White, that's your natural color?"

"It's a rare genetic mutation passed on from my great-grandfather. He's actually from here."

Whether the stranger believed him or not, he didn't push the subject any further. "Well, if you do want to spill your woes after all, I'm not going nowhere."

Whitley returned his eyes to the view. By the time he finally spoke, the stranger had finished his cigarette, stamped it out, and placed the butt into his pocket—he didn't even wrap it in anything.

"My father isn't who I thought he was," Whitley said. Then, after a pause, "No. That's a lie. I always knew who he was. I respected his ruthlessness, his cunning, his power. I was loyal despite the way he treated us, unlike my sisters, because I sought to be like him. I'm now coming to realize that I never had it in me, to be that kind of person. He knew it as well. So when everything fell to pieces, he had no reason to continue treating me any differently to how he treated everyone else."

"So be better than him," the stranger said. "This guy sounds like a real dickhole to me. Is that really what you want to be? A dickhole?"

"Maybe not in such crude terms, but yes, I suppose, once upon a time. It's requisite to succeed like he did and hold the level of power he held. I'm not certain you'd be able to understand. Your laws and economy are different here. Remnant is an oligarchy in all but name."

"I get it. Can't be a big shot without stomping all over the tiny people. And that's what you wanted?"

"It was the path laid out for me since before I was born. My grandfather founded the company, and my elder sisters and I would eventually hold executive positions within it. I dedicated myself wholeheartedly to that goal, without question. I chose to ignore the darker realities of what my father had turned the company into—accept them, even. It gave me purpose, a path in life. Now the company is gone, and I'm here on a bridge in another country having a more open conversation with a man I've never met before than I can remember ever having with any of my family members." Whitley momentarily closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I don't know where to go from here."

"Life isn't easy. It's not supposed to be."

"But it always has been. And now it isn't."

"That's okay. Boo-hoo. You don't get to ride the nepotism train to an easy life with all the answers handed to you. But now you've got the chance to be a person—to make your own choices, find your own identity, and forge your own path."

"I don't know how to do that."

"That's kind of the point. Most of us don't have our shit figured out. But we keep pushing forward because we have hope we'll find the right answers sooner or later. Sorry if I'm getting too cheesy here but, like—you've got to actually live in order to live, my friend."

"How erudite," Whitley commented with a hint of sarcasm.

Despite this, Weiss felt a blossoming sense of hope as the window faded. Most of it was Whitley's, but some of it was her own.

As she stood and set off once again through the forest, she wondered why Whitley's emotions were coming through so clearly to her. Memories took the form of floating windows, allowing her to see through the owner of the mind's eyes. But when she was in Neo's and Tyrian's minds, she was somehow able to sense when they'd smiled, and even vaguely feel Tyrian's pain when Salem had cut him with his own knife. What was happening now wasn't all too different from that. So why was it so much more potent now than it had been in the past?

She didn't think it was another evolution of her semblance. No, this aspect had always been there. She'd never been just watching memories—she was, on some level, experiencing them. Was it due to her having a much clearer understanding of her brother that she was able to better interpret what he was feeling? They'd always been distant, but there was still a familiarity and minimal bond there that she hadn't had with Neo, Torchwick, Tyrian, or even Ruby at the time Weiss had gone into her mind. If that was the case, did it confirm that Whitley actually was who Weiss always believed him to be after all?

Next came another memory from when Whitley was a lot younger, this one catching Weiss off guard. In it, her mother was smiling—she was happy. It drew Weiss in like a siren's call, and it took all her willpower to tear her eyes away from it. Once she did, looking back became the most undesirable thing in the world. It was painful. But it was her. Weiss got to see her again, whole, for the first time in years. But it reminded her of what she'd lost.

Weiss reached for the inhibitor in her pocket for comfort, but it wasn't there; she didn't even have pockets in here. She recalled what Ruby had said about why she chose to sleep some nights but not others. Sometimes the thought of possibly having to experience the same nightmare of her mother's murder was too much for Ruby to bear. At others, she wanted the nightmare—she wanted the chance to see her mother again, even if it meant watching her die. Weiss hadn't understood it then, but she did now.

Another window materialized in her path, this one taking them back to the manor. Whitley was in Jacques's office, sitting behind his desk with documents laid out in front of him. The family lawyer sat across from him, reading glasses perched on the tip of their nose as they withdrew even more papers from a briefcase.

"And here I have the revised contract with your requested addition," they said. "This should fully satisfy your investors' concerns and also acknowledges Weiss's acceptance of the shares you're so generously offering her, should she sign it and you get it notarized, of course."

Whitley accepted the document from them and took a bit of time to read it over. "Yes, this is perfect. Thank you."

"Everything else here is in order and should be good enough to be getting started with, however, I would like to bring up the topic of Willow's estate once again."

Whitely sighed. "I would implore you not to."

"This warrants discussion. Leaving so much in her name despite—"

"My mother is alive. Her condition is temporary. Any talks about her claims to family assets will be had when she's able to partake in them herself."

They had a pitying look on their face. "Professionals still report no signs of improvement in Willow's mental state. Her condition has been stagnant for years. It's overdue that—"

"No," Whitley said firmly. "She will recover, no matter how long it takes. I have complete faith in Weiss."

Weiss turned and walked away from the window. She didn't need to see the rest of it—she didn't need to see any others. Whitley didn't know she had the ability to see memories. Even if he did, there was no way for him to manipulate what she saw. If there was proof in here of him being Partridge, she would have seen it by now. This wasn't the mind of the person who'd spoken to her in Schnee Tower. These weren't the recollections of someone who didn't care. This was a place she had no right to continue intruding in.

Weiss returned to the real world, and Whitley's hand was still in hers. This time, when she looked into his eyes, she knew exactly what she saw. She saw the pain of a victim who'd gone through just as much as she had. She saw regret, equal to hers, in regard to circumstances outside their control. She saw fear that certain parts of the past could never be fixed. And, most importantly of all, she saw hope that it wasn't too late to build a better tomorrow, together.

Weiss let his hand fall from hers. She hesitated, then took a step forward and tightly embraced her brother. "I'm sorry," she said, the words coming out as a whispered sob.

Whitley tensed and, after a moment of confusion, awkwardly hugged her back. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"No. There isn't." She pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. "It was him. It was always him."

"Partridge?"

Weiss shook her head. "Fa— Jacques. Everything we blamed each other for came from him—all of it."

He studied her for several seconds. "So you've made progress, then? Toward bettering your understanding of your semblance's full capabilities?"

Weiss was momentarily taken aback by his perspicacity, though she knew she shouldn't be. "I wouldn't say that. It evolved. I can see people's memories now."

"I see. And whatever it showed you of my past convinced you of my honesty?"

"Yes. I believe you . . . And I am sorry for hitting you."

There was a tension in his shoulders and an air of nervousness that revealed themselves only as they went away. "I'm grateful, truly . . . And I apologize for attempting to deceive you. Though there are still two falsehoods I have yet to admit to, as you may have seen. I'm not actually acquainted with the Protector of Vale, of course. The rootkit I put on the hard drive of STC data you requested, plus seeing the man I handed it to appear on the news, was enough for me to piece it together. I never took you for a vigilante."

Weiss didn't know what a 'rootkit' was, but she felt very stupid for not considering that he might pull something like that. It had been suspicious how little he'd questioned her motives. Also—

"I am not a vig—" she started to say.

"And the game may not have been as rigged as I led you to believe," Whitley said, cutting her off.

The meaning of his words slowly sunk in, and Weiss's eyes narrowed.

Ruby, who'd been lingering at the edge of the room and trying not to intrude on the siblings' moment, suddenly piped up. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I communicated what I needed to in order to get you here," Whitley said. "I don't truly believe that Partridge's aim was to have you convicted as my accomplices. My theory is that they merely wanted you out of the way, to stop you from interfering. They wanted you arrested on suspicion of aiding me, but as soon as you were cleared, your testimony would have greatly furthered their goal of framing me. That's why they didn't use enough explosives to completely demolish the tower—they wanted you to survive, convinced that I was them."

Weiss crossed her arms. "So you're saying that we didn't have to commit a potential felony to prove our own innocence?"

"Technically, the charge for escaping from custody is equivalent to the charges you were arrested for. Assuming said charges are dropped, your escape won't amount to a felony if you're prosecuted for it at all, which is possible albeit not guaranteed. But yes—I will admit that my decision to break you out was a selfish one. Though had I not done so, it's very likely that Partridge would get away with everything, and there's nothing to say that you two won't be loose ends for them to tie up once their plans for me have concluded."

"Why do you think that we'll be able to make any sort of difference?" Ruby asked. "You said Partridge is beating you, and aren't you supposed to be some sort of super-genius or something?"

Whitley raised an eyebrow at Weiss. "Did my sister give you that impression?"

Weiss shot Ruby a look. "Absolutely not. She's exaggerating."

"Nevertheless, I've already stated my reasoning," Whitley said, a subtle smirk at the corner of his mouth as he responded to Ruby's question. "You have the ability to be less predictable than I am. Partridge didn't even know you existed when they formulated their plans, and thus were unable to account for your semblance and your technological capabilities."

Ruby frowned. "Uhh . . ."

"And you, dear sister," Whitley continued, "do not have an accurate public image. As far as anyone who doesn't personally know you is concerned, you're just the middle child that dropped out of business school and disappeared from the limelight to pursue psychology. Partridge underestimates you."

"You're giving me too much credit," Weiss said, the mistakes she made in Vale fighting their way to the forefront of her mind.

"I have faith that I am not. You were the only one who ever saw through my childish schemes when we were younger . . . I want us to move forward as equals." His lips parted as if to say something else, but then he closed them.

"Okay," Weiss agreed, able to guess what he'd left unsaid. "Equals."

He smiled. "So do you two agree, then, to aid me in this endeavor?"

"If Weiss trusts you," Ruby said readily, "then so do I."

"I do," Weiss said. "And I don't think we have much of a choice at this point."

"Then let's leave," said Whitley. "It's not wise to stay in one place for too long, as wanted as I am. We can discuss strategy in the van."

Chapter Text

"Hey, what's this?" Ruby asked from the back of the van.

Weiss and Whitley, having both just finished settling into the front passenger and driver's seats respectively, glanced back at her. The girl held up a standard white and blue soldier's uniform—it was either authentic or a very convincing replica.

"A disguise," Whitley said as he adjusted the mirrors and put the key into the ignition.

"For what?" Weiss said.

"I had to break you out of there somehow, did I not?" he said. "It would have been a very lengthy process to remotely crack the base's systems, and time is a luxury I did not have."

"So . . . what, you're saying you just walked in?" Weiss said.

Whitley pulled out of the garage, activating the door with a small remote that he then dropped outside before rolling up the tinted window. "It was simpler than you think. With the prison breakout, the hunt for escaped convicts, the preparations for security for the Vytal Festival, and the explosion at Schnee Tower, things are rather hectic for the military right now. As an added precaution, I also allowed myself to be sighted not too far from where you were held to draw out even more personnel long enough to ensure I could slip in and out."

"Wow," Ruby said in awe. "You sure you're not a criminal mastermind?"

"A criminal, yes, technically," Whitley said. "We all are, for the time being. But I'm not so arrogant as to describe myself as a 'mastermind'. And let's not be so generous when referring to our adversary. They merely have advantages that we lack. If we can ascertain their identity, we'll be far closer to an even playing field."

"Do you have any ideas?" Weiss said, quietly reassessing her brother. It wasn't the subterfuge or willingness to take calculated risks that surprised her—she'd just never thought of him as the type to readily put himself on the front lines, so to speak.

"I'm afraid not—none that hold water. I had been hoping you two might have learned something I hadn't."

"The only lead we've been following is you."

"That's disappointing. As of yet, all we know is that Partridge is an enemy of Father who is technologically capable and has considerable resources at their disposal."

"And that your dad was jealous of them," Ruby added.

Whitley cast a confused glance back at her. "Say again?"

Ruby started to explain the story of the inventor and his nephew until Whitley interrupted her.

"I see," he said in understanding. "Yes, that is one possibility. But a partridge holds many different forms of symbolism from many different cultures. For all we know, our adversary simply sees themselves as the child of God, though that is admittedly less likely. It would be presumptuous to interpret the meaning behind the symbol they mask themselves behind without more information."

"Oh," Ruby said, sounding a bit deflated.

"What about whoever was behind getting Jacques and the other board members indicted?" Weiss said. "Do you think that was Partridge, too?"

"I've heavily considered that possibility," said Whitley. "They could very well be the same person, or same people—we do not know for certain that either was a single perpetrator. But I do have to wonder why, if Partridge is indeed behind the STC's fall, they've waited so long to enact their current plans. It is also worth noting how Partridge's recent actions have been far less subtle and careful than those that transpired a year past."

"What actions?" Ruby said. "Why are you so sure that there's anyone 'behind' any of that?"

"How else could it have happened?" Weiss said. "You know the kinds of things trillionaires constantly get away with."

"I mean, if there's concrete evidence—" Ruby started.

"Then Father just pays off the right people and it magically goes away," Whitley said. "Unless someone else has already gotten to those people with even larger bribes, blackmail, or both. Only then is there nothing preventing the justice system from functioning as it's intended to."

"So you're saying the people in power had to be corrupted in order to . . . not be corrupted?" said Ruby, a bit dumbfounded.

"In essence," said Weiss.

"I always just thought that it was because the media and, well, everyone made such a big deal out of everything that came to light," said Ruby.

"That's the idea," said Whitley. "But Father's and the other executives' crimes never would have been revealed to the general public in the first place without outside interference."

"Then how do we find whoever did it?" said Ruby.

"If they and Partridge are not one and the same, we don't," said Whitley. "I've been passively researching the incident almost since it occurred, and I've learned nothing. Our priority is on the present threat."

"What do we have to go on?" Weiss said. "If you don't know who Partridge is—"

"We will. It's hard to say for certain what their ultimate goal is, but we can be confident that framing me is only part of it. Looking at the list of people Tyrian Callows has murdered so far, a significant number of them are people that either refused my offers to join my company and/or would stand in competition to me, such as the Lachs siblings. Others had history working against the STC, which can be tied to me wanting retribution for the company's fall. The rest are more difficult to attribute a motive behind me allegedly having them murdered.

"Cooper Myrtle, for one, had been cleared of the same crimes as his fellow directors and retired following the dissolution of the STC. There are also victims who only ever worked toward the benefit of the company, which clashes with the other victims who did the exact opposite. It wouldn't be easy to establish a concrete reason why I'd want to kill these people other than them having a mere association with the STC, which is flimsy at best. Putting myself in the true Partridge's shoes, I wouldn't have included these people in the list of Callows's targets—I'd have been far more selective. Thus, I can only conclude that said list includes not only those whose deaths serve towards the purposes of framing me, but also people with whom Partridge has a personal vendetta."

"Finding out what those vendettas are would narrow down a list of potential suspects," Weiss said.

"Indeed," Whitley agreed. "That was what I was working on before the tower incident, but I didn't have enough time to make significant progress."

"Well, let's start with you, then," said Ruby. "Who out there do you think has it out for you?"

"Truthfully? No one, as far as I am aware," Whitley said. "I surmise that I'm a target for the same reason they targeted Winter by sabotaging her plane—our last name, and nothing more. I just happen to be the perfect person to take the fall for Partridge's crimes—I have the right intelligence and skill sets, an easily identifiable motive, and the youth/lack of experience to lend towards me being just incompetent enough to eventually get caught."

"What about Tyrian Callows?" said Ruby. "How would you of all people be able to control him?"

"That is a good question," said Whitley, "and one that still perplexes me. I can't imagine anyone other than Salem using Callows as anything but a last resort. That's what leads me to suspect that something didn't go according to Partridge's initial plans—contrary to what I said to you in your cells—and that the Supermax breakout was a fallback."

A realization came to Weiss. "You don't."

"Pardon?" Whitley said at the same time Ruby said, "What?"

"You don't control Tyrian Callows," Weiss said. "If you're arrested and plead innocent—try to defend yourself—it leaves open the potential for cracks to form. So you'd have to die in a way that wouldn't exonerate you postmortem. If Tyrian is the one to do it, no one would question why he suddenly turned on you since no one would be able to figure out why he'd agree to cooperate with you in the first place."

No one said anything as the weight of this statement took hold.

Whitley was the one to break the silence. "You may be right. It seems my days are numbered."

"Don't say that," Weiss admonished. "I just—" Her voice caught in her throat. She was going to say, "got you back," but it wouldn't really fit as she'd never truly had him in the first place. Instead, she said, "I don't want to lose you already."

Whitley turned his eyes away from the road long enough to give her an awkward attempt at a comforting smile. It looked strange on his face. Weiss was used to only ever seeing him hiding behind a carefully-crafted mask. It was a pleasant change.

"Partridge's plans for me ending in my death was always a possibility," he said. "A likelihood, even. Let's hope we can stop them before it gets to that."

Weiss wasn't reassured.

"We still don't know how Partridge is able to control Tyrian," Ruby said.

"Control is a strong word," said Whitley. "They must simply have something Callows wants."

"Revenge for Salem?" Ruby suggested. "But Pyrrha's already gone."

"He thinks Cinder betrayed her," Weiss said. "She's what he wants."

"Who is Cinder?" Whitley asked.

Weiss didn't have a concise answer to that question. Before she could think of one, Ruby said, "The woman who killed my mom."

"I . . . see," Whitley said, nonplussed.

"She's a paragon who can control people's minds," Weiss told him. "She worked for Salem, and now she's leading her own criminal organization of some sort in Vale. And two years ago, she murdered Ruby's mother. We've been trying to find out why."

"Two years ago," Whitley repeated. "This was before or after the assault?"

"After," said Ruby. "She was a detective—my mom, I mean. The best. We think she had to have learned something she wasn't supposed to."

"And Callows believes this Cinder betrayed Salem, and is thus partially responsible for her demise?"

"Yes," said Weiss.

"How do you know this?"

"There was a memory in his head that—"

"You were in Callows' mind?" Whitley interjected. "You encountered him—in person?"

"Right," Weiss said after a moment. Whitley always carried himself with the air of someone who knows everything, so it wasn't instinctual for her to speak as if he didn't. "We were trying to talk to people you'd spoken to at the manor, and we found Cooper Myrtle's body while Tyrian was still there. We only got away because my semblance made me immune to his."

Whitley pulled over and parallel parked so he could turn his full attention to Weiss. "People I'd spoken to. This would be the information your friend took from my laptop?"

"No, we only got the interrogation video from your laptop—and the folder name, 'Wrath of Partridge'." Ruby kneeled on the floor behind them, poking her head in between the two front seats. "We got the security footage when we went back the day after. You can just call me Ruby, by the way."

"That is impressive. I'd stopped staying at the manor after Father was attacked. The reason I asked you to meet me there was that I was already planning to lay down extra safeguards against Partridge, as unlikely as they were to amount to anything. I like to think my protections are fairly advanced, yet you broke through with remarkable ease."

"Uh, well . . ." Ruby scratched the back of her neck. "It wasn't me. Not really."

"I don't understand. Forgive me for saying so, sister, but I know it wasn't you."

Weiss and Ruby exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement. Weiss pulled out the Skeleton Key and offered it to Whitley.

"What is this?" he said.

"The Skeleton Key. It does all the hacking for you," said Ruby. "You just give it a search radius, select a device it sees, and you've got almost full access to it."

"Any device?" he repeated. "Full access?"

"More or less," said Ruby.

"That's impossible. Hacking isn't something that can have a catch-all solution. It's about using ingenuity and adaptation to come up with new techniques to combat unique and ever-evolving obstacles. What works against one security method will more than likely fail with another, or even the same one if used again once the vulnerability you discovered previously has been patched. The only way I can imagine this device functioning as you say it does would be if it contained an artificial intelligence far more advanced than modern technology is capable of."

"See for yourself," Ruby offered. "It doesn't work on everything—we think it only sees anything with STC tech in it. Oh, the command is . . ."

Whitley had powered on the Key and then figured out how to get it to work in only a few attempts.

"Remarkable," he muttered.

He found a scroll from somewhere nearby and quickly skimmed through the data without changing anything, then moved on to remotely turning someone's vacuum cleaner on and back off. A dog began barking madly from an upper floor in the building across the street.

"This isn't hacking," Whitley said. "This behaves as if it's accessing a pre-established connection."

"That's what I said," Ruby grumbled, upset that he'd so easily managed something that had taken her days to do.

"I've been wondering about whether we could take it apart and see how it works, but I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Weiss said. She said 'we', but it would've been Ruby doing it.

"Yeah, no. Wouldn't want to void the warranty," said Ruby. Weiss ignored her.

"Where did you get this?" Whitley asked.

"Roman Torchwick gave it to us," Ruby said.

Whitley stared at her. "That crime boss who's been operating in Vale?"

"That's the one."

He waited for any sort of elaboration, but Ruby chose not to give any.

"He was working for Cinder and only targeting places protected by STC security systems or systems that were documented to incorporate at least a bit of STC technology," Weiss said. "We didn't know it at the time, but this was why. Those files I asked for helped us find the STC warehouse he was using as a hideout, which is where he must have found this."

"You believe this was just lying around in a random warehouse," Whitley said flatly, not looking at either of them. "That doesn't seem likely."

"Well, he left in a hurry after he gave it to us," said Ruby. "Didn't really explain much."

"And why, exactly, did he give it to you?" he asked almost with an air of disinterest, most of his attention consumed by the object in his hands.

"Cinder was controlling the mind of someone close to him," Weiss said, "keeping him under duress until I freed her with my semblance. I suppose he wanted to thank me."

For a few minutes, Whitley continued to stare at the Key in silence—just staring, not even pressing anything on it. When either of the women started to say something, he held up a finger to silence them. Seeing him so deep in thought, Weiss kind of wished she could go back into his mind to know what was going on in there. Finally, he held down the power button, handed the Key back to Weiss, and turned back in his seat.

"I took a gamble on you." He shifted out of park and watched his side mirror until the way was clear for him to pull back out onto the road. "Immediately, it has paid off."

"What—?" Ruby started to ask as she moved back to her seat, as bemused as Weiss.

"The feats Partridge has achieved—the ease and expeditiousness with which he's done them," Whitley said. "I could not have accomplished the same myself. Until this very moment, I had wondered how his skills have so far surpassed my own. Even with months of planning and capable co-conspirators, the odds of me successfully orchestrating a mass breakout in the most secure prison in the country are slim. Partridge could very well have had both, but again, I do not see someone as proficient as he's proven himself to be including a wildcard such as Tyrian Callows in his initial plans.

"Nevertheless, it's the plane crash more than anything that validates my line of thinking. The information I have on that is limited, however. Could you describe your experience for me?"

"You keep saying 'he'," Weiss observed.

"I'm getting there," said Whitley. "Please, answer my question. The details are important."

"Fine." Weiss did her best to recall the event as accurately as she could. It was only a few days ago, but a lot had happened in a very small amount of time. "It started when we were almost to Atlas. There were two explosions from outside the plane, and then we started to drop. Dr. Polendina— Right, it was only us, Winter, the two pilots, Dr. Pietro Polendina, and his daughter, Penny, on board. Dr. Polendina opened his window and we could see the entire wing was gone—they both were. Winter came in from the front with a parachute and told us the pilots were electrocuted by the console."

"Electrocuted," Whitley repeated. If he recognized Dr. Polendina's name, it didn't seem to interest him. "You're certain about that?"

"That's what she said," said Weiss.

"Understood. Please continue."

"That was when the plane split. Penny went to the back to grab more parachutes, and then that half was ripped away and her with it. Then Winter left me to dive after her."

"I'd told her about my semblance," Ruby said. "That I can teleport. She looked at me, and it was sort of like an 'I'm trusting you with my sister's life' kind of look, and also an 'I'll murder you if anything happens to her' look. Would've been pretty scary if not for, you know, everything else. So I Blinked us and Dr. Polendina to the ground, and she managed to catch and save Penny."

"I see," said Whitley. "What happened after that?"

"Well I passed out because using my semblance took a lot out of me, so . . ." Ruby gestured to Weiss.

"We built a fire and waited for a rescue team to find us," Weiss said. "That's the end of it."

"There's nothing you've failed to mention?" said Whitley.

"No. Wait, yes. My scroll didn't have any service in the woods where we landed."

"Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning that," said Ruby. "There was like a dead zone, apparently, which caused the plane to disappear from the military's radar right before it went down."

"Interesting," said Whitley. "It would have needed to be a fairly large radius to cover the distance the plane traveled between the initial explosions and its final impact on the ground. How much time passed between Winter arriving in Vale and you departing for Atlas together?"

Weiss took a moment to think out loud. "I think Torchwick held me captive for four days, which was right after Ruby got shot. Winter probably would've come as soon as I went missing. I escaped the same day Jacques was attacked, and we left the next morning. So four or five days."

It took a bit for Whitley to decide how to respond, mildly disconcerted by what she said. "It is an interesting life you lead, sister. Tell me, is this what you had in mind when you moved away from Atlas?"

"Just tell us who Partridge is already," Weiss snapped, more annoyed by the answer to his question than the question itself. "You've figured it out, haven't you?"

"Indeed. Just answer me one more thing, first. The plane—what model was it?"

"Do you honestly think we know that?"

"Right, of course not. Apologies. I'll go simpler. Where were the engines located?"

Weiss was about to give a similar, more exasperated response, but Ruby spoke first.

"They were on the wings," she said. "I remember because I'm used to most jets having them on the back and I thought it was kind of interesting."

"As I suspected," said Whitley. "Our government is never stingy when it comes to purchasing flashy new items for its military.

