Chapter 1: The Melancholy of Raven Branwen
Chapter Text
Twenty-Four Years Ago
Summer Rose was flying.
Well, it was more that she had been catapulted into the air over the Emerald Forest and was currently falling, while also traveling horizontally. It was, all told, close enough to flying.
She’d prepared for this — well, maybe not the exact scenario, but she had a landing strategy. She cocked the center chamber of her revolver as she tumbled through the canopy, her other arm brought up to guard her head from branches. As the forest floor approached, she fired.
The shot bounced her upwards, leaving her weightless for just a moment. Then she landed, boots on the ground, in a crouch.
She rose to her feet and silently reloaded her revolver. It was a family heirloom that her grandfather had named The Roses’ Sharpest Thorn — but Summer had taken to just calling it Thorn.
The parameters of the initiation at Beacon were simple. Travel to the ruins deeper into the forest, acquire a relic, and return to the cliffs. The moment you made eye contact with another Huntsman-in-Training, you were bound to them in partnership — not just for initiation, but for your entire time at Beacon, barring extraneous circumstances.
The catapults on the cliffs had launched them into a rough circle — wide, but not terribly large in comparison to the breadth of the Emerald Forest. Therefore, finding a partner would happen sooner, rather than later.
She stretched for a moment, revolver still in her hand, before setting off into a run.
It wasn’t long before a Beowolf pack took notice, the distinctive thump-thump of an approaching beast beside her. She didn’t slow — she fired a round at the pack leader, who took the revolver bullet to his bone armor well enough but still slowed slightly, wary of her.
She continued to run.
The pack began to encircle her — Beowolves to both her left and right were keeping pace with her, along with a few to her rear. It was likely that they would push her towards a cliff or some other natural obstacle and, as soon as she slowed, pounce.
So, to maintain her advantage, she would need to set the location of the fight, and soon.
She reached a clearing and skidded to a stop, whirling around. She shot the pack’s leader with Thorn’s shotgun chamber as her other hand slid her sword out of its sheath and smoothly transitioned into slicing across the chest of another Beowolf.
The ones that had been matching pace with Summer skidded to their own stop, turning and preparing to pounce.
Summer dove underneath one of them, firing Thorn repeatedly into its stomach as it hurled over her. As another leapt, she brought her sword up and drove it through the Grimm.
She rose to her feet as the Beowolves began to circle her properly this time, the small pack already considerably thinned. She spun her empty revolver and slid it back into its holster, her off hand coming up to support her blade.
Beowolf packs like this weren’t uncommon back home on Patch — but those were usually younger, without the bone-like protrusions that Grimm earned with age. Now that she had a moment to breathe and observe, these were definitely older.
She adjusted her stance minutely.
One of the Beowolves roared at her and leapt forward. She spun and slid to the side, slicing it nearly in half and catching another’s claw swipe with her forearm, her Aura taking the hit. She kicked out its leg, before burying her sword in its midsection. She smirked as she pulled the trigger on her sword, the kickback shoving her sword out of the wound as it opened.
She let the momentum carry the sword into a slice behind her through a Beowolf as it swiped for her, the impact sparking her Aura into visibility. She whirled around, dodging and deflecting as she tore through the remainder of the pack until there was nothing but rapidly disintegrating Grimm corpses in the clearing.
She exhaled shakily.
A roar cut her thinking off as an Ursa emerged from the bushes.
Summer frowned. “Oh, leave it out.”
It rose to its full height, bellowing a roar of primal rage that suddenly cut into a strangled noise as it toppled to the side.
Behind the Ursa was a young woman with piercing red eyes and pitch black hair, dressed in Mistralian garb, though not a sort Summer had seen before. As Summer watched, she slid a longsword back into its sheath as the Ursa died.
Summer took an involuntary step back, snapping a small twig in the process.
The young woman’s red eyes flicked over and met Summer’s.
For an instant, everything in the forest seemed quiet; everything aside from the two of them fell away. Summer’s breath caught in her throat under the intensity of her red-eyed stare.
The young woman scoffed and turned away to walk back into the forest.
“Wait,” Summer said, running. “Wait!”
Her new partner didn’t slow; it didn’t matter. Summer burned her Semblance for a moment, gritting her teeth through the slight pain, and caught up.
“Hey,” Summer said, matching her pace. “I think we’re supposed to be partners now.”
Her so-called partner scoffed. “Then keep up.”
Summer sheathed her sword and stuck out a hand, still walking alongside the dark-haired young woman. “I’m Summer.”
A pair of red eyes flicked down to look at the hand. She made no move to accept it. Her eyes met Summer’s for a moment and she said simply: “Raven.”
Summer frowned, trailing slightly behind Raven. She shrugged to herself and trudged further on into the forest.
Twenty-Three and a Half Years Ago
The Forever Fall’s leaves of red and orange would have usually made Summer feel calm.
Unfortunately, they were here as part of an assignment — a simple game of paintball Capture-the-Flag between teams — which Summer was already disliking before Raven had stepped forward with a plan.
“It’s a simple assignment,” Raven stated plainly, “and it has a simple solution. We punch through their assault and defenses in one blow.”
“Two objections, Raven,” Summer retorted. “First off, that’s assuming they do the same as us and send their attackers down the central path. Second off — throwing the four of us at them without assigning anyone on defense isn’t a plan!” She threw her hands in the air to punctuate her point before gesturing to their flag, which was tied to a pole stuck in the ground. “We kinda need someone to stay here and guard the flag!”
“Ladies, ladies,” Taiyang Xiao Long said, holding out a hand to each of them. “Let’s all take a second and just calm down.”
Summer and Raven turned with equally vicious glares at him and he immediately stepped back to stand with Qrow.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Taiyang whispered to Qrow. “Is it always this lively around your sister?”
“Usually not,” Qrow grumbled. “Then again, she’s never met anyone half as stubborn as her before.”
“Okay,” Raven said dryly. “What’s your plan, leader?”
Summer looked back and forth between the three other team members. She tapped her chin with her index finger. “We split evenly — two on offense, two on defense.” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Taiyang. “Taiyang, you’re gonna be by the flag.”
“Oh, good, the most important job of the whole team,” Taiyang said sarcastically.
Summer sighed at him and continued. “And while he’s out in the open, Raven, you’re gonna be flanking and ambushing any attackers.”
“Not doing it,” Raven said. “Qrow can do it. I’m on offense.”
Summer frowned and flicked her eyes over to Qrow. “Qrow?”
“She can do it,” Qrow said. He smirked. “If she’s planning what I think she’s planning, we’ve got this thing in the bag.”
Summer grit her teeth. “Right. Then Raven, you’re with me. We’re going to try and flank them. I think our five minutes are up — everybody set?”
Raven nodded, followed by Taiyang and Qrow.
Summer smirked. “Then let’s go.”
After nearly half an hour of meticulous sneaking through the woods, Summer and Raven reached the enemy team’s base — well, “base” was stretching it. It was an open clearing with the enemy flag on a pole.
The other team had divided their force evenly just as Summer had with STRQ. Summer couldn't quite remember the two enemy defenders' names, but they were a pair of siblings: a brother and a sister. Both were armed with the same paintball gun Summer was carrying.
“Okay,” Summer said quietly, peering out from a bush. “Qrow said you have a plan?”
Raven nodded. “I’ll run in there while you distract them.”
Summer closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and counted to ten before releasing it and opening her eyes. “That’s not much of a plan.”
Raven snorted. “Trust me, Rose.”
Summer checked her paintball gun’s clip. “Fine, fine. I’m going left, you head right. That’ll put me in their sights while you grab the flag and run.”
Raven smirked as she began to move around the enemy base. Summer shook her head and began her own movement.
After a few moments Summer peered out from her hiding place. Raven was in the bushes almost on the far side of the camp.
“Here goes nothing,” Summer grumbled to herself. She picked up a rock and tossed it against a tree in plain earshot of the enemy defenders.
Whatever quiet words were exchanged, the brother took the lead, raising his paint pistol to a slightly awkward ready stance. He stepped forward gently towards where Summer was.
His eyes widened as Summer emerged from her hiding spot, firing a spray of paintballs from her gun. He dove into cover behind a toppled tree’s trunk.
“There she is,” the sister yelled as she took cover herself, firing her own volley of paint back at Summer.
Summer had drawn them out of the clearing, and as she peered out of her cover, Raven had accomplished her half of the plan and snatched the flag from the enemy pole. She watched as Raven pulled a small knife from a sheath on her belt and sharply cut a line down through the air. A red and black rift formed in the space she’d cut open.
Summer blinked as she peered out of cover.
Raven turned and smirked as she vanished into the portal, leaving Summer behind, pinned down in cover by enemy fire.
“That incorrigible little—”
A paintball nailed Summer in the forehead.
Twenty-Three Years Ago
The Beacon Library was quiet, as usual. Sunlight streamed through great glass windows. The wheels of an old metal cart squeaked as a librarian trundled between tall, book-laden shelves.
Summer was occupying a table by herself, a thick textbook on Huntsman bylaws in front of her. She worked sedately on writing a page of notes as she read, her cape unfastened and draped over the back of her chair.
A hand slammed down onto the table, shattering the quiet of the library for an instant. All around, students looked up and over for an instant before looking back down at their studies or work.
Summer looked up from her textbook. "People try and study here, Raven."
Raven Branwen rolled her eyes as she rose to her full height. She was wearing casual clothing; black jeans and a red shirt; her thick, luxurious — and, if Summer was being honest, quite desirable — hair was done up in a high ponytail.
Summer raised an eyebrow and shut her book. "So. What's up?"
"Here."
With a flick of her wrist, Raven threw a folded-up paper at Summer. It bounced off Summer's chest and landed in her lap, and Summer picked it up and began to unfold it. It was standard enough paper, if a little thin and overly large.
As Summer finished unfolding it, her eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise. "You know, when I said you could design me a new sword, I meant it as a joke," she said, examining the design schematic.
"I guess I didn't get it," Raven said, an almost mocking tilt to her tone.
It was a schematic for a sword that folded into a rifle. A note in the corner named it "Rose Sword, Mk. 1". Amazingly, Summer could find little fault with the design: if it worked as intended, the blade would be just as long and as useful as her current one. The rifle's barrel would naturally be shorter, which was admittedly a drawback, but Summer wasn't in the sniping business. Actually, the folding back of the blade would reduce kickback by adjusting the weapon's center of balance, something Summer had been struggling with in her current sword's design. She hadn't even realized Raven had been paying quite so much attention to her.
Summer mentally counted. "You did this in…what, three days?"
