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The Last Rose - Chapter Six

Here’s chapter six for all of you. Please enjoy and reblog!

X_0_X

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was just like the flowers in the garden, rooted in place for all eternity. The sunflowers she’d known for longer than memory had long since wilted, but the husky remnants remained, despite the spider lilies springing up like weeds in their place.

Move.

The hinges squeaked quietly as she pushed the door open, the key gifted to her slotting with a click into the lock without protestation. Professor Oobleck had been kind, keeping an eye on the old cottage while she was away. She knew that Zwei would be happy with him – they got along better than she could have dreamed.

Dust coated every surface. The living room reeked of old must and decay. Once, it smelled of rose petals and lilac, and sometimes the sour bite of liquor.

Keep moving.

His room was empty. And clean. So was Ruby’s. So was Yang’s. Of course they were. Never did the house sparkle and shine as much as when Taiyang had something to worry about.

She could still see the spots on the wall, ever so slightly off-color where paint and spackle had been used to fill in the holes they’d created as children. There was the dark spot on the rug where she’d spilled grape juice as a little girl, Taiyang never did manage to scrub that away.

And there, the pictures they’d taken together as a family, for the last time. That one of herself, hard at work in the forge creating her beloved weapon. And there…

…

She left the house not long after entering, eyes wet and heart clenching underneath its icy shell. The letters clutched in her hands, unopened. Retrieved from the safe, where she knew they would be. She didn’t have the heart to read them – nor to stay another moment in that place.

Not home – not anymore. Dust, where did it all go so very wrong?

…Where did she go, now?

…

Is home a place? Patch was home, once. I felt safe there. Safe and secure and loved and surrounded by people I could call family. In our little cottage, I could believe that anything was possible, and that the world was just waiting to open up before me the moment I stepped out the door.

It’s not home now. Not anymore. Probably not ever again.

I’ve heard that home can be a person. A bond. That our loved ones are what make a home what it is. Something in that seems right to me. Fitting, I guess. But… where is home for me, then? Is it possible to not have a home at all?

…I’m sorry. I hope I’m not too late. The questioning, the doubting, it never stops. It’s like a disease, and no one has a cure.

So much has changed… and certainty feels like it’s in ever smaller supply.

Ha… Answer me this, if you’re so smart: whether home is a place, or a bond… whatever it is… to where have I returned?

X_0_X

It was like walking through a dreamworld.

Ruby numbly chewed a mouthful of fresh greens, served to her with a flourish by a smiling Ren.

Just like she’d expected, it was delicious. The Mistrallan’s skill in the kitchen was as of yet unrivalled by anyone Ruby knew, and his nutritional acumen was (now) supplemented by a pounded-in knowledge of what actually tasted good, courtesy of Nora.

It didn’t cure her of her daze, but it certainly gave her the excuse she needed to process everything that had happened since she’d left the flight.

At first, she’d been beyond delighted.

How long had it been since she’d last spoken with her friends face to face? How long since she’d last gotten to hear their voices, feel their warmth, bask in their familiar presence?

After prying her redheaded limpet away from her, ribs and weakened arm protesting all the while (“Nora! Air! Need! Please!”), her elation came crashing down around her ears with the abruptness of running headlong into a brick wall

Yes, Ruby; how long has it been since you last came to visit your friends?

‘How long have you been hiding away in Mistral? Running away from your problems? Don’t you think they’ve missed you? After all this time?’

‘Shut up,’ she told that part of her, firmly.

That was beside the point. She’d been dealing with those sorts of doubts for years now; they were secondary to the real revelation.

Nora, Ren, they were here.

She hadn’t seen her friends in… seven years now? It felt like longer.

Ren’s hair was trimmed short, shoulder length and tied back in a stylish ponytail. Nora was as infectiously bubbly as she remembered, sporting a few crow’s feet around the eyes but otherwise untouched by time. Both fit and hale and almost exactly as she remembered of them from before.

More than that, the two were obviously happy.

She could see it in their eyes. Ren’s glowed like lotus blossoms in the morning sun, Nora’s like glistening ice. In every movement, every loving glance, Ruby could read the contentment they held for themselves. Each marker a testament to the life they’d built for themselves here, without her.

She touched Crescent Rose’s folded-up length at her side, where she’d leaned it against her chair. How long had it been? Had they been so happy when she’d left?

Ruby felt like an intruder.

She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t. It would have taken the power of the gods to stop the inevitable conclusions from making themselves.

She should have been at their side from the beginning, growing comfortable in this new city that had sprung up from the ashes of the old alongside them. They had all been a team – family, of a sort. Inseparable. Unconquerable. Loved.

She should have been there – shouldn’t have missed all that time, shouldn’t have run away, shouldn’t have let old arguments fester for so long…

But she had, and still they were happy.

Was… she even needed here? Wanted, even?

They’d been family, but her leaving had severed that connection. Ruby felt the tattered ends keenly, deep within her soul.

The entire walk home, listening to the two chatter on – well, Nora mainly chattering, with Ren contributing in his own sedate way – every rationalization she’d made over the last decade, every justification for missing out on another week, another month, another year of her friends’ lives was shoved into the light and she was numbed.

She was uncomfortably reminded that she’d just left other friends behind, and might not see them for just as long. Maybe longer…

Dust, was there nothing she hadn’t fucked up?

And being the wonderful human beings they were, too excited by her return and too kind to try and peer deeper into her troubled soul, husband and wife were both oblivious to her inner discomfort.

Nora slammed her open palm down on the dining table. “We have got to take you out around the city, soooo much has changed since you were last here!”

“Since so much of the population fled during and after the Fall, a lot of room has opened up for immigrants and entrepreneurs to set up shop and fill in the niches left behind,” Ren explained.

“Like that one lady with the huge boobs and six secret boyfriends down on Fifth street! She makes the best pastries – the way she uses cinnamon is just di-vine~!”

“Nora, that’s uncharitable.” Ren frowned disapprovingly. “She’s only cheating with the one other man, not six.”

“And how do you know that, mister? I didn’t take you for a gossip-monger. Do I need to be worried about the neighbors knowing about my delicates?”

“Only the ones you leave out on the floor for too long. We’ve established that not picking up after yourself is grounds for retaliation long ago.”

“Oooh~ Gonna punish me, Renny?”

“Nora! Not in front of Ruby!”

Ruby… stared.

She had no frame of reference anymore; it had been too long.

The banter, the mischief… she didn’t remember it coming so easily. It was bizarre to see Ren of all people firing back without hesitation, to see the lightness in his bearing, the openness of his expressions... And the loving glances… The joy…

Her stomach twisted in on itself; it was a struggle to continue chewing.

She’d expected a deluge of memory upon her arrival. That she would drown in the prickly, painful nostalgia that would surely rise up to envelop her. She’d expected anxiety, nightmares, residual grief, and whatever else she’d shoved to the back of her mind over the last decade to rear its ugly head, and that that would be the worst of her problems.

Part of her even expected arguments. Surely, they would have words for her for leaving… words that wouldn’t have fit into a letter. Surely…

The last thing she’d anticipated was the disconnect.

Since stepping off the platform she’d been beaten over the head with little else but how unfamiliar it was. Everything was different.

This shop that was once a clothing outlet was now renovated into a flower shop. That storefront was converted to a new set of apartments. The docks were now the lifeline of the city, where before they’d been little more than an afterthought compared to the grandeur of Downtown and the airport.

And though she had felt the eyes on her as she followed her friends back to their home, her weapons marking her as a huntress as surely as the predatory grace she walked with, compared to the familiarity she’d experienced in Mistral, they were not kind. They were strangers’ eyes, questioning the outsider and her purpose here.

Who was she, to walk among these people like she’d earned her right to live here?

Ruby was the intruder in their midst. It was an alien, uncomfortable situation, not felt for so many years...

She was used to at least being trusted in her role as a huntress. She was the Reaper. A guardian. Aegis of the people, fighting for them because she thought it was right, and recognized for that.

That was not something she doubted.

…Was it?

Her eyes flickered shut and she took a breath. No. She wasn’t doing this. ‘You will be okay,’ She told herself, shutting down the train of thought. ‘You just got here. You never expected it to be easy.’