"Now, let's assume Winter was Partridge's only reason for crashing the jet. The earliest he could have known she would be aboard it would have been after she already left for Vale, which is being generous. That's five days at the most to prepare and set up this sabotage, fewer if we're being realistic. None of it could have been done through purely remote or virtual means under normal circumstances. There would have needed to be physical devices in the dead zone radius and an explosive device placed on each wing of the plane. Tampering would have also been required to be done to the console by hand for a lethal amount of current to pass through to the pilots at a specified time. None of this sounds at all plausible to me in such a short time frame. Do either of you disagree?"

"You said 'under normal circumstances'," Ruby said.

"I did. Let's say there is a way that Partridge could have done all of this without any preparation whatsoever, with as little notice as minutes prior to the first explosion. Say he possessed a device that gave him an inordinate amount of control over the plane and almost anything within it, so much so that he could trigger an electrical surge in the control console to murder the pilots, then two more to ignite and detonate the fuel in the engines, and also temporarily block all incoming and outgoing signals from the plane itself and your scrolls."

Weiss understood where he was going before he'd even finished speaking. "You think he has another Skeleton Key."

"But the Key only has so much range," Ruby said. "It couldn't come close to reaching something a mile off the ground, or even a tenth of that."

"I do not believe Partridge possesses another Skeleton Key," said Whitley. "I believe he possesses the Skeleton Key, the final version of which yours is a mere prototype, or at the very least an intentionally restricted model."

Neither Ruby nor Weiss had anything to say in response to that. Weiss couldn't even see a single one of the dots he was connecting to get to this conclusion.

"Allow me to explain," said Whitley.

"Yeah, that's kind of what we're waiting for," Ruby said.

"You say your Key only affects STC technology. There is only one way I can think of for it to function as it does, and that is for the objects it manipulates to have been designed in order to allow it to do so. One person and one person alone is capable of pulling this off without ever being discovered."

"Jacques?" Weiss said uncertainly.

"No," said Whitley. "Father is many things—a businessman, a delegator, but not an engineer. He would have needed to instruct someone or multiple people to put this into action, and that is not a secret that would have survived the STC's fall. It would have been someone who could design a small, sophisticated component and hold a high enough position to ensure it gets incorporated into almost everything the STC manufactures, while obscuring the component's malicious secondary purpose."

"Arthur Watts," Weiss realized.

Dr. Arthur Watts, the man who, for many long years, served as the Schnee Technology Corporation's CTO as well as its chief scientist and engineer. After Weiss's grandfather retired from the company, some could argue that Watts was the primary reason the STC was able to retain its status as a leading symbol of quality and innovation for as long as it did, until he was fired only a couple of years before the company's downfall.

"Who is now operating under the alias of Partridge," Whitley confirmed.

"Wait, you met with him," Ruby said. Of the faces they'd been able to identify in the Schnee Manor security footage, Watts was among those they weren't able to track down.

"I did," said Whitley. "He would have been an invaluable asset to my company. I thought the offer could at the very least serve as some small form of apology for what Father did to him, and a way to begin making reparations. I now suspect he took it as an insult, and it could very well have served as a catalyst for his recent actions."

"What do you mean?" Ruby asked. "What did your dad do?"

Weiss also wanted to know the answer. As far as she was aware, Watts had been fired for a more than just cause.

"Arthur discovered the defect in time to prevent the malfunctions," Whitley said. "It was someone else's error that slipped through quality control. He brought it to the board and explained the potential ramifications, but Father didn't like his proposal to recall an entire generation of new products when they were set to hit the market within a matter of days and there was so much buildup for their release. It would have been a considerable setback and would have lost quite a lot of money. He didn't believe the issue was as serious as Arthur made it out to be. So, despite fervent warnings, the STC pushed forward without taking any action.

"You know what happened next. Numerous new products were released worldwide, people bought them, and days later the disastrous malfunctions began. A lot of consumers got hurt, some even died, and everyone was outraged. Someone needed to take the fall, and Father had already butted heads with Arthur multiple times in the past, so it was an easy choice. Father made sure he was so thoroughly discredited that he stood no chance of defending himself. His career and reputation were utterly destroyed."

"So, all that stuff about stealing credit for other people's work and making a bunch of other mistakes that got caught before they wound up as bad as that one?" Ruby said.

"Complete fabrications," said Whitley.

"Okay," Weiss said. "So if that's true, he has a motive, but . . . is that it? A lot of people have a motive. If he made the Key and there's another one out there, it doesn't mean he's the one using it."

"I understand your skepticism," said Whitley. "There is indeed some speculation that leads me to this conclusion—speculation that is not unfounded—but I can tell you with absolute certainty that Arthur Watts is the only one who could have possibly made that Skeleton Key of yours. That is something that would have taken many years to do, so it is not something his successor could have done during her brief tenure. That he would do such a thing establishes a malevolence in his character I was not previously aware of.

"I also find it almost an impossibility that Arthur would misplace that Key you now possess so that any crime boss who happens to take residence in an abandoned STC warehouse could stumble onto it. This is especially considering that a majority of the STC's warehouses in Vale were purchased following Salem's assault due to the resulting drop in real estate prices, which took place after Arthur's departure from the company. Roman Torchwick would have needed to acquire that Key from someone. Based on the information you've given me about Tyrian Callows, the only thing Partridge could give him in exchange for his cooperation is retribution against this Cinder. For Partridge to offer that, he would need to know of her existence and potentially even be acquainted with her. If Partridge is Arthur Watts, then she would have acquired that lesser Key directly from him, and thus been able to lend it to Roman Torchwick."

Ruby gasped. "The bomb threat!"

Weiss and Whitley were equally confused.

"Remember when Jaune told us about why Pyrrha turned herself in just before the assault?" Ruby said. "Someone hacked her scroll and showed her footage of a bomb beneath the city plaza. If she didn't turn herself in or if anyone tried to defuse it—" She flicked her hand open and made an explosion noise with her mouth.

"And you believe this person could also be Partridge?" Whitley said, not dismissing the idea.

"Cinder told Salem their 'newest member' had completed some sort of task in one of Tyrian's memories," Weiss recalled with dawning comprehension. "And Salem said that it took care of the 'vigilante problem', which was the last thing she was waiting for before beginning her assault. Partridge was probably this new member, which is how he's able to get Tyrian to cooperate with him. Getting Pyrrha to turn herself in was his plan to keep her out of the way during the assault, but she broke out and sacrificed herself to stop Salem, and Tyrian thinks Cinder was the reason why."

"Why have her turn herself in, though?" Ruby asked. "Why not kill her?"

"Either Salem had plans for her following the completion of her assault," said Whitley, "or she didn't believe killing her was feasible. Pyrrha Nikos did ultimately wear a metal suit into a metal machine to confront a paragon who possessed the ability to manipulate metal, after all, and still survived long enough to destroy the machine and kill said paragon."

"Yeah," Ruby said wistfully. "She was really cool."

After a mournful silence, Weiss said, "It makes sense. But what do we do with this? What if you're wrong? Everything we've pieced together still fits if it's someone else entirely who somehow acquired both Keys—they would've been the one to give ours to Cinder and use the other to sabotage the plane. We don't have anything definitively proving it's Watts."

"If we did, our job would be a lot simpler," said Whitley. "'Definitive' is our end goal, our victory condition. We achieve that by following leads, and unless anyone can argue otherwise, Arthur Watts is our best lead."

He waited, but no rebuttal came.

"I do not know him well," he said. "We've interacted a handful of times, as I was set to one day take over his seat within the STC, but never extensively. From what I do know about him, he's too intelligent and prideful to willingly let something as powerful and sensitive as his Skeleton Key into what he sees as undeserving hands. Yours you say only works within a maximum radius, which is likely due to it being limited by the range of an internal antenna. It would not be difficult for the same creator as that device to make another that utilizes external signals instead—wireless networks, cell towers, satellites, et cetera. Thus, from almost anywhere in the world, he'd have the ability to control almost any device in the world that contains his illicit component—let's call it a 'warded lock' for thematic purposes. If this was used to sabotage your plane, I do not see anyone but him having been the one to do it. In theory, he could have given the Keys to someone else, or they could have been extorted from him, but those are unlikely options that we need only consider if our findings prove Arthur innocent—well, as innocent as the creator of such a device can be."

"But how can he have put something like that in everything the STC made without anyone noticing?" Weiss said. "I know I'm not as knowledgeable as either of you when it comes to technology, but it seems far-fetched."

"It would need to be something small and ubiquitous," Whitley said. "Something that serves an essential primary function that obscures its hidden secondary one. It's likely integrated into a number of very baseline components for the widest possible spread. Something complex like a scroll could contain numerous warded locks. You're not wrong that it is a difficult undertaking, but Arthur Watts is an intelligent man and he's had over two decades to accomplish it."

"I mean, it makes sense to me," Ruby said. "But what does he want, then? Other than revenge, I mean. Like, what's he getting out of all this?"

"My best guess," Whitley said, "is to clear his name. His reputation and status were taken from him, so naturally he'd want those back. As to how he achieves that, we can only hypothesize. Everything he's done so far has served towards setting me up to take the fall for his actions, actions which simultaneously achieve retribution against those who've wronged him—namely Father and a number of the people Callows has murdered. We've yet to see the next phase of his plan."

"I can't imagine what that phase could be," said Weiss. "If proving to everyone he's been slandered and libeled is his goal, surely he'd be able to get all the evidence he needs with his Key. If the evidence doesn't exist, killing the defamers is counterintuitive."

"But he didn't kill your dad," Ruby pointed out. "He wanted the prisoner he gave the knife to to wait. And since your dad is the one who ordered everyone to lie about Watts, he's the only one who would need to stay alive long enough to confess."

"You raise a valid point," said Whitley. "That begs the question, how exactly does he get Father to make an exonerating statement in the middle of all this while keeping suspicion off himself? To restore your reputation with the public while also avoiding drawing attention to yourself are, on paper, mutually exclusive."

"Who says he doesn't want attention? He could frame himself as one of your victims who survives, get people to feel bad for him," Ruby said. "Or maybe he paints himself as the hero who helps get you captured."

"Those could be individual aspects of a larger whole," Whitley agreed, "but do not alone solve the question at hand."

"Where are we going?" Weiss said. It was a question she hadn't found the opportunity to ask until now as she was so focused on the conversation, but she noticed they were now entering the Old Mantle part of the city—it was a small, poorer enclave that lingered from before the city had begun its accelerated expansion and been renamed to Atlas about a century ago.

"Somewhere safe, for the time being," Whitley said. "I have a list of viable abandoned locations I've been switching between since I stopped staying at the manor and I've selected the one farthest away from Schnee Tower. As I said, it's best not to stay in one place for too long. We'll arrive within a few minutes. There, we'll have plenty of time to consider Arthur's next course of action and devise a counterattack."

Weiss watched the surrounding area as they passed through. The military presence here was rather minimal to begin with, and the current crises also probably lent to why there were no military vehicles in sight. In all, things around here actually didn't look too bad, at least compared to what she was used to. There were a few potholes along the edge of the street, but even more that were recently filled in. The road lines looked bright and crisp-edged. The sidewalks were worn and crumbling with weeds growing from the crack, but were swept clean of litter. Graffiti persisted on various walls but with fresh coats of paint plastered to combat it. Weiss had moved away not too long after Mayor Hill had taken office, so this was the first time she was seeing her campaign promises being fulfilled. Old Mantle was still leagues behind the rest of the capital, but this was progress.

She suddenly felt a brief vibration in her pocket, but that couldn't be right. She'd never turned her scroll back on, and she never knew the Key to have any sort of vibrate functionality, nor could she see a reason for it to. She pulled it out of her pocket, but there was nothing special on its screen—it was just waiting for an input.

"I thought you turned this off," Weiss said.

"I did," was all Whitley said.

Since he was evidently unconcerned, Weiss held down the power button and put it away once more. But it lingered in her mind.

Then a terrible idea came to her. "If Partridge made this, then isn't it possible he has a way of tracking it or controlling it with his own?"

Whitley had no response.

"Ruby?" Weiss ventured.

Silence.

Weiss looked over her shoulder to see Ruby frozen in her seat, her bad arm quivering twice as much as the rest of her. Weiss's eyes widened in horror as she turned to her brother, his knuckles white with how tightly he gripped the steering wheel. He gazed straight ahead, unfocused, making no signs of slowing down for the stop sign they were approaching. Before Weiss could say or do anything, there was an impact toward the back of the van, and then the world turned upside down.

Glass shattered, airbags erupted. The seatbelt dug into Weiss's chest as she was jerked around by the tumbling of the vehicle. With the final roll, it teetered at an angle for many heartbeats until it dropped, settling into an upright position.

There was a stillness, broken by an intense ringing in Weiss's ears and the sound of her own heavy breathing. Her brother was motionless beside her, his face buried in the deflating airbag. She craned her neck to see that Ruby—thank God—had been sensible enough to strap herself back in once they'd started moving again. She looked conscious but her eyes were glazed over, unseeing, with a look of pure terror on her face.

Weiss fumbled for the buckle, her hands shaking and bloodied. She struggled, failing to undo it, until she heard the maniacal giggling she was dreading. Whitley's door opened and she caught a glimpse of Tyrian's grinning face before someone else opened the one on her side. She turned to stare down the barrel of a revolver, held by a tall and lanky man with green eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a bushier mustache. She clenched her eyes shut and waited for the bullet, but it never came. A hand searched her pockets until it found and pulled free the Skeleton Key.

"Oh, Cinder." Arthur Watts's voice barely reached Weiss. "For once, your incompetence has panned out in my favor."

Weiss opened her eyes just long enough to see the handle of a gun flying toward her face, and then there was darkness.

Chapter Text

Weiss's head pounded. Everything hurt. Her memory failed her. Her eyes could just barely make out things during brief moments of awareness. Why was everything so bright?

She was being dragged. She didn't know why or by whom. Something to do with a bird?

Darkness.

A van, crumpled and ablaze. Laughing, sinister.

Darkness.

She needed something, desperately. A device. The Skeleton Key? No, her scroll. Help. Winter.

Darkness.

She was in the back of another vehicle. Whitley and Ruby were unconscious. Weiss's pockets were empty, almost. Her scroll wasn't there. Something else was.

Darkness.

Time passed. She wasn't sure how much. It felt like seconds, and it felt like hours. A door opened.

Light. So much light.

"Not her, you imbecile! Grab the other two." A man's voice. Familiar, but unfamiliar.

Darkness.

She was being dragged again. Ahead of her, a prisoner—in his arms, a girl. Weiss couldn't remember who she was, but she was important—important to her in a way no one else ever had been. She felt longing. She raised her hand, and another swatted it back down.

Contact—the slightest bit of skin, briefly, but enough.

It didn't even take a conscious effort, and she was in the Emerald Forest. The dizziness was gone, the pain faint. It was fleeting, but she knew clarity. But she still couldn't remember anything. Whose mind was she in? How did she get here?

It didn't matter. She knew what to do. She set forward, and she searched—for Grimm or memories. After about a minute, she found—

Her memory failed her.

A window. Narcissism—flee. Another window. So many windows. They all blended together. No resistance. Why?

Darkness.

The smell of vomit was the first thing she noticed as she came to, then the accompanying taste in her mouth. Her shirt was wet. The dim lights were blinding. The room wouldn't stop spinning and her temple throbbed. Some small sense of cognizance found purchase in her brain, though she understood so little. She wanted water.

Ropes tied her arms and legs to a chair, her hands numb with the way they were positioned behind her. Ruby sat next to her in an identical state, asleep. Weiss wished for the same bliss, but she wasn't so fortunate. Every tiny movement of her head came with an intense wave of vertigo, which brought her close to throwing up again. She was slowly becoming more lucid, but the pain in her head was so intense she could barely focus on anything else.

She groaned, and someone behind her reacted to it. "Sister?"

She winced at the sound—it was barely more than a whisper, but painful to her ears. "Whitley?"

"You're injured," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Where are we?" She meant to growl the words, but they came out weak. "What are you going to do to us?"

"I'm sorry?" He sounded genuinely perplexed.

She looked at Ruby's still form. "Did you hurt her?"

"Weiss, this wasn't my doing," Whitley said. "This was Arthur Watts—Partridge. Don't you remember?"

"Ah. What have you brought me this time, Hazel?"

"Arthur Watts, an engineer. Used to work for the STC. Caught him trying to 'recruit' some of my people."

"Is that so? Tell me, Arthur—what business have you in Vacuo?"

"Recompense," Weiss muttered. Memories were coming back to her in flashes, but they weren't hers.

"Weiss," Whitley said with more urgency.

"You're not Partridge." Weiss said the words, then believed them. "I'm sorry. My head . . ."

"You're concussed. Don't strain yourself."

She laughed and immediately regretted it.

Whitley sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sister. I should have known he'd be able to track the Skeleton Key. I was too caught up with too many other trains of thought to consider the possibility sooner."

She was able to recall the crash, the moments leading up to it. "We were the ones—" She had to pause to fight down the bile rising in her throat. "We brought it to you."

"You had no way of knowing. I knew it was dangerous, and I took no precautions."

Weiss didn't respond.

"It's finished?"

"It is."

"You've done well, Arthur. Very well. After Vale has fallen, you will have all you desire and more."

"You have my humblest gratitude. But if I may be so bold, what exactly is it that you desire from unleashing my creation on Vale?"

With a smile, cold and hungry, "Recompense."

"Monstra," Weiss said as the memory flashed in her mind.

"Pardon?" said Whitley.

"That's what he called it—Salem's weapon, that he built for her."

A prolonged pause. "Of course. It could only have been him."

Weiss took a moment to take in her surroundings now that her eyes had adjusted enough for her to do so. They were in . . . No, the concussion was playing tricks on her. This was a wine cellar, all racks empty, but it wasn't the one in Schnee Manor like she'd initially thought. It was very similar, but she could spot the differences. And there was no way the military wasn't watching the manor—even in her confused state, she was sure of that much.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Upstairs, I presume," Whitley said. "He and Callows left after they bound us here."

Giggling. "Ooh, if it isn't the Good Doctor. Exactly the first face I wanted to see once I was freed from the red box."

"You have me to thank—for that and what more I have to offer."

"Thank you? Thank the one who failed to put an end to the queenslayer?"

"I did not fail. Betrayal undid my work. You already suspect as much, or else I'd be petrified where I stand."

"So you admit you feel fear."

"Let's negotiate, Tyrian. I know exactly who betrayed us—the real person whose blood you thirst for."

"Tyrian," Weiss muttered. "The inhibitor."

"Weiss, please," said Whitley. "Speaking is only causing yourself more pain."

"No," Weiss said with as much firmness as she could muster. "In my pocket. The inhibitor."

His doubt was palpable. Nevertheless, after a few moments— Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Each hop of the chair behind her was thunderous. She felt a hand clumsily try to slip into her pocket—Whitley must have managed to loosen his binds at least a little bit.

"Other one," she said.

He moved to the other pocket, then eventually found the small metal object.

"I don't understand what this is," he said.

"Semblance inhibitor," Weiss snapped, more annoyed than was rational. "Partridge . . . Watts doesn't know about it. Meant for Mother."

There was a weight to his silence before he said, "Mother?"

"It's the cure," Weiss said. "Didn't get the chance to tell you. Use it on Tyrian. There are others."

Whitley didn't respond.

Ping! A news report. Jacques Schnee attacked in prison.

"No." Worry.

The Key. In little time, it revealed the truth. It was the tattooed mercenary—a false start.

"That cretin!" Anger.

A calming breath. This was not a foil, but it was cause to reassess. Plans would have to change. The Key would find new angles.

Searching.

Results.

The eldest child was in Vale. It was a personal trip, but she'd be returning with a charge—the fat imbecile who falsely bore the title of one of the most brilliant minds in the world. Ironwood wanted his input on security technology for the Vytal Festival, with suspiciously short notice. Something must have spooked the tin man.

Polendina and a Schnee on the same plane, bound for Atlas . . .

How fortuitous.

"Ruby?" Whitley said, having noticed something Weiss hadn't.

Weiss looked over to the girl. Her eyes were now open, wide and terrified. She said nothing. Weiss sighed in despair and waited for the worst. A minute later, a door opened and two pairs of footsteps descended a staircase.

"Mmm. They're all finally awake." Tyrian still wore his prison clothes, a pair of rubber yellow gloves stuffed in the hem of his pants, clashing with the red fabric. If Weiss were in a better state of mind, she might have theorized whether he had some sort of attachment to the attire or if he just didn't care to find something to change into.

"It's about time." Arthur Watts wore a purple, fur-lined coat that had a poofy collar and extended down to his ankles. An ornate, gold-trimmed revolver was holstered at his waist and his hands—adorned by fingerless gloves—held an open laptop which he placed down on a nearby table, screen open and facing away from them. "Bring the boy over here."

Tyrian trained a hungry gaze on Weiss. "I want that one."

"I know. Have patience, Tyrian. The boy. Now. And don't let her touch you."

"I know," Tyrian snarled.

Giving Weiss a wide berth, he stalked around the room and then dragged Whitley's chair toward the cellar entrance. Now that Whitley was facing her, Weiss could see a bit of blood covering the left side of his face, but he otherwise looked unscathed. His eyes, unlike Ruby's, were hard—Tyrian wasn't using his semblance on him.

"I must commend you on breaking your sister out of custody," Watts said to Whitley. "That saved me the trouble of doing it myself and really expedited the process of tracking you down. By way of gratitude, I'll keep this brief."

"What do you want with her?" Whitley said.

"Leverage. I would have grabbed Willow, but the girl was the path of least resistance."

"Cinder."

"Arthur."

A flickering fireplace.

"You know, if you're trying to intimidate me the same way she did, you're doing a horrendous job of it. You don't command nearly the same presence."

"No?" Shrug. "Care for some wine?"

"I'll pass."

"Come, now, Arthur. You don't think I brought you here just to poison you, do you?"

"No, I'm here because you aim to recruit me, I surmise. You have goals, I have talents. Hurry on and get your proposal over with—something about finishing what she started, offering all she did and more, and whatnot?"

"In a sense. I also know what thwarted her."

"Oh, do pray tell."

"Not so fast. Let's negotiate."

"Could have just used Cinder's semblance," Weiss said weakly. "You're working for her, after all."

Watts looked at her with mild interest. "Incorrect. I've worked with her in the past. I cut ties because she didn't meet my standards. Were she only so amenable, things would indeed be simpler for everyone in this room."

Tyrian paced back and forth, never taking his eyes off of Weiss as he pulled out the long pair of gloves. He put them on, slowly.

"As I was saying—brevity," Watts said, his focus back on Whitley. "My desires are simple. You are me—there's no disproving that at this point, I'm afraid. Your father now sits in prison convicted for only a fraction of the contemptible things he's done over the course of his career. Your final action in this recent string of events will be to force him to confess to the rest of them—every last one, in great detail."

Whitley took some time before he responded. "I already offered you what you wanted. I attempted to rectify what he did to you."

"What was stolen can only be returned by he who committed the theft. A job offer to your doomed-to-fail startup is no path to absolution."

"I don't know what you expect here. My fa—" Whitley quieted when he momentarily caught Weiss's gaze. His resolve strengthened. "Jacques has only ever cared about himself. He'd allow Weiss—all of us—to die without deliberation."

"Oh, I'm well aware. The girl is here to motivate you, not him, and the other one still breathes so as to motivate her."

"Not her, you imbecile! Grab the other two."

"Fine. But we don't need this one. I should just kill her now."

"We'll need something to pique Cinder's interest if you aim to have your face-to-face meeting with her, and this one would make a fine addition to her collection."

"Bringing her is dangerous."

"We can consider it a calculated risk, but that's only if you're saying there's a chance you can't keep her under your influence."

Silence.

"We're taking all three."

Giggle. "On your head be it, doctor."

"Are you trying to convince me you'll let them live if I acquiesce to your demands?" said Whitley.

"Of course not," Watts said. "I'm promising you that they'll suffer greatly leading up to their final moments if you don't."

Whitley swallowed. "Torture or no—it matters not if they aren't alive to endure those memories."

"How pragmatic. Let's find out if you mean that, shall we?"

"No!" Whitley blurted. His shoulders slumped and his voice fell. "No . . . I'll do it. Just keep him away from her."

Tyrian gave Watts a warning look. "You promised me I'd get to have my fun."

"Wouldn't be the first time he lied to you," Weiss said. All heads turned to her, Ruby excluded. "Cinder never betrayed you."

"Is that so?" Tyrian said.

"Nonsense," Watts said dismissively. "She's suffered a head trauma, Tyrian."

"Ozpin let Pyrrha go," Weiss said. "He knew the assault was coming."

"Because Cinder warned him," Watts said.

Weiss shook her head, which brought on a fresh pang of nausea. "Had a scout—paragon who can shapeshift into animals. Vacuo was quiet. Ozpin sent him to check why. No one betrayed Salem."

Watts drew his gun and leveled it at Weiss's forehead, causing her to wince. "Your yammering isn't accomplishing anything. Gag her so we can continue without unnecessary interruptions."

"Where's your patience, doctor?" Tyrian said. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"It's a waste of our time. She can barely string two words together."

"Then at the very least they'll amuse me."

"The longer this takes, the longer you'll have to wait for your end of the bargain."

"This isn't about you," Weiss said, bracing herself. She was lucid enough to know it was reckless, but not enough to stop herself.

Watts pulled back the hammer.

Whitley looked like he wanted to say something to her, the fear on his face showing more clearly than ever.

"Let her speak," Tyrian said.