"I had the idea a few months ago," Raven admitted. "Just after we met."
"I clearly underestimated you," Summer said. She hesitated a long moment before standing up and refolding the paper. "What if we count this semester as a wash?"
Raven stepped back slightly, confusion evident on her face. "What do you mean?"
"I’m sorry. We’ve been arguing for months now and it’s been useless. But—” Summer held up the paper. “—you did this. For me. We’re in a partnership where I’m not giving you the level of care you’re giving me. Ever since initiation, I haven’t been taking you seriously. But I should have been a better partner and a better leader. So this is me, apologizing.”
Raven stood there for a long moment, the bare indication of surprise on her face. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes for a moment, and made eye contact with Summer. “Sorry for calling you an idiot the other day. You’re not dumb, or naive.”
“How about this?” Summer held out her hand. “No more arguments. We're partners; we work as a team. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine."
"Partners, huh?" Raven tentatively reached out and took Summer's hand. Her grip was gentler than Summer expected, so much warmer and more alive than she'd thought Raven Branwen was capable of being.
Summer smiled. "Like it or not."
Raven cracked a gentle, tentative smile, looking into Summer’s eyes.
“I have some of my own notes, by the way,” Summer said, cracking her own grin. “If we’re making this thing, there’s a couple things I need to edit. And it needs a better name!”
Raven barked out a laugh. “You say all this after telling me ‘no more arguments’?”
Twenty-Two Years Ago
Raven lifted her foot off the pedal; the grindstone slowed to a stop as she lifted the blade from the stone.
Around her, the sounds of the Beacon Forge rang on — the sound of weapon creation and maintenance were borderline deafening, which is why Raven wore a pair of earplugs (which were on indefinite loan from Summer).
She lifted her goggles off her eyes and examined the blade carefully. Just like Summer had said when they’d begun working on the new blades’ design, the infused Ice Dust had suffused the steel of Omen’s new blade in cold. But with a central chamber of Dust running through the middle rather than trying to work it into the steel, it wasn’t as brittle as their earlier attempts, which hadn’t stood up to the necessary work to make them viable as actual blades.
A shadow passed over the blade and Raven looked up.
It was another Beacon student; Raven recognized her as one of Summer’s friends.
Marlene Poehler was almost as tall as Raven, her just-past-shoulder-length blonde hair slightly wavy. She had a kind face and a bright smile, neither of which was present at the moment.
“Can I help you?” Raven asked flatly.
“Yeah,” Marlene said loudly. She paused. “Can we go somewhere else? This place always gives me a headache.”
Raven shrugged. “Whatever. Let me put away some stuff.”
Marlene followed Raven closely as she diligently returned her rented tools to the forgemaster and slid Omen’s new blade into an empty slot in the sheath. Raven put a little more time and care into doing so, just to see if Marlene would back off, but the other Huntress-in-Training didn’t falter.
“So, what did you need?” Raven asked as they emerged into the open air of the Beacon quad. She stopped and turned back to look at Marlene. “If you need weapon design or repair, it’ll cost you.”
“That’s not it,” Marlene replied. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me break it down for you, Branwen, because you can’t see the forest for the trees.”
“I can see the forest,” Raven retorted.
Marlene huffed. “No. No, you can’t. So, you and Summer. You started actually getting along a while ago and, like, studying together, hitting the gym together, whatever.”
Raven nodded.
“And then Summer starts asking you to, like, post-workout dinners and stuff for just you and her.”
Raven nodded again.
“Just the two of you,” Marlene repeated.
Raven shrugged. “And?”
Marlene turned and held her head in her hand for a moment, letting out a small but very protracted sound like her soul itself was being crushed in a vise that Raven was slowly closing. When it was done, she turned back to Raven. “She’s interested in you. As a partner.”
“We’re already partners,” Raven said blankly.
Marlene put her head in her hands — both, this time — and let out a long, suffering groan. “Gods, do I really have to spell it out for you? She’s smitten with you. Or a crush. Whatever you want to call it. You’re, like, all Summer talks about now and it’s driving me certifiably crazy. I don’t think she realizes it, but I’m pretty certain she loves you.”
Raven blinked twice.
Marlene clapped her hands together in front of her chest in an approximation of a prayer. “So I need you to pony up and either let her down gently, or actually, like, take her on a date or something. Please.”
Raven was alone in the dorm room, sitting on her bed, her back against the wall and a textbook on her lap. She was looking down at it and attempting to read. Mostly, however, she was thinking about what Marlene had said, reexamining every minor action of Summer’s for the past week under the lens of Summer maybe, possibly, liking Raven more than a teammate.
Not just that but she was additionally thinking about another terrifying prospect: the fact that Raven, herself, liked Summer right back, maybe even in the same way.
She was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice the door softly shut and her teammate approach until she spoke aloud:
“Rae.”
Raven blinked and looked up. Summer was staring at her, her head cocked to the side slightly.
“You doing okay?” Summer asked. “You looked like you were zoning out pretty hard.”
“Just tired,” Raven lied quickly.
“I’m sorry,” Summer said. She sat on the edge of Raven’s bed.
Raven flushed slightly. “If you’re going to do that — you may as well sit next to me.”
Summer slid backwards and settled next to Raven. She leaned over slightly and put some of her weight on Raven. “What’re ya reading? Oh, history?”
“Yeah,” Raven said.
“Didn’t you say earlier you were working on your new blade for Omen? How did that work out? With the Ice Dust?”
“About like you predicted,” Raven said. It was easier for her to talk about weapons than the tangled mess of feelings that Raven had experienced over the last three hours. “The metal is cold without being as brittle as the earlier tests. I was able to get a good edge on it without it breaking or cracking.”
“That’s good,” Summer said.
Raven exhaled. She bit her lip for a moment.
Looking at Summer — the gentle curve of her cheek, the brightness of her eyes, the thoughtless kindness she expressed in her actions and the stubborn streak to match Raven’s own — Raven realized she absolutely was in love.
Whatever emotions were spilling out of her heart were impossible for her to formulate into words. A direct confession of love was impossible. She did not have the framework to begin constructing it.
So, instead—
“Did you want to go out to dinner?” Raven blurted out.
Summer sat up and looked back at Raven. Her eyebrows were raised in shock. After a couple seconds of her looking at Raven, though, a knowing smile crept over her face. “Did you want to invite the guys?” Her tone said that she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from Raven herself.
“No. Just the two of us,” Raven affirmed.
Summer slid off the bed and offered her hand out to Raven.
Raven took it.
Twenty Years Ago
The sun had begun to set, casting the house that Summer Rose had inherited from her mother in orange and purple hues as she parked her sedan. She stepped out of the car and slipped her rapidly-becoming-useless sunglasses in the pocket of her white denim jacket.
Summer hefted the pair of cases out of the trunk of her sedan. She gingerly set one down on the ground beside her feet and shut the trunk with her now-free hand before picking the case back up, walking up the steps to the porch, and repeating the process to unlock and open the door.
As Summer walked in and shut the door, Raven leaned back from where she was standing to peek around the corner.
“Our Dust shipment came in,” Summer explained. She inhaled; it smelled like stock and spices. She carefully set the cases down on the coffee table before wandering into the kitchen. “Whatcha cookin’?”
“Noodle soup,” Raven said. Summer kissed her on the cheek as they crossed paths. “So what’s up for grabs this week?”
Summer folded her arms and leaned up against the counter. “Not a lot,” she said, a little disappointed. “Looks like they’re back in low-budget season.”
Raven clicked her tongue as she stirred the pot. “Bureaucrats.”
“It’s stupid,” Summer said, throwing her hands up in the air. “The Council doesn't care about freelance Huntsmen until there’s Grimm at the wall, and then it’s open season on hiring. Then they drop us as soon as the fire’s out. No thought given to actually preventing it."
Raven pulled bowls out of the cabinets and began to ladle out soup. “We’ll figure something out.” She passed a bowl, spoon, and a pair of chopsticks to Summer, who pulled out a stool from the counter and sat down.
“Yeah, yeah,” Summer said, grabbing the noodles with her chopsticks. Raven stood opposite her, holding her own bowl.
They continued to eat in a content silence.
"This is good," Summer said.
"Thanks," Raven said, flushing slightly.
There were three abrupt knocks on the door followed by the doorbell ringing. Both Raven and Summer looked up at each other.
Raven was the first to speak. "Are you expecting—?"
Summer shook her head. "No. You?"
Raven responded with a shake of her own head. She quietly set her bowl down, eyes narrowed in suspicion and worry.
There was another series of knocks, louder this time.
"I'm gonna see who it is," Summer said, standing. “Probably just a door to door salesman.”
Raven raised an eyebrow. "Out here?"
"Maybe." Summer turned and strode back down the entryway towards the door as another series of knocks resounded through the house. She unlocked the deadbolt and pulled open the door.
Standing there on the porch was a young-looking mailman in a red hat and a white shirt. "Are you Summer Rose?" he asked.
"That's me," Summer said.
"I've got something for you," the mailman said, reaching into his bag. Summer unconsciously tensed until he pulled a thin envelope out. "A letter."
"A letter?" Summer asked. She looked out the door at the mailbox. "Why didn't you leave it there?"
"They paid for signature delivery," the mailman said with a shrug. He pulled a small slip on a clipboard out. "Could I get you to sign here?"
Summer took it and patted her pockets for a pen. "Sorry, do you—?" She took the mailman's offered pen and scribbled down her signature before passing it and the signed slip back. "Thank you."
"Have a good day, ma'am," the mailman said.
"You too," Summer said, before shutting the door. She looked at the thin envelope in her hand. It was nice stationery, vaguely familiar, with no return address and a Vale postmark. She flipped it over and began to tear it open.
"Just got a letter," Summer said as she walked back into the kitchen. She sat down and began to read it.
"What is it?" Raven asked.
“Huh,” Summer said. “It’s a job offer. Both of us.”
“From who?” Raven asked, clear suspicion in her voice.
“Remember Professor Ozpin?”
“Weapons and Sparring 1050?” Raven asked. “Young-looking but already going gray?”
“Bingo,” Summer said, rereading it. “Not a lot of details, says he'll give a more detailed brief if we accept.” She passed it to Raven, who scanned it closely. “My question is, why is a Professor at Beacon contracting a couple of graduated Huntresses directly?”
“Something under the table,” Raven said immediately. She pointed at the envelope Summer had set down. “Envelope’s not marked with a return address.”
“You think Ozpin’s doing something shady?”
“Not entirely,” Raven said. “At the least, I don’t think it’s anything illegal. He seems too straight laced for that. But definitely shady.”