She did not doubt her role. She wanted to help people. That had never changed.

The people just didn’t know that yet, just like they hadn’t in Mistral before she’d proven herself. It would be one of the first things she rectified, once she was better recovered.

If she were to stay here – if she was to continue her work here – she had to have a good rapport with the civilians. She’d need to find contacts. Friends. The people had to know their sentinels, their guardians, as she had to know them.

‘Know the people you’re protecting. You’ll fight harder for ‘em that way.’

“Ruby?”

A heavily calloused hand waved in her face, mere inches from her nose. Ruby jerked back, eyes blinking their glaze away rapidly. “Sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Ren said, frowning. “You seemed deep in thought. May we ask what’s on your mind?”

“Ah…”

Tell them how desperately awkward she felt? That she was in the middle of a crisis of faith? That she had no idea what to do with this strange otherworld she’d found herself within? With these new people? Them?

Nora picked up on her hesitation faster than Ren. “Sorry Ruby,” she said, frowning. “This is probably all really overwhelming for you.”

“We don’t want to overload you,” Ren chimed in.

“Right.” Nora nodded emphatically. “Especially since you’re still recovering and all.”

Dust, she didn’t want them blaming themselves. “I’m fine,” Ruby protested, a pink tint entering her cheeks.

“Pssssh.” Nora exchanged an artfully exaggerated glance with Ren. “Bags under your eyes.”

“Movements kept to the bare minimum.”

“Doesn’t look like you’ve gotten a shower in a few days,” Nora sniffed.

Ren nodded. “You’re free to use ours before you head up to the school if you’d like, by the way.”

“And by ‘if you’d like’ he really means you really should take us up on it because you look like death warmed over.”

“Nora.”

She shoved Ren’s shoulder playfully. “Oh pish! You might be too polite to say it, but Dust knows a lady could use a shower when she’s not at her best. Warm water and a good scrubbing does wonders for the spirit!”

“You guys,” Ruby interjected, thumb fidgeting with her silverware, rubbing a single spot until it started to gleam. “I’m fine, really. I don’t want to put you out, or to make you worry, or…” she paused. Wait. “Do… I really look that bad?”

Nora held up her hand, three fingers extended. She didn’t do much to hide her pitying expression. “Three out of five, honestly. You don’t look awful.”

“But maybe a good soak would do you good,” Ren finished delicately.

“Oh.” Ruby swallowed. Well then. “I, uh. Might take you up on that then.”

Now slightly ashamed (Dust, was it really that noticeable, or— well, they were huntsmen…), Ruby hid herself in her salad. She was fine.

The dressing was good. She half-decent in the kitchen herself after so long cooking her own meals, but she seldom got to experiment with some of the more ambitious flavors she tasted here.

This was fine. Just fine.

And now the other two seemed much more attuned to her discomfort, sharing glances while Ruby avoided their gazes. Were they afraid? Worried?

Damnit she’d wanted to avoid this.

“Soooo.” Nora broke the silence. “Find anyone special while you were in Mistral?”

Her hand paused midway between bowl and mouth. “Um, no.”

“No pretty thing able to keep your attention?”

…She hated small talk. “No, not really.”

‘Please leave it,’ she implored mentally.

Ren coughed, stepping in for Nora. “If I could ask you something, Ruby?”

“Sure,” Ruby mumbled awkwardly. “Go for it.”

“Well,” he glanced at Nora. “You never said in your letter. We figured, after so long, there had to be a reason for you to change your mind… but, what made you decide to come back to Vale?”

“Was it work?” Nora added, head tilting to the side. “We thought you’d taken time away from hunting after your ordeal.”

“Or that you’d had a falling out with someone back in Mistral.”

“But then we found out that Sun was one of the people taking care of you while you were recovering – and couldn’t think of anyone else you mentioned in your letters that you were close to.”

“So…” Ren trailed off.

“What brings you home, Rubes?” Nora finished.

Ruby ground to a halt whilst they spoke, forced to think by the question; one she didn’t have a clear answer for herself yet. There was so much.

Why?

There were too many emotions tangled up within her for it to be simple.

She hoped to discover a new purpose, for one. Padma’s words had stuck with her that far.

Hopefully she’d manage to find some closure with the city she’d left behind so many years before, if she could manage it.

Maybe, if things went alright, she might also quell some of her doubts – some of her shame, the guilt of leaving behind her family for so many years, if that much was even possible after so long.

But…

But telling them all of that; telling them the reason behind all of that – that she’d been torn down to her lowest point in nearly a decade, and that she still didn’t feel anywhere close to recovered – well…

She didn’t want to intrude.

Some of her feelings crystallized. This was a personal journey for her. Ren and Nora were clearly happy. They had lives. A home. Jobs they enjoyed and a family together with their daughter.

All the things they’d ever wanted since they were left alone together as children.

She would not put that in jeopardy.

So, she lied.

“Nothing like that,” Ruby said, carefully.

‘Be confident, be purposeful.’ Those were the first two secrets to a good lie. Ruby took care not to over-act, while also pushing the emotion she wanted to convey into her words.

They were huntsmen, they would see through all but the best. “I thought that after my accident I should come see you all. My recovery’s been pretty slow, and winter in the city wasn’t doing me any favors, so it seemed like a good time. I’ve missed you all a lot since I left.”

The third rule recommended sprinkling in a little truth. She did miss them all. It was good timing to spend her recovery among people she could catch up with after a long time away.

She’d just…

She’d never had that extra push to come back before. All of that was true, except that she’d never stared mortality in the face so clearly, felt it sink vicious claws into her soul and hold tight. She’d never seen it etched so clearly in her wretched reflection before, so much irrefutable evidence of her failure to stand on her own two feet as an adult.

There was motivation, and there was motivation.

They only needed to know the first kind. The second she would hold close, lest it ruin the fragile hope she nursed deep within.

And it worked. Beautiful, wonderful, trusting people that they were, it worked.

Nora smiled softly, dimples showing themselves as she reached across the table to squeeze her shoulder. “We missed you too, Rubes,” she said.

Ren mirrored her, a silent but firm presence, and their hands on her shoulders filled Ruby with a fuzzy warmth at odds with the chill she felt in her heart.

It would be worth it. She would get better and make it worth all the pain and dishonesty.

Not wanting them to question her further and feeling heavy with another new doubt pressing on her shoulders, Ruby quietly pushed her bowl forward, thanking Ren for the delicious meal.

At a simple request, Nora cheerfully directed her up to the bathroom where she began to strip out of her clothes to wash and at least fix one of her concerns for the day.

She did not notice the perturbed glance that Nora shot at her back before the door closed, wondering where the cloak that usually rested comfortably across her shoulders had gone.

When she stepped under the steaming water, Ruby had no idea that the couple was deep in conversation at the table downstairs, meals entirely forgotten and frowns pinching their faces with concern.

While she was busy pondering her own life’s choices, husband and wife were busy asking themselves an entirely separate question.

What had happened to their friend?

X_0_X

‘It’s a wonder Roman Torchwick wasn’t ruling over the city wholesale with this one as his right hand.’

“Seriously not helping right now,” Oscar Pine muttered to the second presence in his mind, rolling his eyes as a split second of warm amusement leaked over.

He didn’t need the distraction right now, thank you very much!

Older, stronger, and debatably wiser than he had been several years ago, Oscar was well-versed in the art of the chase. There were only three tenets one need follow: Don’t exhaust yourself with an ambitious, unsustainable pace, don’t break line of sight, and remember to breathe.

‘Bonus points for minimizing collateral damage.’

“That was one time!”

His mark dashed off down one of Vale’s many dingy alleyways, breaking his second rule temporarily before he made the sharp turn after her.

‘The Society for the Restoration of Vale’s Parks and Services, evidently. You didn’t really have to detour through those freesias, did you? They were coming along so wonderfully.’

Well it wasn’t his fault his pursuit of that particularly slippery thug led through that park, now was it? He’d had to apologize for weeks before the chairman stopped sending him those passive-aggressive letters.

Even no he still got the occasional dirty look from a ‘concerned citizen.’