Watts sighed and lowered the gun—Weiss felt the tension leave her shoulders as the barrel moved away from her face. He made a "get on with it" gesture with his other hand.

It took her a few seconds to recover her train of thought. "It was never about either of you. Or Cinder, or Hazel. It's only ever been her. Even now, after what happened—you're still just her pawns."

"Is there a point you're attempting to make here?" said Watts.

Was there? She'd hoped she could prompt him into saying something that would upset Tyrian. She tried to think of something to add, but . . . Why was it still so bright in here?

"Does that satisfy your curiosity?" Watts asked.

"She knows not my fear," Tyrian said.

"She resists your semblance, nothing more. She isn't special. She's as afraid of you as anybody, and will bleed all the same."

"Not if you want me to cooperate," Whitley said.

"Don't overestimate your value to me," said Watts. "You continue to draw breath for the sake of expediency, not necessity. You're not in a position to negotiate."

An amused puff of air escaped Weiss's nose. Only Tyrian noticed.

"If my sister isn't here as ransom then how do you expect me to get what you want out of our fa— out of Jacques?" Whitley asked.

"That's for you to tell me," said Watts. "You know the man better than anyone."

"You're telling me you didn't plan this far ahead?" Whitley said.

"Of course I have. I'm eager to hear what you can come up with. Whitley Schnee's grand finale should bear his personal touch."

Whitley maintained eye contact for several seconds, then looked at Weiss, and finally bowed his head in defeat. "An ultimatum, then."

"Yes, that much was a given," Watts said. "Employ a bit more creativity."

Whitley watched the ground as he considered his options.

"What will you do after you kill her?" Weiss whispered as quietly as possible.

Tyrian, having heard every word, narrowed his eyes.

"Vengeance drives you," Weiss said to him. "It drives him. It drove your goddess. What will you have once Cinder's dead?"

Tyrian crouched down in front of her, low enough that she could still see his face even with her chin pressed to her chest. Her brother began proposing his plan, but Weiss didn't listen.

"Back to stalking rooftops?" she continued. "More mindless killing with no purpose?"

For a while, Tyrian didn't respond. Then, in a low voice, "I will honor her memory."

Watts turned his head ever so slightly, but otherwise continued listening to Whitley. He said something in response to him, but Weiss had no room in her muddled brain to devote to their conversation. She was busy thinking about Tyrian's answer.

The last memory she'd seen in Tyrian's head—it had warped to accommodate his self-delusions, to convince himself Salem was still alive. She decided she should comment on it, despite the reasoning for doing so eluding her. "You accept that she's gone, then?"

In an instant, his gloved hand gripped her throat and pushed her until the chair was leaning on its rear legs. Her head exploded in pain from the rapid movement and her vision went white. She struggled to breathe and it took all her effort to not lose whatever was left in her stomach.

"No!" someone yelled—her brother.

"You. Are. Not. Her," Tyrian growled. "And you cannot manipulate me."

"Cin- . . . der . . . can," she choked out. "Mind . . . control . . . be- . . . fore . . . you . . . draw . . . knife."

"Stop him!" said Whitley.

"Tyrian," Watts said lazily. "Do try to keep her alive for the time being."

Tyrian gave it a few more seconds, then let her go. The chair slammed back down onto all four legs and Weiss gasped, taking in deep, raspy breaths.

"And you were lecturing me on patience," Watts remarked.

Weiss looked at her brother through teary eyes, his . . . not as light a shade as their mother's, but nearly identical in size and shape. She'd never noticed before.

"I love you, sister," he said to her, then locked a steely gaze on Watts. "Have your lackey untie me and let's get this over with."

"Let's," Watts agreed. "Tyrian. If you will. Don't touch his face if you aim to punish him for that comment—he's got a message to record."

Tyrian didn't even seem to have noticed what he was referring to. He was just staring at Weiss like a child would their presents right before the holidays. One thing did seem to register with him, and it was that the time to tear open the wrapping paper was imminent. He drew a knife from his back pocket without breaking eye contact with her, then walked over to Whitley and began hacking at his binds—he started with the ankles, then moved around to do his wrists.

Then he recoiled.

Whitley remained in his seat, acting like nothing had happened. Tyrian raised his hand and picked at it. A clinking noise echoed throughout the room as something small and metal fell to the ground—Weiss had no idea what it was.

Tyrian, tiny droplets of blood forming a small ring on the back of his hand, tilted his head as he looked at the object—confused, but not in pain. Watts, though equally perplexed, didn't seem all that concerned. All the same, he began to raise his gun in response to whatever futile play had just been made.

Whoosh—immediately followed by the sound of ropes hitting the floor.

Arthur Watts, as intelligent as he was, did not possess the same reflexes as Marrow. In a blur of motion, he was disarmed and then struck in the head with his own gun. He crumpled. Ruby, standing over him, leveled the weapon at Tyrian with a practiced grip. Her finger was on the trigger. Weiss looked into her silver eyes and saw in them the resolve to pull it—the will to end a life here and now.

But her arm quivered.

Her aim suffered, and the risk of hitting Whitley instead was high. Tyrian grinned and dropped to a knee behind Whitley's chair, bringing the knife up to his throat. Blood began to trickle from a shallow cut.

"No!" Weiss screamed, fighting against her restraints with all her might. Her head punished her for it, but she didn't care.

"There's the fear," said Tyrian.

He giggled. Then he laughed. Then it slowly evolved into a full, deranged cackle. Whitley gritted his teeth as the blade pressed harder against his neck, clawing helplessly at Tyrian's forearm.

"Weiss," Ruby whispered shakily, unable to say or do anything else.

A stillness fell upon the room, Tyrian ceasing his laughter. The smile, however, did not go away as he—in a flash of steel—opened another one on Whitley's throat. A river of red began to seep from it. Weiss stared, motionless, unable to believe what she was seeing. She was dazed and confused—the concussion was trying to convince her something unthinkable had happened, when there was no way it could have.

"Do take care of the good doctor for me, won't you?" Tyrian said gleefully, then turned and fled.

Bang!

Ruby shot and hit a wall, and then the serial killer was out of sight. She dropped the gun and rushed to Whitley, slumped in his chair and gazing through the ceiling, unseeing, as he clutched feebly at his neck. He made a horrible croaking noise in his attempts to breathe. Ruby pulled off her hoodie and pressed it to the wound, applying as much pressure as she could. She looked to Weiss, mouth open but no words coming out. Weiss, still immobilized by rope, could only watch the life slowly draining away from her brother's eyes.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

More gunshots—muffled—coming from upstairs.

Bang!

One more, and no others.

"Help!" Weiss shouted in desperation, putting as much volume as she could into her voice. "Please!"

There was a barrage of footsteps from above, and moments later, several people came marching downstairs with weapons drawn. In the lead was Marrow, then Winter, with two of the remaining three Ace Operatives at the tail—Elm and Harriet.

"Please!" Weiss cried before anyone could even take in the scene. "Help him!"

Winter's eyes found Weiss immediately, then fell onto Whitley—the three siblings back together at last . . . perhaps for the final time.

"Get the girl," Harriet ordered. "Now!"

"What?" Weiss said. "No, help him! He's innocent. It was Arthur Watts."

Harriet didn't acknowledge her, having already spotted the unconscious Partridge on her own. She knelt to check his pulse. Elm turned and ran back upstairs. Marrow holstered his weapon and began to pull first aid supplies out of a pouch, attending to Whitley. Ruby gave him space, unsure of what else to do. Winter rushed forward, her expression unreadable, and started cutting away Weiss's ropes.

"It was all Watts," Weiss said, probably sounding crazed and delirious. "Framed Whitley. Freed Tyrian. Worked for Salem. Built her weapon."

"Silence," Winter commanded, checking her over for injuries.

Harriet looked interested in Weiss's words but said nothing.

An eternity passed. Then another. At some point, Watts began to stir and Harriet proceeded to cuff him and haul him upstairs—presumably for questioning, as there was nothing confirming Weiss's claims. Finally, Elm returned with a familiar orange-haired girl in tow.

Weiss sank into Winter's arms and sobbed, wondering how much of this she would remember come tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Ruby finally stepped out of the interrogation room and took a seat next to Weiss. It was a minor boon that, in all the uncertainty, they weren't being kept in semblance inhibiting chambers.

"You feeling better?" Ruby eventually asked.

"Unfortunately," Weiss said. Penny had cured her concussion, but the memory loss would have been more of a blessing than a curse right now—she could do without the vivid picture in her head of her brother's throat being cut open.

"Hear anything about Watts yet?"

"No."

Weiss had caught a single glimpse of him as Elm and Vine escorted him through the hall in handcuffs. He had appeared so calm and at ease, bearing no signs of the head trauma Ruby had given him. Penny had treated him as well, sparing him from the same agony he'd inflicted on Weiss. He held his head high with every bit of arrogance he'd shown in the wine cellar, as if all was still going according to plan. His eyes, however, told a different story, with a single glance in Weiss's direction showing the burning fury hidden within. That same glance carried an unspoken promise, one that Weiss found unlikely to go unfulfilled.

"It's not over, is it?" said Ruby, mirroring her train of thought.

"If it's not him, it's Cinder," Weiss said. "If it's not Cinder, it's something else."

"Things could have gone a lot worse. We survived. I think that counts for something."

Weiss almost wanted to resent her for her unceasing optimism. Ruby had endured a state of absolute, petrifying fear for an extended period. All things considered, she should have taken an equal or greater mental toll than Weiss. Yet here she was, being Ruby.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," Ruby said. "I couldn't stop him. The gun was in my hand, and I . . ."

"It's not your fault," said Weiss.

"I would have done it . . . if I could. I tried to do it. Is that wrong? I mean, I read these comics and watch these shows and movies where the hero has that line they never cross. And I knew— I know real life isn't that simple. I mean, Pyrrha died to kill Salem. I guess I just never prepared myself for that part of this. It's not something I ever wanted. But I was still ready to do it."

"Of course it's not wrong. When I looked at you there, I—" Weiss paused, knowing she would regret what she was about to say. "I saw maturity. It's an awful choice to have to make, but only people like Pyrrha can. Those comic books paint a dangerous, idealistic view of life and death scenarios. The people who try to emulate that in real life are the ones who either end up arrested or dead before they even understand what it is they're signing up for. But down in that cellar, that wasn't you. It was the first time that I realized that—maybe—you might have what it takes to be like her."

Ruby whipped her head to stare at Weiss. She looked surprised, but there was no excitement or immaturity that Weiss usually associated with her vigilante aspirations, further validating Weiss's words.

"That doesn't mean I suddenly approve of it," Weiss hurriedly continued. "It doesn't matter what your semblance is or how capable you are. Paragons are just as human as everyone else, and humans are fragile. That's why real life isn't like any of those superhero comics you read—why the Protectors and Grim Reapers of the world are so rare and short-lived. That level of fame and power incites challenge, and sooner or later you're going to face one you can't win."

"You realize that goes both ways, though, right?" Ruby said. "Salem, Tyrian, Torchwick—if there's no one to stand up to them, then the world becomes a whole lot darker. That's why people like me and Pyrrha need to do what we can. I'd probably be dead along with everyone else in Vale if she hadn't done what she did. If I just stand by and do nothing when I could be doing something, then that sacrifice means nothing."

"She didn't die so you could throw your own life away."

"And I wasn't born with this semblance just to throw away the lives of the people I could have saved."

Weiss tried to meet her eyes, but the girl kept shifting her gaze and making it impossible.

"You honestly believe in that kind of thing?" Weiss said. "Destiny?"

"Of course."

Weiss's first instinct was to scoff, but she found that it wasn't so easy. It'd been such a ludicrous concept before the word left her mouth, but now she was realizing it wasn't something she'd ever properly considered before. Weiss and Ruby's semblances had brought them together by pure chance because Ruby's happened to have a problem that she thought Weiss's could solve. Every significant aspect of Weiss's life right now had snowballed from that one tiny happenstance. She'd met a girl who'd turn out to be one of the most important people in her life; she'd reunited with Blake and found the path to reconciliation, even if she hadn't yet begun to walk it; she'd discovered the cure for her mother's condition; and, as strange as it was to admit, all the mistakes she and Ruby had made and all the terrible things they'd been through had prepared them for that wine cellar.

Without any of that, Partridge would have still happened, but things would have ended very differently. Did she have destiny to thank? Was it just luck? Was there even a difference?

"I can be better," Ruby said. "Pyrrha had to have made mistakes when she first started off, right?"

"You have been better," Weiss admitted. "You've made good choices throughout this whole Partridge ordeal. It was me making the reckless decisions this time around while you . . . You've saved my life multiple times now. You saved my brother's life, and my sister would likely be dead too if you hadn't gone back for that inhibitor. If . . ." She bit her lip. "If nothing else, you've been a hero to me."

Ruby finally let Weiss meet her eyes. A very strange look lingered within them that Weiss couldn't identify. After several oddly tense moments, the girl opened her mouth to say something.

"Don't let that go to your head," Weiss interjected before she could, hearing internal alarm bells going off. "That's the only time you'll ever hear me say that."

Footsteps caught their attention as Elm and Vine appeared around a corner down the hall and approached. Around the time they arrived, the same door Ruby had recently exited opened again and Marrow and Harriet emerged. Harriet pocketed the small notebook she'd been taking notes in while it had been Weiss's turn to be questioned.

"There he is!" Elm exclaimed, punching Marrow in the arm with a wide grin on her face.

"Ow!" Marrow said with a scowl, rubbing the spot where she hit him. "What was that for?"

"You're the man who killed Tyrian Callows!" Elm said, clapping her hands on his shoulders. "Come on. Take some credit!"

"It was a free shot," Harriet said, "but . . . we couldn't have tracked them without you. You did good—I'll admit it."

As much as Weiss had been told, Elm and Vine had still been occupied with the Schnee Tower incident while Harriet split off in response to another of Tyrian's victims. She'd been close enough to Old Mantle to arrive at the scene of the van crash soon after it was reported. Her deductions led her to suspect that the charred corpse in the driver's seat was planted, and the vehicle had been set ablaze to destroy evidence. Marrow had been searching for Weiss and Ruby with Winter when Harriet called him there, and his semblance allowed him to follow the trail to the home Jacques Gelé had once lived in before marrying into the Schnee family. They all arrived not too long before Tyrian made his ill-fated attempt to flee.

"The time for celebration is soon, but the work is not yet done," Vine pointed out with a gesture toward the two women still seated.

"Right," Marrow said, failing not to come off a bit abashed and pleased. "Give us a sec."

He and his colleagues took a few steps down the hall to converse in low voices.

"'Give us a sec?'" Ruby muttered. "What's that mean? Are we about to be arrested again?"

"Would it be that surprising?" Weiss said.

"I mean, sort of?" Ruby said halfheartedly, shortly followed by a dejected, "No."

After a few minutes, the Ace Ops finished their exchange and returned to them.

"Your stories line up," Marrow said. "A good enough lawyer could still spin Watts as the victim, but—"

"Victim?" Weiss repeated in disbelief.

"Whitley Schnee was our leading suspect until two hours ago and you both were alleged to be cooperating with him," said Harriet. "Watts wasn't even on our radar and fits in perfectly with all of Callows's other victims. On the surface, it's not a good look for you."

"You found my brother lying in a pool of his own blood," Weiss said. "His heart stopped."

"You said yourself you thought Watts wanted to make it seem like Tyrian suddenly turned on him," Marrow pointed out. "And that's pretty believable. But the key words are, 'on the surface'."

"Loss of consciousness from a blow to the head typically lasts no longer than a few minutes in cases where permanent brain damage is not present," Vine said. "Arthur Watts regaining awareness not long after our arrival proves that you—" he nodded toward Ruby "—struck him around the time you both claim you did. His lack of any other injuries indicates that he must have entered the premises without a physical struggle, which is a telling contrast to the states of the three of you. The firearm, also—"

"We don't need to go too deep into it," Marrow cut him off. "The point is, there's plenty enough evidence for us to start building a case against him. But that's going to take time, and we can't fully clear you until we prove all your claims."

"Best case scenario," said Harriet, "you're put on probation until then. Might even be able to go back to Vale and attend the festival under supervision. That's all up to Clover."

"He'll probably go for it," said Elm. "He's a softie."

"What about . . .?" Ruby trailed off, glancing at Marrow. It was clear that she was thinking about the fact that they were one hundred percent guilty of breaking out of jail, but didn't want to say that part out loud.

"Mitigating circumstances," Marrow said. "Fact is, you went straight from our custody to life-threatening captivity. You're victims. Don't give anyone cause to think otherwise, and we can leave it at that."

"And, conveniently, no one needs to know it was you who they got away from," Harriet said with a smirk.

Marrow crossed his arms. "They got lucky."

"And Whitley?" Weiss asked.

"His condition is still stable, and there appears to be no immediate threat of that changing," said Vine.

"You can go see him right now if you want," said Marrow.

Weiss stood. "Please."

Marrow gestured down the hallway as the other Ace Operatives set off in the opposite direction. Weiss followed his lead, with Ruby hesitantly hurrying to fall into stride beside her.

"Meet you back at HQ!" Elm called back to Marrow.

The military hospital was almost on the opposite end of Amity Base, so Marrow had to drive them there. Weiss climbed into the back seat of the same vehicle he'd taken her to see her mother in, hesitant to get in at first with the van crash still so recent, but she felt safe beside Ruby. Even still, she couldn't help her mind wandering back to the wine cellar, failing to be content waiting in silence.

"I haven't asked you about that trick you pulled with the Key yet," Weiss said in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" said Ruby.

"Right after we were arrested. You teleported it into my pocket."

"Oh, right. Well, I've been trying to better understand my semblance, and it just seemed plausible, so I tried and, well, it worked. It makes sense that if I can Blink things with myself, then I could also do it without myself, right?"

"It is interesting," Weiss said. "I've been thinking that there's more to your semblance than just disappearing and reappearing somewhere else. It's . . . I don't know."

"Semblances are confusing. I mean, you thought yours was just the ability to cure mental illness, right? But now you're seeing into people's pasts and weird things happen when you use it on people who don't want you to. It's just one of those things like dark energy and black holes and consciousness that we might just never be able to fully understand. How can time have a beginning? How did the laws of physics come to be and why does the universe follow them, and why can some of us seemingly break them?" She shrugged, seemingly at peace with the limitations of human knowledge.

Weiss stared at her for a moment. It was easy to forget that Ruby, only twenty until the end of this month, was a semester away from finishing a degree in electrical engineering. Weiss wondered whether it was a conscious choice to keep that intelligence hidden, to maintain an unassuming appearance, or if it was true humility. Maybe it just came and went, unable to coexist at one time with her childish ambitions. It was hard to say. The girl was full of many surprises.

Another of which was how comfortable she seemed with a weapon in her hand. Her grip on Watts's revolver hadn't been that of an amateur's, and it took practice to disassemble one the way she had the soldier's who'd taken them to Schnee Tower. That familiarity wasn't something Weiss recalled her having ever mentioned before.

"When did you learn how to use a gun?" Weiss asked.

"Hm? Oh, Uncle Qrow started taking me and Yang to shooting ranges as soon as we were old enough. So, since like middle school, I think."

"Middle school?" Weiss said. And that was the man who'd lectured her on being irresponsible.

"Uh, yeah? It's Remnant."

Weiss sighed and shook her head. She recalled how often she'd stared down a barrel as of late. "I hate guns."

With a knowing and sympathetic look, Ruby said, "I get that."

The conversation lulled, but Weiss had run out of things to talk about. She'd yet to ask her how she was doing with all of this, but it was such an empty question. She remembered how many times people had asked her that after her mother had been committed. It became grating very quickly. She wouldn't want to hear it again right now, and she knew Ruby wouldn't either. Weiss already knew the answer, regardless—both the one Ruby would say aloud and the one she'd keep to herself.

Without making a conscious choice to do so, Weiss found herself leaning her head on Ruby's shoulder. It was comforting, but not as much of a distraction as she'd like. "Please keep talking."

Ruby tensed at the contact, and said, "About what?"

"Anything."

Seconds passed in silence. Weiss pulled away to see Ruby stare at her with that same strange look from before. It vanished as the girl glanced at Marrow in the front seat, who was paying them no attention. She crossed her arms. "I don't know what to say."

"You're still avoiding me."

"I'm right here."

"And you're still avoiding me."

Ruby tried to meet her eyes, but quickly looked away. "I'm really not trying to."

"Then just say it. Whatever's been distracting you can't be as bad as anything else we've had to deal with."

"It's not. It's just . . . not the right time."

"Is there ever going to be a right time?"

"Heh. That's the question, isn't it?"

"I just need to know that nothing's going to change between us."

"Nothing will change. That's the funny thing. I know that nothing's going to be different when I . . . you know, because, you're . . . you know."

"No. I seriously haven't got a clue."

Ruby gave a half smile. "I know."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "You are so annoying."

Ruby said nothing, turning her head to stare out of the window. Weiss worried she'd taken the comment too seriously.

After taking a deep breath, Weiss said, "I do love you, though."

It took a full two seconds for Ruby to process what she'd said. She slowly turned back to meet Weiss's eyes with what almost appeared to be a bit of panic on her face. "W-what?"

"My brother said it to me," Weiss said, "right before Tyrian . . . did what Tyrian does. He thought it might be his last chance, and it would have been if not for Penny. And I would have missed my chance to say it back. I don't want to make that mistake again with anyone else. You're my best friend, and—despite everything—my life is better with you in it. I want you to know that."

Weiss had never been good at opening up and being truly vulnerable with people. Being raised by Jacques and a mother in a deteriorating mental state—and the only person she had complete and unerring faith in leaving her to join the military—caused her to put up a barrier between herself and everyone else. That barrier only got thicker the older she grew, to the point where it even blocked her from being too honest with herself.

Ruby was the first person to succeed in chipping away at that barrier and had made significant progress over the course of their friendship. Weiss had thought that now was as good a time as any to push it aside herself—even if only for a moment—but was growing self-conscious the longer Ruby remained silent, maintaining eye contact with an unreadable expression on her face.

When the tension stretched on for too long, Weiss said, "Ruby, did I—?"

That was when Ruby kissed her.

For all of a heartbeat, Ruby's lips were pressed against hers, and then they both jerked back from each other at the same time. Ruby clasped her hands over her own mouth, her eyes wide, just as shocked with what she'd done as Weiss.

"I'm sorry," Ruby breathed.

Weiss just stared. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it absolutely wasn't that.

"I'm sorry!" Ruby said again, her cheeks bright red. "I'm sorry."

She proceeded to repeat the two words over and over again, until—

Whoosh.

She was gone. Weiss remained rooted to her seat, unmoving and staring at the space Ruby had been a second ago. Her brain had short-circuited, unable to form a single coherent thought in that moment.

"Wha—?" Marrow did a double-take over his shoulder, noticing Ruby's disappearance. "Hey!"

He stopped the vehicle and took a quick look around, opening his door so he could sniff the air while unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Stay put!" he ordered Weiss as he stepped out and ran off in whatever direction Ruby had gone.

Weiss wasn't going anywhere.

Marrow found Ruby not far away standing at the side of the road. She refused to come back with him, so he sent her back to the room she'd been staying in and called one of the other Ace Operatives to check on her. Weiss could only nod in response to him telling her this once he was back in the driver's seat. He finished the drive muttering about "babysitting".

Meanwhile, Weiss mentally berated herself for being the world's biggest dunce. This was what's been bothering Ruby this entire time—this was what she'd been trying to tell her before Winter barged in with news of Jacques's attack. Weiss had no idea. She had a master's degree in psychology and couldn't see that her own best friend had feelings for her.

Maybe I should have gone for that doctorate after all, she thought with hollow amusement.

In fairness, she had fast-tracked her studies and hadn't done any clinical training. She also hadn't really put a whole lot of what she'd learned to use since graduating, as her work with her semblance required very little of that expertise. She'd only gotten the degree to satisfy the CAB's stipulations. Still, it was a rather paltry excuse for missing what she was now realizing were quite a few obvious clues.

There was a very brief time after Weiss first learned that Ruby wasn't straight that she worried whether Ruby might be interested in more than just friendship. Weiss had dismissed the idea at the time, but she was now wondering why, and why she'd dismissed it so thoroughly. Was it that she had simply been right that Ruby hadn't felt that way at the time, and didn't notice when that changed? Had she been too distracted by all the other more pressing things going on that it hadn't seemed worth giving a second thought to? Or was it simply a show of how inexperienced Weiss was when it came to romantic matters?

It could also be a little of all three, but if she was being honest with herself, it was the last one more than anything. But it hardly mattered in the end. The question now was, what happens next? Nothing will change, Ruby had said. It was naive to think it'd be that simple.

"We're here," Marrow said.

Weiss distractedly got out of the vehicle. Her brother had been inches away from death and she had to go see him with this on her mind. She tried to be annoyed with Ruby for that, but it was Weiss who'd pushed her on the subject. Ruby had said it wasn't the right time, and she was right.

"Need a visitor pass," Marrow said to the receptionist once inside. "Weiss Schnee here visiting Whitley Schnee."

"Of course. One second." She typed something into her computer, paused a moment, then wrote onto a sticker before sliding it over the counter. "We've moved him out of the ICU and up to room 213."

"Thanks," Marrow said, setting off toward the elevator.

Weiss stuck the tag with her name on it to her shirt—a clean white t-shirt she'd been given to change into once they'd arrived back at Amity—and followed him.