“Just a little,” Summer said. “But if what he says is true, it could be worth it, at least in terms of money." She plunged her chopsticks back into the broth, looking for the last of the noodles. She got one last good clump and slurped it up. "Just hope it's not anything crazy."
Nineteen Years Ago
When his Scroll rang, Taiyang Xiao Long was in the midst of enjoying a rare day off. It was early in the evening, and he was sitting in an armchair, sipping a mug of decaf coffee and reading a thick novel. He slid a bookmark into it and set it aside before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the still-ringing Scroll.
It was, unexpectedly, his former team leader, Summer Rose. As he answered the call, he mentally ran through the reasons she might be calling, but came up completely empty.
"Hello," Taiyang said.
"Yo!" Summer said. "You doing anything?"
"Nothing in particular," Taiyang said.
"Then let's go to dinner, your choice, my treat," Summer said perkily. He'd heard that exact tone before many times back at Beacon, and usually it was when Summer was about to creatively bend some sort of rule or regulation and needed to persuade one of her teammates.
After a long moment, Taiyang huffed. "So what sort of trouble are you getting me into this time?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Summer said, sounding accused.
"Well, you clearly need my help with something," Taiyang said. "And you know that offering dinner means I'll have to hear your next crazy scheme out."
"Hey!" Summer shot back. "What kind of world are we living in that I can't check in on my old teammates and invite them to a nice dinner without being accused of ulterior motives?"
"Alright, alright," Taiyang grumbled. "I'm allowed to say no, though. Is Raven coming?
"Yep," Summer said. "We'll be at your place in, like, forty minutes. Be ready, okay?"
Taiyang had chosen a Vacuoan place not far from his apartment in Vale. The decor was rustic and wonderful smells emanated from the kitchen. It was plenty busy, and they'd had to wait outside about half an hour for a table.
"Rose, party of three?" the hostess called out.
Summer stood and approached the station and the hostess gasped. “Wait, you’re that Huntress—”
“Yes,” Summer said.
The hostess pointed to Raven. “And she’s—”
“Yes,” Summer repeated.
“Can I get an autograph?” the hostess squealed, pulling out a marker and a napkin.
Summer autographed the napkin and passed it to Raven, who scrawled out her own messy signature. The hostess squealed again as it was passed back to her and she tucked it in her breast pocket for safekeeping.
Summer scratched the back of her neck. “Could we, uh…?”
“Oh, yes, right away,” the hostess said, leading them into the restaurant and to a relatively tucked away booth.
"I feel like an idiot for saying this because of all that, but I saw you guys were in the papers," Taiyang said as soon as they sat down.
"No, that was wild," Summer said. "Weird to get recognized out in public like that. And honestly, we were lucky we got to the village before the Grimm breached the walls. But you, how've you been? It feels like ages."
"Still workin'," Taiyang said, looking at the menu.
"So I've never been here," Summer said. "What do you like?"
"Fish tacos," Taiyang said with a nod. "Best thing here."
Their waitress passed by and took their drink orders; Taiyang ordered an imported beer, Raven a cocktail, and Summer ordered a decaf coffee.
“So,” Summer began.
"How long did you want to small talk?" Raven asked abruptly, closing her menu.
Taiyang laughed. "I am a little curious," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "What's up? Planning a surprise party for Qrow?"
"That's not a bad idea," Summer said, glancing over at Raven, who gave a small shrug. She looked back at Tai. "But, uh, no. It's a little more serious than that."
Taiyang set his mouth into a thin line, his brow creased with worry. "What's up?"
"So," Summer said. "To make a very, very long story short, Raven and I have been together for a few years and the other night we were talking about having kids."
"Okay," Taiyang said, still confused but less worried.
"And we were talking about how we want to go about it." Summer hesitated. "'Cause, see, neither of us really want to adopt," she explained. "And so we talked about it a little more and we want to carry the baby but Raven doesn't want the, uh, donor to be someone that we've never met. And, well, you're the person both of us trust the most. Who isn't Raven's twin brother, I mean."
Taiyang held his hands up. "Sorry," he said. "You're asking me to what?"
"Make a baby," Raven said, putting her fist on the table.
Taiyang sat there looking at the wood of the table for a long moment before the waitress came back with their drinks and to take their order.
Summer cleared her throat as she left. "Listen, if this weirds you out we can forget this entire conversation happened and we'll just have dinner. We can go to a clinic or whatever and have it artificially done."
"There's nothing artificial about it," Raven added. “They still, y’know.”
"I have a condition," Taiyang said.
"Does that mean you'll do it?" Summer said, her eyes lighting up.
"Not yet. It's an 'if'. I need to think about it a lot." Taiyang breathed in. "If we do this, I'm part of this. It wouldn't be right if I didn't help you raise them."
"Alright," Summer said. "How much are we talking about here, like, are we talking custody agreements or just you being Fun Uncle Taiyang?"
"Whatever you're comfortable with. We can talk about it more later," Taiyang said. "And, uh, who's carrying the baby? Have you decided?"
"We didn't talk about that yet," Summer said. "I'm fine carrying the baby."
"I can do it," Raven asserted.
"So, either of you," Taiyang said. He paused awkwardly. "So when we're…trying…"
"All of us," Raven said.
"This is not what I expected from today," Taiyang said.
Eighteen Years Ago
It was the depth of the night. Raven sat in the armchair of Yang’s room, Yang cradled in her arms. The neckline of her Mistralian nightgown was pulled down to let Yang feed from her breast.
She heard a sound and looked up; Taiyang was standing in the doorway, just in his pajama pants. “You know, we got that formula so I could help with the night feedings, too,” he said, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
“It’s fine,” Raven said.
“Summer can do it, too,” Taiyang said.
“Summer isn’t lactating.”
“Well, you’d be the expert.” Taiyang raised both of his eyebrows and grinned.
Raven snorted in response.
“You know, when we met, I don’t think I could have ever pictured you as a mom,” Taiyang mused.
“Neither did I,” Raven said. “I didn’t exactly expect this.” She looked down at Yang. “Some nights I wonder what I’ve been doing here. I’ve been fighting just to survive since I was a child. There wasn’t any reason behind it. I thought that the struggle would last until I died. I didn’t expect I’d ever fall in love.” She brushed a lock of Yang’s hair out of her face. “Then I met her.”
“Summer,” Taiyang said.
Raven nodded silently. “I think we both were lonely. Stubborn. Warriors, looking for a reason to fight.”
The silence of the night stretched on between the two for a long moment until the sound of a door opening broke it.
“Hey,” Summer said blearily, emerging from the master bedroom. “Come back to bed, you two.” She shambled over and hugged Taiyang from behind, kissing the back of his ear with a distinct “mwah” before wandering over to the seated Raven and hugging her from the side, pressing another kiss into her hair. Summer nodded at Yang. “How is she? Eating well?”
“Almost done,” Raven said. “I think.”
“So what are you talking about?” Summer said, suppressing a yawn.
“You,” Taiyang said, with slight sarcasm.
“Good,” Summer said, throwing her own sarcasm right back at him. “I’m glad you two can air out your grievances with regards to this whole—” She waved one of her hands in the air. “—whatever we’re calling this.”
“Polyamorous relationship with a side of parenting,” Taiyang offered.
“Mess,” Raven said flatly.
Summer smiled softly. “Well, whatever it is, I’m happy.” She yawned again. “Anyway, I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
“Right, your Atlas trip,” Taiyang said. “What’s it for, again?”
“Ozpin stuff,” Summer said. “Get to spend a week freezing my butt off in the tundra.”
Raven laughed. “Did you really just say ‘butt’?”
Summer drew herself up in mock indignance. “I am trying to curb my cursing, thank you very much.”
"Tell that to my brother," Raven said.
“No, seriously,” Taiyang said. “What are you going to be doing? I’m interested.”
“Land surveys with the Atlesian government,” Summer said. “They want someone with field experience about Grimm, so they reached out, and Ozpin offered me. It pays well but I am gonna be freezing my ass off up there.” A moment later, Summer buried her face in a palm. “Shi—shoot.”
“So what do they want out in the tundra?”
“What does any government want?” Summer asked. “They want a new Dust mine. They have some new contract with the Schnee Company.” She yawned again. “Seriously, love you, but I gotta get back to bed if I don’t want to be a complete zombie in the morning.” She shambled off in the direction of her bed.
Taiyang looked back over at Raven.
Yang had disengaged and was evidently returning to sleep in her mother’s arms.
“You can go ahead,” Raven said quietly.
In the dark, it was difficult to see, but it looked as if she was smiling gently.
Fifteen Years Ago
In his basement study, sitting on the small couch, Taiyang Xiao Long gently cradled in one arm a nine-month old Ruby Rose. Sitting next to him, resting against his other arm, was two-year old Yang, her blonde hair thick and curly. His feet were bare, and he was curling his toes into fists on a thick shag rug.
Across from them, the stereo was playing a record — but Taiyang was barely paying attention to it. Most of his focus was consumed with the muffled voices upstairs and the distinct sound of two sets of footfalls back and forth across the kitchen, both of which were barely audible over the music.
Yang looked over at him in confusion at why she’d been brought down here.
He pursed his lips and gave her an attempt at a reassuring smile. It probably wasn’t the best, he considered, but it was about as good as he could muster given the circumstances.
Above the three of them, the argument was raging.
"I don't see how you can just walk away, Raven," Summer shouted. "We have the skills and we have the power to — to change the world. I thought we were doing this to make a better tomorrow! But you want to go off and do your own thing, huh?”
"We don’t owe the world anything, Summer,” Raven growled right back. “And running off to get yourself killed isn’t making the world better. Not for anyone, and especially not for our daughters.”
“That’s—”
“That’s exactly what he’s asking for with these missions! One day, you’re going out, and you’re not coming back!”
“Running away won’t change anything! Are you really that selfish?!”
Summer knew the instant she’d said those words — the way Raven’s eyes narrowed, the way she curled up slightly in anger — that the bough had broken.
"I am leaving," Raven spat. "I'm going back to the tribe. If you decide to join me, you, Taiyang, and the girls are welcome. Otherwise, stay out of my affairs. I don't want anything to do with you and Oz's private war."
Summer's mouth hung slightly open for a moment. It snapped shut with the soft click of her teeth colliding.
Raven marched out of the kitchen and into the front hall. Summer followed, slumped against the wall.
“We made a promise,” Summer said softly.
“I know,” Raven replied, her own voice thick with sorrow. She opened and shut the door without another word.
Summer slumped down and began to sob.