But of course, he was only doing his job! Never mind the full breakfast, sometimes you had to break a few eggs to make an omelet! Never mind that Vale was a city where those eggs were already broken, rotten, and smelling like a pub dumpster after a Saturday night! No, protect the damn flowers, Oscar.

‘Well, they were particularly pretty flowers.’

He got a laugh from his other half as he cursed under his breath again.

This particular area of the city – formerly a part of the Residential District, now long since walled off from the recovering city – was grey, crumbling, and still suffering from a Grimm infestation.

There were rocks all over the streets from where some random explosion or flying chunk of lead smashed into some building, or where some overenthusiastic huntsman had ripped open the streets. Oscar was forced to detour around several impassable obstacles – each time losing just a little more ground.

It was enough to drive him to distraction. Rock. Rock. Pit. Oh look, there were a few Boarbatusk – better get out of the way before they bowl you over! He was too fast for nuisances like those to catch him unawares, but he just knew that his running straight into them was anything but an accident.

His target, Bianca Corallo, was a wily, mischievous sadist. Just the sort to get a laugh out of him staggering into the middle of a Grimm ambush.

‘You know she doesn’t like being called that,’ Ozpin chided.

“Don’t… really… care!” Oscar panted, sprinting up a flight of stairs after the last glimpse he’d gotten of her fleeing, colorful form.

Unfortunately for him, Corallo was small, fit, fast, and slippery like an eel.

One of Vale’s many, many criminals aspiring to fill the void left behind after Roman Torchwick’s empire crumbled around the rest of the city. She’d risen to power through an ample and often arbitrary application of brutal force, ambitious heisting, and balls of steel.

Unlike most of the scum and scrabbling thugs he usually had to contend with, she was also unique in that she was actually having some amount of success in taking over from her old boss.

Hence, the chase.

He reached the third floor just in time to see the flash of wild, multicolored hair vanish through one of the many gaping holes in the side of the building. Cursing, he pressed himself further, dipping slightly into his aura to soothe the complaints building up in his thighs.

‘You shouldn’t have skipped leg day.’

“Shut. Up!”

Oscar turned his fall into a tight roll, compacting his body tight against itself to disperse the force. Thankfully, the ground was relatively free of rocks. Less thankfully, Corallo was nowhere to be seen. “Fuck!”

‘Do you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?’

“What happened to you being a wise, immortal being?” Oscar demanded, not for the first time, his mind working overtime. “Did all that go away when you got shunted into permanent shotgun?”

‘I prefer to think that I’m more like the little light on your shoulder, actually.’

“Hilarious. What do you recommend, then?” He didn’t have time for this. He scanned every direction, hoping to catch some sign of Corallo’s passing. Too little dust on the ground to note any footprints, and she was too savvy to leave a noticeable trail through the rubble.

‘I recommend you duck.’ And suddenly Oscar was in motion, Ozpin smoothly taking control like a hand slipping into a glove.

The bullet that whizzed over their head was nothing more than an afterthought as they whirled and set themselves in a solid fighting stance.

Glass shattered above them and they instantly looked up to meet Corallo’s dichromatic, mocking eyes. In one hand she held her parasol – frilly, white and pink like you’d see on some vapid little girl’s doll. In the other, a long cane lightly smoking at the tip, which she swiftly recombined with her parasol to form a single piece.

She tucked her weapon under her arm, giving her hands the space to gesture at him rapidly. ‘ME LOOKING FOR, GEARHEAD?’

“Corallo,” they growled.

‘FLATTERED,’ she signed, fluttering her eyelids. ‘YOU MY NAME REMEMBER.’

Oscar took control back from Ozpin, the rush of sensation barely even fazing him after so many repetitions.

“It’s my job,” he said. His lips curled downwards into a dark frown. “We’ve been through this before. Surrender and I can guarantee you a trial before you are sent to prison. Fail to stand down and I am permitted to use however much force I deem necessary to eliminate you as a threat to Vale’s security.”

Which was to say he’d probably be forced to kill her, if he couldn’t effectively cripple her in some way.

Vale was a changed place from before the Fall, after all. The law didn’t have time to fuss around with criminals when every day was a struggle to fend off the ever-encroaching Grimm. With every day a new vicious scrap for each and every block, the people – and especially the huntsmen – had quickly lost any and all patience for the unnecessary wrongdoings perpetrated by other humans.

With people like Corallo? Oscar could do essentially whatever he’d like.

He had standards though. Standards he anticipated seeing return to the rest of the force, once he could properly weed out the unscrupulous members.

Standards that, unfortunately, made seem like he had his cane shoved up his ass when said aloud.

‘Oscar,’ Ozpin sighed dramatically. ‘We’ve practiced this. You need not sound so stuffy. What happened to all of those action films you’ve been watching with Amaya? Take a leaf from their book.’

Corallo evidently agreed. ‘CAN YOU BORING LESS? ME THINGS BETTER COULD DOING.’

‘Fuck both of you,’ Oscar sighed.

The things he did for this city…

With a tiny flick he set off the beacon at his waist – specific to huntsmen working outside the secured sectors so that backup could be summoned where it was needed within minutes. He just had to keep Corallo distracted until backup arrived. Or take her down himself, if he could manage it.

She caught the motion and shot him a mischievous grin, dropping down to his level, knees bending slightly to distribute the force with a minimum of effort. ‘YOU FIGHT WANT?’

He reached behind his waist and grabbed the preternaturally familiar hilt of their cane, extending it to its full length with an elegant flick of the wrist. He’d practiced for hours to get that just right.

‘Vain.’

‘Ass.’

Complain about his stuffiness when he read their rights, moan about the time he spent trying to work on improving his cool factor, whine, whine, whine, whine, whine. There was no pleasing millennial disembodied soul-companions.

‘Add an extra splash of caramel to our next cocoa and we’ll talk.’

‘If you shut up about my caffeine shots, then deal.’

‘Acceptable.’

Corallo was oblivious to their internal dialogue, circling opposite of Oscar while his body simply went through the motions of tracking her movements.

The benefit of having two souls in one body was, at its most basic, parallel processing. Even splitting some of his attention between the fight and Ozpin, both of them were carefully analyzing their foe, drawing on past experiences, comparing those to what they knew of the tricky crime boss, drawing up tactics and discarding them just as quickly.

It began suddenly.

Corallo’s body shattered with a surge of flashing light only to reappear behind him. Her parasol swept downwards like a bludgeon. Oscar twisted in place, cane swinging up to deflect it off to the side, pulling his leg up and bending laterally to deliver a powerful kick to her abdomen.

Corallo used the blow to disengage. Her aura flashed faintly, dispersing the force with the same ease Oscar would dispatch a mosquito. Her parasol unfurled to drain her momentum – one of her favorite tricks, he knew. He’d thrown her off of several buildings and tried to slam her into plenty enough walls to learn that gravity and inertia meant very little to her.

The world slowed. Negligible damage, for a first clash. They were just testing the waters. They’d done this enough to know each other well, the others’ fighting style. It was almost a “Hello” between officer and kingpin. Did you get enough sleep? Eat a good breakfast? Did you do you warm ups?

‘I’d certainly be disappointed if we died because you skimped on your calisthenics. Oh, what a thought.’

‘Shut up.’

Corallo was certainly up to her usual standards. Even as the watched each other, mirrored predators eyeing the other, her smirk faded just a little. Her eyes gaining the sharp glint Oscar knew so well. The bloodthirst roiling just below her skin.

This time Oscar took the initiative.

Corallo’s eyes narrowed, so slow. Her fingers tightened. Oscar’s footsteps rang with his heartbeat, the world draining of color as his semblance activated.

Time dilation – fitting for a successor to someone of Ozpin’s reputation. Useful for battle, where it gifted him with a great boon in the extra time to consider his options. Sadly, his body was caught up in it as well.

If only – he’d be unstoppable otherwise.

‘If that were the case, I do believe Ruby would be after your head for absconding with her semblance.’

‘She could use the competition!’ Oscar retorted; eyes locked with Corallo’s. He also – ironically – had to be quick. It would be a shame to drain himself prematurely by abusing his ability.