On the second floor, they arrived at Whitley's room. The door was left partially ajar. Marrow stepped back and leaned against the opposite wall, and Weiss didn't hesitate to go inside. Whitley was lying in the hospital bed, a needle linking his arm to a blood bag. Winter sat in the chair beside him, and their conversation ended at Weiss's interruption. A tense silence followed as Weiss refused to meet her sister's eyes. The last time they'd spoken without Weiss being delirious from a concussion had been the argument they had after Weiss's arrest. As grateful as she'd been for Winter coming to her rescue in the wine cellar, that friction hadn't gone away.

"Sister," Whitley said with a smile, attempting to break the awkwardness. "I had been wondering when you might show up here."

Weiss noticed the distinct lack of scars on his neck, neither from the knife laceration nor the emergency cricothyrotomy incision. Penny's semblance could not regenerate lost blood from nothing nor magically remove the blood that had obstructed his airway, but it had done a remarkable job at mending severed arteries, closing wounds, and even restarting his stopped heart. Weiss now had that girl to thank for both her siblings' lives.

"We will speak more later," Winter said to Whitley. She stood and crossed the room, pausing next to Weiss. "The same goes for you as well, sister."

She left, closing the door behind her. Weiss claimed the chair she'd vacated.

"I would ask about what's occurred between the two of you, but I doubt you'd answer," said Whitley.

"It doesn't matter."

"And I'm proven correct."

Weiss glared at him, then quickly lost the will to do so as the image of his bloodied form flashed before her eyes. "I'm glad you're alive."

"That makes two of us. All things considered, I believe this to be the best possible outcome."

"I never took you for an optimist."

"I'm a realist. We shouldn't have survived. Watts had every advantage, but I suppose no plan survives contact with the enemy. Just enough lined up in our favor that we managed to pull through, else we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"It's not going to end here. As long as he's still alive, he's going to keep plotting against us. And we're not just collateral anymore—he's got a reason to hate us now."

"You aren't wrong, but that is a problem for the future. No use dwelling on it just yet."

Weiss said nothing.

"That device," Whitley said in a way that implied it'd been on his mind for a while.

"Semblance inhibitor," Weiss said. "It belonged to Pyrrha."

"I gathered as much. You said it was the cure for Mother."

"It is. Tyrian's semblance didn't work on me. Do you know why?"

"You told me your semblance made you immune to his."

Weiss nodded. She didn't remember telling him about that, but she blamed the head trauma.

"And you believe that if Mother's semblance is inhibited, so too would be her immunity to yours."

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"It does." He absentmindedly stroked his hairless chin, deep in thought. Weiss had expected more excitement from him, even with how close he usually keeps his emotions to his chest. "I believe this is the most likely chance at curing her as we've ever seen."

"It'll work," Weiss asserted. "It has to."

Whitley didn't seem as convinced, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eye. "Where can we get another of these inhibitors?"

"They're in Vale," Weiss said. "I don't know when I'll be allowed to come back. The Ace Ops said we'll probably be on probation while they investigate Watts."

"I'm sure Winter could pull some strings."

"I know. I just . . . have to talk to her."

"She doesn't know, then?"

Weiss shook her head.

"I never thought I'd see the day that I'm on better terms with the both of you than you are with each other."

"I didn't get the chance to tell her," Weiss defended. "I only found out right before the Schnee Tower debacle."

"My point still stands."

"You used to hate her."

"We're not children anymore. I meant what I said about mending what Fa—" he cleared his throat "—what Jacques destroyed. Besides, she helped save my life—it was her call to bring the Polendina girl along. Granted, she did it out of concern for you, but I'm still grateful."

Weiss hadn't known that, but it made sense. Penny had already saved Winter's life, so why not send for her in case of the worst?

"How are you faring?" Whitley asked.

There was that question again, but Weiss couldn't hold it against him—she was grateful for the change of subject, anyway.

"I'm tired," she said.

"It's been a long day."

"That's not what I meant."

He studied her for a moment. "I can only imagine what you've been through as of late."

Weiss laughed humorlessly. "Me?" He was the one who'd hemorrhaged enough blood to fill a swimming pool. She shouldn't be the one getting pity.

"This was only my first near-death experience—one that I don't even have a recollection of, as I instantly went into shock," Whitley said. "Based on what little information you've given me, you've suffered worse than I."

"But I'm not the one lying in the hospital bed. I never am. I keep getting away with more than I should, and it's the people I love who . . ." She trailed off, the word bringing what just happened with Ruby back to the forefront of her mind. She felt her face heating up at the memory and had to cross her arms to stop herself from bringing a finger up to her mouth to touch where Ruby's lips had met hers.

Why me? she found herself thinking.

"Sister?" Whitley said, shaking her from her thoughts.

Weiss slumped back in her seat. She really could go for some sleep right now, even though it wasn't even noon yet. She looked at her brother, noticing how pale he still was—paler than usual, that is.

"You're feeling alright?" she asked.

"Moderately light-headed, but that's to be expected." He glanced at the IV pole. "The blood bag's nearly empty."

"I can go get a nurse," Weiss said.

"Are you that eager to leave my company?" he said lightheartedly.

"I'm not. Really. I . . . don't know where I would go right now."

"You could talk to Winter."

Weiss didn't know if she was ready for that just yet, not when so much had already happened in just one day.

"Please," Whitley said. "There was a time when I would have given anything for a fraction of what you two shared. I would hate to see it disappear."

"It isn't like that," Weiss said. "I just miss her. Even when I'm with her I can't remember the last time I felt like I truly had her."

"Tell that to her, then, not me."

Weiss met his eyes, so closely resembling their mother's. Compassion was still such a strange color on him, after so many years of only ever seeing him wearing a mask, but she could get used to it.

"Okay," she said. She had no idea what she was going to say and was dreading this conversation, but if she didn't rip the bandage off now, she'd be avoiding Winter forever. There was still a fifty percent chance she'd change her mind the instant she stepped out of the room.

She stood, then gave him a cautious hug as if he might break. "Get some rest."

"I have little else to do," he said, stiffly accepting the embrace. "Be sure to get some yourself, when you get a chance."

"Of course," she said as she pulled back.

"And sister?"

"Yes?"

"You harbor too much guilt. We are both victims of one man's ego, and not for the first time. Arthur Watts is solely to blame, and he will face justice."

Weiss didn't know how to respond to that, so instead she said, "I love you too, Whitley. I'm sorry I never said it before."

With a sad smile, he said, "As am I."

Weiss didn't have to search long to find Winter, who was just outside the hospital with Clover, General Ironwood, and a belligerent Director Cordovin. Weiss caught a glimpse of the small woman through the door as she crossed the lobby with Marrow, who held out his arm.

"Wait here," he said, annoyed. "I'll give you two guesses who she's after."

He left to join the conversation as Weiss stepped away from the door, managing to avoid being noticed. She couldn't make out anything being said, but it was clear Cordovin wanted inside and wasn't being allowed. Eventually, the General held out an arm in an invitation to accompany him somewhere. Cordovin didn't seem satisfied, but wasn't willing to refuse him. Once the two were out of sight, Weiss took that as her cue to leave the building.

"Ah, Miss Schnee," Clover said. "I'm glad to see you in good health. I wanted to apologize for how things went down. You were under my charge, so everything that happened is on me."

"It's fine," Weiss said, though he wasn't someone she'd even thought to hold responsible.

"No, it's not. But the evidence against Watts is out there and my Ace Ops will find it—they always do."

"Thank you."

Clover turned to Marrow and gestured with his head. "Marrow."

"Sarge," Marrow said with a casual salute.

They left, and then it was just Weiss and Winter.

"The General will placate the Director as best he can," Winter said, "but he can only do so much. She has her sights set on both of you, but your friend mainly. She will not give up easily."

"Why?" Weiss protested. "Is it because she's unregistered, or does she just have it out for all paragons?"

"That is a frivolous question."

Weiss balled her fists.

An awkward silence hung in the air, and it lingered for all too long. Winter studied her, her arms crossed behind her back as they so often were, disappointment etched on her face. Weiss felt the urge to crumble under her gaze, but her indignance for the CAB and its director mixed with years of suppressed emotions emboldened her.

"Stop that!" she said.

Winter cocked an eyebrow.

"You don't get to judge me," Weiss said. "You weren't there. Not in Vale, not here, not then, not now—never when I needed you most. So you have no right to criticize any of the choices I've made."

Winter was taken aback, the cracks in her expression beginning to show. "Weiss, I—"

"You left!" Weiss said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I was twelve and I needed you. You were all I had, and you left—you left me with him. And since then, I've only ever had half of you at best for only moments at a time. Is this job really that much more important to you than me?"

Winter's arms fell to her sides. She took a step forward, and Weiss took a step back. The facade of the tough, infallible big sister who had all the answers was gone. There was no strict demeanor meant to counteract a younger Weiss's spoiled and brattish tendencies; no aura of rigid yet achievable expectations nor the stern disapproval for when Weiss failed to meet them; no sturdy resolve put on in the face of their grandfather's death or their mother's mental decline. There was only Winter, a woman as human as anyone, and just as capable of feeling and showing pain.

A heavy sigh escaped her. "I'm sorry."

Weiss waited.

"It wasn't easy for me to leave."

Weiss scoffed.

"It wasn't," Winter insisted. "I relied on you back then far more than you know. I didn't require an authority figure to look up to nor a shoulder to weep on—all I needed was my strive to be the person you saw me as. Your faith in me was more than enough to guide me through all the hardships I endured. So, convincing myself that I was ready to continue on and forge my own path without you was the most difficult thing I ever had to do."

"But why? Why did you have to go so soon? I wasn't ready."

"I was selfish. You told me you would be fine without me, and I chose to take you at your word. We both knew I wouldn't always be there to protect you, and when the first opportunity to distance myself from Father was presented to me, I had to believe I'd prepared you enough."

"I told you that because I knew it wasn't fair to ask you to put your life on hold for me. But I was just a kid. I didn't know what I was talking about. And what about everything since then? The phone calls, the visits—they weren't enough. You became even more closed off than before. I feel like I'm nothing more than an obligation to you now. I was maimed by a group of thugs and you flew all the way out to Vale just to pay my hospital bills, talk to me for a second, and then you were gone again almost immediately. You promised me on the plane we'd talk more once we got here, yet the first time I really see you is after I'm being framed as an accessory to murder."

Winter opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Say something!"

"I wish I had an excuse," Winter said. "I had thought you adapted well enough on your own, that you didn't need me anymore. Making friends with the Belladonna girl, dropping out of business school to aid people with your semblance, forsaking your place in the family company—you did all of that without my input. It wasn't until the Torchwick incident that I began to doubt whether I had failed you."

"It's not your responsibility to keep me out of trouble or stop me from making my own mistakes. All I ever needed you to be was my sister."

A look of regret took over Winter. "Then I have failed."

Weiss felt compelled to say something to console her, to assure her that that was wrong, but she couldn't. So, she remained silent.

"Is it too late to fix that?" Winter asked.

"I hope not."

Winter straightened her posture and lifted her chin up, almost returning to normal, but without hiding anything this time. She met Weiss's eyes with a look of determination and a different kind of resolve. "I will strive to do better."

"How?"

"I will be speaking to the General about taking some of my vacation time on short notice. There are seven days in the Vytal Festival. I imagine we can spend at least a few of them together?"

Weiss, the anger dissipated, considered her offer—considered it for a while. She loved her sister so much, and the idea of spending multiple entire days with her was more than she could have wished for, but a rift like this couldn't be so easily fixed. It would take a lot more time to get to where she wanted to be. Still, this was the first step, and there was a tiny flicker of hope blossoming within her that it wouldn't be the last.

"I'd like that," Weiss said, unable to suppress a small smile.

Winter returned it. She took another step forward, and Weiss didn't retreat this time, but it wasn't the right time for a hug. Winter was able to read as much from her body language, so the two sisters left it there. Despite that, it wasn't an uncomfortable departure.

Later that night, Weiss laid awake in bed, unable to fall asleep. So much had happened, and she knew there were more terrible things still to come. But it wasn't those anxieties that kept her mind occupied. Her life had just entered a calm, and she had no idea how brief it was going to be before the storm, but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

She'd established an actual rapport with her brother, started the process of closing the gap she'd been too blind to notice had grown between her and her sister, discovered the cure for her mother—which she still hadn't told Winter about, but there was time enough for that tomorrow—and might even be ready to try forgiving Blake for abandoning her the way she did. And she had no idea how Ruby's revelation would change things between them, but Weiss was determined not to let it ruin their friendship.

Eventually, though, sleep did take her. And of all the things that could occupy the night's dreams, it was reliving that kiss that she'd wake up thinking about.

Chapter Text

A stout, middle-aged man drove alone close to dusk, and his radio was silent. For half an hour, he sat stock-still with both hands on the wheel, letting muscle memory take him where he needed to go. Ahead, the prison came into view—three towers of varying heights surrounded by a vast, fortified wall.

The man blinked and he was stopped at the gate. Someone knocked on his window.

"Identify yourself," a woman commanded once he rolled it down. Her gun was in her hand and she sounded alert, though wasn't yet aiming.

The man held up his badge.

"Mulberry," the woman said with recognition, lowering her guard. "The hell's wrong with you? Your headlights aren't on."

"Oh." The man turned on his headlights. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" she repeated.

"Forgot," said Mulberry.

The woman tsked. She gave him a look of sympathy and stepped back, waving an arm. The gate opened, and the man drove on.

A mile later, he reached the towers. He parked and exited, approaching the entrance to the tallest of the three. Inside, one of the soldiers already on duty searched him and checked his gun before letting him through. That was usually a two-man job.

Some of his fellows greeted him. He gave them nods of acknowledgment without stopping.

He arrived at his locker, and finally, the tension left his body. His shoulders slumped. With a weak hand, he opened the locker. Taped to the inside of the door was a strip of pictures from a photo booth, burned around some of the edges, the bottom one unrecognizable. The rest showed a teenage boy with a girl the same age—smiling, their arms around each other, kissing, and making zany faces. Mulberry stared at it.

"Evening, Pete," someone said.

"Evening," Mulberry responded, not moving his gaze to look at the man he hadn't noticed approach him.

A silence followed, and then his colleague said, "It's today, isn't it?"

Pete Mulberry nodded.

"Five years, is it?"

"Five years," Pete confirmed, his eyes still on the last pictures ever taken of his son.

"I would have thought you'd take today off."

Pete said nothing.

"I'd say take a few minutes, but the captain needs you. I'm sorry, but it sounded urgent."

"Right." Mulberry unpinned his badge and took off his standard jacket, hanging it up in the locker and reaching for the guard one beside it.

"You won't need that," the soldier said.

Pete looked at him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Ask the captain."

Pete stared at the photo strip for a few moments longer, then unstuck it from the door and pocketed it. He closed the locker and walked away.

"Pete!" the soldier called out a couple of seconds later.

Pete paused and turned around, just in time to catch his badge as it was tossed to him.

"Thanks," Pete said.

Back through the halls, he found his way to the captain's office. She stood behind her desk, her chair pushed aside, looking aggravated. She held a corded phone up to her ear with her gaze focused on her computer screen. For all the reaction she gave, the captain might not have noticed Pete's arrival, but he knew better.

Eventually, she gave an exasperated sigh and slammed the phone down. "Mulberry. It's about damned time. I need you in the Little Sister today."

"What?" Pete said, suddenly more present than he had been all night.

The captain strode over to a metal cabinet and withdrew from it a jacket designated for guards stationed in the shortest of the prison's three towers. "You heard me. We're stretched thin right now and I'm trying to figure out why. So you're in the sublevel for now."

"No, Captain," Pete protested. "You can't stick me with those freaks—not today."

"You have your orders, soldier," the captain said dangerously. She thrust the jacket into his chest. "Now, move! It's dinnertime and we're behind schedule."

Very reluctantly, Pete obeyed. With a quick gait and clenched fists, he navigated out of the building wearing the jacket. Now that the captain had mentioned it, he did notice how sparse his fellow soldiers seemed today. He noticed, but couldn't bring himself to care. All he felt was dread for this shift. Of all the days . . .

The Little Sister loomed a little ways away. Then he was at its entrance. Then he was inside. All too soon, he was at the bottom of the stairs. The lieutenant gave him his instructions, who was just as distraught as the captain.

"Grab a cart. Start with Cell Block A," he said quickly. "Skip Cell Zero—I already dealt with Callows. Remember the protocol. Go!"

"Yes, sir," Pete said, his dread growing deeper. Perhaps it was better to get it out of the way early.

Pete grabbed a freshly loaded cart from the storeroom where they'd been delivered from the kitchen above. He wheeled it down the hall, turning to the gate with a big letter 'A' painted above it. He held his badge up to the reader and the gate opened, granting him access to all of the single-prisoner semblance inhibiting chambers. His heart rate picked up.

Stopping at the first row of cells, he pressed a button on the wall, which prompted a loud buzz to resound from each of the cells in unison.

"On your feet, inmates!" he barked into the speaker. "Backs against the wall! The door's not clear, you don't eat!"

He pushed the cart further along between the first two cells. The camera next to the first door showed its occupant standing obediently at the far wall. Pete waved his badge, pressed a button, and slid the tray through the slot that briefly opened. He repeated the process with Cell Two.

Cell Three's prisoner had remained in bed. Pete banged on the door, which yielded only a middle finger aimed at the camera. He moved on without giving the prisoner their food.

Cell Four: fed. Cell Five: fed. One by one, Pete made his way down the line, ending with only two trays left in the cart. Pete returned to the storeroom for the second.

Cell Thirty-One: fed. Cell Thirty-Two: non-compliant. Pete's heart beat faster and faster the further down this row he progressed. Cells Thirty-Three through Sixty: all fed. Once again, he went back and traded the nearly empty cart for a full one. What should have been slow and monotonous work passed him by all too quickly.

The food tray clattered with how badly Pete's hands shook as he placed it through the slot on Cell Sixty-One. Sixty-Two was the same, and Sixty-Three was even worse.

Finally, there was Cell Sixty-Four. Pete stared at the camera, his heart now hammering in his chest worse than ever. The prisoner stood calmly with his back against the wall, waiting.

Pete's hand did not go to the cart, but instead hovered near his holster. Many long moments passed. His fingernails dug into his palm, eliciting a pain he was ignorant to. Slowly, he grabbed his badge and brought it up to the sensor. He pressed the button. The slot opened, he shoved the food tray in with such force that it clattered and spilled onto the interior floor, and he forced himself to move on to Cell Sixty-Five.

Pete finished the row, returned to the storeroom, and paused right before reentering the cell block. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the photo strip, and stared once more at his son's face. His heart rate did not slow, and his rage did not subside.

He did not know for how long he stood there, nor how much longer he would have if not for the lights going out, but it was only the darkness that obstructed his view of the photo strip that could shake him from his stupor.

Pete looked around and saw nothing. He backed up, one hand still holding the strip while the other drew his gun. He waited, and the backup power system kicked in. Red lights dimly flooded the darkened halls. He hurried over to the panel to lock the cell block's door, but nothing happened. Sirens blared faintly from somewhere above.

Far less faintly, a sound reverberated around him that made his blood run cold—one hundred and twenty-one simultaneous clicks. In an instant, every door in Cell Block A became unlocked—something that was supposed to be impossible.

Pete glanced up toward Cell Sixty-Four, his grip on his pistol tightening, then glanced in the opposite direction toward Cell Zero—toward the man who had once single-handedly massacred almost all of Vacuo's city government with a knife.

Pete turned and ran, pulling out his radio to call for backup, but it wouldn't turn on. A wireless device, unconnected to the prison's power system, had somehow also been deactivated.

He didn't have time to puzzle that one out. He could already hear the first of the opening doors behind him. How many had figured out the unprecedented situation they were in, and how many would be jumping to take advantage of it? Was it just Cell Block A, or were the dual and quad chambers compromised, too?

And where the hell were all of his colleagues?

He kept running. The sound of his boots echoed loudly through the halls, soon joined by others far behind him. Were he not breathing so hard, he might have also heard the convicts' voices.

He reached an intersection in the hall, then paused. The stairs were to the right, but did he have enough time? Over a hundred of the most dangerous paragons in the country were on his tail. Some of those monsters had inhuman speed, could walk through walls, or could even fly. Odds were, he'd be dead before making it to the top of the staircase.

Pete turned left, knowing at least a few had the ability to track him, but he had no choice but to stake his life on the bet that they'd value their freedom over hunting down a random guard.

The first room he came across was a utility closet—small, but it'd have to do. He pushed the door closed, leaving it partially ajar so he could still hear, then dropped to a knee with his back against a shelf. He took aim at the door, steadying his gun hand on the back of the one that he didn't even realize still gripped the photo strip. And he waited.

A minute passed in eerie silence. Then two. Pete began to sweat. Four minutes. His shirt was drenched. Five minutes. He realized it wasn't just nerves—the temperature was climbing.

Pete rose to his feet. The photo strip was completely crumpled in his shaking fist. He gently pulled the door open with his boot, then peeked out into the hallway. About thirty feet down was a man wearing the same red garbs as all the prisoners in this tower, as well as a strip of cloth tied around his eyes. Flames danced through the hall behind him, weak due to the lack of flammable material to feed off of, but persisting all the same. White fire engulfed his arms, having already burnt away the sleeves of his shirt, but his skin was unharmed.

Prisoner Sixty-Four—he'd followed Pete's body heat.

Pete fired, but the prisoner moved aside just before his finger pulled the trigger—with his shaking hands, he still would have missed. With the second and third shots, the prisoner bowed low and brought his fingers to the floor, dragging them forward like he was rolling an invisible bowling ball. Flames erupted in a trail from his touch, starting white before quickly settling into a natural orange.

The heat forced Pete to duck back into the closet. The flames slowly dwindled on the cement floor, then a new burst of fire—blood red, this time—refueled them. They licked across the doorway, finding purchase on the cardboard boxes of various supplies, too quick for him to attempt to stamp out. Pete retreated a few steps, beginning to cough as the smoke filled the room. The air was scorching, the metal of his gun growing hot in his hand, but he did not relinquish it.

There was no choice to make. In or out, his fate was sealed. All he could do was try—try for his boy—to achieve something in his final moments. Holding onto his sense of direction with all his willpower, Pete dove through the door, through the flames, and into the hall. He came to a knee, his uniform alight, and emptied the rest of his magazine at nothing.

The prisoner was nowhere to be seen. There was only fire.

Eventually, when Pete's screams quieted and his movements stilled, the flames died away. The last thing they consumed was the photo strip lying inches away from his charred hand, further eating away at the already singed edges until all that was left was ash.

Halfway out of the building, clutching a single bullet wound in his right bicep, Prisoner Sixty-Four smiled.

Chapter Text

It took little effort to torment herself with every last detail of her mother's first episode. From the moment the wine glass shattered against the wall to the last glimpse of her mother sitting in a trembling heap on the floor as Winter had dragged Weiss out of the room, they came to her mind's eye readily and vividly. She could still hear her mother's shrill rambling. Her skin still prickled at the memory of that cold, paralyzing confusion that had enshrouded her. She could still picture her mother's manic face clearer than she could her smile.

It had been over in less than a minute, yet it was all Weiss could dwell on when she remembered the day of her grandfather's funeral. The next day, when her mother came home with earnest apologies and assurances that it had been a one-time thing? The months of relative peace and calm before the second breakdown at Jacques's birthday feast? Little more than a blur.

Those are the things that stick with people. It's the brain's natural survival instinct—it needs to cache those negative moments to teach itself how to avoid repeating them. The happy times don't matter as much, as far as it's concerned. Happiness is just a respite from the unceasing struggle to stay alive.

Yesterday, Weiss had fled a skyscraper rigged to explode, been arrested, suffered a car crash and a concussion, got abducted by an egomaniac and his pet serial killer, and watched her brother's throat get cut open. Those were the events that jumped to the forefront of her mind. Finding the cure for her mother, finally establishing a true rapport with her brother, and taking the first major step toward mending the rift that had grown between her and her sister felt far less recent. Weiss had to actively steer her thoughts away from the bad and toward the good, away from the feeling of Tyrian's gloved hand on her throat and toward the surge of hope the small-scale semblance inhibitor had granted her.

What would today be, when she thought back on it sometime in the future? A vague memory of a time when she'd experienced elation, or another trauma for her brain to hold onto as a lesson to be learned?

It was weird to say that Weiss hoped she wouldn't remember today all that clearly.

She watched the plane descend upon Atlas from her window seat, a pair of new inhibitors in hand with all the confidence in the world that they were the answer she'd long sought for. It didn't matter that she was about to experience one of the happiest moments of her life. What mattered was that it marked the beginning of many more happy times to come.

The jet touched down and Weiss, for the second time today, was able to breathe a sigh of relief as she set foot on solid ground. Rationally, she knew Arthur Watts was still in custody and both Skeleton Keys were in safe hands. That didn't make flying again so soon any less nerve-wracking.

"Come," Winter said, disembarking after Weiss.

The car was at the edge of the airfield where Winter had parked it. It felt like barely any time had passed since they'd left for Vale, and here they were back already.

"Have you heard back about Whitley yet?" Weiss said.

"I have. The hospital wants to hold him for at least another day, and he acquiesced. He will not be joining us."

Weiss wasn't surprised, but it hurt to hear. "He should be there."

"He should," Winter agreed.

Weiss buckled herself into the passenger seat, and she looked at her sister. For all the effort Weiss had put in yesterday at cracking that rigid exterior, she was still as difficult to read as ever.

Winter was the eldest child by five and a half years. That gave her the most memories of their mother by far, good and bad. She'd seen the most of their mother's decline, and she'd also seen the most of her at her best. Yet, Winter was always the most reluctant to talk about her.

Weiss had long suspected that Winter harbored a bit of resentment toward their mother, as unfair as that was. Their mother's failure meant Winter had needed to step up for Weiss's sake. She'd had to distance herself the worse their mother got, whereas Weiss and Whitley had only clung tighter.