Thirteen Years Ago
It was raining on Patch. The setting sun peeked out between the horizon and the cloud cover, casting the cliffs in a dim orange light.
Raven emerged from the trees.
It didn’t feel real. Nothing had felt completely real since she’d had one of her Semblance’s links short out on a cold afternoon. She’d been to town frequently ever since, looking at the news, hoping against hope that what she thought had happened hadn’t.
It had.
She hadn’t gotten an invitation to the funeral; it was difficult to receive one when you didn’t have a proper mailing address. She knew she didn’t need one, but she didn’t want to show herself before others.
The cliffside was now marked with a gray headstone. It bore Summer’s name and her sigil.
Nothing was buried underneath it. They’d never found a body. The headstone was an empty platitude, but one day it would be the only memory that Summer Rose had lived and died.
Raven collapsed to her knees before it.
The cold edifice seemed to say nothing but the fact that she would never see Summer again.
She sat there crying until the sun had long since set.
Last Night
Raven used her knee to support the bag of groceries as she opened the door to her safehouse.
To her surprise, there was a small crowd gathered inside. She recognized Qrow, Yang, and the blonde boy that Ruby had been traveling with, but there was a swordsman in a dramatic red cape and a woman with long dark hair standing beside him, dressed in a blouse and waistcoat.
The crowd silently parted to reveal, standing in the middle of the room, Summer Rose, embracing their daughter Ruby. They’d both been crying and holding each other for what looked like a long moment.
“Summer?” Raven asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Summer disengaged from the hug and stepped towards her. “Rae,” she said.
Raven shoved her bag of groceries into someone’s arms.
“It’s been a while,” Summer said. She looked like she hadn’t aged a day, her silver eyes glimmering in the room’s low light.
Raven could have laughed at the understatement. Instead, she merely said, “It has.” For an instant she felt stupid. “I—I missed you,” she choked out a moment later.
Summer stepped forward again, her hand cupping Raven’s cheek.
Raven just nodded. She closed her eyes.
Somewhere in the distance she heard Yang ask, “Uh, what’s going on?”
Then, everything melted away as Summer kissed Raven. All the pain and the struggle of life for the past fifteen years seemed to ebb away. In that moment, Raven remembered what it was like to love and to be loved. She remembered days long past filled with the mundanities shared with the two people she truly loved. Her hand came up to caress Summer’s neck.
Raven’s cheeks were flushed as they separated.
Summer just smiled contentedly; Raven was too tongue-tied to speak.
But the thing that broke the silence was Ruby’s cry of, “Wait, what!?”
Chapter 2: Back In The Saddle
Chapter Text
Thirteen Years Ago
The first thing Summer Rose was aware of was the pounding in her head. It thumped with the regular rhythm of her heartbeat. The second thing she was aware of was that she was neither standing, sitting, or laying down — she was suspended by her wrists, which caused all sorts of aches and issues to make themselves known.
She opened her eyes gently, all too aware of her headache. Thankfully, it was dark enough that it wasn’t so bad.
She looked around. She was in the center of a rotunda. The walls were dark stone, carved in an unfamiliar style — but Summer wasn’t an art history expert, herself, and given the situation she was in, she severely doubted she’d have the time to study up. It was distinctly medieval, however, in its lighting — burning torches lined the walls. A large balcony wound around, forming the second level. The room was undeniably gloomy.
Summer looked up. Her wrists were chained. The chain wound up and across a pair of pulleys, themselves along a metal frame. At the other end of the chain was a winch.
Standing beside the winch was Salem, Queen of the Grimm.
She looked human enough, save for a deathly pallor, red veins visible just beneath the skin, and the sclera of her eyes being black. She was dressed regally in black, her white hair done up in an intricate bun and a series of offshooting braids.
“So, you’re her,” Summer said. She cracked a slight smirk. “You know, the way Oz was talking about you, I was expecting you to be taller.”
“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Salem said, "Summer Rose."
"If you think the whole I-Know-Your-Name bit is going to creep me out — you had me unconscious, could have just gone through my wallet."
Salem wordlessly placed a hand on the winch and let Summer drop a foot straight down.
Summer suppressed a yelp, biting her tongue and looking down. She regretted it almost immediately.
Beneath her was a circular stone ring. Inside it, slightly roiling and churning, was an inky, almost tar-like black liquid. Something in Summer’s innermost self felt a fear looking down into this pit.
The door behind Salem opened, and Summer jerked her head back up. Hazel Rainart stepped forward to stand behind Salem, his mouth set in a slight frown. He folded his arms.
“Hazel Rainart,” Summer said.
“Summer Rose,” he replied.
“You’ve really made a deal with the devil,” Summer said. “So it’s some twisted form of revenge, huh?”
“Revenge,” Hazel confirmed. “This is for my sister.” He gripped the handle of the winch and looked at Salem. She nodded; he began to turn it slowly.
Summer began to descend down towards the pit.
“You’ll never know a moment’s rest, Hazel,” Summer spat. “If there’s justice in the world, you’ll lose all you sought to gain.” She curled upwards as best she could as the soles of her boots nearly reached the ichor, but Hazel continued to turn the winch until Summer began to sink into the pit. She began to shout as she sunk further and further into the pit: legs, torso, her arms, until finally her head began to be submerged. “I’m gonna haunt your ass, Hazel! I’ll be back! Do you hear me?! I’ll be—”
Finally, the darkness consumed Summer.
“I didn’t even have to ask for pancakes,” Nora Valkyrie said, her mouth half-full. “Ruby, I love your mom already.”
“Thank you,” Summer said, flipping another set of pancakes on the griddle. One of them had gotten stuck on a slightly less greased part of the griddle; she flipped the spatula over, scraped the griddle to separate the pancake from the metal, and quickly flipped it over.
Raven’s now-cramped apartment safehouse was filled to capacity.
Standing in the tiny kitchen, preparing a gargantuan breakfast, was Summer Rose: Huntress, mother, and now somewhat accidental interstellar explorer.
Sitting at the bar of the tiny kitchen were her daughters, blonde brawler Yang Xiao Long and the scythe wielder Ruby Rose, along with their friend Nora Valkyrie. The three of them, along with Jaune Arc and Lie Ren, who were both sitting on the couch, were Huntsmen-in-Training who had recently suffered the loss of their home academy, Beacon. Ruby had led them across Anima in search of both answers and the perpetrators of that attack.
Escorting them was Qrow and Raven Branwen, black-haired and red-eyed twins originally from a nomadic tribe of bandits. Years ago they had been on Summer’s team at Beacon.
Raven was also Summer’s former partner. "Ex-wife" would be more accurate if they'd legally been married, but they never had, strictly speaking.
Summer wasn’t certain exactly where their relationship stood these days, given they’d had an explosive argument—resulting in Raven leaving—not terribly long before Summer went on a fateful mission and got stuck in the time-distorting Realm of Darkness, and then last night they’d kissed passionately in front of everyone.
Towards the far side of the room were Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart.
Summer had pried fleeting glimpses of Cloud’s past out of him over the months they’d spent traveling together in other worlds. He was a former motorcycle scout in a military on some unknown world who had been enhanced with tremendous physical strength and senses, and he could use magic through gems inset in his bracer and sword. He had endured loss in his life, loss that Summer could sympathize with. As a result, she did not attempt to glean further information than what he was willing to reveal. He was also prone to motion sickness, and while he put on a front of being a cool person, he was a little goofy, too.
Cloud was someone that Summer trusted wholly with her life.
Tifa, meanwhile, had apparently been working as a bartender here on Remnant. She’d recognized Cloud on sight and was apparently in some sort of long-term romantic relationship with him, if Summer was accurately reading how Cloud had introduced them and their current closeness.
The last member of the group was, in fact, the strangest.
Summer’s employer on the mission that she’d gone missing on all those years ago — well, just over half a year ago, if it was Summer doing the remembering — was Professor Ozpin, who had been promoted to Headmaster while Summer was at Beacon Academy. He had later revealed to her that he was the latest host of a soul named Ozma, who was an ancient hero tasked with preventing humanity’s destruction at the hands of Salem, Queen of the Grimm. Every soul who hosted Ozma eventually merged wholly with him, becoming something of a gestalt consciousness; thirteen years ago, the distinction between Ozpin and Ozma had been fading but still present.
Ozpin himself had died months ago at Beacon Academy, and the soul of Ozpin — or Ozma — resided now in a young farmboy named Oscar Pine. On Ozpin’s urging he had left his farm and headed for Haven Academy, and along the way had met Summer at a train station by pure chance.
As Summer looked at him, eating a stack of pancakes, she felt sorrow for the boy who had been torn away from everything he had known by the pure chance that Ozpin’s soul had appeared inside him. She felt sorrow for her daughters and their friends, who’d had their own personal worlds destroyed when Beacon fell. Everyone here had endured loss, some rawer than others.
But here they all were: happy—or at the least content—in each others’ presences and sharing a meal together.
Summer turned back to the griddle, checked the pancakes, and one-by-one began removing them onto a plate. “Okay, that’s the last of the batter,” she said loudly, quieting the discussions happening in the room. “And everyone’s fed, I think. Now, I said I’d answer everyone’s questions in the morning. Does anyone have any questions?”
Almost everyone spoke at once; a veritable wave of questions were launched at her.
“One at a time,” Summer said, holding up her hands. She pointed. “You. Jaune, right?”
Jaune nodded. “So you went to space and, like, saved the universe?”
“Sort of,” Summer said. “I mean, I don’t know what Ansem or Sephiroth would have done with Kingdom Hearts, but I don’t think it would have been good. Sora handled Ansem, we handled Sephiroth, together all of us re-sealed Kingdom Hearts.” She pointed again. “Nora?”
“Yeah, where’s your spaceship?”
“I wanna see it,” Ruby added. “What’s it made out of?”
“It’s made of gummi blocks, which also form the barriers between worlds,” Summer answered. “My ship is currently home on the island of Patch. When I go back out there, I’ll invite you all to see me off.”
“Cool!” Nora said.
Summer smiled. “Yang, you had a question?”
“Yeah. Why did you kiss Raven?”
From the other side of the room, Raven’s head jerked up and swiveled to look Summer in the eyes. There was a distinct look of horror, or perhaps an expression of worry plastered on her face.
“Well, Yang,” Summer said awkwardly. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Did Tai not tell you any of this?”
Yang shook her head.
Summer made a triangle in the air with her fingers, her thumbs overlapping as the bottom leg. “Raven and I, uh, we were romantic partners in a three-way relationship with Tai.”
“But I thought she left just after I was born,” Yang said, “and then you had Ruby afterwards.”