Twitch. Twitch. Shoulders tensing. Her eyes flashed understanding. She knew him. His abilities. What he was doing. She would play unpredictably, just to throw him off. She would block, block again, most likely duck out of the way and disengage. Force him to exhaust himself, not let him get a single hit in.

They’d see about that.

The world resumed its usual pace.

Regardless of his inability to include his body in his semblance’s effects, Oscar was fast. Blisteringly fast. Only Ruby, Ren, and a few very other select huntsmen were capable of keeping up with him when he had his blood up.

Corallo was one of those few.

He swept his cane around, forcing her to contort herself backwards to avoid the strike. Her legs lashed out, he skipped backwards. With a series of incredible gymnastics, she leapt back on him. From the front, the sides, from above. She was a whirling dervish – where he put forth his strength she melted away. Where he defended, she refused to meet him.

In that was she was a wraith. Untouchable. Devious. And absolutely vicious where she caught an opening.

But he was a wall in his own right. He didn’t take everything she dished out, he caught it, pushed, shoved, and redirected. He and Ozpin combined were capable of vast feats of skill – their strength was their mind and the finesse they brought to the battlefield. Unpredictability was met with precision, and for a time they were matched.

They knew to respect her abilities. She knew enough to be wary of his.

Unfortunately, she knew she was on a timer and broke the stalemate with characteristic bluntness, shattering a few dozen feet away and drawing her gun-cane from her parasol.

‘Ugh.’ Ozpin gave the mental equivalent of a scowl. ‘She’d going to make you use it, isn’t she?’

The first shot shattered the asphalt where Oscar had been standing been mere moments before. The ammunition, Fire Dust – he could feel the heat from a dozen feet away. ‘You know, not everyone is happy smacking things around until they give up or pass out, aura or not!’

The second shot whizzed by his head – Oscar didn’t bother wasting energy getting away and bent his head to the side. The heat of the shot made his aura above his ear flare into visibility – protecting him from the burn he’d have otherwise received. He shoved his long coat to the side, hand wrapping around the lacquered wooden stock of his little baby.

‘It is a perfectly serviceable tactic! Miss Xiao Long just corrupted you!’

Oscar snorted and drew his weapon from its holster, appreciating for a moment the satisfying weight in his hand. ‘It’s an extra tool in my pocket. I would think you’d appreciate that!’

The third shot he swatted aside with their cane – his pine green aura flaring at the very tip to avoid detonating the shot on contact. The abandoned storefront it sailed into was reduced to rubble by the shockwave unleashed – Lightning Dust at its finest. In the same motion, he raised his other arm and took aim.

KA-WHUMP!

Corallo shattered away from her perch, now crumbling into assorted cobblestone, shattered glass, and shrapnel. ‘Perhaps… but did you really have to go with a shotgun? It’s so… blunt.’

‘I told you, I’m not trading Fidelis for a pistol!’

Corallo was on him in moments, taking advantage of his reduced versatility now that both of his hands were full, and refusing to let him re-holster and regain his edge.

Her parasol jabbed into his guard repeatedly, the sharpened tip doing work drawing energy from his aura reserves. Each pinprick threatened to bust through and pierce flesh as he was forced to fortify each miniscule spot.

He had his own advantages as well. Devoid of other options beside tossing it aside and opening himself up for a new salvo of ranged attacks, Oscar worked to get every ounce of use he could out of it. ‘Blunt’ or not, a shotgun at close range was a force you had to respect.

More than once Corallo was forced away just to avoid her aura getting perforated with a spray of raw Dust-shot. But after a minute of fending her off Oscar realized with a pause and tightening of his eyes that he could not yet hear the sounds of approaching airships, nor the telltale beep of his beacon alerting him that backup was fast approaching.

‘Where are they?’

His lips pulled into a scowl, and he shoved Corallo away, gaining himself some breathing room.

She flowed with it, coming to a stop with a flick of her parasol and letting it rest on her shoulder unfurled. The motion was just a little too smooth – a little too smug. ‘COMPANY EXPECTING, GEARHEAD?’

‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ Ozpin hummed.

The world greyed. He needed time to think. He was running low on precious aura, but he had the feeling Corallo didn’t intend to freely gift him the moment.

‘Thoughts?’ Oscar asked, mind racing.

He was not long in waiting. ‘She likely predicted this confrontation before she initiated the heist,’ Ozpin mused.

‘Which means she’d also put countermeasures against interference in place.’

‘Most likely. On the one hand it eliminates the probability of her being overwhelmed by superior force. Her favorite kind of fights are personal one on one duels – her records show a dearth of drawn-out, gang-style fights since Roman Torchwick’s demise. Too messy.’

‘And most of her operations involve concentrated, precise heists instead of the kind of multi-level criminal enterprises Torchwick favored.’

The old kingpin’s records pegged him as very comfortable working with his army of grunts and underlings – taking advantage of their numbers and rudimentary skills to supplement his own fairly mediocre abilities. Torchwick’s mind and charisma had been his greatest assets.

Almost the complete opposite of his protégé. She was cunning like a fox and deadly as a striking King Taijitu, but her strength was in her ability to crush her opponents beneath her foot like pathetic insects. She was prodigious among huntsmen – hence why she’d avoided capture for well-on two decades.

‘Indeed,’ Ozpin mulled. ‘She also enjoys fighting you. Much as she enjoyed fighting Commissioner Greyson before he was forced into retirement. Skilled opponents in general appear to be her favored prey.’

Which meant that…

‘And we’ve fallen into the trap.’

The world sped up as Oscar released the spell. Corallo was already sprinting toward him, rapier drawn from the depths of her parasol and glinting polished silver in the bright light of midday.

He was tired. She was fast. He was younger than her, but she had all the powerful vitality of someone half her age. Somehow, despite the multiple hits she’d taken, and all the times he’d drawn the flashes from her aura, she managed to ignore her fatigue and come at him like someone fresh to the fight.

A breath before she reached him Oscar dropped Fidelis and brought their cane up in a defensive posture.

Just in time.

Oscar was forced to draw on every iota of their shared experience as Corallo came at him in a whirling fury.

Unlike before she did not disappear at random, forcing him into constant motion just to keep up with her evasive tactics. Instead she just attacked. Vicious thrusting attacks like before – draining him shockingly quickly of his failing aura reserves – supplemented by powerful cutting slashes that he was better able to parry to the side.

He put in a few of his own hits – the pain of which he could see reflected back at him from her dichromatic eyes – but most of his energy was dedicated to keeping her away, keeping her back, keeping her from turning him into a living shish-kebab.

‘They’re still not coming,’ Ozpin muttered in the back of their mind, trying hard to keep the edge bleeding into his mental voice from distracting Oscar from the melee.

Deflect! Deflect! Oscar lashed out with a lateral kick - ‘Get back, bitch!’ – but his eyes widened as Corallo whirled to the side and seized his leg in a vice grip, ripping him off his feet, and threw him off to the side.

‘Shiii-iit!’

He slammed into a wall. His aura held, just barely, but he had only a moment to process before Corallo was on him and her rapier stabbed forward through his aura and sonofamotherfuckerthatHURTS!

‘Oscar!’

Ozpin took over from Oscar, blunting the sensation of the full foot of cold steel piercing their midsection before it could punch through Oscar’s synapses.

They could even feel the reverberations as the blade struck stone, an ominous hum all the worse for being felt so deep inside. The elder huntsman grabbed the weapon’s hilt – trapping it, out of Corallo’s reach – their other hand dropping their cane and lashing out to seize Corallo’s throat in a chokehold.

They lurched forward – both souls cringing inwardly as the pain in their side flared unbearably – and Oscar blindly joined Ozpin in bringing their weight down on their opponent. Their other hand left the rapier to join the first, and the added strength forced Corallo’s smaller hands to drop her weapon entirely to fight back. They could feel her clawing at their wrists, nails sharp and drawing blood and struggling against the inevitable as they throttled her.

Her lips worked furiously, gasping for air. The nails dug deeper, her unassuming strength showing in the bruises she created on their skin, seeking desperately for a weakness. To exploit. To break their grip. But she found none.

Her eyes flashed – cold, angry, no – raging – a cornered animal fighting for survival.