So Weiss had been unable to predict how Winter would react to the news of the cure. She'd tried to come up with every argument she could think of to convince Winter it was real, that this little metal disc was what they'd been waiting for all these years. What Weiss hadn't been ready for was, "I believe you."

Just like that. One explanation and Winter was on board. Even now, Weiss couldn't be sure whether she'd meant it—that Winter wasn't humoring what she believed to be little more than yet another desperate grasp at hope that would yet again end in disappointment.

But she'd pulled this off, hadn't she? Amidst all this messiness and the Vytal Festival right around the corner, Winter had managed to arrange a round trip to Vale on such short notice. That must have taken a lot when this was something that could have waited until the Festival and the Watts investigation were both over with. Would she have done that if she didn't have faith in Weiss?

It didn't matter, one way or another. Weiss could convince herself that the answer was no, and that was enough.

"Weiss," Winter said. "We're here."

Weiss looked up and saw the dull, gray bricks of the psychiatric hospital gleaming under a small patch of sunlight, slowly being overtaken by the shadow the clouds cast upon it. The sky had been mostly clear when they landed what felt like seconds ago. Yesterday had been the day that never seemed to end, and today was flying by like it was trying to make up for that. It can't really have been eight whole hours since she'd woken up agonizing about what to do about Ruby and that kiss, can it?

Klein greeted them at the entrance, his jovialness enough to bring a slight smile to even Winter's face. Weiss's heart rate picked up as he led them through the building, and she couldn't be sure if it was due to excitement, nervousness, or both. She was confident this would work, but nothing was ever a guarantee. Worst case scenario—

No. There was no use thinking about that, not when she was this close.

They arrived and Klein opened the door to Willow Schnee's room.

"Willow, dear?" he said, his voice soothing and gentle. "Your daughters are here to see you. It's been some time since you've seen them both at once, hasn't it?"

Weiss and Winter's mother made no reaction. She sat in a chair facing the window, as if enjoying the view. The room had a handful of paintings hung up that had once decorated her favorite places in Schnee Manor. Accompanying them were plenty of framed pictures of the family, including childhood portraits of herself with her father, but none of her husband.

Klein rolled her chair back and turned her around. Her posture was perfect with her hands folded neatly on her lap, her expression empty and unseeing.

Weiss froze, and a chill swept through her, as if her mother's hollow gaze bore a ray of cold. Her emotional walls, built up and fortified specifically to endure this exact situation, threatened to come crashing down.

Why? A million other times Weiss had been here. A million other times she'd seen her mother in the same, unchanging condition. Why did it strike her so much harder now? Was it because she'd spent so much time today suppressing the bad memories, letting herself get so drunk on hope that she'd been able to forget how awful the reality of it truly was? She'd been psyching herself up for success—for her mother to finally be, after all these years, present and whole—and forgetting that, one last time, she'd have to face . . . this. A hollow, lifeless shell wearing her mother's face that constantly tainted every happy memory Weiss had of her.

Nothing was ever a guarantee. She was more aware of that fact right now than ever—of the possibility that she was wrong, and that this attempt would be no different than all the others, and that—

"Weiss," Winter said, bringing Weiss back from the edge of a mental spiral, speaking with a tone that triggered . . . something within Weiss.

She almost wanted to call it nostalgia. She could suddenly recall those minutes following that first episode, and the second, third, and most of the others. Those moments that usually sat so vague in her memory were now lucid. She remembered feeling scared and confused, and how Winter had comforted her through it—how her soothing voice, usually so strict, steadied a younger Weiss's pounding heart. She could recall the precise words Winter had spoken before a smile had finally crept onto her face, the exact moment she'd been able to believe the assurances that everything would be fine.

Right now, twenty-two years old and standing at the entrance of her mother's room in a psychiatric hospital, Weiss was scared and confused, and Winter—as rocky as their relationship was at the moment—was here with her. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. Winter placed a hand on her shoulder and Weiss reached up to cover it with her own. Her heart rate began to steady as she felt the unspoken assurances. Whatever happened right now—whatever the outcome—everything would be fine.

It didn't take long for Weiss to spot the Polendinas as she entered the canteen, and it took no longer for them to spot her.

"Salutations!" said Penny.

"Hello, Penny," Weiss said, finding it easier than expected to smile at her as she sat across from them. "Thank you for meeting with me, Dr. Polendina."

"Of course, of course," Pietro said. "I understand you had a rather sensitive topic you wished to discuss?"

"I did. I hope I'm not inconveniencing you too much. I know you're pretty busy right now."

"Yes, well, with the Festival only two days away . . . Never mind that. What's on your mind?"

"I was hoping you could help me understand exactly how semblance inhibition works," Weiss said.

"Semblance inhibition. I see." Pietro paused to cough before continuing. "I'm afraid 'exactly' might be a tall order. There's only so much we understand about how it works, and only so much I can divulge."

"I understand. It's just . . . My mother. She has the same semblance as me. Or I should say I inherited it from her."

"Ah. Quite rare, but not unheard of."

"Right. Penny probably told you, but I can cure mental illness in people's minds, heal psychological damage."

"Indeed I did," Penny said.

"But the thing is," Weiss said, "I've never been able to use my semblance on my mother, or myself. And she's— She isn't well. I need to heal her, but I can't. And yesterday, I thought I finally found the reason why. Tyrian Callows had a semblance that also affects the mind, but it didn't work on me. I really thought it was because my semblance was giving me immunity to other mind-affecting semblances."

Pietro nodded in understanding. "You thought? Meaning you no longer do?"

Weiss bit her lip. She had one hand in her pocket, which was full of tiny metal and glass shards—what remained of the spent semblance inhibitor. She wasn't sure when it had broken, as it had still been intact when she'd pocketed it.

Jaune had told her the inventor of these things wanted them kept secret, or more so the secret of how they worked. Jaune had used two on those twins at Junior's club and it had been mentioned in a news article, but nothing ever came of it because there was nothing supporting a rather outlandish claim—like now, the discs hadn't survived long after being used. But more and more people were learning that they did exist—Winter, Ironwood, Mayor Ozpin, Qrow, Yang, Blake, and the Ace Operatives. Even Watts had probably put two and two together by now, depending on how much of his memory survived Ruby knocking him unconscious.

So did it even matter at this point if she told the Polendinas about them? She'd only known them a few days, but it was enough to say she trusted them a lot more than Ironwood or the Ace Ops—other than Marrow, maybe.

The difference between then and now was that Weiss had told everyone else out of necessity. She couldn't explain why they'd chosen to take on Neo without mentioning the one thing they believed made it possible. She also couldn't explain how the most infamous and effective serial killer in recent history had fallen to close-range gunshots without saying what had rendered him unable to defend himself.

Weiss held her tongue. She'd never had the right to make this choice in the first place. Whoever made the inhibitors had entrusted them to Pyrrha, and Weiss knew neither her nor them. Pyrrha had entrusted them to Jaune, and then Jaune had told Weiss and Ruby. Time was proving that he shouldn't have.

"I don't know," Weiss said. "I might, still, but . . . Am I wrong in thinking that if my semblance is the source of my immunity to other mind-affecting semblances, then inhibiting it would also negate that immunity?"

Pietro lifted his golf cap and scratched his head as he thought. Weiss met Penny's eyes and found a look of sympathy there, which wasn't unappreciated.

"You could be," Pietro finally said.

Weiss stared at him, unsure how to take that.

Pietro opened his mouth to continue, but another coughing fit interrupted him, which lessened as Penny put her hand on his arm.

"May I?" she said.

"Please." Pietro grabbed a cup off the table and began to drink.

"Ruby explained her semblance to me," Penny said to Weiss. "Use of her ability to teleport fatigues her, but abstaining from using it results in an inability to grow tired at all and leaves her in a state of perpetual consciousness. It was your hypothesis that the latter phenomenon is a result of her body adapting to the physical toll that her semblance has on it, correct?"

"It was," Weiss said.

"That is a well-founded theory," Pietro said. "A very common occurrence."

"Indeed," said Penny. "Paragon physiology almost always differs from that of a non-paragon's—I am an exception. The presence of a semblance alters human growth in notable ways both before and after birth. Some are consistent across all paragons, and others are unique results of a semblance's particular nature. Ruby's resistance to sleep is one example of this, and—"

"And my mother and I are another," Weiss finished with a sinking feeling in her chest. "Tyrian not being able to affect me—it wasn't my semblance, it was just . . . me."

"It is not a guarantee that this is the case, but it is very plausible, I'm afraid," said Pietro. "I'm sorry, my dear."

"So even if I could inhibit my mother's semblance, it wouldn't stop her from resisting mine," Weiss said.

"The way a semblance inhibiting chamber works—" Penny started.

Pietro coughed. This one wasn't involuntary, but a warning.

"Right," Penny said. "To put it in simplest terms, the chamber creates an environment that—"

"—suppresses one's ability to activate their anomaly, be it subconsciously or consciously."

Weiss jumped. Caroline Cordovin's short height made her difficult to spot amongst all the other military personnel enjoying their dinner, allowing her to approach unnoticed.

Of course she was here right now.

"Director," Weiss said.

"Good evening," Cordovin said.

"Salutations," said Penny, polite though bemused.

"Good evening," Pietro said. "Caroline, wasn't it?"

"Director Cordovin will do," said Cordovin. "What an intriguing topic of conversation to be having over dinner."

Weiss had no food in front of her—a fact they were both aware of.

"May we help you?" Weiss asked.

"You may indeed, Miss Schnee," Cordovin said. "If you'll come with me, there are a number of things I wish to discuss before you leave again."

"Forgive me, Director, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

"Oh? Your idle chatter regarding highly sensitive technology is more important than the CAB?"

"Yes, it is."

"Might I remind you, Miss Schnee, that you are still under probation. Cooperation is in your best interest if you wish to see your charges dropped." Her attitude toward Weiss was a stark contrast to when last they spoke. It would seem that Jacques was no longer the only exception in their "highly respected family".

"None of my charges have anything to do with your bureau, Director. Am I really your biggest concern right now? There are still escaped Little Sister convicts out there."

Cordovin smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "Ah, that there are, Miss Schnee. In fact, my intel tells me that you have a personal history with one of them."

Weiss tried not to let her confusion show. Maybe she'd meant Tyrian? No, Cordovin would have to know he was dead. But if not him, then . . .

Oh. Oh, no.

"You did attend high school and have a personal relationship with one Miss Blake Belladonna, did you not?" Cordovin said, her smile widening as Weiss's eyes did. "The very same co-founder of the so-called 'peaceful activist group', the White Flame, who got cold feet and turned whistleblower when the people she aligned herself with showed their true colors?"

"Adam Taurus?" Weiss said. "He's one of the escapees?"

Why was this the first time she was hearing about this?

"Indeed," said Cordovin. "Please answer the question, Miss Schnee."

"I— Yes, I was friends with her. But I only ever met him a couple of times."

"And yet the mere mention of him brings you visible discomfort. You do wish to see him recaptured, yes?"

"Of course I do."

"Then I would ask, one more time, that you come with me and answer my questions."

"I promise I know just about as much as you do."

"That will be for me to decide."

Weiss shifted uncomfortably. She looked at Penny and Pietro, both of whom were confused. Weiss had come here to get answers, not give them.

"Who is Adam Taurus?" Penny said.

"A very bad man indeed, young Miss Polendina," Cordovin said. "But rest assured that he will be apprehended post haste. Now. Miss Schnee?"

"Fine," Weiss relented. "Please just give me a couple more minutes and I'll meet you outside."

"I would like to get this done quickly. My time is a valuable thing, Miss Schnee."

"As is his." Weiss gestured to Pietro. "Dr. Polendina is here as General Ironwood's personal guest, and I would hate to have bothered him for nothing."

"Please," Pietro said. "There is no—"

"And what exactly is it that is so important for you to discuss with the General's esteemed guest?" Caroline asked, ignoring him. "I can't imagine what business a civilian has discussing anomaly suppressing technology with the man who invented it."

"With all due respect, Director," Weiss said, "that is none of your concern."

"Is that so? I would hate to learn that you are up to anything untoward."

No you wouldn't, Weiss thought.

"I've already agreed to answer your questions," Weiss said. "I can still change my mind. You can either wait a few minutes for me to finish my conversation with Dr. Polendina, or however long it takes you to get a warrant."

Cordovin leveled a steely gaze at her, still with that fake smile plastered on her face. Finally, with excessive enunciation of each word, she said, "So be it."

"My humblest thanks," Weiss said, barely even trying to veil the sarcasm.

"Dr. Polendina. Miss Polendina. It has been a pleasure." Cordovin turned and marched off.

Weiss breathed a sigh of relief. She would probably come to regret this small victory at some point, but she couldn't bring herself to care right now. She'd already made herself an enemy of Cordovin the second she and Ruby had barged out of that tower. There were much more important things on her mind.

"That woman did not seem very nice," Penny commented.

"She isn't," said Weiss. "She's prejudiced against paragons while also heading the branch of government that oversees paragons and semblances."

Penny frowned. "Well that does not make any sense."

Weiss gave a hollow laugh, unsure how to explain it to her.

"We were discussing your mother?" Pietro said.

"Yes," Weiss said. "Thank you. I guess I just have to ask—if inhibiting her semblance won't bypass her immunity to mine, then . . . what can I do? Is there anything you might know that could help her?"

"I really can't say for sure, my dear." Pietro pulled a cloth from his breast pocket and used it to wipe his glasses, a troubled look on his face. "I . . . There's research. Not my own. I would need to find it. The person who would be of most help is no longer with us."

"What does that mean?"

He shook his head, perching his glasses back onto his nose. "I'm sorry. I can't give you the knowledge you're after. Not now. I will have to look into this, but it will take time."

"You would do that for me?"

He placed his hand on top of Penny's where it sat on the table, a sad smile on his face. "Of course. I know your pain all too well."

Penny met her eyes and nodded, and Weiss felt hope begin to blossom from where it had been shattered earlier.

"Can I just ask—what is it about me?"

"I thought I—"

"Just humor me. Please. I need to know."

Ruby sighed. "I don't know. It's not like I asked to fall in love with my straight best friend."

"Love?"

Ruby shrugged. "Yeah. I don't . . . I mean, I guess it's just the same reasons we're friends in the first place, right? You care about me way more than I deserve and, despite all I put you through, you still stick by me and do your best to keep me in check. You can be sweet when it matters most, and even when you yell at me I know your heart's in the right place. Really, you saved my life way before I ever saved yours.

"And, beyond that . . . You're cute when you get fired up, and you're so ridiculously pretty it's kind of unfair, to be honest."

Ruby was up ahead at the foot of Pyrrha's statue, waving as Weiss approached. Seeing her brought the memory to the forefront of Weiss's mind, and she felt her cheeks growing as hot as they had then. She still wasn't sure why she'd asked, or if she was better off now that she'd gotten her answer.

That was the better part of the memory that came to her—the good better than the bad. It was the latter half of the first conversation they'd shared the morning after the kiss, right before they'd flown back to Vale and Weiss had gone back to Atlas without her. Despite the unexpected hurdle in their friendship, Weiss was glad to see her, and a happy present triggered happier memories.

Happier, but not quite happy, in this instance. As nice as it was to be showered with compliments, they'd come from a problematic place. They'd come after the worse part of the conversation, where Ruby insisted on pretending the kiss never happened and on dealing with her feelings alone.

"Look. It's out there, now, alright? You know. There isn't really anything else to say."

"Ruby—"

"There isn't! I needed to tell you because there's no way I could ever move past this if I kept it bottled up forever. Now you know, so we can go back to acting like everything's normal, and . . . eventually, it will be."

Weiss wasn't satisfied with that in the least, but the stupid girl had refused to let her get a word in edgewise. The thing is, what could she even have said if Ruby wasn't so stubborn? Ruby had a point in saying that anything Weiss did would only make matters worse. Psych degree or not, the person you're in love with isn't exactly the best person to tell you how to fall out of love with them.

Still. Weiss knew Ruby. She'd seen over and over again how Ruby dealt with her emotions. It was the source of ninety percent of their problems. And Weiss had to sit back and let her deal with this by herself, leaving the fate of their friendship in her hands alone?

"Fine. But just promise me that you'll talk to someone else if you won't talk to me. Your sister— Or Blake. Penny. Jaune, whenever he gets released. Anyone."

"Okay. I promise."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yes. I said I promise. And I did already talk to Whitley—"

"Excuse me?"

"I had time to kill and was kind of losing my mind, so I thought I'd stop by—ask how he was and maybe pick his brain on the Skeleton Key or something."

"And that led to you talking to my brother about me?"

"Well, he called me out, and I guess I just needed to get it off my chest."

Whitley giving love advice. The thought could make Weiss laugh if she didn't feel so helpless.

"Hey," Ruby said. She had her old red hoodie on, unzipped with a t-shirt underneath and simple black leggings.

Weiss took great pride and care in making herself as presentable as befits the Schnee name. Yet Ruby could look that cute with so little effort, and she had the nerve to say it was unfair how pretty Weiss was?

"I got your message," Ruby said. "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

Weiss stopped a few feet away from her, staring up at Pyrrha's face as she waited for the heat to leave her own—it was pretty easy now that her mother was back at the forefront of her mind.

"I asked Dr. Polendina," she said. "He thinks my immunity is separate from my semblance, similar to your resistance to tiredness. So when I used the inhibitor . . . nothing changed."

"I'm so sorry," Ruby said again.

Weiss took her eyes off the statue to meet Ruby's, and she found her words catching her throat.

Confound her, Weiss thought. She was doing so well up until now.

Weiss swallowed and looked away. "Everything's fine. This isn't new."

Ruby took a step forward, then she stopped herself. Weiss wished she hadn't, but was thankful that she did.

"Dr. Polendina told me he'd get in touch after the Festival is over," Weiss said. "He just needs time to look into it, and he might be able to come up with new ideas."

"Really? That's amazing."

"It is. I—" Weiss paused as she caught a glimpse of the tremor in Ruby's injured hand as she stuffed it in her pocket. "We're fortunate to have met them both when we did."

Ruby nodded. She took a few steps forward and turned toward the statue, now standing beside Weiss rather than facing her. It made it easier for Weiss to fight down that lump that had formed in her throat after one sympathetic look from Ruby—a knowing look from someone who well and truly understood what Weiss was going through.

"I keep thinking about that question he asked us," Ruby said. "About legacy."

Weiss glanced at her and saw that her gaze was on the plaque rather than the statue itself—the plaque engraved with the same quote Dr. Polendina had recited to them.

"What do you think he meant by it?" Ruby asked.

"We all nearly died in a plane crash together," Weiss said. "I assumed it was his way of seeing how we were coping."

"Maybe," Ruby said, unconvinced. "Have you figured it out yet? Your answer, I mean?"

"What do you think?" Weiss said bluntly.

Ruby was silent long enough that Weiss thought she was going to let the subject die, until she said, "You know, I still think it could be him."

"What could be him?"

Ruby nodded toward the statue. "The friend of the Protector. He wasn't the one who broke us out, but someone made Pyrrha's armor. And the inhibitors."

"Don't be stupid, Ruby."

"Jaune told us Pyrrha traveled abroad after high school. Who's to say she didn't—?"

"We've got next to nothing supporting that."

After a pause, Ruby said, "Yeah, fine. Just a hunch, I guess."

"Let's just go. We're—" Weiss reached for her pocket to check the time, but there was no scroll there—Watts had destroyed it. "I don't even know if we're late."

"Sure." Ruby let her gaze linger on the statue for a moment longer before starting toward City Hall's entrance. As Weiss fell into stride beside her, Ruby glanced over her shoulder at the parked rental van Weiss had arrived in. "How's she taking it? And Whitley?"

If there was one thing all Schnees were good at, it was putting up a front. Despite that, Weiss had seen it in their eyes as they each had their turn comforting her. They'd had their reservations, but Weiss had gotten their hopes up, even if just a little bit.

"Worse than I thought," Weiss said, her guilt preventing her from expanding any further on that. "Let's not keep the mayor waiting."

Chapter Text

Even this early in the day the city was coming to life, the ambient hum of engines and distant sirens growing more numerous with each passing second, joined by the soft rumble of footsteps and chatter as pedestrians flooded the sidewalks. Here at the heart of the city, it was even more active than usual as tourists arriving for the Festival swarmed through to visit Vale's most popular sites and partake in local businesses' pre-festival activities. Weiss had never regretted selling her car less.

"How's your arm doing?" Weiss asked as they walked away from Pyrrha's statue.

Ruby shrugged. "Won't matter in a couple days. I've got my scans back at my dad's place, so just waiting on Penny to get here."

"You haven't gone back to your apartment yet?"

"I stopped by to get my mail and a few things . . . Yang was there."

Before Weiss could ask how that went, they'd reached city hall's entrance. A freckled boy with messy brown hair was waiting to greet them.

"Hello," Weiss said. "Oscar, wasn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," he said as if he hadn't expected to be remembered. "That's right."

Ruby waved with a smile. "Hi. I'm Ruby."

"I know," Oscar said. "I-I mean— We were expecting you. It's a pleasure. Please come with me."

He turned away and set off down the hall, but not before Weiss observed the redness in his cheeks. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"It's so busy," Ruby said as they followed him through the lively interior, oblivious to the blushing mess she'd made of the poor boy.

A constant stream of city workers moved through the halls with the same energy as that of the bustle outside and only a bit of the excitement. Officials walked and talked in pairs or groups. Interns hurried by with stacks of documents, boxes, or refreshments. Police officers also patrolled as security, far more than seemed necessary.

"The Festival is two days away," Oscar said.

"Isn't the organization committee headquartered on-site?" Weiss said.

"Yes, but there's still a lot that can only be done here, not to mention all the usual work as well."

The mayor's office was on the top floor, but Oscar didn't stop when they reached the elevator. Instead, he led them to a small meeting room. Inside was an oval table surrounded by wooden chairs, as well as an inactive screen taking up the far wall. Oscar left and they didn't have to wait long for the mayor to arrive with Qrow, who got a grin and a little wave from Ruby.

"Hey, kiddo," Qrow said, closing the door behind him. It was the first time Weiss had seen him smile, as subdued as it was.

"Miss Rose. Miss Schnee," Ozpin greeted. He placed his cane and a travel mug on the table before taking a seat across from them. "It is heartening to see you both in good health. I do hope I won't have cause to say that again when next we meet."

Weiss had to bite back a retort. She was sure he hadn't meant any offense by it, but she didn't need him to remind her that every meeting they had was preceded by multiple escapes from mortal peril.

"Heard you ran into the old crone," Qrow said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to the side of Ozpin. The sight of him caused something to stir in the back of Weiss's brain, and she felt like she was forgetting something.

"Who?" Ruby said.

"I assume he is referring to the director of the CAB," Ozpin said. "She arrived in Vale this morning."

"Oh, her. Yeah, a couple times actu—"

"I meant her," Qrow said with a nod in Weiss's direction. "Yesterday."

Ruby looked at Weiss, out of the loop. It wasn't like Weiss could have texted her, and she didn't think it was something worth mentioning in the message Winter sent Qrow to pass along.

"She wanted to talk to me about Adam," Weiss said. "She seriously followed us here?"

"She arrived in pursuit of Mr. Taurus," Ozpin clarified. "His history of animosity toward the CAB has caused her to take a vested interest in his recapture. She was rather displeased with the results of your questioning."

"He's here?" Ruby said, alarmed. "Already?"

"Yeah," Qrow said. "My sources say he's been here at least two days."

"Your sources?" Weiss looked at him, still unsure what was eluding her. "What is it that you actually do, can I ask?"

"I do whatever the hell Oz needs. What's it matter?"

Ruby cut in before Weiss could respond. "But what about Yang? And Blake? You're protecting them, right?"

"You needn't worry," Ozpin said. "We are doing everything in our power to ensure their safety. That said, it is our belief that his full focus is currently on rebuilding his following, which will take time. He is a threat, but not as imminent as you would fear."

"And besides, Yang and her girlfriend can handle themselves just fine," Qrow said. "They took him down last time, didn't they? We're more concerned about the both of you."

"You think he might target us to get to them?" Ruby said.

"That is a possibility," said Ozpin, "though not the most pressing one. The greatest danger at the moment is Cinder Fall, and the likelihood that you are both targets to her after your run-ins with Roman Torchwick."

Cinder . . . Weiss looked at Qrow again. She felt like it had something to do with him and Cinder.

"Would she know about us?" Ruby said. "I mean she'd only know what Torchwick or Neo told her, but . . ."

"The least of which is that you both exist, and that's already too much," Qrow said. "And because of what happened at Junior's, she absolutely knows one of you has a semblance worth her attention."

"But she still won't know about Weiss's, right?" Ruby said. "Torchwick decided to turn against her as soon as he learned what it was, so—"

"Are you a paragon?" Weiss said, her eyes locked on Qrow as the talk of semblances finally connected the dots in her head.

Ruby's lips were still parted from the thought she didn't get to finish as she looked at Weiss with a furrowed brow. Ozpin took a sip from his mug, watching Weiss with silent curiosity while Qrow huffed out an impatient sigh.

"You really can't go two seconds without prying into other people's business, can you?" he said.

"That's not an answer," Weiss said.

"I mean, he's registered," Ruby said. "Not really a secret."

"Yeah, but it's not like I want it paraded around, either," said Qrow. "Is there a point to this?"

A paragon named Qrow who could shapeshift into animals. It was too fitting to be his birth name, but he also didn't rub her as the type to pick such a ridiculous name with an even more ridiculous spelling for himself. Maybe that was a bit unfair, but she was still spiteful after how he'd talked down to her outside the hospital.