Summer shook her head. “No, Ruby was born and then — uh, things fell apart.”
“So is Raven your mom?” Nora asked the sisters, leaning over the counter to look at them more directly.
“Biologically, she’s only Yang’s mother,” Summer said. “But the three of us intended to parent you equally.” Summer made eye contact with Raven. “Unfortunately, I think the two of us left one to handle everything.”
Raven’s expression shifted, regret passing over her face.
“But you’re here now,” Ruby said to Summer. “That’s what matters, right?”
Summer pursed her lips. “I hope so. Next question?”
On the far end of the room, Tifa raised her hand. When Summer pointed to her, she cleared her throat and said, “Not a question. I just wanted to thank you for taking care of Cloud.”
“It was no problem,” Summer said, smirking. “You mind if I ask you a question, though?”
Tifa shook her head. “Not at all.”
“You any good at fighting?”
Tifa quirked an eyebrow back at her. “I’m a little rusty — the most practice I get is breaking up bar fights these days. But I’m well-trained in boxing and Zangan-Ryu martial arts.”
“A pugilist, huh?” Qrow asked.
“Extreme close quarters is sometimes the safest place to be,” Summer said. “If you can slip past someone’s defense, of course. I ask because if the two of you are going to hang around me—or us, rather—there’s gonna be some danger involved.”
Oscar nodded. “A man tried to kill her on the train the other day.”
“We’re talking about some serious business,” Summer said gravely. “As best I can tell, this cold war we’ve got going with the queen of the Grimm is boiling over, and fast. If you or Cloud want out, now’s your chance."
“We’ll share that risk,” Cloud said. He looked at Tifa. “Right?”
“Right.” Tifa took Cloud’s hand.
Qrow’s Scroll began to ring. He jerked upwards at the sound, standing up and fishing it out of his pocket. “Finally,” he grumbled. “I gotta take this.” He tapped the screen and shuffled off into a bedroom. “Yeah. It’s Qrow. Talk to me.” He kicked the door closed with the back of his foot and his half of the conversation became muffled.
Summer cleared her throat. "That goes for all of you. As of right now, we’re officially in the line of fire. Nobody will hold you accountable if you choose to duck out — go home, get trained, whatever you want to do. I’m sure Oz will back me up—” Summer glanced over to Oscar, who deliberately nodded a moment later. “—and all that we ask is that you keep quiet about what you’ve learned.”
Nora and Ren shared a concerned, uncertain glance.
“I’m not leaving,” Jaune said. There was something dark in his eyes, even as he looked slightly down to hide it — Summer knew it, had seen it before in others and, rarely, in her own eyes. It was rage, born of loss. “Not until I see this through.”
Ruby cleared her throat. "I couldn’t call myself a Huntress-in-Training if I didn’t try and stop them.”
Something in Summer’s heart twisted. “I know. I know you know it’s dangerous. I just — I didn’t want you to have to go through this.”
Ruby drew herself up and looked her mother in the eyes. “This is our fight too.”
The air was thick with tension until Qrow emerged from the bedroom. “That was Lionheart — he’s the Headmaster up at Haven these days, Summer. Left a message yesterday that I needed to meet him, and he’s ready for us.”
“Who’s going?” Ruby asked.
“I’m not,” Raven said lazily, although Summer could tell there was something beyond laziness in her voice — a slight tension lurking underneath.
“Originally I was just planning on taking the kids,” Qrow said. “This was before you showed up with tagalongs, though. But you should come, Summer."
“Me?” Summer said, quirking an eyebrow.
“Summer, I was never a team leader,” Qrow said. “I’m good at fighting and getting answers out of people who don’t like to give ‘em, but you were always the strategic one. As best I can tell, if we have any chance here, it’s in you and Oz’s heads put together.”
“Makes sense,” Summer said. "Oz?"
Oscar’s eyes flashed, and he assumed a startlingly familiar posture. He tapped the bridge of his nose to adjust a pair of glasses he wasn’t wearing. “Lionheart’s behavior has been — erratic. He appears to have disobeyed direct orders about what to do in an emergency like this. I don't want to suspect him, but I think playing the presence of my new host closer to the chest may be prudent until we discover the truth at the heart of this matter."
Summer nodded. “Understood. So that’s no from Raven and Oz, yes Qrow, yes me,” she said. “Cloud? Tifa?”
“Did you want us?” Cloud asked.
“If you’re not interested, I’d like you to tour the city,” Summer said. “Walk around, get a good feel for the layout. Focus on the area around Haven and make sure to walk the campus itself. Get to know the city. Tifa, how long have you lived here?”
“At least a year,” Tifa replied. “Don’t worry, I can show Cloud around.”
“Okay,” Summer said. She gestured to the group of former Beacon students. “How are you feeling? Wanna go to a boring meeting?”
“No thanks,” Nora said, sticking out her tongue. “Bleh.”
“I’ll stay with Nora,” Ren offered.
“We could use the rest,” Jaune said.
“I think I’d like to see the city,” Ruby said.
“You just want to ask Cloud about his sword,” Yang teased, lightly jabbing her elbow at Ruby. “Well, I’m going wherever she goes. I’m not letting this gremlin out of my sight again.”
“Yang!” Ruby whined.
“I think that’s just me and you, Qrow,” Summer said with a shrug, stepping over to the sink. “Let me wash up and we can go.”
Summer got ready as quickly as she could, throwing on her vest, bag, and gun belts. She began to double check the magazines for Halbmond and slot them onto her belt.
“That’s a bit paranoid, isn’t it?” Jaune asked as he watched her load her revolver bullet-by-bullet. “You’re just going to a meeting, right?”
“Not really,” Summer said.
He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to…trust this guy?”
“Not really.” Summer slapped the revolver’s cylinder back into place and tested its spin with the backside of her arm. Satisfied, she slipped it into its holster. “I want to trust him, but right now? I don’t.”
“Ready?” Qrow asked, reemerging from the bedroom. He crossed the room and stood at the door.
“Yeah,” Summer said.
Qrow opened the door and they walked out into the cool air of an early spring morning. He began to head down the apartment complex’s open air corridor towards the stairs.
Summer made to follow, but stopped at the sound of footsteps behind her and the door shutting. Without even looking back, she knew whose footfalls those had been.
“There’s something you have to know. Before you go to this meeting.” Raven’s tone had lost its faux-boredom and was pure, stone-cold business.
Summer turned, an eyebrow raised in silent question.
“Someone’s been killing Hunters as they’ve been sent outside the Kingdom,” Raven said. She folded her arms. “It’s coordinated — not the work of mere bandits. It also means the Grimm have been running rampant outside the Kingdom.”
Summer nodded. “Salem’s work, then. Along with someone with access to Huntsmen dispatch records feeding her information. As for the attacker themselves—Hazel, maybe?”
“Possibly. Him or a scorpion Faunus named Tyrian,” Raven said. “Qrow saved Ruby from him. Ask them for the details; I wasn’t there. But without the Huntsmen to defend the city, a little push could be all it takes to topple the Kingdom.”
“Leaving Haven and its Relic wide open,” Summer said grimly.
They stood in silence for a long moment, looking at each other.
“Raven—” Summer started.
“Sum—” Raven said simultaneously.
They stopped. Summer let out an awkward laugh and Raven tentatively smiled.
“Summer!” Qrow’s shouted voice sounded from below. “Are you coming, or what?”
“Hold your stinkin’ horses,” Summer yelled back down. She looked over at Raven and shot her an attempt at a gentle smile, despite the gravity of their situation. “I’ll be back.”
Raven nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”
Beacon had been, architecturally, designed after the Valean castles of old — or rather, what the popular image of them was, at the time they were constructed, which was not very much like how actual castles looked, and its nature as a school rendered its interior completely unlike what a castle would have been like.
Similarly, Haven had been modeled after the fortresses of ancient warriors, which had long since passed into functional obsolescence well before the Great War, when the Mistralian Empire conquered each province and brought their military might under one banner. White walls and deep blue roofing done in a classically Mistralian style evoked the style of a time that was long since past.
In the distance, a water feature’s sharp clonk brought Summer out of her thoughts.
“It’s quiet,” Qrow said. “Too—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll punch you,” Summer said. She looked up at the pair of towers flanking the quad, which itself led towards Haven’s Grand Hall. “The CCT Towers.”
“Right, Mistral has dual towers,” Qrow said, unscrewing the cap of his flask.
"Qrow, it's eleven in the morning," Summer said. "And we're going to a meeting. Now is not the time."
Qrow gave her a slight scowl as he took a swig from the flask.
“Anyway, if I remember right, if either are knocked out of commission, it means massive signal loss for the wider region,” Summer continued with a frown. “But not for the city. Still, as highly visible landmarks, they’re optimal targets for a terror attack.”
“Just like at Beacon,” Qrow said, tucking his flask back into his shirt. “You draw the Grimm in by creating fear—”
“—and then the defenders are left managing a two-front war,” Summer finished. She paused for a moment before clearing her throat. "Listen, we can't go into this meeting not on the same page. I wanna lay out two ground rules. First up: no mentioning Oscar."
Qrow nodded. “Yeah, he said as much before we left.”
Summer exhaled. “And I think we shouldn’t mention Raven, either.”
Qrow balked and sputtered slightly. "I think Lionheart should at least know about the bandit chief roaming his city.”
Summer’s eyes became steely. “We’re playing this close to the chest.”
The soft clonk of the water feature made Qrow’s response die in his throat. He furrowed his brow. “You don’t want me to say it, but we haven’t seen anybody around. No students, no faculty. Not even janitors.”
“The Headmaster wouldn’t call you here without being here himself, though,” Summer mused. She stepped closer and dropped her voice slightly. “But if he’s under duress, this may be a trap.”
Qrow patted the hilt of his sword. “Then it’s a good thing we’re both armed.”
“We head for the Headmaster’s Office — but there’s gotta be a back entrance to the building. The Grand Hall is the perfect spot for an ambush.” Summer paused. “But casually.”
“I can do casual,” Qrow said, smirking.
“I’ll take point,” Summer said. She stepped forward, towards the side of the building rather than its front entrance. Sure enough, there was a small side path that encircled the building; Summer and Qrow followed it until they found a far less ostentatious door. Summer pulled her pistol out of her holster and pulled it open sharply, checking the room over before she entered.
“If I had any doubts you were Summer, I think that just erased them all,” Qrow said, following behind her into the corridors of Haven’s main administration building. “You move the same.”
“Just being myself,” Summer ground out.
They walked tensely through the silent corridors.
“This isn’t right,” Qrow said nervously as they approached the Headmaster’s Office. “There’s nobody here.”