Some of her strength slackened and they allowed themselves to hope, just for a moment—

‘Almost… there…’

—But all too suddenly the weakness vanished – shifted as instinct gave way to intent. Corallo’s grip changed, her fingers grabbing their wrist like a vice, her abdomen tensing, her legs tucking in against her stomach as she tensed and shoved!

They went sailing over her head to land hard on the ground. Oscar cried out – lancing agony shooting through them as the rapier dragged on the asphalt and ground and cut against their innards.

For a moment, they simply lay there. Their body alive and burning with pain. Their minds a rushing tempest caught along in it. They could hear the sounds of Corallo retching behind them, her heaving, labored gasps. She wouldn’t take long to get back up – unlike them she still had the aura reserves to spare on healing.

Their heart pounded. Their breath was a harsh rasp. Blood soaked hot and thick through their clothes, fast enough for their self-preservation instincts to start flaring.

They had to get up.

Get up.

GET UP DAMNIT.

‘Fuuuuuck that hurts!’ Oscar groaned, rolling to their side and taking a bit of weight off of the blade. He froze again as the burn turned to lightning – gravity pulling the heavier hilt down and momentum shifting the blade along with itfuckfuckfuckSTOPTHAT!

‘Dust, why does this hurt so much!’ Oscar demanded blindly. ‘Is this supposed to be normal?’

‘This is…’ Ozpin grunted. ‘Not… The worst… I’ve gone through… Unfortunately… But quite normal… As far as impalements go…’ He seemed to be recovering much faster from the shock than Oscar. ‘They are… almost universally unpleasant… But at least nothing vital appears to have been hit... This time…’

Fair enough, but that wasn’t much of a mercy right now. He could be grateful for small mercies later when he had time to work through all of this. Time, and the benefit of painkillers. As well as twenty hours of solid rest to regenerate his aura.

And probably a good surgeon.

But right now? He could cheerfully throttle Corallo again in retaliation.

‘Can you take over?’

The older soul did, wordlessly, moving their body inch by labored inch as Oscar retreated into the distant mist of their shared psyche to regain his bearings. He would normally be okay with taking a heavy hit. He’d managed before. Multiple times.

He’d never been impaled before, though. He needed a moment to process that.

Corallo didn’t intend to give them that much, however. Just as Ozpin managed to force them to their knees, they registered the sound of her approaching footsteps and had only a moment to register before she was at their side, her hand wrapping around her rapier’s hilt one last time and yanking it out.

To her credit, it was fast.

Such fine distinctions were – in that moment – lost on the two huntsmen. But it was something. Ever the stoic, Ozpin refused to howl like Oscar wanted, but their trembling increased to a wracking shiver-shuddering.

‘Beep! Beep! Beep!’ Their beacon chose that moment to start registering approaching reinforcements.

‘Great timing guys…’ Oscar muttered, reaching feebly out to their body to start contributing once more.

Dust almighty it hurt but he was prepared now.

Ozpin surrendered the reigns as soon as Oscar had a sufficient grasp of himself to keep from curling up into a little ball once more. Nevertheless, he wrapped their arms around himself – noting distantly the steady stream of hot, sticky blood spreading from the wound. He pressed down harder, hoping to stem some of the flow.

It worked, to an extent. Assuming Corallo didn’t kill them outright, they had a decent chance of surviving the blood loss. That was somewhat comforting.

He looked up and met her eyes, hoping to see some hint of her intentions. She was as unpredictable in reputation as she was a fighter. They knew there was every chance her whimsy might be a boon to them. That there was every chance she would leave them alive, even if just to guarantee a future rematch.

Her smirk was missing. One hand rubbed her throat sympathetically, massaging the damaged tissues even as her aura shimmered over the dark bruises quickly forming. Oscar knew that the damage would quickly be repaired – but the blood that actually caused the discolored spots would take a little longer to vanish.

Aura was more efficient when it wasn’t attempting to dispose of waste material. It took more energy than someone in the middle of combat was normally willing to waste. The fight might have been over, but Corallo didn’t strike Oscar as the type to care too much about such superficialities.

Her eyes never left them.

Ozpin was far better at reading others than he was – such things were never very high up on his list of priorities. But even Oscar could see the wariness etched on her face.

‘You surprised her,’ he told Ozpin.

‘She thought you were defeated. She didn’t expect such swift retaliation.’

‘Her mistake.’

They didn’t have it in them to repeat that feat. Their remaining strength faded with each beat of their heart – each spurt of blood leaving their body and wracking it with pain.

Oscar let their shoulders slump just a little, chin dipping to Corallo in a gesture all huntsmen knew well: ‘You’ve won. For now.’

There was the smirk again. ‘GEARHEAD DONE NOW?’

“You’ve won,” Oscar repeated, an edge to his voice. “Stay and gloat – and get arrested for your troubles – or get out of here. You’ll slip up eventually.”

‘AND GEARHEAD THERE WILL BE. ME SURE.’

He narrowed his eyes but said nothing. She knew him well.

Corallo sniffed – a movement pantomimed to resemble more of a snicker. Though he could see how delighted she was with her victory – her teeth flashing just a little too much, a bounce in her step despite the fatigue she would be feeling – she still kept a fair distance between herself and him.

Ironically, in victory she was less arrogant than before the fight began. Ozpin fed him his own observations: the genuine cheer in her eyes, the imperceptible sway to her hips as she twirled around, her smirk was gentler – no, softer.

He didn’t think Crema had a gentle bone in her body.

It was a good look on her regardless. She was proud, but it was the delightful pride of a student succeeding where they hadn’t expected to. Ozpin knew that look well enough to recognize it on sight.

‘She would have made an interesting student.’

‘Glynda would hate you for thinking it.’

‘True.’ The thought amused Ozpin so much in spite of himself he didn’t quite care. Or perhaps it was the relief; they would live to see another day.

‘Beep! Beep! Beep!’

Corallo’s eyes dropped to his waist, noting the quickening flash of the beacon. Her time was up.

She clipped her parasol to her waist – the better to free up her hands and gave Oscar a mock bow. ‘WAS A GOOD FIGHT. ME LOOK FORWARD TO YOU HEAL. REMATCH.’

“This isn’t a game,” Oscar scowled.

‘NO? MAYBE. BUT FUN!’ She smirked and blew him a kiss. ‘BYE BYE!

She shattered away, her false-reflection dispersing into glistening shards.

The moment hung for a while before Oscar sagged and gingerly lowered himself to the ground. His knees ached and his side had begun to settle into a steady, painful throb punctuated with the sensation of superheated needles sinking in every time he moved their hands. ‘Well, that went about as poorly as it could have.’

‘Cheer up, Oscar. You got a few good licks in.’

‘Thanks. I’m comforted. Really comforted right now.’

‘But look on the bright side, you’re not dead!’

‘I will be once Amaya hears about—’

The air above them shattered once more, and Oscar craned his neck to see what Corallo wanted now, mere moments before his backup arrived.

It wasn’t anything much. Her hands flew, and as he realized what she was saying Oscar groaned.

‘Told you.’ Ozpin chuckled despite himself.

‘Shut up.’ He was so done for the day.

‘AND REMEMBER NEXT TIME, GEARHEAD. MY NAME NEO!’

X_0_X

The airspace around Beacon Tower was crowded with a dozen cranes gleaming all manner of rainbow-hues.

It had once been the pinnacle of Valean architectural achievement and host to one of Remnant’s precious CCT nexi, making it the backbone to modern society, the flow of information between the four kingdoms, and lasting peace.

The Fall broke that backbone, and Vale had been reduced to a crippled kingdom in exile.

The last time she’d seen it, only the floor of Headmaster Ozpin’s office and all below remained – the entirety of the clock and bell mechanisms above it lay scattered across the campus’ grounds like discarded toys. It remained the emblem of Vale city, only then, instead of a symbol of strength, knowledge, and cooperation, it had represented failure. Decay. Ruin.

But now? Rebirth, it seemed, had come to Beacon.

Whining machinery broke the tranquility of the grounds. The gruff calls of shouting foremen echoed off the buttresses and towers and walls that made Beacon a fortress in its ancient heyday. Power tools roared, fastening rivets, tightening screws, welding, splicing, repairing, building.