"Cinder told Watts the reason Salem's assault failed," Weiss said. "Mayor Ozpin sent a paragon scout to check on Vacuo, which is why he was able to prepare in time. It was you, wasn't it?"

Qrow's gaze never left Weiss, and she could see the shift in his eyes. Irritation and impatience slipped away as he found significance in her words, and she suspected it was a different significance to what she'd intended, though she didn't know what. He shot a serious look toward Ozpin that went unacknowledged.

"What else did Cinder share with him?" Ozpin said, remaining impassive.

Ruby's chair scraped against the floor as she bolted to her feet. "It's true?"

"You didn't know?" Weiss said.

"No, I . . ." Ruby's face scrunched up in concentration. "Wait, you did mention something about animals, didn't you? In the cellar. Most of it's just clouded by fear for me, so I didn't . . . Uncle Qrow, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's supposed to be confidential," he said.

"But you're a hero!"

Qrow scoffed. "Nikos was the hero. I'm just the idiot that nearly got himself shot out of the sky."

Weiss let her gaze linger on Qrow a moment longer before turning her attention to Ozpin. "Pyrrha. She didn't escape from jail, either. You let her go."

"Cinder Fall was the source of this information as well?" said Ozpin.

"You're not denying it?"

"No. I am not denying it. You believe that makes me a hypocrite, don't you?"

Weiss bit her lip, unable to give a yes or no. He'd always been adamant about his views on vigilantism, but he'd also once told her that if Pyrrha had survived, he'd give her a thank you and a pardon. Now she had to wonder—had that come from a place of gratitude, or guilt?

"The imminent threat of Salem's approach left me with limited options," Ozpin said, "as well as a difficult choice. To this day, I cannot say whether it was the right one. Your recent discovery that, under Salem's orders, Arthur Watts was involved in Miss Nikos's self-surrender only confirms the suspicions I'd acted upon at the time. There is still much we don't know about Salem's assault and her organization, and people are continuing to suffer because of this ignorance. So I will ask again, Miss Schnee—what else did you learn in the minds of Arthur Watts and Tyrian Callows?"

The politeness never left his voice, but Weiss still felt like he was pressing her, reminding her without saying it that he was devoting his limited time to this meeting while the days were growing more and more hectic. It was then that she noticed the bit of darkness under his eyes, partly obscured by the shaded spectacles he wore close to the tip of his nose. Qrow looked tired too, now that she thought about it—it was hard to tell given his perpetual grumpiness.

"Ruby, will you sit back down already?" Weiss muttered as she pulled out a folded piece of paper. She'd written down the most important details so as not to forget anything, which wasn't unlikely given that she had learned most of it while concussed.

Qrow pushed himself off the wall and navigated around so he stood behind Weiss. He looked over her shoulder at the list of notes that were mostly meaningless to anyone but Weiss, such as "C has col" and "S had H". He gave a, "Hmph," that could almost be taken as impressed.

"'S'. That's Salem," Qrow said. "'H'. Hypnos?"

"What?" Weiss said. "No, Hazel."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Qrow said.

"It was a large man Salem had working for her," Weiss said. "Brown hair, muscular, deep voice. He sat right beside her. I think his name is Hazel, or she might have also had someone else by that name."

"And 'reco'?" Qrow said.

Weiss slapped her hand onto the paper and slid it away from him. "If you would actually let me talk, I could explain."

"She makes a valid point," Ozpin said.

Qrow raised his palms and took a step back. Ruby, meanwhile, had not sat down and now leaned forward with her hands on the table.

"Miss Rose," Ozpin said. "I presume you have something you wish to say?"

"Yeah," Ruby said, the word coming out barely audible. She cleared her throat and repeated herself, louder. "Yeah. You know who she is, don't you?"

Neither man said anything, and for the first time, Weiss saw the faintest change in Ozpin's expression.

"Cinder Fall," Ruby said, a touch more fierce. "Do you know who she is?"

"That's not your concern," Qrow said.

"How is it not?" Ruby said.

"Miss Rose, I understand—" Ozpin started to say, but Ruby cut him off.

"She killed my mom!" she said, not quite a shout but loud enough to leave a ringing silence in the room. She let it hang before demanding once again, "Do you know who she is?"

Ozpin held Ruby's gaze, meeting her challenge with a pregnant silence during which Weiss could only imagine he was deciding the best way to let her down easy. He placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, commanding full attention without needing to say a word, until he finally opened his mouth and gave the last answer Weiss was expecting.

"Yes," he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Weiss saw a twitch of movement from Qrow.

"Who is she?" Ruby said, her knuckles bending from the pressure with which she gripped the surface of the table.

"I am afraid I can't tell you that," Ozpin said.

"Why not?" Ruby's voice was steady as she said it, but there was a desperate edge to it.

"Because everyone in this room knows damn well what you'll do once you know," Qrow said with annoyance that wasn't quite directed at her.

"But what was the point of any of it, then? If you know and you won't tell me, then—" Ruby's voice hitched, and she struggled to articulate her thoughts.

Weiss saw the tremor intensify in Ruby's left hand, less than a foot away from where Weiss's rested on the piece of paper. Weiss tried to reach for it, not really thinking but wanting to do something to comfort her. Ruby pulled it away at the last second, though. She gripped it by the wrist in front of herself with her other hand in a vain attempt to steady it.

"Miss Rose," Ozpin said, his voice softer. "Knowing who it was that tore away a piece of your soul will never mend it. Believe me. You are seeking peace in places that only serve to bring you further strife."

"But you need us!" Ruby said. "Either one of you could be under her control right now and only Weiss could know for sure."

"Again," Qrow said. "That's not your concern. Look. I love you, pipsqueak, and I get it, but you've done enough already. More than you should have. This isn't your fight."

"What Qrow means to say," Ozpin added, "is that while we can never condone the methods you used nor the price you paid, the information you've brought to us has proven valuable. We are closer than ever to apprehending Detective Rose's murderer. The most important thing for you to do right now is to keep yourselves safe and away from harm."

"I know," Ruby said. "I know I keep making mistakes and choosing all the wrong choices. That's why I'm asking. I want to do things the right way this time. Please. Let me help!"

"The 'right way'—" Qrow started, cut off by a raised palm from Ozpin.

With just enough firmness to convey a note of finality without being too harsh, Ozpin said, "No."

Ruby was silent, and whatever she was feeling didn't show on her face. She stared down at the table and gave a small, absent nod. Eventually, her hands fell limp at her sides, and she said, "I'll wait outside."

"I would request that you stay," Ozpin said. "Both your perspectives have value to me."

Ruby didn't listen. She teleported across the room, leaving a deafening silence in her wake as the door closed behind her. Weiss stared at where her hand had failed to touch Ruby's, wondering why she was still sitting here instead of going after her.

"Miss Schnee," Ozpin said. "I hope that you, at least, can understand my stance on this."

"I do," Weiss said, but she understood what Ruby was going through far better. Weiss had been in the same position just a few days ago with Winter and Clover, after all. She'd ignored their decision then, not knowing how terribly things would end up. But Watts was in custody now, Tyrian Callows was dead, and everyone she cares about is alive. Could she still say the same had she done the "right" thing instead?

"Thank you." Ozpin checked his watch. "Let's return to the matter at hand. Time is getting the better of us."

It wasn't a lengthy meeting by any means, but activity outside city hall looked to have doubled by the time Weiss left the building. It took her a moment to spot Ruby amongst the passing crowds, standing off to the side of the entry steps with her hands in her pockets, looking bored.

"You're still here," Weiss said. She hadn't fully expected Ruby would run off and take a cab, but she was relieved nonetheless.

"I said I'd wait," Ruby said. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"We never would have met if you hadn't lied to me."

"Agree to disagree."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Let's—"

"You didn't back me up in there," Ruby blurted. Had she spent her time out here coming up with the best way to make Weiss feel guilty about that? It almost worked.

"Did you expect me to disagree with them?" Weiss said.

"I expected you to understand."

"Of course I understand. But they're still right, Ruby."

Ruby crossed her arms, both hands on her biceps. She stared at the ground, avoiding meeting Weiss's eyes.

"Ruby," Weiss said, speaking before she'd even figured out how she wanted to approach this.

"I know!" Ruby said, saving her the trouble. Her fingers dug into her sleeves as her grips tightened, and her voice fell. "I know they're right. You didn't have to say it. But . . . still. She took my mom from me, Weiss. And now, finally, the answer is right there and I still can't have it."

Weiss stared at her, having expected an argument but ended up with a situation she was even less prepared for. She had to resist every impulse she had, leaving her feeling lost and helpless.

Weiss wanted to hug her, but she couldn't. Weiss had tried to touch her hand before, and she shouldn't have. Ruby had feelings for her that Weiss couldn't return. There was a reason for Ruby not keeping that to herself—to establish boundaries. To stop Weiss from accidentally doing anything that would only further complicate things, such as telling Ruby that she loved her and then clarifying it was only in the same way she loved her brother.

She internally winced at the memory, still as clear as day, of how dense she'd been. But . . . looking at Ruby now, Weiss understood that the love she had for her best friend was nothing like the love she had for her siblings. She didn't know what that meant, and, for reasons she couldn't grasp, the idea of finding out scared her. She really wanted to hug Ruby, but why wasn't comforting her the sole source of that desire?

"I'm sorry," Ruby eventually said, her grips slackening.

"For what?" Weiss said.

She shook her head. "Let's just go. I don't want to get on your sister's bad side or anything."

"Wait." Weiss stepped in front of her. "I need to know. What are you going to do now?"

Ruby looked up and met Weiss's gaze, in what had to be the single worst moment to do so. The confusion seeded within Weiss's mind only sprouted further and she was caught off guard, suddenly conscious of every detail of Ruby's eyes as they peered into her own. They were wide and round, ringed with the unnaturally smooth skin of someone who'd gone two decades without ever experiencing fatigue. Her eyelashes were short but dark and dense. Those bright, silver irises sparkled like sunlight dancing along the countless cracks in a cloudy sky, filling what were already large eyes from top to bottom and leaving only small crescents of white at either side. They were free of makeup, and there wasn't a single eyeliner, eyeshadow, or mascara that wouldn't detract from their natural beauty.

Ruby had looked her in the eye to lend credibility to her answer, but Weiss was so distracted that it took her several moments to process it, and another to doubt it.

"Nothing?" Weiss repeated, her heart beating faster while she didn't have a spare thought to figure out what just happened.

"Nothing. I hate it, but . . . it's like you said. They're right."

"So you're actually not going to get involved?"

"I just tried. Didn't work."

"So that's it? Seriously?"

"Are you trying to change my mind?"

Weiss waited. She didn't have to say anything to make it clear that she had a thousand reasons to be skeptical.

Ruby raised her left hand and stared down into her trembling palm. After taking the time to gather her thoughts, she stuffed it into her pocket and made eye contact once again, which Weiss immediately broke.

"I don't want to make the same mistakes anymore," Ruby said. "Believe me, it's really, really tempting to go back to the safe house and grab one of those bugs Jaune used on me so I can Blink it onto Uncle Qrow. That's why I know I shouldn't, and I'm not going to. I told you I can be better, but that doesn't mean anything if I don't try to be."

Weiss swallowed, reminded of the woman she'd seen in the wine cellar, the one who'd pointed a revolver at Tyrian Callows and pulled the trigger. So different from the naive, incorrigible girl who'd showed off her new cork board and lit up at the idea of bribing the county clerk. Different, even, from the one who stood before her right now, having walked away from that cellar with the heart to feel guilty over what she'd tried and failed to do to someone who deserved no empathy.

She'd changed, in many ways for the better, and in some ways not enough. But, despite all, she was still very much Ruby.

"Okay," Weiss said. "I believe you."

Ruby smiled and, when it became clear Weiss wasn't trying to impede her anymore, set off toward where Winter was waiting in the rental van. Weiss lagged behind a few steps, watching Ruby as she struggled with a sinking realization in her chest.

Ruby had known that Weiss couldn't return her feelings. There were never any illusions about that, which was why she'd never tried to knock at that door. There was nothing but heartbreak waiting on the other side, and they both knew it.

Weiss couldn't return Ruby's feelings. It was a simple, sad truth. A fact. A fact with two decades worth of evidence behind it. And yet, a single moment was all it took to cast it and everything else Weiss had thought she'd known about herself into doubt. In a single moment, she'd glimpsed the light shining through the crack beneath that door, and it terrified her. She couldn't return Ruby's feelings, but no matter how many times she repeated that to herself, it couldn't make her forget what she saw.

It would be easier to come to terms with questioning her sexuality if only these vague notions in her head that she didn't understand were new—if it had been Ruby's reveal that caused her subconscious to recognize and see the possibilities she'd never considered before. But they weren't new. What she'd experienced while talking to Ruby outside of city hall, it felt familiar. Whatever caused it had been there a while, lurking at the back of her mind unbeknownst to herself.

Weiss could accept that she never realized her best friend was in love with her. She could make excuses, say she had more pressing things going on. She could call herself stupid while still saying it was at least understandable. But the idea that she'd been in love with her best friend without realizing it? She'd have to burn her psych degree before she could even think about whether that was true.

And she didn't want to think about it. She wanted to pry herself out of bed and shove her degree in the closet so it wouldn't be hanging on her wall anymore, forever taunting her about her ignorance. But getting out of bed would mean starting the day, and starting the day meant more difficult questions. The same questions she had to keep asking over and over again despite not wanting to know the answers to them.

Had Watts's actions reached the public yet? Have the Ace Ops made any progress on his case? Was Adam still on the loose, and was he doing anything yet? Was any of what Roman Torchwick had been planning for the Vytal Festival still a threat?

It was easy to miss the times when her biggest problems were bills and her semblance instead of the very real possibility of the deaths of herself and the people dear to her. She longed to go back to that kind of simplicity, to that brief window between her first time meeting Ruby and the first time she'd stared down the barrel of a loaded gun. That was when Ruby had been a distraction from the problems she'd had the luxury of not thinking about. Now, Ruby represented what was somehow Weiss's most daunting challenge yet.

She'd told Ruby that her life was better with her in it, right before that world-shattering kiss. She still believed it. That's why it wasn't a question of how deeply she cared for Ruby, because the Weiss she'd always known herself to be would and has sacrificed so much to keep Ruby as her best friend and a part of her life. It was a different Weiss altogether who could heel-turn on a core aspect of her identity to gamble the most important friendship she'd ever had on the possibility of something she wasn't even sure she wanted. She didn't know if she could be that person. The last thing she wanted to be was someone who could wind up hurting Ruby by arriving at the wrong conclusion and coming to her senses later.

She had to believe there was an explanation she wasn't seeing. That it was some combination of recent trauma, never having been in love before, and having been so alone for so much of her life that was causing her to fear the worst of something completely innocuous.

It would be easier to figure out if only she had someone to talk to about it. Winter was one room away, but things were still awkward there and it was a stinging reminder that they'd yet return to a place where Weiss felt she could go to her with something like this. Her other sibling would be of little help when it came to such a subject, but she could still see herself talking to him if it were an option. Unfortunately, though, Whitley was still officially a suspect and his scroll had met the same fate as hers and Ruby's.

Weiss had bought a new phone yesterday—a cheap, temporary one since there was no point in buying an expensive scroll before the Skeleton Key vulnerability came to light—but she had no one to call with it. Jaune was dealing with his vigilante charges, though he was supposed to be expecting a verdict soon. Penny hadn't left Weiss with much faith in her ability to keep a secret, and Weiss had never gotten her number, regardless. There was also Blake, who Weiss wasn't friends with anymore. She'd yet to bite that bullet, and there was so much more they had to talk about first.

The morning light snuck past the edge of her curtains, reflecting off the frame of her degree for a brief moment and nearly blinding her, almost like it knew she was making excuses and judging her for it. She felt indignant at the idea, and the absurdity of that was what drove her to finally climb out of bed, accepting the fact that she was the world's biggest hypocrite for failing to follow the same advice she kept giving to Ruby.

She told herself it was for the better that she let her confusion simmer, at least in the short term. It had only taken root a couple of days ago, after all. With time, it would grow into clarity. And if not . . . she could always find a bridge to stand on and wait for a vulgar stranger to come by with some sage advice. It had worked for Whitley.

By the time Weiss got out of the shower, Winter had already finished preparing breakfast. Awkward place or not, it was nice having her here the past couple of days. It made returning to her apartment after so long away a little less weird. Only a little. Safe house, Amity, half-crushed RV, or here—it didn't matter. It had been years since she'd slept under a roof that felt like home, and that didn't seem to be changing any time soon. That one night in Ruby's father's house was the closest she'd gotten, which was something else she didn't have the willpower to analyze just yet.

"Your television isn't functioning," Winter said, placing a plate in front of Weiss as she sat down.

"I canceled my plan when I stopped staying here," Weiss said. "Since when were you the type to want to watch it?"

Winter sat down across from Weiss with her own serving. "Preparations for the tower's demolition are complete. I've just received word, and I thought you might want to watch the live broadcast."

Weiss paused as she cut into her omelet, but only briefly. She was more surprised by how little she cared about the news than the news itself.

"It's about time," she said.

"I could pull it up on my scroll if you'd like."

"I don't know what I'd get out of it."

"Catharsis?"

"From watching Watts's achievement? I'd almost prefer it stay standing."

"I see. I apologize for bringing it up."

"How long do they think the cleanup is going to take? It was a large area they had to evacuate."

"A few months, at least, assuming all goes well. They've been forced to expedite what would have ideally been a lengthy and meticulous process, so it's impossible to guarantee anything."

Weiss ate slowly as she asked her other questions and got the usual answers, or lack thereof. It was a small meal, enough to hold her over until the Festival, but it wasn't even half gone by the time Winter had finished hers. She only hoped that she could muster up at least a decent appetite by the time they got there.

She'd never been very good at that, and it was even more difficult now as she thought of Ruby and the nagging thoughts that had been bothering her for the past two days. She looked across the table at Winter and reconsidered her previous resolution, wondering what that conversation might look like or what she might get out of it. She was smart enough to realize that her hesitancy should have been reason enough to just blurt it out, regardless of where they were at right now, but not smart enough to actually do it.

"I've been wanting to ask about Marrow," was what Weiss said instead.

"What about him?" Winter said.

"He said you saved his life once."

"I did."

"It's not a sensitive subject, is it?"

"No, but why are you asking?"

"Curiosity," Weiss said, making an attempt to sound casual though she knew Winter would see straight through it.

"I see," Winter said, choosing not to comment. "If you must know, there was an incident involving a chemical attack. Private Amin was inside when he smelled it, but his semblance makes him more vulnerable to such things. He communicated a warning in time for others to evacuate the building, but he then ceased responding. I entered and retrieved his unconscious body, and he was able to make a full recovery."

"Did you have a gas mask?"

"I held my breath."

Weiss stared at her, amazed. It was rare for Winter to talk about her work without brushing it off as "classified". Intuitively, Weiss knew how impressive her sister was, but she never really got to see it for herself. In hindsight, she understood that was intentional, that Winter preferred her little sister to form an idealized picture instead of knowing the grisly truth. That wine cellar probably wasn't the worst thing Winter had ever seen.

"It sounds like he saved a lot of lives, too," Weiss said, focusing on something more positive as the sight of Whitley's hemorrhaging throat flashed in her mind's eye.

"It's part of the job," Winter said. "He often strives too hard to prove himself, but I've worked with him enough times to say he's earned my respect. It was on my recommendation that Clover appointed him to fill Tortuga's place in the Ace Operatives."

"You respect him . . . Is that all?"

"There's not a romantic connection between us, if that's what you're insinuating."

Weiss gave a guilty smile. Marrow was closer to Winter's age than Weiss's, if she had to guess.

"I have bigger priorities in my life than dating, right now," Winter said. "If I meet someone who meets my standards, I might reassess that viewpoint."

"Marrow doesn't meet your standards?"

"He can be rather . . . immature, at times. He is a friend and a colleague, nothing more. Why are you so fixated on him?"

Because the alternative is talking about Ruby, Weiss thought, knowing she'd backed herself into a corner. Having no good response, she remained silent and took the last bite of her omelet instead.

"And what of you?" said Winter. "May I presume there was a reason you've steered us toward this topic?"

"No," Weiss lied. "There's not. I haven't seen anyone since I lived in Atlas."

"Of course," Winter said, clearly not buying it. But again—probably because she was still walking on eggshells since Weiss's outburst back at Amity—she let it slide.

"Your last boyfriend I recall was that Marigold gentleman, wasn't it?" Winter said.

"Henry?" Weiss scoffed. "He was not my boyfriend. We went on half a date that I walked out of because he was anything but a gentleman."

"Ah. My mistake. I must have confused him with one of the others. It is not a difficult thing to do, if you'll forgive my saying so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Winter chuckled in a rare moment of unfiltered amusement. "You were nothing if not consistent, sister. It was as if a potential suitor's appeal to you was directly proportional to how much trouble they could get you into and how much Father would disapprove of them."

"That's absurd!" Weiss said, though the truth of her words was already sinking in.

Despite what Winter believed, Weiss had never had a boyfriend. She'd only ever been on a few dates at most with one guy before things fizzled out. There weren't many that she'd even taken an interest in, either, which is why it was painfully easy to conclude that there wasn't even one exception to what Winter just said.

The most recent was Neptune and her momentary . . . attraction? Intrigue? She tried to remember what exactly she'd felt for him, to latch onto something tangible she could use as a point of comparison for whatever was going on with her heart and Ruby now, but she couldn't. She had been attracted to him, right? He was handsome, charming, sweet, and, yeah, the last thing Jacques would want out of a son-in-law.

Oh god.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Winter said, who seemed genuinely surprised that this was as big of a revelation for Weiss as it was.

"So . . . the Festival," Weiss said, followed by a lingering, awkward silence.

She stood and collected the plates as an excuse to turn her back to Winter, taking them to the sink to clean them.

"What should we do first when we get there?" Weiss said, speaking over the running water with a voice much calmer than she felt.

Winter did not respond right away, which made Weiss worry that this would be the thing Winter fought her on. Weiss knew she was contemplating it, as she'd shut off the water and begun drying the dishes by the time Winter finally spoke.

"I look forward to the performances, mainly," she said.

Relieved that Winter was allowing her to push this conversation firmly into the "never acknowledge again" section of her brain, Weiss did her best to turn her full focus to the event she'd both looked forward to and dreaded at different points in time. It was hard to say where she sat right now with the bar having slid back and forth more and more sporadically the closer the first day got. Now that day was here, a once-in-a-lifetime experience spoiled by the sword Torchwick had left dangling above it.

Ozpin had assured her it was safe to attend. General Ironwood himself was overseeing the security and he had contracted Dr. Polendina as part of that. She would be with Winter the entire time. If she didn't have faith in even one of those things, she wouldn't go at all.

And it was too late to second guess now because the morning had gone and they were already out the door. All she could do was strive to embody the same optimism she admired in Ruby, to ignore her worries and let the excitement Torchwick had stolen from her back in.

And that excitement only grew as they entered the rental van and slowly progressed through the heavy traffic. As the festival grounds came into view. As they parked and the sounds of music, rides, and merriment met their ears. As they lined up at one of the many entrances to get their info packets and the aromas of the nearest food stalls wafted their way.

There were so many other shoes waiting to drop, but in the midst of all this, Weiss could succeed in convincing herself that none of it would be today. Today was about her and her sister, and nothing else.

And, because fortune was kind, she had several hours to enjoy herself before being proven wrong.

Chapter Text

The Vytal Festival had eluded Weiss for so long that it had seemed doomed to sit at the top of her bucket list until her dying breath. For one reason or another, be it the timing of her mother's declining mental health, college, or Jacques refusing to let Winter take her out of spite for estranging herself to join the military, Weiss had never been able to attend one. One biennium after another, one missed opportunity after another, her curiosity only grew with every video, story, or article she'd seen, heard, or read.

After so many years of anticipation, could the first day of merriment live up to such lofty expectations? Could the opening ceremony, which confusingly took place several hours after the event had started, really be that much more of a spectacle in person than in videos? Was there actually that much more variety in the things to see and do compared to the average carnival or theme park?

Yes, yes, across the board, yes. Weiss felt stupid for even doubting it or for thinking there was any universe where her expectations weren't completely shattered. The amount of food she'd gotten to taste that she'd never even heard of, the number of conversations she'd engaged in with complete strangers, the sheer grandeur and level of detail put into every single inch of the never-ending Festival grounds she had the pleasure of experiencing first hand. It was hard to believe at times that she was still even in Vale because, though tents and stalls made up the majority of the structures, so much love and attention was put into the decorations and facades that she couldn't walk a hundred feet without feeling like she'd crossed halfway across the planet.

It wasn't about attending the Festival, it was about being a part of it. That she got to experience her first one in her home country made it all the more special. The Festival is meant to showcase and celebrate numerous cultures from around the world, but the host country always takes center stage. It was their chance to take a known formula and craft it into something unique. That's why no two Vytal Festivals were the same, and why so many people set aside the time and money to attend every single one. It was easy for Weiss to envy those people, but hard to dwell on while she was having such a great time seeing the aspects of Remnant's culture she never thinks about anymore from a whole new lens, weaved together with those of all the other countries taking part.

There was so much to see and do that it was almost impossible to avoid getting constantly sidetracked. Be it something in the info packet that they'd missed or smaller events that weren't listed at all, there was a surprise around every corner. They'd missed three performances they'd wanted to see because they'd run into something else on the way there and couldn't even be disappointed about it. Despite how meticulous and strict a planner Winter tended to be, even she had no choice but to embrace the Festival's unpredictability. Weiss, personally, wouldn't have it any other way.