“Then get ready for trouble,” Summer said. She put her hand on the right-side of the double doors leading into the office, her other hand still holding Thorn. She gently cocked the hammer and shot a glance back to Qrow.
Qrow drew his sword, Harbinger, and it extended to full length. He nodded.
Summer slammed the door open and came face to face with Headmaster Leonardo Lionheart, a stocky looking man with a thick beard and the tail of a lion. He let out a yelp of fear at the gun barrel that was pointed at him and stumbled backwards, tripping on a rug and falling on his rear.
“Qrow,” he said, looking past Summer. “What in blazes are the two of you doing? And who is this?”
Qrow sighed. “Leo. Why weren’t you waiting for us at the entrance?”
Lionheart fumbled for his pocket watch, contained in an inner pocket of his coat. He grimaced and seemed to bite back a curse. “Apologies. Time slipped away from me.”
“You’re kidding,” Qrow growled. “Anyway, this is our backup. I’d like you to meet my old teammate, Summer.”
Summer slid her revolver back into its holster and reached down to help the other man up. “Pleased to meet you.”
"Summer," Lionheart said, shocked. "Summer Rose! I'd thought you'd died."
"Not exactly," Summer said, stepping past him to sit down onto a couch. She leaned back into the cushions and waved her hand up in the air noncommittally. "It's a long story, and to be frank, I've told it three times in the last week, so I'd rather not at the moment. Suffice to say, I’m back, not dead, got better. We can talk about it later."
“Leo,” Qrow said. “The Academy is empty. It’s defenseless — the Relic is defenseless! Where is your staff?!”
Lionheart sighed and began to return to the other side of his desk. “Yes, well, things here in Mistral aren’t exactly stable at the moment. The last thing the CCT transmitted was Beacon aflame, students dead, the Atlesians firing on civilians, not to mention that massive Grimm — surely you can understand the panic, even out here. I put classes on hold while we worked on stabilizing the region. I had no other choice.”
“We need them here,” Qrow said.
“Not feasible,” Lionheart responded. “Mistral’s territory is much of Anima — without the others, our own CCT Towers don’t have the range to broadcast a recall code much further than the immediately outlying villages.”
Summer’s eyes narrowed.
Lionheart cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you made any progress in your own… task from Ozpin?”
Qrow shook his head. “It’s complicated, but for now…no. I don’t know where the Spring Maiden is — just that after she ran away, she fell in with Raven’s tribe.”
“Your sister,” Lionheart said. “Do you know where her camp is?”
“No,” Qrow admitted. “They’re nomadic. I was so close. I was in the camp with the Spring Maiden. But now they’ve scattered. Raven had them move to their summer grounds — it’ll be weeks until they regroup, and I have no idea where they’re going.”
Lionheart paused in contemplation.
"Raven made the right call in sending her away," Summer interjected. "Our goal here is to keep the Relic out of play."
Qrow was visibly stunned. "What are you saying?"
"As the saying goes, 'three can keep a secret if two are dead,'" Summer said. "By now Salem’s group knows we're in the city. If we did leave to pursue the Spring Maiden, we'd lead Salem right to them.”
“Hold on,” Qrow said. “What about their Maiden? We might not have a shot against her without Spring.”
“We might not win in a head-on fight. So we’re going to have to be clever about it. And we’ve got some of the best backup we could ask for,” Summer pointed out.
“You mean that spikey-headed swordsman?” Qrow asked dubiously. “And the bartender? Really?”
“That spikey-headed swordsman and I have been through a lot together,” Summer retorted. “And I can’t vouch for his friend, but if he can, then that’s all I need.”
“I’m not exactly happy with waiting around for something to happen,” Qrow said.
“We have the Relic as bait,” Summer said, a dangerous grin on her face. “We’ll shore up our defenses and lay the trap. Lionheart?”
Leonardo jumped slightly. “Yes?”
“I’m going to need structural plans for the vault and we’re going to want to inspect the entrance,” Summer stated. “I know it’s underneath the school, but I need to know if there’s any ways in or out or how easy it would be to tunnel in. We need to consider all possibilities here; a large-scale attack could be cover for a more covert heist.”
Leonardo hesitated for a moment before he nodded. “I agree. You can inspect it this weekend."
"How about now?" Qrow asked, a little suspicion in his voice.
“We have various groundskeepers and cleaning crews roaming the campus throughout the week — especially while we prepare to reopen,” Leonardo said. “We can’t allow any of them to come across the entrance. Give me some time to rearrange the shifts and then I can assure you there will be no-one here. We can do whatever needs to be done.”
Summer nodded. “That sounds good.”
Qrow folded his arms. “They’ll have to hit before classes start — with all those Huntsmen-in-Training around, it won’t be easy to attack. And they won’t have rogue Atlas-bots to distract us this time. It’ll just be Salem’s goons and the White Fang.”
Lionheart nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” Summer said. “We’ll be back to inspect the vault — call us in when you’re ready.”
Qrow and Summer left the administration building through the same side entrance.
“Qrow, just a moment? I need to talk with you.”
“Yeah?” he said, stopping.
“We’re here to do a job,” Summer said. “I realize you may have a…we’ll say dependency, but it can’t interfere with what we’re here to do.”
Qrow narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying? Is this an ultimatum?”
“I’m trying to say that, while we’re here, if you get too drunk to effectively fight,” Summer said, “then I can’t trust you with anyone’s lives. Not mine, not my daughters, not the team, or whatever we’re calling it, not the good people of Mistral — and the bad, I know you were about to make a crack. So yes. This is an ultimatum.”
“What happens if I break it?” Qrow asked. He did his best to smirk. “I mean, you can’t exactly kick me off the team any more.”
Summer frowned at him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Qrow, people’s lives are in our hands. Your hands. So yes, I think I can kick you off the team.”
They stood there in silence for a long moment.
“Do we have an agreement?” Summer asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Qrow said. “No drinking until we’re done here.”
Summer sighed. “I didn’t want to do this, Qrow.”
"Ruby?" someone called out.
Summer turned around.
The white-haired girl standing there was clad in a light blue dress whose skirt flared out and a pair of delicate looking heels. She also looked as if she had been put through the ringer. What was once an immaculate bun and ponytail had long since become disheveled, and her shoes had been effectively ruined. Her dress was torn in a couple different places.
All told, Summer's immediate impression was of an Atlesian debutante who had gotten very, very lost.
"It is you," the girl said excitedly, running forward.
Summer's eyes widened, her hand not even slipping under her cloak to grab for the grip of her sword before both her arms were pinned in place by the girl's crushing hug.
"Qrow, help," Summer said.
Chapter 3: The Flames of a Girl Who Killed Adolescence
Chapter Text
“Ruby?”
Ruby blinked and looked over at Yang, who was staring at her with a concerned expression.
It was late morning; they’d stopped in a coffeehouse. The other two members of their party were up by the counter waiting for the group’s drinks and they’d sent Ruby and Yang over to grab a table.
“Doing okay?” Yang asked.
“Yeah,” Ruby said. “It's been a weird few days.”
“No kidding,” Yang said. “I don’t know what I was expecting but it definitely wasn’t running into Mom out there.” She laughed. “Actually, I still can’t believe it.”
Ruby smiled. “It’s really good to see you like this,” she said. “I was worried. After, I mean. Y’know. It was almost like everything that made you Yang had been…stolen from you.”
Yang raised her prosthetic to catch the light. Even as fresh as the paint was, the yellow had already scuffed in a few places, exposing bare metal. “It took a long time and a lot of thinking and talking, but I learned a lot. I’m the only one who can heal myself.”
“Get that off a fortune cookie?” Ruby asked.
“Nah,” Yang said. She puffed herself up slightly and put on a haughty, snide voice. “Actually, fortune cookies aren’t even Mistralian.”
Ruby erupted in peals of laughter, and as she did, Yang joined in. Wiping a tear from her eye, Ruby asked, “What, is that supposed to be Weiss?”
“Yeah,” Yang gasped out between peals of laughter. “Too much?”
“It was good.” Ruby exhaled and looked out the window. “Do you ever wonder if—”
“—we’ll see them again?” Yang asked. “I hope so, y’know?”
“We could always go to Atlas,” Ruby said, with enough lilt that it could have been a joke as much as it could have been a serious idea.
“Bust her out of the Schnee Mansion?” Yang said. “Fight our way through her butlers and maids and jump out through the window, swinging from a chandelier?”
“Then we track down Blake,” Ruby said, with a smack of her fist into her hand. "Get the team back together."
Yang looked out the window. “What do you think she’s doing? Blake.”
Ruby sighed. “Blake is, y’know, Blake is cool and badass. She's probably out there doing cool and badass stuff. Taking the fight to the White Fang."
"Yeah," Yang agreed, although her heart didn't seem to be in it.
"But," Ruby added, reaching across the table to hold Yang's hands in her own, "she's not alone. She's never alone. Whenever she needs us, we'll be there for her. We'll always be there for each other."
Yang nodded gently.
“And here we go,” Tifa said as she stepped up to the table, setting two hot drinks in front of Yang and Ruby. “One soy latte and one mocha, extra whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.”
“Thanks,” Yang said.
“Thank you,” Ruby said. She slurped up some of the chocolate syrup-covered whipped cream off the top of the cup.
Cloud set down his and Tifa’s drinks and set the Buster Sword up against the wall. He sat down next to Yang, Tifa sitting across from him.
“So, what’s with the sword?” Ruby asked.
Cloud laughed. “Summer asked me the same thing the first time we met.” He paused, taking a moment to sip his drink after he realized the silence had drawn on a little too long. Finally he answered, “It was from a friend of mine. It’s his legacy.”
“You mind if I—?”
“Go ahead.”
Ruby stood and walked around the table to examine the sword. “Looks like it’s been cleaned recently,” she said. “But it’s got a lot of scratches — rust spots — hmm.” She looked back over at Cloud.
“Ruby thinks your weapon is, like, your soul,” Yang explained.
“Your weapon is an extension of your soul,” Ruby clarified, continuing to peer at the fine details on the sword. “What you choose, how it works, how you take care of it and how it takes care of you.” She gestured to the sword. “Like this. You’ve been through a lot, but you have a core of steel. Unbreakable and unyielding.” She pursed her lips and then ran her hand over a couple of the scratches. “I just—it breaks my heart to see such a beauty in this condition. Listen, if we find a place, I would love to do some work on her, tempering and sharpening. Please.”
“Sure,” Cloud said with a slight shrug.
Ruby squealed and threw her arms around him in a hug. He tensed slightly but patted her arm gently.