Construction equipment marred the vast, green lawns of the campus grounds, either filling up corners with assorted dusty bricks and raw material or laying on the grass unused for the time. Discolored patches revealed where some of the pallets had once rested; the earth was misshapen with tracks and ugly holes, and in many places besides the grass was dried out and rotten.

The gardens, which had once been world famous among botanists for the skill and care that went into their upkeep, had been left to seed, and were now overgrown with tough, thorny weeds.

Ruby could even spot a few of the places where marks of the Fall remained visible: there was the spot that a Paladin had crumbled to the ground and crushed a façade. There was the pit where one of the transports disabled by the Griffon horde had crashed. There was the spot she’d carved Crescent Rose into the stone tile path to halt her momentum after an Ursa Major slugged her in the gut, and the scorch mark a few feet further down; where she’d sent herself flying back at the beast.

Beacon tower itself, surrounded by colossal, smudgy, colorful steel cranes – each hard at work lifting up the vital machinery, electronics, and raw material necessary to restore functions to the CCT components left in ruins – seemed to wear a cast of iron, propped up but never quite giving the impression it was fully defeated.

The tower stood tall. Like the rest of Vale, it too was healing.

She ignored Ren’s hand on her shoulder, her hand clenched at her side missing the familiar weight of her scythe – she’d left it behind with her other things – because, despite it all, she could only feel the deep ache within her chest.

Despite it all, it was still beautiful. It was still Beacon Academy.

And all too suddenly, she was elsewhere. Elsewhen. A faded tapestry spreading out before her, the colors muted, the sounds dimmed.

She was running after streamers of long silver-white hair, the splash of scarlet something she was distinctly not used to seeing flare out behind silver-shod feet. “Weiss! Get back here with my cloak! I didn’t say you could—”

“HEY! LOOK EVERYONE! I’M RUBY ROSE! I CAN’T STOP RUNNING AROUND LIKE A CHILD BECAUSE I’M HYPERACTIVE AND LOVE BEING A PAIN IN THE BUTT TO MY TEAMMATES EVEN THOUGH I SHOULD BE ACTING LIKE A RESPONSIBLE HUMAN BEING!”

“I told you!” she shouted back. She hadn’t meant to forget! “I’m sorry for forgetting to tell you about the due date getting changed for our project! Weiss!”

Her prey – the heiress-turned-dirty-thief – turned back to shout over her shoulder. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU BECAUSE I’M TOO BUSY BEING RUBY RO— ACK!”

Ruby winced as her partner went skidding along the grass. That had to have hurt…

She eyed the damage with apprehension. No doubt she’d have to spend a good hour working the stains out of her gorgeous signature cloak…

Oh, and Weiss too.

“Oh Dust, Weiss! Are you okay?!”

The heiress groaned pitifully and spat out a mouthful of turf. “…Ugh… Heels… Were a bad decision…”

Ren gave her a little shake. She’d been rooted in place far longer than the expected ‘dewy-eyed nostalgic glance’ really called for.

“Ruby? Are you okay?”

‘No,’ she thought as the ache in her chest deepened. ‘I’m not okay.’

She’d been seeing ghosts since she walked out of the door, the sights and sounds and smells a threshold into a past that existed only in her memories.

“I’m fine, Ren,” she answered aloud. “Just… remembering.”

The skin between his eyebrows scrunched up subtly. “Do you need a minute?”

She needed a lifetime. “No, let’s go.”

Ruby pulled up her leaden feet and there were no more questions.

Ren led her along, though Ruby could remember very well where she was going. The teacher’s lounge had not moved since the Fall – it was still up the central staircase, a left and then a right, and in the room with the glass panes to the left of the door.

She would never forget it, what with how many times she’d chosen (been forced) to appeal to her professors for help when the workload became too much to handle. For the same reasons, she knew each individual route to the staff’s personal offices as well.

It wasn’t anything a normal student would struggle with. Part of her still felt a touch of shame for that. Beacon was a rigorous institution – far more so than the smaller schools scattered throughout the kingdoms – and mediocrity was weeded out from the beginning.

For someone skipping two entire years of content, though? For someone as young as she’d been, and as disinclined to the mountainous class work?

It had been overwhelming, hence the need to ask for assistance when her team couldn’t buoy her up anymore with study sessions and crash courses in all the material she’d missed out on.

But she was distracting herself.

Ruby was going to meet her professors again.

Her old professors, who were now strangely enough her colleagues.

And what had changed with the older men and women (woman – she’d heard that Professor Peach returned to her native Vacuo after the Fall) she’d looked up to as her mentors? Would Professor Port still be boastful? Was Glynda turning grey? Had anyone thought to give Oobleck decaf? Would they have advice for her?

Everything else was already so different. How could she hope to keep up with it all?

“Ruby!”

Silver eyes widened and she flinched. A new-old doubt flared.

She’d almost forgotten about Jaune. Or, she’d almost convinced herself to not think about him, but now it was too late for that.

There was only one question she had for him: would he still be angry with her?

Before she turned, the memory of their last argument flared.

…He cut her off mid-sentence, torrential blue eyes cutting through her fury like a blade. ‘STOP!’

He turned away from her, leaving her with fists by her side, fury and shock ringing like the burst remains of pounding artillery in her ears. So much she could say – so much she wanted to say; to scream at him until he understood, or until she could make him understand!

He struggled for words, however, clearly disinterested in what those things were, before finally, through clenched teeth, his voice ground something substantial. ‘I can’t—’

His fists clenched, his metal gauntlets creaking.

‘No,’ the last of the control slipped from his voice; a hidden fuse finding hidden fuel. Ruby’s blood chilled as he turned to look her in the eye. ‘Get out… Now.’ His voice rose to a peak, until he was shouting. ‘Get out. GET OUT!’

And eyes wide, her hurt and fury drowned out by fear and shock…

—He’d looked at her like they’d never be friends again—

…and the remainder quickly chilling to the bone, Ruby turned and fled.

It was a physical effort to fight the nostalgia of the moment and turn toward him. Her feet were fastened to the ground. Her blood was cold. Her heart raced; for a moment Ruby feared it might drag her down into a raging sea of primal fear and panic again, and that this time she might not be able to haul herself out.

It echoed: was he still angry with her? Why wouldn’t he be? What possible difference could time make? Distance? It was Ren and Nora, but worse, she couldn’t lie herself out of it she couldn’t this would go so badly she—

She was afraid to have an answer so soon.

It was far too soon – there was far too much, could she even hope to—

She found herself crushed in an embrace.

Strong arms, muscles corded like steel wire, the faintest hint of sweat and apples; the remnants of a day training in the yard, or demonstrating in a classroom.

Ruby looked up to meet the sapphires twisted upwards in a giddy smile.

“Jaune!” she coughed, struggling for breath. “It’s good… to…” Okay, not working. She couldn’t breathe! “You’re squeezing a little too hard, Jaune – too much armor!”

She punched his breastplate ineffectually – it was heavy, polished white steel trimmed with bronze – and he got the message. Her ribs breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry! I got excited,” Jaune laughed. He reached out to grab her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “It’s just been so long!”

“Yeah, it has,” she rasped, eyes wide and fingers clenched as roiling emotions frothed within her. Her eyes were trying to bend the world into the shape of a fish-eyed lens; no doubt in league with her raging pulse.

She fought them back. Now was not the time to break down because her body decided she could have an anxiety attack.

Not now.

‘Dust…’ she growled to herself. ‘Compartmentalize. You’re going to drown if you keep this up…’

Stop. In. Out. Breathe.

Again.

They were staring.

She breathed anyways.

In… Out…

Ruby recovered enough to look back up at Jaune. And immediately her head tilted to the side as she properly looked at him, underneath the gleaming shell he’d encased himself in.

He’d… grown. Not in height – he was a tall man already, towering nearly a foot over her head even with the benefit of heels back in their Beacon days – but rather in bulk. The arms that had been her prison mere moments before were thicker – and covered as they were in polished white plate had all the appearance of a knight snatched straight from the old tales. The same went for his chest and upper waist.