"Wait, what's that one?" Weiss asked as they rounded a corner and a circular tent at least three times as large as those surrounding it came into view. It was midnight blue with wavy stripes that snaked from its tip down to the ground, fading from white at the top to black at the bottom. A lengthy and slow-moving line was positioned at its entrance as dozens of people waited their turn to be admitted inside.

"I believe that is the Stygian Black Water performance," Winter said, looking at her info packet. "It has one showing per night."

"I think I'd like to see that," Weiss said. "I wonder if Penny and Dr. Polendina will be there."

"It starts in fifteen minutes. We might just make it in in time if we get in line now."

"I really wish we'd known about it sooner. I was hoping to get another one of those spiced hot chocolates before the stall closes."

"You enjoyed it that much?"

"I wasn't expecting to, but I really did."

"I could hold our position in line if you still want to go."

"That would work. Did you want one, too?"

"I wasn't too impressed, myself. I think I'd prefer something less sweet."

"I think I remember seeing a milk drink that looked interesting."

"Sure. I trust your judgement."

Weiss smiled. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Weiss double-checked her map before setting off. The Festival was spread over a sprawling outdoor venue and Weiss felt like they hadn't even explored a fraction of it. It was easy to get lost if not careful, but luckily the beverage stand she was looking for wasn't too far away.

It was a great day, so far, with no signs of mischief. That could still change, but Weiss was having too good a time to dwell on that as much as she usually would. She'd spotted quite a bit of military presence, but to their credit, they kept a low profile, just noticeable enough to instill a sense of safety without spoiling the festivities.

But the military weren't the only ones keeping a watchful eye. As Weiss walked, she caught a glimpse between two rows of tents that faced away from each other—an alley of sorts that seemed to be used for surplus storage. She watched a small group of people in suits split up to approach the workers who were on break, flashing badges at them.

The sight gave Weiss pause, but she wasn't sure what was keeping her rooted to the spot. The workers being questioned looked perfectly at ease, at least as far as she could tell from this distance with the dim lighting, so why did she suddenly feel on edge?

One of the agents drew her eye. She didn't have a great view of him, but he looked familiar somehow. It wasn't until he turned his head in her general direction that she realized why.

She took off, not quite running, but fast enough that people in the crowd she was trying to blend into gave her strange looks.

It was the hair. Not the style—he'd combed it back, made it look tidy—but the color. Gray. She hadn't been completely sure at first, but it had caught the light enough as he'd turned to confirm it. But he could have been wearing a wig and it wouldn't have made a difference once she'd seen his face. There was no mistaking him.

She needed to get back to Winter. Now.

That was easier said than done, though. In her hurry to not be seen, she'd continued forward on her original path. Winter was in the opposite direction, but so was he. She pulled out her map and tried to find a route that would loop back around to the Styx tent, an endeavor hindered by how fast she was going plus her repeated glances over her shoulder.

It was with one of these backward glances that she noticed she'd passed the beverage stand that was her initial destination. She'd put enough distance that she felt it was safe to slow down. She also hadn't seen him following her, and it was unlikely he'd even recognize her anyway.

Looking at her map, she quickly found the stand and was able to get her bearings. There was an intersection in the path up ahead that would eventually allow her to wrap back around to Winter. All thoughts of hot chocolate gone from her mind, she followed it.

Another glance behind her, and she still saw nothing. She took a deep breath and pressed on. She was surrounded by people. There were soldiers ready to step in at the slightest incident. In a couple of minutes, she'd be back with Winter, and he'd never know she'd seen him.

Weiss was panicking and she knew it. Ruby wouldn't have lost her head like this. Ruby wouldn't have needed to remind herself that she had a phone on her. Weiss pulled out her phone, feeling stupid for taking this long to realize that calling Winter had been an option.

And as she took a second right turn, she really wished it hadn't taken her this long to realize it was an option.

"Hello, there," said the man who now blocked her path.

Gray hair, not as messy as the first time she'd seen him. Gray eyes, cold and calculating, trained down on her from the extra foot of height he had on her. It could have been the same suit as before, but the sleeves were rolled down this time and the collar and tie were folded properly. The smile was the only thing that seemed truly unchanged. It was the same, cocky smirk he'd worn as he and his green-haired partner waltzed into that ruined parking garage and murdered several of Torchwick's people without a second thought.

He held up a badge, partially covered so Weiss could only see his portrait and the label of his department, but not his name. He was a Federal Investigations agent, from the very same bureau who'd refused to take over the Torchwick case until the Vytal Festival was over.

"Mind if I ask you a few questions?" he said.

Backed into a corner, Weiss had no other option than to do what she'd been practicing her whole life: put up a front.

"Pertaining to what, might I ask?" she said with a polite smile, feigning all of the confidence she didn't feel.

"We're just trying to keep a watchful eye for anything out of place. Wouldn't want anything ruining the festivities, so I'm curious to know whether you think you've seen anything. Such as any suspicious individuals, maybe?"

Weiss stared pointedly at him, pausing noticeably before saying, "No. None that I can think of."

"That's good. We got a report of potential meddling, but I'm a bit skeptical, to be honest. It was just the one, after all, and not all that credible, but . . . we always have to take these reports seriously. Still, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about, not unless any new ones happen to come up, though."

There was so much pretense to the way he spoke. Every word was chosen with care and purpose, and even though she understood his hidden meaning for the threat that it was, they still sounded wrong coming from the mouth of the callous and uncaring murderer she knew him to be.

What took her a moment to digest was the fact that he felt the need to threaten her at all. She now knew something about him that should surely spell out her death sentence, but instead he was treating it like it gave her leverage. If he had the means of arresting her, he'd do it without this unnecessary preamble.

Feeling emboldened, she said, "That's a relief. There are so many soldiers around here, it'd have to be someone rather powerful to get away with anything, wouldn't it?"

"You're not wrong, but getting away isn't the question. We always get what we're after, sooner or later."

"Even Roman Torchwick?"

His brow raised a fraction, as if he hadn't expected her to play that card so readily. "If you're asking about him, you must be a local. Not just here for the Festival?"

"I just remember seeing a news report about him, and I think your bureau came up in it."

"The one from a couple weeks back? Our stance hasn't changed since then. We don't really view him as a priority at the moment."

"Is there a reason why not?"

"Is there a reason you think he should be? You a bank worker?"

"He's a lot more than a serial bank robber, from what I've heard."

"From what you've heard. But not seen. Because going after random civilians isn't exactly something he's known for. I don't see why you should be afraid of him, unless there's something you're not telling me."

They were both aware Torchwick wasn't in the picture anymore, but Weiss couldn't be certain if they were on the same page as to what this conversation was really about. He was pushing this angle more than she'd expected, so what was he probing for? How much did he know about her besides the fact that she'd been with Torchwick when Torchwick turned on them?

Maybe Brunswick? The Festival plot. He was trying to figure out what she knew about it. That meant he still didn't know who Weiss was to Torchwick or how much Torchwick had told her. She was fairly confident that no one could have mistaken her for one of Torchwick's henchpeople. If she was right, how could she use it to her advantage? Should she play dumb and avoid painting herself as any more of a liability than she already was, or should she let him know he had that card to play and hope it led to him revealing something more valuable?

"You're right," Weiss said. "I probably am worrying too much. I just think he's someone rather powerful."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Confirmation.

"Is that so?" he said. "I take it you haven't heard the rumors that he's cut and run from Vale, then?"

"I haven't. Is there any merit to them?"

"Hard to say. I just know it'd be one hell of a mess he's left behind if he has."

"What kind of mess?"

"Loose ends, mainly. There's Junior Xiong, for one. Criminal turned police informant, turned criminal again. Hit the news just recently that he was on Torchwick's payroll, and now he's in police custody. There's also that vigilante who turned himself in after attacking his club. What was his name again?"

His eyes narrowed and his smile widened, and there wasn't a hint of a question anywhere in his expression.

"Jaune Arc," he said, snapping his fingers as if he'd just remembered. "That's right. High school classmate of the real Protector of Vale, allegedly got his hands on her armor and has been trying to carry on in her place. If the reason he went after Junior was because he was poking around Torchwick's business, well . . .

"Eh. Only matters if the allegations are true. Don't know yet. He could still be innocent. Then again, maybe Torchwick doesn't care one way or the other. All I know is that if priorities were to change, for one reason or another, Arc will be the first person I pay a visit to."

Weiss swallowed. The game was over. He just gave away everything she wanted to know, and she still felt like she'd lost.

Almost everything. She still didn't know whether Torchwick's defection had caused Cinder to call off the Festival plot. Did him probing Weiss to see if she knew about it confirm it was still going to happen, or was he just toying with her?

He was toying with her either way. He could be bluffing about Jaune. Maybe all he knew was that Weiss had been at Junior's when Jaune came to rescue her. It didn't matter. She was safe right now because they were in a public space. He was threatening her and someone she cared about to ensure her silence until he had the opportunity to silence her for good. There was nothing she stood to gain by continuing this conversation.

"All I know is that I'll be happy once Torchwick is off the street for good," Weiss said, unsure if she'd given anything away in her expression. "So best of luck, if your agency does go after him. But I did have a show I was trying to catch."

"Appreciate it. I will just ask one more time before I let you go, for safety's sake—you seen anyone suspicious today?"

"No," Weiss said, dropping the facade for just a moment so he knew she was giving a genuine answer to his real question. "If I do, you'll probably be the first to know, Agent . . . I don't think I caught your name."

An amused puff of air escaped his nose, almost like he admired her nerve to ask a question they both knew he wouldn't answer.

"Didn't catch yours, either," he said.

Weiss smiled and extended her hand. "Schwarz."

She'd had time to think about the storm over the past couple of days. It had been there in both Torchwick's and Neo's minds, but it had been absent in Tyrian's and Watts's. It wasn't about consent as she'd first thought. None of them had volunteered for the intrusion, but only the first two had mindscapes that fought against her while they were conscious. Where they differed was in how they perceived her actions.

With Torchwick and Neo, she'd thrust out her hand to make contact. She'd attacked them, put them on guard. With Tyrian and Watts, though, they'd been the ones to touch her. They'd had no way of knowing what she was doing until after she'd already done it. She wasn't even sure if Watts had noticed it at all. And because they'd had her overpowered and unable to attack in both instances, their minds had no reason to be on the defensive when she went in.

Thus, no storm.

Here, she was an adversary. Even if she could touch the nameless agent without him noticing, she didn't think she could expect much. He'd been on guard from "Hello", and if her theory was right, his mindscape would reflect that no matter how she managed to enter it. But storm or no storm, it was worth trying.

At least, she'd thought it was. Now, as he looked down at her offered hand with the smile gone from his face, she worried she'd overstepped. Several tense seconds passed, and just when she was about to withdraw it, he reached forward.

Weiss let out a small gasp, unable to suppress it as an intense, uncomfortable feeling swept over her like an incorporeal part of herself wasn't just being gripped, but nearly crushed.

An instant later, his hand took hold of hers, and her semblance didn't respond. Holding just her fingers, he turned her hand so he could bow down and kiss the back of it. When he let go and straightened his back, the smile had returned to his lips, devoid of mirth.

"Schwarz," he said. "Last name?"

Past his shoulder, Weiss saw one person from the passing crowd stop in their tracks. They whipped their head around in a few different directions, spotting nothing, before continuing on their way with their arms hugged to their chest. Their reaction was belated to Weiss's, as if the effect had taken longer to reach them.

"Blake," Weiss answered, so shaken she latched onto the first name that came to mind.

"Schwarz Blake," he said with a cocked brow. "Your name's Black Black?"

"Yes," Weiss said, wishing she'd come up with something more clever. "Is that a problem?"

"No." There was a renewed interest in the way he looked at her that she didn't understand. "Just a funny coincidence, is all."

"I wouldn't say my parents' lack of creativity qualifies as a coincidence," she said.

"Right." He studied her for a few moments longer, to the point it'd make her uncomfortable if her skin wasn't already crawling, before finally saying, "Enjoy the rest of the Festival, Ms. Blake."

He didn't wait for a response, bumping her shoulder as he set off and disappeared back toward where she'd first spotted him.

The joy and merriment slowly wound down as the first day of the Festival was nearing its close. Thousands of people were leaving in droves, smiles on their faces, calling an end to their nights so they could rest up and prepare for the next day of celebration. Several miles away at the opposite end of the city, ascending alone from a mostly empty subway station onto a mostly empty residential sweet, Weiss's night had only just begun, and she wasn't smiling.

She tried to think back on it analytically. She knew she could have handled things better, and all things considered, she also could have handled it a lot worse. The question was, how could she do better next time? How did she keep herself from freezing up and running away in a panic? How did she keep her head on her shoulders enough to not forget about the stupidly simple lifeline she'd had in her very pocket?

She couldn't come up with an answer. Trying to find one only reminded her that there was going to be a next time, that there was always going to be a next time. Nothing ever changed and it never got any easier. Again and again reality came crashing down on top of her, and again and again she buckled and collapsed beneath its weight.

Even if she got back up, it continued to burden her, heavier and heavier each time. It dragged on her now, causing her to keep throwing glances over her shoulder as she traveled down a street of quiet townhouses despite all the precautions she'd taken.

She was still over a hundred feet away from Taiyang Xiao Long's house when the door opened. Warm interior light spilled out onto the stoop as Ruby stepped over the threshold, arms crossed and watching Weiss's approach with a death glare, or as close to one as Ruby was capable of giving. Seeing her, Weiss felt guilty. She felt safe. She felt nervous.

She felt flustered, and she didn't know why. She knew the obvious reasons, but the obvious reasons didn't make sense no matter how much she pondered over them. And now wasn't the time to continue tormenting herself with the subject so she pushed it from her mind, and she kept her gaze low where she wouldn't have to see those silver eyes that caused her so much confusion.

"What happened?" Ruby demanded once Weiss reached the steps.

Weiss looked around the street one more time—she couldn't help it—before pushing her way inside. "I need to speak to your uncle."

"What?" Ruby said.

Weiss took off the winter coat she wore and folded it over her arms as she turned around to face Ruby, the tension leaving her shoulders now that she was secure indoors. It was bulkier than the weather called for, but she'd wanted something with a hood that could obscure her frame and it was the only one she'd kept when she moved away from Atlas that fit the bill.

"The pair from the parking garage," Weiss said. "When Torchwick kidnapped me. I told you about them."

"Telekinesis and semblance-blocking," Ruby said. "I remember. What does—?"

"The semblance-blocker. I ran into him."

"What?" Ruby's entire body tensed as if her fight-or-flight reflex was kicking in. "W-when? Where? How? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It was at the Festival. There were Federal Investigations agents there questioning some of the workers, but he was one of them. I—"

"Whoah, wait. What does that—? He was undercover then? The Feds knew about Cinder this whole time?"

"He murdered one of Torchwick's men right in front of me. Unprovoked and without a second thought. He's undercover for Cinder. Now will you listen?"

"Sorry, sorry. This is just a lot."

"I know it is!" Weiss snapped, immediately feeling guilty for it. She took a calming breath and walked into the living room, looking around and seeing nothing. "Is your father here?"

"No. He took a few kids from his dojo to the Festival, because they didn't have anyone else to go with. Should probably be on his way home soon."

Ruby took Weiss's coat from her and hung it on the back of a dining room chair. Weiss barely registered it leaving her arms as she continued into the living room and took a seat on the couch, stood back up to start pacing, then sat back down again when she realized how sore her feet were from walking all day.

"Call your uncle," Weiss said. "Please."

"Fine." Ruby took out her phone. "But doesn't your sister have his number?"

"I didn't tell her," Weiss said. She'd wanted to, and it had been so hard pretending nothing had happened, but she hadn't had a choice. Winter had an obligation to report to Ironwood and it wasn't fair to ask her to break it. The mayor had already proven capable of discretion, perhaps too much so, so he was the only one she could go to right now.

Ruby paused. "What? After everything you said about me not—?"

"He threatened Jaune, Ruby," Weiss said. "I'll explain, but just make the call!"

"Alright, alright!" Ruby finally tapped the button and brought the phone up to her ear. "What do you mean he threatened Jaune?"

"I saw him and the other agents by accident, and he must have spotted me, too, because he tracked me down as I was trying to get away. He knows who I am, he knows my semblance works by touch, and he knows I know Jaune. He has to know I'm the one who freed Neo, which means Cinder knows how much of a threat I am to her. I haven't got a clue what he doesn't know, but he knows I compromise his position in the government and he still let me walk away with little more than a warning and that's what terrifies me more than anything."

"You're panicking." Ruby lowered her phone, having not gotten an answer, and tried the call again.

"Of course I am! Why aren't you?"

"We've faced worse," Ruby said.

"Have we? We still know next to nothing about who she is, what she's doing, or what she's after, and now there's a good chance she knows everything about us. We aren't safe!"

"We were never safe," Ruby said, her voice low. "Not since Junior's. There's a reason we stayed in Pyrrha's safe house for so long, and that didn't just go away when Torchwick did. Anything he knew, she knows, and it all started from that one stupid mistake that I made."

Ruby lowered the phone again, stared at the screen for a few seconds longer than she needed to, and tried the call a third time. Watching her, unsure what to say in response to Ruby's lingering guilt, Weiss realized it was her left hand that Ruby was holding the phone in, and there was no tremor.

"Ruby," Weiss said. "Your arm."

Ruby shrugged. "Penny promised to do it when she got to Vale, and she was able to stop by just a little bit ago. I had my scans, so . . . Tada."

She said it like it wasn't a big deal, but seeing it made Weiss want to cry. That bullet would likely never leave Ruby's shoulder, and it would always serve as an invisible reminder of what Ruby had done for her and of the choices they'd both made. But now, with the worst of damage undone, the weight it held on Weiss's heart might finally shrink to match that of the metal it was cast from.

"I know things are bad," Ruby said, "but they've been bad. We're in as much danger as we were before and all we can really do is trust that Ozpin knows what he's doing, as much as I don't like it."

"Do you?" Weiss said. "Trust Ozpin, I mean?"

"I think so. If he knows who she is and thinks he can handle her without your semblance, then there has to be a reason, right?" She lowered her phone yet again. "Uncle Qrow's not answering."

"Is that normal?"

"Kind of. He usually warns us if he has to go dark for too long, but it's part of the job sometimes. He used to be a mercenary, you know. It's why Ozpin hired him."

"Well, keep trying. Text him and let him know it's important, but don't mention anything specific."

"Same reason you hung up on me and never responded?"

"I shut my phone off before I left and you know why."

"You could have at least said more than just 'I'm coming over'. I was freaking out here waiting for you."

"I'm sorry I was in a—" Weiss started, stopping herself as she heard how snarky the words were coming out. That was uncalled for, and she knew there had been less alarming ways to verify where Ruby was.

"I'm sorry," Weiss said again, with sincerity. "I was in a hurry."

Satisfied with that, Ruby said, "The part about Jaune. You didn't explain that."

"He's a federal agent," Weiss said. "He could sabotage Jaune's case, or worse, and there's nothing we could do to stop him."

"But why? Did he say—?"

"It was a threat. The entire reason he confronted me was to make it abundantly clear that only horrible things can come from me reporting who he is to anyone."

"And you still think telling Ozpin is a good idea?"

"Tell me how you can have sat through an entire— or half a conversation with that man without getting the feeling he has a hundred secrets for every single one we told him. He can protect Jaune if we tell him."

"I mean, yeah. Fair. But . . . was that really all the agent wanted?"

"I haven't got a clue! Honestly, it felt like he was mostly toying with me just for the sake of it. He—"

Something bumped her leg. She looked down to see Taiyang's black and white corgi sitting at her feet, looking up at her with his tail wagging and tongue hanging out.

"Hello, Zwei," Weiss said.

Zwei barked once, and Weiss let him hop up onto her lap. She couldn't help smiling as he started trying to lick her face, doing her best to fend him off and content him with scratches behind the ear.

Ruby glanced at the front door. "Zwei usually gets active whenever Dad gets home."

Hearing nothing from outside, Weiss seized what little time they had left alone to say, "He wanted to know if I knew about the Festival plot."

"The agent?" Ruby said.

"Obviously. He hinted at it, and I'm pretty sure I gave it away."

"But why? Without Brunswick, and with Ozpin and Ironwood knowing something's up—"

"I don't know, Ruby. Maybe he was trying to scare me, or maybe it was just another way of him throwing his weight around. Either way, it worked."

"And if it's because they're still going to do it even without Torchwick?"

"It's like you said. All we can do is—"

The front door opened. Zwei hopped to the floor and ran to greet Ruby's father, barking happily.

"Down, boy. My hands are full," Taiyang said with a chuckle.

He entered with a bulging canvas bag in one hand and a decorative woven basket filled with some kind of garments in the other. There was also a large, serpentine dragon coiled around his neck, carved from connected wood pieces and painted in yellow tones with red and purple accents.

"Hi, Dad," Ruby said.

"Hey, Rubes! Oh, and hey, Weiss. Wasn't expecting you here."

"Hello, Mist— Tai," Weiss said.

He set his things down on the countertop that divided the living room from the kitchen, kissed Ruby on top of her head, and kneeled down to pet the patiently waiting Zwei. Once satisfied, Zwei raced back over to Weiss.

"I think he missed you," Tai said.

"I know I missed him," Weiss said as she raked her fingers through the dog's fur.

"Did you get me anything?" Ruby asked.

"Nah. If you wanted something, you should have been there."

"What?"

He laughed and ruffled up her hair. "Of course I got you stuff! The dragon's for Yang and, it's not as big, but I think you'll like this."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a black, porcelain skull about the size of his fist. It was decorated with striking and vibrant floral patterns, including a red rose on the side.

"Ooh!" Ruby said. "I love this!"

"Yeah? Well, I've got plenty more to show off. Don't think I've ever seen those kids that excited."

"Tell me about it later?"

"Of course. How was your time, Weiss? Ruby tells me you went with your sister?"

"It was great," Weiss said, having to avoid putting emphasis on 'was'. "Though we didn't grab nearly as many souvenirs as you."

"Yeah, I might have gone just a little bit overboard. But hey, there's still six days for you to catch up. You and Ruby have plans to go together, right?"

"Oh, that reminds me," Ruby said. "Penny wanted me to ask you about maybe going with her, you and me."

Weiss and Ruby actually hadn't discussed going to the Festival. Ruby had asked for a bit of space following the incident with the kiss, and now Weiss had reasons to want some herself. How long this distance was supposed to last was ambiguous, and exceptions could be made for a day or two, but that was a topic with a pin in it that they'd yet to remove. Penny being with them would simplify things since they wouldn't have to be alone together.

And, in truth, Weiss had been hoping to spend more time with Penny before she and her father returned home. Lack of social awareness aside, she'd grown on Weiss, and she felt that would still be true even if Penny hadn't saved both Winter and Whitley's lives.

"I'd like that," Weiss said. "When?"

"I think she might have mentioned tomorrow? Maybe not. I'll have to get back to her, if . . . you know, nothing else comes up."

"That's great," Tai said. "Does that mean you're staying over again, Weiss?"

"I hadn't been planning on it," Weiss said.

"Well, just know you're always welcome."

Zwei barked once at her as if agreeing. Weiss wasn't sure she deserved that sentiment, especially not from Ruby's father, but the words made her heart swell. Something within her had needed to hear that.

"You may as well," Ruby said. "Wouldn't want you walking home alone this late."

"If it's really alright," Weiss said. "I'll have to let Winter know."

Ruby smiled, which turned into a frown as she looked down at her phone again. "Hey, Dad. You heard from Uncle Qrow today?"

"This morning, yeah," said Tai. "Why?"

"Nevermind. It's not important. Me and Weiss are gonna head upstairs."

"Alright, I'll stay out of your hair. What do you girls want for breakfast tomorrow? I've got some spare cutlets I've been meaning to make chicken-fried steak out of."

"Sounds good!" Ruby said. "Weiss?"

Weiss honestly had no idea what a chicken-fried steak was, but she didn't care enough to ask, so she agreed.

Giving Zwei a last little bit of attention, she slid him off her lap and stood to follow Ruby, Tai claiming the other side of the couch she vacated and picking up the TV remote.

"I actually am getting a bit worried," Ruby muttered as she climbed the stairs ahead of Weiss.

"I thought you said it was normal," Weiss said.

"I said 'kind of'. I know he's extra busy with the Festival going on and Cinder and everything, but . . . I don't know. I've just got a bad feel—"

"Girls!"

Weiss had only just set foot on the upper floor when the shout rang out from downstairs, spoken with an urgency and seriousness that clashed so much with Tai's usual laid-back cheerfulness that Weiss didn't immediately recognize it as him. She met Ruby's concerned eyes and turned around, just to find Ruby had already teleported to the bottom of the stairs and was rushing back to the living room. Weiss could hear the sound of the television as she hurried to catch up, but no other commotion.

". . . transferred to the hospital in critical condition while emergency responders were still attempting to put out the flames. While it is still unclear as to why he was at the campus, we still have it on good authority that no other victims have been found and it appears that he was alone at the scene."

"Nonetheless, this is still a great tragedy. His views were not always popular, but few can deny the efforts he put in to help this city recover post-Salem, and I personally cannot imagine where we'd be right now without his leadership."

With a cold, sinking feeling in her chest, Weiss turned the corner and laid eyes on the TV. Both Ruby and Tai were silent, standing stock-still as they processed the news Weiss was the last to witness.

Mayor Ozpin, dead at 47.