“And you have officially made her day,” Yang said flatly.
“Ruby?”
Summer turned around.
The white-haired girl standing there immediately brightened. “It is you,” she said, before breaking into a run.
Summer recoiled slightly, her hand almost wrapping around the hilt of her sword before she was borderline tackled into a crushing hug that pinned her arms in place.
"Qrow, help," Summer said.
"Hey, mini-Ice Queen," Qrow said, barely able to keep from laughing. "Uh, that's not Ruby."
The white-haired girl jerked back in shock, looking at Summer. She released her an instant later.
"Oh my god, you looked just like my friend from behind," the girl explained. "I am so, so sorry."
"It's fine," Summer said. She stuck out a hand. "Summer Rose. Pleased to meet you."
The girl hesitated a moment, looking at Summer's face. She shook Summer's hand. "I'm Weiss. Weiss Schnee. Are you related to Ruby? Um, Ruby Rose, that is?"
"Yeah," Qrow said, still on the edge of laughing. "I think she is."
"She's my daughter," Summer explained flatly. "This is Qrow."
Weiss frowned as she glanced over at him. "We've met, unfortunately." She flicked her gaze back to Summer. "I'm looking for my sister, Winter Schnee. She's an Atlesian Specialist. I heard she was in the city."
Qrow shook his head. "Sorry, kid. The Atlesians pulled out of here," he said, humor fading quickly. "They're probably headed back overseas, or to reinforce Argus."
"Shoot," Weiss said. She slumped for a moment and then looked over at Qrow. “Wait, what are you doing in Mistral?”
“We’re here on some pretty serious business,” Summer said, any mirth gone from her voice. Her glance flicked to Qrow, and he nodded. “We’re here trying to prevent what happened to Beacon from happening to any other Academies. Qrow’s intelligence indicated that, after Beacon, they would try and hit Haven next.”
“What?” Weiss said, horrified. “Wait. You — you know who’s behind the Fall of Beacon?”
“Is that what they’re calling it?” Qrow asked absently.
“It’s a lot more complicated than it sounds,” Summer said quietly, stepping closer to Weiss and holding up a hand to indicate they should all lower their voices, “and it’s not entirely a conversation we should have out in the open. You have a chance — right now — you’re in, or you’re out.”
Weiss paused. “What happens if I say no?”
Summer shrugged. “Well, we’ll try and help you get set up for staying somewhere, make sure you get fed, probably get you a ticket back up to Argus if you’d like; I’d rather you be out of the line of fire. Once you’re fine, we go and do our job here and you forget you ever saw us.”
“And if I’m…in?”
Summer raised her eyebrows. "If you're in then you're in. You help us prevent them from doing the same thing to Haven."
Qrow cleared his throat. “Not that it should affect your, uh, justice-seeking heart or whatever you wanna call it, but Ruby and Yang are here.”
Weiss blinked. “They are? Are they…okay?”
“Ruby’s fine,” Qrow said. “Yang’s on the mend, but doing a lot better; she’s got a prosthetic now.”
“That’s good,” Weiss said, subdued. She stepped to the side a moment, looking up at the twin spires of Haven's CCT. "I decided to be a Huntress to protect the people; whatever I want comes second," she declared. "I'm in."
Summer smirked. “Got it. Well, Qrow, do you want to get her up to speed?”
Qrow balked. “Me? I quit teaching for a reason, y’know.”
Summer and Qrow explained the entire situation to Weiss as best they could as the three of them made their way through the streets back to Raven’s apartment.
“I don’t totally get it,” Weiss said.
“It’s pretty simple,” Summer replied. “Kinda. There’s a witch controlling the Grimm, and she has a bunch of lackeys. One of them — well, at least one — did an attack on Beacon and now she has magical powers.”
“And magic is real,” Weiss said in an ever-suffering tone of voice.
Summer cleared her throat. “Anyway, I ran into one of her subordinates on the way here, Qrow ran into a different one. So there’s two in the area, and neither of them are the one who was at Beacon, so we’re talking about at least three. None of them are pushovers, which is why we need to gather as much strength as we can.”
“And that’s not counting if they’re still using the White Fang as flunkies,” Qrow added.
“I still can’t get over the White Fang being that violent,” Summer said absently.
“Where have you been the last ten years?” Weiss asked incredulously.
“Don’t ask her,” Qrow said.
“I already said I’m not explaining it today,” Summer said, with a shrug. “Ask someone else.”
They rounded the corner of the apartment complex’s entrance; as they arrived, they spotted Tifa teaching Ruby some hand-to-hand as the rest of the group, save Raven and Oscar, watched. Tifa slowly performed an uppercut and Ruby imitated.
“Remember, it’s not just the swing, but the hips, too,” Tifa said. “But good work!”
“She’s way better at teaching this than you are,” Ruby said, looking over at Yang.
“Shut up,” Yang said with a laugh. She stood up. “Come on, I want a go.”
Summer could see Cloud’s snort from where he was leaned up against a lamppost.
“First to fifty percent Aura?” Yang offered.
“I don’t exactly have Aura,” Tifa said. She adjusted her gloves and cracked her knuckles. “I’m just tough.”
Yang mockingly gestured with her prosthetic for Tifa to come at her. “Then let’s see what you’re made of.”
Tifa launched forward at a speed that Summer could only match with her Semblance, attacking first with her right hand.
Yang narrowly blocked her opening strike with the barrel of her left gauntlet and shoved backwards to evade Tifa’s follow-up, bobbing and weaving to dodge Tifa’s oncoming flurry of attacks. Tifa ended the combo with a vicious kick and Yang stumbled backwards.
For an instant, Yang’s hair shimmered and glowed with heat, but it subsided as Yang exhaled.
Tifa planted her feet firmly on the ground as Yang approached.
As they fought, Summer observed their styles. Yang’s assaults were brutal, but she was a more direct fighter who favored her gauntlets for heavy blows, and intended to make as many of them as she could. Tifa was quicker, more agile, and made use of what seemed to Summer to be multiple forms of martial arts — although Summer suspected it was due to their difference in years. Tifa fought as if the world itself had trained her, and Summer suspected that in a lot of ways it had.
Tifa weathered the onslaught from Yang and countered with a vicious somersault kick that upended Yang to land on the ground, facing directly towards Summer, Qrow, and—
“Weiss?”
Ruby turned abruptly. “Weiss!” she yelled. With a burst of her Semblance she sped over, borderline tackling Weiss with a hug. “Look, Yang, it’s Weiss!”
“I can see that,” Yang said, climbing to her feet. “You look like shit, Ice Queen.” She walked over and wrapped her arms around Weiss and Ruby in a great bear hug.
“Yeah, yeah,” Weiss grumbled. “You would not believe the week I’ve had.”
Summer sidled over to Cloud as the three had their reunion, with Jaune, Ren, and Nora approaching to say their own hellos.
“Where’s Raven?” Summer asked.
“Rooftop,” Cloud said, jabbing his thumb up at the complex’s rooftop.
It didn’t take long for Summer to find access to the roof. She threw open the heavy door and was hit with a gust of strong wind that whipped her hair.
Up so high, the city of Mistral spread out before her. It was beautiful. Unlike coastal Vale, Mistral’s settlers had found it best to erect their city amidst the heights of a pair of mountains and had formed steps up each mountain to its respective summit. The complex, in the afternoon, would be in the shadow of Haven Academy.
Raven was standing there, facing out towards the city. Her sword was placed within reach, leaned up against the low wall of the modern roof.
"So," Summer said, stepping up to stand beside Raven. "Let's talk."
Raven nodded.
"You left us," Summer said. "We made a promise to each other, and you left."
After a long moment, Raven turned to face Summer. Her expression was downcast. "I did," she said. "I spent years running. And it hurt."
Summer pursed her lips. "I need you to know something. Whatever you're expecting, if it's that we go back to how things were, I can't do that. That's just insanity."
Raven lowered her head.
"But despite everything," Summer said, almost hesitantly, "I still love you."
Raven looked up sharply.
"I love you," Summer said, on the verge of tears. "That's why it hurt, Raven. Because no matter what, some part of me wondered how you were doing. If you were eating well, because you never took care of yourself when I was away."
Raven drew in a deep breath, wiping away tears that were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. "I didn't think I was worthy of being loved," she said.
"You're a good person," Summer said. "You're just…afraid of being loved. You’re prickly. Like a hedgehog. But I was happiest in the warmth of your quills."
"I am afraid," Raven said, tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“That’s why I need you to watch my back,” Summer said. She held out a hand. “Just like old times. You’re my partner, remember?”
Raven took it. “Like it or not.”
“This is going to take work,” Summer said, still holding Raven’s hand. “From both of us. Neither of us can erase the past. But, together, we can make—”
“—a better tomorrow?” Raven asked, cutting her off.
“I was just going to say we can make this work,” Summer said, nearly to a laugh. Her face lost some of its mirth. “And at some point I want you to write a letter to Tai, y’know. And apologize to our daughters.”
“Yeah,” Raven said. Her shoulders slumped slightly. “I know.”
When Summer and Raven returned to the apartment, Tifa and Yang were preparing lunch — apparently, on their morning walk of the city, they’d stopped at a store and picked up a substantial amount of groceries.
Summer began to roll up her sleeves when she realized it would be easier for her to just remove her gauntlets. She looked around, mentally counting the people in the apartment — but came up one short.
“Where’s Qrow?” she asked.
“He went out again while you were up there,” Cloud said. “Said he was planning on recruiting some more Huntsmen.” He shrugged.
“Huh,” Summer said, setting her gauntlets on the counter. She lightly tapped Tifa on the arm. “Need any help?”
“If you could watch the soup,” Tifa said, stepping aside and passing off her spoon to Summer, “I can prep more sandwiches.”
“And I can grill ‘em,” Yang said, flipping a grilled cheese in the pan.
Weiss emerged from the bathroom, her hair bundled up in a towel. “I think we’re going to need more shampoo,” she announced. She sat down at the counter next to Ruby, who was reading a comic but put it down as Weiss settled into her seat. “That smells exquisite, but that may be because I’ve had nothing but emergency rations for every meal the past three days.”
“It’s just canned tomato soup and grilled cheese,” Yang said. “I used to make this for Ruby and me all the time when we were kids.”
“So, Ruby,” Weiss said. “I was under the impression your mother was, ah—?”
“Dead?” Summer asked, flicking her gaze back.
“Yes,” Weiss said flatly.
“Well,” Ruby said, “She’s not! Which is great!”
“Then where was she?” Weiss asked.