No scars she’d never seen, hair still the same, short, choppy length, and his chin covered in a fine layer of stubble… Her brow furrowed, finding his waist. Crocea Mors seemed to be in fine condition, all of it gleaming white steel contrasted against the softer, decorative bronze crossguard.

Too clean. Too solid.

Everything told her that Jaune was in fine form. Probably hitting his stride as a huntsman and equipped with the best arms and armor Remnant had to offer. Now that he had a daily serving of students to keep up with, and skilled colleagues to hone himself against, he would be more formidable than ever as well.

She saw before her a huntsman ready to meet all the trials and challenges thrown his way, standing leagues above where he’d begun so long ago… But…

Wait. Her eyes narrowed.

Where was the sash?

Her eyes flicked upwards, lips parting slightly to demand an answer, and met his eyes at last.

Cold-cut sapphires.

‘GET OUT!’

The question died in her throat.

He stared back, giving her the same examination. His brow was tight, the joy draining, making way for concern. His lip curling downwards. His eyes on her shoulders, on her waist. The beginnings of a scowl pulled down her own lips. She felt a chill she hadn’t with Ren and Nora.

Something flickered deep inside those sapphires; something dark and wary, yet it was tempered by something else. Something hard, yet strangely hesitant. Like she was staring into the eyes of an animal not yet sure it was ready to approach. To trust.

Cold-cut sapphires, boring into her feeling them on her back as she fled on aching feet. Down that endless stairwell through those crumbling halls – away. Far away. Far enough not to feel those eyes on her any more, never feel those eyes again, the judgement, always staring blue green gold grey brown red go away she could still feel them on her go away go away GO AWAY!

‘Dust!’ Ruby stuffed the rising tide back down. She was suffocating again, her pulse beginning to race, to undo the work of the oxygen she’d taken in.

The questions finally started to pile up, more than just the one.

What could she say? After so many years? She could feel his silence like a physical wall, or a chasm between them. His judgement, the hidden predator in the shadows, his anger. How could she break this… this barrier between them? Had she let the old wound fester too long?

What could she do?

…Fearfearfear go away go away GO AWAY!

…They’d been best friends. Leaders together in their school years and sharing the role in Mistral. They’d seen some of their highest highs, and some of their lowest lows together.

Sometimes she’d felt like she’d known him like she’d known her own team. She’d known what to say to wind him up, make him laugh, frown, sag or smile. And she’d known he could do much the same with her.

What did he see in her now?

“So!”

They both jerked.

Ren stepped between them, putting an early death to their not-a-standoff. “I have no desire to intrude on you two catching up,” he said (too) lightly, shooting Ruby an apologetic look. “I’m sure there’s plenty to talk about! But I don’t believe we should keep the faculty waiting?”

He phrased it as a question, but Ruby and Jaune stared at him in silence until the Mistrallan started to fidget. Given it was Ren they were talking about, that was quite the accomplishment on their part.

Another moment passed and Ren’s smile grew more brittle. He spread his hands, his expression turning just the tiniest bit pleading. “Guys?”

Ruby shook herself. “Right.” Now wasn’t the time to question whether or not her friend was still her friend. Poking that Ursa could come later. “You’re right. Faculty. Gotta meet my new colleagues, right Jaune?”

She hid her hesitation behind a smile, lightly jabbing her elbow into his arm. She pretended not to notice the slight flare of aura as she hit armor and pins and needles shot up her arm.

His aura. A white veil that whorled and danced like light through water. A manifestation of the inner self – the soul – that only flared as a defensive measure.

His smile was just as plastered as her own. “Right.”

Her stomach twisted.

Later.

Ruby pulled her lips wider and twirled her finger. “Lead on, Ren.”

As they fell into line behind Ren, they listened to him comment – at first warily, but with growing confidence – on the current state of affairs at Beacon and how far the repairs were coming along and oh there’s the thing An was going on about! Ruby steeled herself while only listening with half an ear and ignored the confused, intense stare burning into the back of her head.

This was home now. She would make sure of that. Everyone felt uncomfortable and nervous moving into a new home, right? Everyone dealt with these messy, painful emotions when they met up with old friends, right?

The traitorous part of her mind wasn’t so sure.

‘Welcome to Beacon…’

X_0_X

Neo’s throat still twinged with the echoes of faded pain as she stepped out of the shadows behind a few of her subordinates, the faint illumination given off by her semblance hidden away behind a few strategically placed shipping containers nearby.

Those, she’d decided, would always stay far enough to avoid giving any eavesdroppers an easy chance to listen in, but close enough to make her quiet entrances possible. After all, how could she possibly be expected to get rid of one of her favorite pranks?

She stepped between them on silent feet without preamble.

Her lieutenant – a short, meek looking doe-faunus with her lower face hidden away behind a grey scarf – yelped and drew her weapon before she realized just who it was that appeared out of nowhere. “Boss!”

Neo hid her smirk and pretended not to notice the pistol just a few inches from her gut. Appearances and all that. ‘STATUS REPORT?’

“I, ah, sorry Boss! I, we—”

Neo rolled her eyes and whacked the girl over the back of the head.

She’d picked her right hand well enough – she’d never be cut out for combat or intimidation, but when Neo wasn’t fucking with her, she had a sharp mind. Her innocent looks distracted from her cunning, and the ruthless intelligence she had sequestered away for Neo to exploit.

The girl had a terrible stutter though, when she was caught off guard. Woe to be her, it amused Neo to no end.

The girl coughed awkwardly. “Um. Status report. Right.” She straightened. “While you were out chasing down Pine, we completed the heist. During the crossfire with some of the PD we lost one of the containers of Dust, but the rest is already on its way out of Vale to our warehouses down the coast.”

‘TRACKED?’

She nodded. “We’re sure. It was too public an operation to avoid. Do you want us to remove the tracker and reroute the cargo, or let it sit?”

‘KEEP. WE GIVE RIFT NICE SURPRISE. THEY LOOK FOR DUST, THEY FIND DUST. THEY FIND CHARGES, FIND OUT WE TRICK THEM. THEN THEY WONDER WHERE REST IS. FUNNY, NO?’

Rift was one of the many smaller cities scattered along Sanus’ northern coast, nominally under the jurisdiction of the kingdom of Vale. In the aftermath of the Fall they’d enjoyed a long decade of functional independence. The coastal city, situated as it was at the mouth of an inlet and partially dug into a tall, stony mountainside, was an excellent hub for black market activities, being near enough to Vale for the survivors to take advantage of (or flee to), and near enough to Vacuo’s primary shipping lanes to receive a steady influx of materiel and restricted ‘merchandise.’ With the labyrinthine tunnels running deep into the hills, it was also a smugglers paradise.

Neo’s operation had several warehouses in the city that the Vale Council was keenly interested in. Riftan officials, on the other hand, were more than happy to leave them untouched as long as no exceptional cause for raids was given – the underlings she’d set to manage the branch were generous in their donations to the city council, after all.

With the tracker on the cargo, the Vale PD would have their excuse to conduct their raids. They would find it chock-full of smuggled Dust. They would find several IEDs scattered through the warehouse. And Neo would laugh at the collective coronary they would suffer, knowing that they would only discover how much of it was counterfeit days after the fact, while the legit score was far away.

All according to plan.

She profited, Rift would receive a messy reminder that her operations were not to be touched under any circumstances, the Vale PD would be further frustrated and – if fortune was kind, down a few officers – and she could rest satisfied, knowing she’d managed to infuriate Gearhead Pine even further. Four birds, one stone.

Roman would have called it an efficient use of resources. Neo just preferred using explosive stones. It worked either way.

That left one more thing. ‘DAMAGES?’

“We’ve reports of three civilian casualties. One is already slated for release from the hospital, the other two died on-scene. We’re in a bit of trouble with the locals in Slate District; couple of our contacts are saying they’re cutting ties on account of it.”

Neo touched her chin in thought.

Only three? She’d been expected upwards of a dozen when she planned the operation out. The death toll being so low was either good luck or spoke to her underlings’ restraint.

…

Probably the former, now that she thought about it.

Right then. The second tidbit was more important though. Contacts didn’t grow on trees. ‘WHY?’