Chapter Text

There was something to be admired in the blissful ignorance of Zwei's innocent little brain. He couldn't comprehend what the city just lost. He was free from the burden of deciding whether to doubt or accept the facts presented to him. He didn't have to wonder whether his mistakes had played a part in what happened. All that mattered to him was that the humans were in distress, and all he needed to do was comfort the one he decided needed it most.

It was that purpose more than anything that Weiss envied in him. The notion of not having to know or care about the terrible things that kept happening was alluring, but that was the last thing she wanted for herself. She was tired of not knowing things, sick of asking questions she never got the answers to. She wished there was something she could be doing, somewhere she could be going, anything but being stuck here with nothing to do but stroke the head of the precious creature who lay beside her with his chin resting on her thigh.

Zwei made the passing minutes more tolerable, but he didn't help them crawl by any faster. He didn't make it any easier to process the unfathomable. He was a small, flickering light in this vast moment of darkness, not bright enough to distract Weiss from her thoughts.

It wasn't even sadness that she felt. If it was, it wasn't for Ozpin, as callous as it was to admit. She knew nothing about him. Who even was he? Why did a city mayor need a former mercenary as his right-hand man? What had he done to earn the ear of the highest-ranking military official in the nation? Why was he so confident that he could handle Cinder, just to go and die while she was at her most dangerous?

"Here you girls go." Taiyang slid two coasters along the coffee table and placed a steaming mug on each of them. He'd explained how he'd met Ozpin a handful of times, both through his connection to Qrow as well as part of the charity work he did with the nonprofit he'd founded with his lottery winnings. Apparently, it was a little-known secret that the coffee cups the mayor was often seen with actually contained hot chocolate, and he wasn't much of a fan of coffee.

Because of course even having a sweet tooth was something Ozpin had felt the need to keep close to his chest.

"Thank you," Weiss said, reminded of the spiced hot chocolate she'd enjoyed earlier that day, and of the second one she'd never gotten the chance to buy. How had things turned so sour so quickly?

Ruby accepted hers wordlessly, sitting on the floor opposite Weiss with her father's laptop in front of her. She hadn't touched the keyboard in several minutes and her eyes stared straight through the screen. She'd been mostly silent since the news dropped, and Weiss didn't have to ask why. Ruby had relented to take a step back and place her faith in Ozpin, overcoming all of her natural impulses and desires, and this was the result of those efforts.

Weiss grabbed her mug and took a sip. Zwei perked up, looking curiously at it.

"You know you can't have that," Tai said to him as he returned to the kitchen.

Zwei let out a disappointed whine and relaxed his head back down. Weiss resumed petting him, keeping her cup at a safe distance.

She took another sip, then another. Minute by minute, the mug slowly drained, each sip a little less delicious as the liquid cooled. She tried to put her full attention into it, to lose herself in the monotony of the repetition. She'd let it sit in her mouth for several seconds, mentally exploring the flavors while taking in the sweet scent before swallowing and feeling the heat travel down her throat and spread throughout her body. It was a futile effort, though, because that heat never reached her heart and she couldn't keep her mind from continuously straying back to Ozpin.

It was half gone and Ruby had barely touched her own by the time the front door finally slammed open with no warning. Weiss jumped and might have spilled some of her hot chocolate if she hadn't drunk so much of it. Zwei hopped to the floor and barked at the entry hall, taking a protective stance in front of Weiss.

Qrow's gaze immediately found Weiss as he stormed into the living room. With one look at his face, she realized just how much he'd been holding back at the hospital. This is what he looked like when truly livid.

And that was what it took for it to sink in. This was real. The news hadn't made a mistake. Ozpin hadn't faked his death for some unknowable reason. He was gone. Murdered. Burned to death.

Burned to death by Adam.

Even now, it was hard to call the heavy feeling in her chest grief. Ozpin wasn't someone who'd inspired warm feelings. He was a figure to be admired from afar, a politician to support or criticize. From her few interactions with him, she couldn't even say whether she liked him as much as she respected him. She'd only ever gotten one glimpse at the man behind the mayor. It was what he'd said to Ruby about how she was seeking peace in all the wrong places, and that was the last time Weiss had ever spoken to him.

Qrow advanced on Weiss and there was a paranoid moment where she thought he might attack her. She wasn't alone in that, either, because Tai interjected himself between them and placed a forceful hand on Qrow's chest, but Qrow had already stopped. Weiss had imagined the accusation she thought she saw in his glower. His fury wasn't directed at her. It was just there, spilling out and catching everyone else as collateral.

"Uncle Qrow?" Ruby said, her voice small.

Qrow looked at her and his expression softened, though not entirely. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. He opened them again, still angry but not quite seething anymore.

"You cool?" Tai said.

"Yeah," Qrow said. "Just perfect."

Tai lowered his hand and took a step back. Zwei also relaxed, sitting down on his hind legs, still in front of Weiss.

Qrow looked back at Weiss. "You wanted to talk. Let's talk."

Weiss swallowed and nodded, standing up a second later than Ruby did.

"Not you," Qrow told her.

Ruby froze, looking wounded. "Why?"

"Please," he added, soft, with unexpected sincerity. He didn't look at Ruby, but he didn't need to for the message to come across. He was asking, not demanding.

The tension leaving her shoulders, Ruby said, "Okay," and sat back down.

Weiss followed him outside, stepping through the front door he'd left open and closing it behind her.

"She looks so much like her damn mother," Qrow muttered, quiet enough that Weiss wasn't sure he meant for her to hear. He leaned against the railing at the top of the stoop and pulled a metal flask out of his inside breast pocket. He stared long and hard at it until he finally unscrewed the cap and took a deep, prolonged swig.

Weiss only watched, knowing it wasn't her place to judge or comment.

"Give me your hand," he said once he was done.

"I'm sorry?" said Weiss.

He waited, impatient, and Weiss hesitantly extended her hand toward him while not knowing why. He grabbed it, his grip firm but not enough to hurt her, and pulled it up toward his face. He placed her fingers against his forehead, looking her in the eyes as he said, "Do it."

"I don't—" Weiss tried to say, no less confused than she was a moment ago.

"Do your magic. Look inside my head. See for yourself and tell me I'm not under her control."

Oh, she thought, a bolt of fear running through her as she was hit with the implications of what he was asking. In two days he'd gone from, "It's not your concern," to this, knowing full well he was giving her access to every piece of information he'd withheld before, if she was willing to be so invasive. That alone was enough to clear him of any suspicion, but it also all but confirmed her and Ruby's worst fears about Cinder.

Weiss felt the callused fingers pressing into the back of her hand. If Cinder's Federal Investigations mole knew not to touch her, so would anyone under her control. Going into Qrow's mind to see the absence of that black tower was little more than a redundancy.

A redundancy or an excuse. How invasive did she want to be? He had answers, and she wasn't confident his willingness to divulge them had changed. She wouldn't get them any other way, but were they worth taking advantage of an anguished man who'd just lost his boss, friend, or whatever else Ozpin had meant to him? As much as she disliked Qrow, she didn't think she had it in her to be that heartless.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In and out, nothing more.

But that wasn't up to her. She'd only caught the briefest glimpse of the Emerald Forest's vibrant greens before a window appeared in front of her, blocking the trees and landscape from her view. Through it, before she could even think about looking away, she saw Qrow shoving past one doctor into a dark room filled with several more. A security guard stepped in front of him, a broad-shouldered woman who had the strength to force him back but not the height to stop him from seeing over her head into the operating room.

He stopped fighting as his eyes fell on the hospital bed and the figure that lay in it, the staff's protests drowned out by the grating, monotone beep of a flatlining vital monitor. Motionless, eyes closed, and covered with a sheet up to his shoulders, was Mayor Ozpin. What remained of his once silver hair was blackened and dirtied by ash and soot. A third of his face was a horrific expanse of red, black, and yellow, the burns creeping up from the neck and one side of his head. In the midst of it, a part of his jawbone was visible where enough skin had melted off.

With an unexpected calmness, Weiss turned away. That disturbed her more than what she'd just witnessed, that this macabre sight elicited no physical reaction within her. She felt the ghost of an impulse to vomit, to stumble back, to collapse to the ground in shock, but not the actual impulses themselves. This body wasn't physical, but her mind has always been good at creating such a perfect simulation of one that she couldn't tell it apart from reality.

What did that say about the current state of her mind? That she was growing accustomed to death? She really didn't want that to be the case. In here, she was a warrior, and warriors didn't flinch at such things. In the real world, she was a coward, in more ways than one, and she'd rather stay that way than to have seen enough blood that it no longer horrified her.

A new window appeared in front of her almost as soon as she'd turned away from the last. It contained a similar scene, of a still figure lying in a hospital bed. Only this one was smaller, a teenage girl with bandages covering the stump of her right arm and a portion of her head where her golden yellow hair was missing. Standing beneath the steadily beeping vital monitor and holding the sleeping Yang's remaining hand with both her own was a young Ruby, her face solemn but free of tears. A woman who Weiss knew from photos stood behind her with her hands on Ruby's shoulders.

Summer was shorter in person than Weiss had been picturing, quite a bit shorter than Ruby was in the present.

Weiss turned away from the memory, and again another immediately appeared before her. She averted her eyes yet again, but not before catching a glimpse of a grizzly bear shrinking down into the form of a raven-haired little girl.

In and out, nothing more, she thought derisively as she walked away from the fourth memory that appeared to her.

She couldn't be sure if this was her doing, if her subconscious desire for information was pushing her semblance into overdrive. Historically, the memories she saw were those she assumed to be the most present in a person's mind. Jaune had PTSD from the day he lost Pyrrha, so Pyrrha was who Weiss saw in his mind when she tried to cure it. Ruby had hired Weiss in hopes of an escape from her grief, so Weiss had seen her only other outlet for it. And Bole Maze must have been worried about his involvement in Summer's murder since that's what got him killed less than a week after Weiss had used her semblance on him. Most likely, this current onslaught of memories was a result of Qrow's emotional headspace.

Weiss picked the tallest tree in sight and leaped up, catching and pulling herself onto its lowest bough. With an agility that might not have been too far outside her real-life capabilities back when she still danced and took ice skating more seriously, she scaled the branches up to where she had a full view of the horizon. The windows didn't follow her up here. In a moment of peace and calm, a sea of lush foliage met her eyes, a landscape that shone under the light of the shattered moon. No matter where she looked, there was no sign of Cinder's control.

Satisfied, Weiss briefly closed her eyes and took a step back off the branch she stood on. Where her foot should have met open air, it instead found concrete. She opened her eyes to stare straight into Qrow's, and gave him a single nod.

"Right." He released her hand, a bit of the stiffness in his posture subsiding. "That's that, then."

"You almost sound relieved," Weiss said, backing further away from him so she wouldn't have to smell the alcohol that lingered on his breath.

He shrugged, pulling his flask back out for another deep swig.

"You would know if you were under her control," Weiss pressed.

"Would I?" he said, lowering the flask and keeping it in hand, still open. "We don't know a damn thing about how her semblance works."

"But you know who she is."

"Yeah. For all the good that did."

Weiss studied him, unsure whether he meant that to have the implication it did. She saw no tells, but it was the only way it made sense. Of all the people Adam could go after, why Ozpin? Why would that be his first choice immediately after escaping from prison? Why, unless it wasn't his choice at all?

"She's behind this, isn't she?" Weiss said, already knowing the answer.

There was no change in his expression, and he didn't say anything.

"He's under her control. She replaced Neo with him."

"Doesn't matter. Her semblance isn't the only thing that gives her power. Hell, I doubt it's even the main one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means her reach is a lot farther than we thought, which was already a hell of a lot more than what you thought. Oz knew he had a target on his back. It was why he was hiding at Beacon in the first place, but no one but me and him should have known that. Sure as hell not Cinder."

"How much farther?"

"If I knew, Oz would still be here. And either way it's none of your—"

"Federal Investigations?"

He paused. "What makes you say that?"

"Because they were at the Festival earlier, and the man I told you about from the parking garage was one of them. An agent."

"This is why you needed to talk to me so badly?"

"It's what I needed to tell Ozpin. He was the only one I could think to go to, but . . ." She swallowed, picturing the memory of a memory of the mayor's burnt, lifeless body. "I haven't even told Winter, yet. He was insistent on me not telling anyone I saw him. He—"

"Stop," Qrow said, and he was looking directly at her, now. "You didn't just see him, you talked to him?"

"He cornered me. I didn't even think he saw me, but it wasn't like I—"

"And he just let you go?"

"We were in public, he couldn't do anything if he wanted to."

He looked around, taking a quick scan of the desolate sidewalks and parked cars. Only the occasional vehicle passed through this quiet residential street, far away from the excitement of the ongoing festivities.

"What makes you sure he's not following you?" he said.

"I'm not, but I was careful. We drove straight back to my apartment, I changed, and then I took the subway after Winter had to leave to check in with General Ironwood. I transferred twice before getting off and walking here. But he already knew so much about me that I doubt it matters. He knew about my semblance, and he knew I'm close enough to Jaune that threatening him would work on me. I don't know—"

"Fuck," he muttered, raising his hand toward his head. He looked surprised to see it was still holding his flask, and he had to screw the lid back on and put it away so he could comb his fingers through his hair.

"You didn't know about him," Weiss said, finding some small relief that her information was new.

Qrow shook his head. "Only the other one, the telekinetic."

"The girl with the—?"

"Green hair, yeah. She was with Taurus and a couple of the other escapees when my source spotted them."

"So you already knew Adam was in contact with Cinder."

"We didn't 'know' shit. There wasn't enough time to dig into half of what we needed to. It's only the biggest city in the goddamn country we're trying to protect."

That felt pointed, but it wasn't. It should have been. She had to wonder if it was only because the alcohol was kicking in that he didn't think to remind her about how long she and Ruby had kept things to themselves. She wished he would have so she could at least defend herself. Instead, she was left to speculate on her own how different things would be if they'd come forward sooner, whether Ozpin would still be alive now.

"What else did he say?" Qrow said. "Did you get his name?"

"No, he—"

"His branch?"

"No, he didn't—"

"Did he mention Ruby or anyone else besides Arc?"

Weiss huffed and crossed her arms. She waited until he rolled his eyes and waved for her to continue. Finally able to get in more than three words before getting interrupted, she recounted the entire conversation with the Federal Investigations agent.

"Yeah," he said once she finished. "That's bad."

"Obviously! What do we do?"

"We?"

"Ruby and I. What are you going to do now that the mayor's gone?"

He reached into his pocket, but it wasn't his flask that he pulled out this time. It was his scroll, and he proceeded to drop it on the ground before driving his heel into it, destroying it. Before Weiss could react to that, he hiked up his pant leg and drew a small handgun in a leather holster. It was about the size of his hand, which made it a little larger than her own.

Weiss took another step back, bumping into the railing. "What are you—?"

He released the magazine, showed her it was loaded, and clicked it back into place before pressing the side of the weapon against her sternum. Forced to react on instinct, she grabbed it with both hands and immediately tried to give it back to him.

"No! Get this away from me!"

He stuffed his hands into his back pockets, refusing to take it back from her. "It's for self-defense."

"I don't want it!"

"Tough shit. You got yourself into this mess, now there's no one who can keep you alive but you."

"Give it to Ruby, then. I—"

"Can it, princess. Your head can't be fucked with, hers can. If you don't know how to use it, Ruby'll show you. It's time to pull your head out of your ass and take some damn responsibility. If Taurus is under Cinder's control, he's probably coming after you next. If not, it's gonna be Yang and her girlfriend."

"Ozpin said you were protecting them."

"Doesn't mean shit anymore. You and Ruby are going to find them, go to the safest place you know, and hunker down for a while. Things get worse, you leave the city. Go back to Atlas. Better yet, go to Mistral. Vacuo. Anywhere they won't think to find you. They want you gone because you're a threat, so make yourself as little of one as possible. That means no more playing the hero. Do whatever the hell it takes so you don't get any more of my nieces shot. Understand me?"

"But what about—?"

"Do you understand me?"

Weiss stamped her foot and raised her voice. "What about Jaune?"

Qrow sighed, looking down at her. She was the one holding a gun but that did nothing to shift the power dynamic. She was scared of the weapon and it showed, the gun lying flat in her palms with the barrel pointed off to the side. She didn't know what else to do with it so she just held it at arm's length as if it might jump out and bite her.

"He gets off, then you find him and take him with you," Qrow said. "If not, there's nothing else you can do for him. Look after yourself and hope Nikos's training meant something."

"They'll kill him!"

"And what the fuck can you do to stop them?"

"I can't just do nothing! He's a friend, and he only got involved in the first place because he was trying to protect us."

"No one forced him to go along with your save-the-trained-assassin plan."

"And so he deserves to die?"

"Did I say that? I asked what you can do—"

"And I'm asking what you're going to do. He's a citizen of this city, too. You have a responsibility to protect him."

"Fucking hell, Schnee." Qrow ran a hand down his face, annoyed that Weiss wasn't letting him bulldoze over her. She might have found some satisfaction in that if the situation wasn't so dire.

"He fought for this city against Salem, same as Pyrrha."

He turned around and grabbed the stoop railing, leaning against it with a hunched posture. "I don't know what you expect from me, princess. I'm out of a job here. Oz is gone, and I don't know who the hell to trust anymore. So if you want me to promise to pull strings, call in favors, and magically get your boy off scot-free, you're not going to be very happy."

"You—" Weiss started to say.

"I'm not done. I'm going to ground to learn and do whatever the hell I can with the connections I've got. If it'll get you to focus on keeping yourself and my nieces safe, I'll look into Arc. If she cares about him then there's probably a lead to look into there anyhow. I can't promise any more than that, and if that's not good enough for you, I don't care. You know what you need to know and you know what you need to do.

"And you remember what I said about her semblance. For any one person she controls with it, she's probably got at least a hundred more coerced or on her payroll. If she's got an in with Federal Investigations, I don't doubt the same goes for any police precinct in Vale. You make sure Yang hears that."

He hadn't even gotten the last word out before he jumped and pushed himself up and over the railing, rapidly shrinking in size as he did so. Both he and the air around him warped and blurred, colors blending together as he reshaped his very being, all while he was still in motion. By the time his hands left the railing, they had become the front paws of a black cat, replaced by the back two that he used to spring himself into the air. At the apex of his leap, the cat shrank even further, turning into a black-feathered corvid that maintained its momentum to fly off into the night.

"Hey. Where— Why do you have a gun?" Ruby said.

Weiss closed the front door with her foot and extended Qrow's handgun toward Ruby. "Take it. Please."

"The hell?" Tai said, grabbing it from Weiss before Ruby could. "Did Qrow give this to you?"

Weiss nodded, immediately feeling a lot lighter with the weapon out of her hands.

Tai started toward the door.

"He's gone," Weiss said. "He flew away."

Tai opened the door and stepped outside anyway. After a few moments of scanning the neighborhood, he took one step back over the threshold, spotted something on the ground, and picked it up before coming back inside.

"It's really this bad," he said, his shoulders sagging as if the two objects he held were a lot heavier than they were.

Ruby stared at Qrow's destroyed scroll, hurt. "He left without saying anything?"

"He relapsed," Weiss said, which didn't elicit as much surprise as she'd expected. "And he was angry. I don't think he wanted you to see him like that."

Ruby said nothing. Weiss wasn't sure why she'd thought that would help.

"We have to go," Weiss said.

"Woah woah woah," Tai said. "Nuh-uh. If Qrow thinks it's this dangerous then you're not going anywhere."

"We don't have a choice. Yang and Blake are in danger, too, and there's a safer place for us to go."

Ruby looked at her, understanding what Weiss was saying. That look didn't betray what she thought about it, though. Even if Weiss could gauge her thoughts, there was no telling how they'd change once Weiss explained the worst of it, the parts she didn't want to say in front of Tai. Ozpin's death should have hammered in just how out of their depth they were, and Weiss feared it would only push Ruby back into old habits.

"Am I supposed to just let you girls run off alone and get hurt again?" Tai said. "Ruby, you know I—"

"We're not alone," Ruby said with a reassuring smile. "And this isn't like the other times. We'll be safe."

She held out her hand. Tai hesitated, but he did eventually give her the gun.

"You know how to handle this better than I do," he said. "Promise me you're not going to go looking for trouble."

"I promise," Ruby said without hesitation. Weiss, despite her concerns, found it hard to read that as anything but genuine.

Tai nodded, looking as if he was trying to convince himself. Ruby quickly inspected the gun before clipping the holster to the waistband of her jeans. Once it was secure, she hugged her father, standing on the tips of her toes with her cheek against his chest. It was an abrupt motion, too fast to see coming, yet he did, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head without missing a beat. He held on tight, the well-defined muscles in his arms flexing like he was trying to pour enough protective energy into the embrace to last long after he let go.

Weiss watched with a writhing, hollow feeling in her chest, the throb of a wound in her heart that had been carved there the day she was born and left to grow and fester every day since. Deep envy spilled out of it, and she crossed her arms as if it could staunch the flow, turning away from the display of a particular kind of love she had never known.

She looked down as something bumped against her leg and saw Zwei sitting there as silently as he'd approached. His tail wasn't wagging and his mouth was closed as he looked up at her. She wondered if he'd sensed they were about to leave and wouldn't be coming back for a while. Wishing beyond words that she could bring him with her, she crouched low and ran her fingers through his fur, earning her a happy tail wag in response. She smiled.

With their goodbyes said, Weiss retrieved her coat from the dining room chair and Ruby pulled on the plain black hoodie that Weiss had once borrowed from her. It wasn't an overly loose fit, but it was long enough to fully conceal the holster at her hip.

"Weiss," Tai said as she was following Ruby outside.

Weiss turned around, bracing herself.

"You look after her for me, okay?" he said. "And make sure you look after yourself, too."

Still unsure why he didn't hold her more accountable for enabling Ruby as much as she had, Weiss only nodded.

The night grew darker, and the quiet little street they traveled continued to slumber. They followed the same path Weiss had taken to get here, subway station bound. Weiss's paranoia set back in immediately, and it was only with conscious effort that she was able to resist every other impulse to glance over her shoulder. Ruby's company was comforting, but at the same time, it also left her feeling more exposed than she had when walking alone. She felt robbed of the time she needed to sort through her confusion, and each soft breeze that carried Ruby's flowery scent to her nose distracted her from focusing on the things that actually mattered.

"I think we're safe right now, for what it's worth," Ruby said, not oblivious to how on edge Weiss was. "Uncle Qrow wouldn't have come inside without vetting the area."

Weiss wasn't reassured. She understood it was unlikely that they were being followed at this point. That was what scared her. It was easier to have something to run away from than to be stranded in a minefield, not knowing whether the path they tiptoed through was safe or if there was even refuge at the other end of it. Even knowing that the agent couldn't do anything to her at the Festival, Weiss couldn't fathom why he'd let her go so easily unless there were more mines buried ahead of her.

"What did he say to you?" Ruby asked when Weiss didn't respond.

"Adam's working for Cinder," Weiss said.

Ruby took only a moment to process that before giving a stoic, "Okay."

"That's it?"

"I mean, it makes sense. He breaks out of prison and the first thing he does is go after Ozpin? Why would he do that unless someone else told him to?"

Weiss stared at her.

"What?" Ruby said.

Weiss shook her head. "Qrow couldn't say whether Adam's under her control or not, but—"

"Well, he has to be, right? He doesn't do the whole following orders thing. Not willingly."

"It doesn't matter. Either she enthralled him with her semblance and she's sending him after us next or they made some sort of bargain and he still wants Blake and Yang."

"And he'll have her help when going after them," Ruby realized.

"Exactly. Call your sister, because we have no idea where we're even going."

"Right. Yeah, okay. I'll . . . I'll text Blake."

Ruby pulled out her phone and typed out a quick message, determinedly keeping her gaze glued to the screen even after she'd sent it. Weiss wasn't sure whether it was her place to comment, not when she had her own uncomfortable call to Winter to make, but she couldn't ignore it.

"You're not going to be able to avoid talking to her," Weiss said.

"I know," Ruby said. "It's her that doesn't want to talk to me."

"She's still upset?"

"Can you blame her?"

"She's your sister."

"That doesn't make it better."

"I suppose not, but . . . you realize you're asking Blake to go behind her back for you a second time now, right?"

"I— Well, what choice do I have?"

"I don't know. I'm just saying that Qrow expects us to go into hiding with them and this isn't going to help change her mind."

"I don't know if there's anything I can do to convince her to come with us right now. She should hate me."

"You don't mean that."

Ruby said nothing.

"What you two have is special. I— it wasn't intentional, but I just saw your uncle's memory of you with her after she lost her arm. Lying to her like you did isn't great, but it's going to take a lot more than that to break that bond."

Ruby finally looked up from her phone. "What were you doing in his head?"

"You honestly can't think of one reason?"

Ruby paused. "Cinder."

"It's more than just her semblance that he's worried about, which is why we need to warn them at the very least before it's too late. It doesn't matter if they go into hiding with us or on their own as long as they're safe."

Ruby gave a soft laugh with little humor in it. "You don't know Yang that well. She's not going to want to do that, even if she wasn't mad at me."

"Fantastic," Weiss said facetiously. "She's going to be just as obstinate as you, then."

"You have no idea."

"We'll figure it out."

"And I'm not so sure it'll be that easy for us to lie low. Aren't we still on probation?"

"We'll figure it out," Weiss repeated, unsure why the burden of optimism was on her this time.

Ruby's phone vibrated in her hand, which was convenient timing as the subway station entrance was just up ahead.

"Blake says to meet at Beacon," Ruby said.

"At the crime scene?"

"Close to it."

"Great," Weiss said. Deeper into the minefield we go.