“One of the women killed was pretty well-liked. Fancied herself a humanitarian. Had some cash from an inheritance she liked to spread around. Doesn’t seem to be more than that.”

Neo cocked her head to the side, running it all through her head and ignoring the wary glances her lieutenant exchanged with the other grunt beside her. Worried she would be frustrated by the setback? That she would take it out on them?

Hmph. ‘FINE. FIND NEW CONTACTS OR GET OLD ONES BACK. WHATEVER MEANS. ME NO CARE.’ Her subordinates had so little faith!

While annoying, those were acceptable losses, and inevitable when her operation slipped up.

Killing important people always created complications. Resentments, grudges, even vendettas if she were especially unlucky – those were the kinds of things she would be displeased to hear about. A few lost contacts was fine. She would lose some maneuverability in the short term, a bit of lost profit, but that would be made up once the Dust sold.

Simplicity itself. A good day’s work – and she got a good fight out of it.

Her hand rose to rub at the tender skin where Pine had throttled her.

A good fight indeed. She’d never in her wildest dreams thought to drag such an immediate, violent response from the polite, by-the-books huntsman. Never.

Honestly, she’d been astounded for just a few seconds before she regained her bearings at the buried rage – the ancient fire glaring down at her – and the iron-hard fingers cutting off her oxygen supply.

The reason was simple enough: Neo lived for moments like that.

She would have never thought to prepare for such an eventuality. It was never in the cards. For just a few moments her blood had thrummed, and she’d felt that ecstatic tingle of joyful life as she threw him off of her and regained the dominance she pursued in a fight.

‘Ah, Pine,’ Neo thought with a soft smirk as she gazed down at the map of Vale spread out before her. ‘You’ll be worth seeking out again. I can’t let you get away from me that easily.’

She refused to let such talent escape her. Nor would she let him cool his heels forever – she’d made that mistake once with the last Commissioner and didn’t plan on repeating it. Allowing Pine to go soft would be like letting an exquisite wine go to waste on a trashy frat party.

In fewer words (and without the hangover); a disappointing waste of potential.

“Boss?”

‘WHAT?’

Weren’t they done yet? She was well aware her lieutenant was still speaking, going over the numbers, the stratagems that would further her growing criminal empire’s prospects in the ripe little gem of Vale, and the double-dealing and underhanded tactics. All the things Neo didn’t give a damn about.

They were all well and good, as far as she was concerned, and they had their place, but she delegated for a reason. Neo was no Roman.

She was happy to leave all of that to her lieutenant and be the unfailingly deadly, terrifying kingpin. After all, who was a bigger target than the lynchpin holding it all together?

That was exactly how Neo liked things to be. Bigger target, better enemies, better fights.

“There’s one more thing, rather unrelated. You asked to be kept abreast of all huntsman traffic in and out of the city?”

‘YES.’ She motioned impatiently for the girl to continue.

“We received reports from our contact in Mistral United Airlines that three have crossed the border into Vale. One is already departed to Vacuo, the second is visiting relatives in the Port District, but the third…”

Neo snatched the memo from the girl’s hands, breaking the seal and scanning over the contents.

Interesting…

‘WE HAVE SOMEONE IN BEACON?’

“Not at the moment. They’re notoriously strict about their security. We’ve been making inroads with some of the construction crews, but Atlas screens everyone working there on account of the CCT.” Her lieutenant seemed more than a little put out by that fact.

That was a shame, but it certainly made the game more interesting.

Ruby Rose – Little Red the Reaper – was here in Vale? After almost ten years sequestered away in Anima? That was news Neo hadn’t expected to see when she’d woken up that morning.

Oh, she’d heard about Ruby. Her reputation as a huntress was as terrifying as it was enticing.

A child prodigy in her field, entered into Beacon by age fifteen against all of her peers. By all means an exceptional student in everything save her academia, and a scythe-wielder at that? Taking up that weapon, one of Remnant’s most difficult to master, took moxie that Neo could appreciate, and further, hope she’d one day encounter again.

After all, their last duel on the Vindicator, for all the tension of the situation had added to the encounter, had left something to be desired for Neo. Ruby had been young, then. Untried. Neo had been able to sense the potential there, but it had been of-yet unrealized. The girl had been easy pickings for someone of Neo’s caliber…

Well, she should have been.

And yet Neo lost, and Roman’s death had been the result.

…Fingers closing around her throat like a vice – she couldn’t breathe she stared up into the green-hazel-gold-flecked eyes of her opponent her enemy and glared she struggled against his hands pulling scratching clawing but she couldn’t breathe and—NO. THINK. She paused. Her eyes narrowed. She seized his wrists and squeezed, bunched her legs up to her chest and SHOVED…

Her lips quirked.

…The girl clung to her weapon over open air, Gryphons swarming below her. She would die once Neo cut her. Maybe she could do it slowly. One finger at a time, relish in the fear growing in the girl’s eyes as she lost her grip and vanished into the abyss of Grimm. Maybe she would survive their vicious swarm and hit the ground – it would be a quick death, at least. Quicker than the alternative.

Roman monologued behind her but Neo didn’t care. The whole world dropped away as she held the needle-tip of her blade at the girl’s throat. It would bloom sweet red when sh— WHAT THE, NO!

The smirk turned to a nostalgic smile.

…Neo clung tightly to her parasol, fending off the occasional Gryphon too stupid to realize she was a huntress with a weapon in hand, falling or not. The Vindicator died above her, and she watched as Little Red rode her scythe like a pogo stick through the air to the ground.

Roman would be dead, then.

She didn’t like the way her heart panged in her chest at the realization. His charming smile, his charisma, the kindness hidden behind the mercenary exterior…

She knew it was there; nothing else could have brought the kingpin around to taking in Vale’s lowest rat. To teaching that rat how to live, to love, to breathe combat. She’d become his hand, but he’d become her reason to live. All of that would now be gone with him…

Alani, her lieutenant, droned on beside her as Neo reminisced.

She owed quite a lot to Roman. Odds were that she would have perished from malnutrition had he not stepped in for the pathetic little mute shivering in the gutter. In retrospect it was quite the unusual gamble for the kingpin to make. She’d been stunted already. She didn’t know how to communicate. Young, and a vacuum for precious lien – at least before she started making her own money. She’d hardly been prime underling material.

But he had. And she grew. And he died. And Neo had Ruby Rose to thank for that.

…It was a tiny grave, unfit for someone as ostentatious as Roman. A simple headstone. “HERE LIES ROMAN TORCHWICK. LEADER OF MEN, FEARED BY HIS ENEMIES, MAY HE REST IN PEACE.” She didn’t know what dates to append to the stone, so she’d left it blank. Let those who found the tiny copse of trees think he’d lived a long and happy life. That he’d been buried in the middle of nowhere because it was actually a special spot for him. That maybe he’d met his first lover here. Or emerged from humble beginnings from a life in the woods.

Something more impressive than the truth. The truth kind of sucked…

Neo sighed.

She still sometimes visited that grave, but not often. She’d long since moved on. The faint grudge she’d considered nursing so long ago faded away with the knowledge that Ruby Rose was far away and suffering her own tragedies.

That was just karma, as far as Neo was concerned.

She had an empire to build and enemies to fight. Life went on.

But now an opportunity had fallen right into her lap, just as she forced her most recent rival off the playing board. That changed things.

Neo lifted her hand and slashed it across her torso. ‘STOP.’

Her lieutenant fell deadly silent.

‘BRING MY GOOD PAPER. AND PEN,’ she ordered.

“Right on it, boss.” The second underling disappeared into the warehouse.

Alani cocked her head nervously. “Do you have a letter to send, Boss?”

Neo had no intention of involving the girl in this, however. ‘INVITATION. NEED TO KNOW BASIS.’

This fight would be hers and hers alone. Oscar Pine? He was a formidable opponent with fewer scruples than Neo had been willing to give him credit for before that day. He was fast and wielded a weapon not dissimilar to her own, and he was still someone she would certainly relish fighting again when the time came.

But the Reaper?

Neo rubbed her hands together. ‘I’m going to have fun with you, Red.’

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