“The Realm of Darkness,” Summer said. “Think of the worst, most depressing place you’ve ever been, and then imagine it’s crawling with Grimm, and then imagine time never moves and you can never escape. That’s basically what it was.”
“Uh,” Weiss said. “That doesn’t sound enjoyable.”
“It really wasn’t,” Summer said flatly, turning back to the pot.
“And, um,” Weiss continued, lowering her voice slightly and leaning in so Ruby could hear. She pointed to Tifa. “Who exactly is she?”
“She’s a bartender,” Ruby explained confidently, attempting to keep her own voice low. “So my mom and that spikey-headed guy with the cool sword are friends, and she’s his girlfriend. She can punch stuff, too.”
“I did see that earlier, yes,” Weiss said.
Tifa looked back. “I can hear you two.”
“Eep,” Ruby said. “You’re really cool!”
Tifa laughed and flashed Ruby a smile. “Thanks.”
Qrow didn’t come back until well after sundown that day, visibly exhausted and decidedly disinterested in talking about what had happened. He’d been about to take a swig from his flask when Summer glared sharply at him and he begrudgingly put it back in his pocket. He took to rubbing his forehead, and he slept early but fitfully.
“He was looking for Huntsmen,” Summer said to Raven early the next morning over eggs and coffee. She glanced over to where Qrow was asleep on the couch.
“There’s probably not many left in the city,” Raven said. “Like I said, Salem’s lackeys have been hunting them down.”
“The Huntsmen becoming the hunted,” Summer mused gravely. “I don’t like it.”
Qrow grumbled and flopped over, landing on the floor. He shakily got to his feet, shambled past where Ren and Nora were sleeping over to the bathroom, and slammed the door closed. Summer could hear him retch loudly.
Summer grimaced. “Are you concerned about him?”
Raven sat there a long moment, long enough for the two of them to hear the toilet flushing and the faucet turn on.
“Yes,” Raven said, finally.
Qrow emerged from the bathroom. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and his face was still wet from being freshly washed.
Summer cleared her throat. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” Qrow ground out. He dished himself up a plate of eggs from what Summer had prepared for breakfast and sat down. “I’m going out.”
“You’re sure?” Summer asked. “If you’re—”
“I’ve got it, okay?” Qrow said. “Just — let me eat in peace for once.”
As Qrow ate, Summer looked over at Raven. Raven’s lips were a thin line; Summer shot her a concerned look and Raven shook her head so as to say, “Don’t fight him right now.”
Still, Summer stared at Qrow’s back as he left for the day. His foot came up, hooked around the door, and slammed it.
Moments later, Oscar emerged from the bedroom. “What was that?”
“Qrow left for the day,” Raven said.
Oscar was silent for a long moment, mumbling to himself in half of a conversation with the Professor inside his head before he finally said, “Ozpin says he would have been more use here, teaching me and the others.”
Summer nodded. “Yeah. Once everyone’s up and fed, we can do a bit of training.”
Oscar nodded. “I’ve chased Grimm off the farm with sickles before, but I have no idea how to use this cane. And if we’re going to keep encountering people like that man the other day — if you weren’t there, I don’t know what I could have done.”
“Hazel’s his own breed of vicious,” Summer said. “The best thing you could have done was run away. There’s no shame in running from a fight you can’t win. But we’ll show you how to fight.”
Cloud, lacking armor and harness, was leaning against the railing outside the apartment, watching the ongoing training down in the courtyard, which at that point consisted of the Huntsmen-in-Training sitting in a group listening to Summer talk about something-or-other. A freshly brewed mug of coffee was cooling in his hand.
Below, Summer was interrupted as Tifa strolled into the courtyard. The two of them exchanged pleasantries before Summer gestured up to where Cloud was standing. Tifa waved; Cloud gave a nod at her.
Tifa bounded up the stairs quickly. Cloud looked over as she emerged onto the walkway. She stepped up and leaned against the railing beside him.
"Things have been so busy, we haven't really had a chance to talk," Tifa said quietly. She put her hand atop Cloud's. He quietly turned his hand over and interlaced their fingers.
"How long have you been here?" Cloud asked.
"A year," Tifa said. "I won’t say it was easy, but there's not much exciting to tell. Had to learn a new set of standard cocktails and names for a few things, but bartending pays the bills.”
"Didn't join an eco-terrorist group this time?" Cloud asked dryly.
Tifa laughed and looked down at the courtyard. Below them, Summer was standing with Oscar, working with him on footwork with his cane as the three present members of Team RWBY watched, while across the way Raven had taken a more hands on approach and was sparring with Jaune, Ren, and Nora, fending all three of them off all at once.
“She’s very interesting,” Tifa said after a moment. “She reminds me of—”
“Yeah,” Cloud said. He shrugged slightly. “A little.”
The wind whistled through the courtyard for a long moment; down below the clashing of metal on metal rang out.
“I met another Aerith,” Cloud said. “It was…like seeing a ghost. But she didn’t recognize me.”
“Did anything happen?” Tifa asked. “Because — I mean, I’d be fine—”
Cloud shook his head. “No. She just—it wasn’t the same.” He let out a deep sigh. “I keep wondering when the mourning will stop.”
“It doesn’t,” Tifa said. “Not for someone you love. I think about my mom a lot, and my papa, too. Everyone from Nibelheim. Biggs, Wedge, Jessie. Bugenhagen. Aerith.” She disengaged her hand and rubbed Cloud’s back, fingertips tracing circles. “But—” Her breath hitched. “You always think of grief as a weight. But it doesn’t have to be — and you don’t have to bear it alone.”
“Right,” Cloud said, voice hesitant.
“So,” Tifa said. “What are we going to do?”
“My friend’s home is in trouble,” Cloud said. “The entire planet. So we’re going to do what we do best.”
“Fight,” Tifa finished.
Qrow didn’t come back from his errand before sundown; Summer’s worry grew and continued growing. Eventually, inevitably, the exhaustion from the day caught up with her and she turned in early, sleeping on the floor in the bedroom.
Her rest didn’t last — not due to the nightmares she regularly had, but instead to Cloud shaking her awake. Ruby was standing behind him.
“You sleep like the dead,” he said as she sat up and he stepped back, still crouching over her sleeping bag.
“Not dead,” she said hazily. She blinked a couple times. “What’s up?”
“It’s Qrow,” Cloud said. He jabbed a thumb backwards. “Ruby got a call. Qrow got in a bar fight.”
“Oh, no,” Summer said, rubbing her forehead. “Where is he?”
“The police station,” Ruby added from the doorway.
Summer sighed. “Alright,” she said, flopping out of her sleeping bag. “Let’s go get him out.”
Judicious use of Summer’s Huntsman License got the three of them into the police station and into the holding cells.
“I will warn you,” the officer leading them said. “He was belligerent earlier.” He turned to show Summer the black eye he’d received. “We’re just lucky he was too drunk to really use his weapon, but man, can he throw a punch.”
“I can handle him,” Summer said.
“Right,” the officer said. He turned to the officer manning the cell door controls and called out, “Could we get three open, please?”
The door swung open dramatically. Sitting inside on a metal chair was Qrow, slouching with his arms folded.
“Here comes Fearless Leader, ready to deliver one of her famous ‘disappointed in you’ talks,” Qrow said.
“I’m very flattered that you’ve maintained a high opinion of my leadership skills,” Summer said. “Honestly, if Oscar wasn’t already asleep, the other guy would be here too, and I think you’d be in twice the shit.”
“There wasn’t anyone,” Qrow grumbled. “No Huntsman in the entire city.”
“We know,” Summer said. “There’s something wrong going on here and if you’d sat down for a minute and listened, you would have known too.” She sighed. “You’re forty, Qrow, I would have expected you to not charge into everything half-cocked still. And getting into a bar fight?”
“You don’t get it,” Qrow yelled. “You can’t just leave for thirteen years and expect to come back and everything’s dandy. I mourned you. There was an obituary. Taiyang shut down and do you know who got to deal with that? Me.”
“I didn’t ask to be there,” Summer shot back. “Life dealt us a shitty hand. All of us. But we can’t go backwards.”
“Don’t give me a hollow platitude about always moving forwards,” Qrow spat. “It’s just words.”
“We can’t do anything but move forwards,” Summer continued. “I have regrets too. Maybe if I hadn’t been so overconfident, Gretchen Rainart would still be alive. I spent weeks wondering why it couldn’t have been me. Maybe if I’d called in the evac earlier. Maybe if I’d seen that Ursa coming. But we can’t make those choices now. I can only hope that the choices I’ll make now, or in the future, I can only hope those are better ones.”
Qrow was silent for a long moment, staring up at Summer from the cell’s inside. No words passed between them.
There was the distinctive ping of Qrow’s Scroll going off.
Qrow looked down and fished it out of his pocket. He took a second to unlock it and unfold it. He stared at the screen for a long moment before he looked back up at Summer.
“It’s Lionheart,” he said. “We can inspect the Vault tomorrow night.”
“Then let’s get you back to the safehouse,” Summer said. “Officer, could I get a release form?”
The moon was full, shining brightly down on Summer and Qrow as they strode across Haven’s quad towards the Grand Hall.
“Remember how you said the Grand Hall would be a great place for an ambush?” Qrow said.
“Shut it,” Summer said. She exhaled sharply. “I’m already jumpy enough without you making things worse. Something’s been wrong this entire time.”
The pair strode up the stone steps.
“So we press Lionheart on it once we’re done,” Qrow suggested. “If there’s a leak we have to plug it.”
Summer looked back at him and nodded. She gestured to the door. “Ready?”
“Not quite,” Qrow said. He scratched the back of his neck. “I wanted to apologize. For what I said, and for what I did.”
“Qrow, you jump into things without thinking them through sometimes. You’ve always been impulsive and reckless and you’ve caused me no shortage of headaches,” Summer said. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. That said, I really would rather you not get into drunken bar fights and then claim I walked out on my family.” She stretched and rolled her neck before concluding, “I accept your apology.”
“Okay,” Qrow said. “Now I’m ready.”
Behind the doors was the ornate Grand Hall of Haven Academy. The massive foyer was still decorated to celebrate the Vytal Festival. At the center of the open space was a statue depicting a woman bearing chains and supporting a platform; a pair of staircases lead up to the platform.
Standing before the statue was Leonardo Lionheart, who was checking a large golden pocket watch as Summer and Qrow entered.
“Evening, Leo,” Qrow called out as he stepped forward. “So, where’s the Vault entrance, exactly? Oz never told me.”
“Right here,” Lionheart said, gesturing to the statue.
“Right in plain sight,” Qrow said with a chuckle. “Alright. Let’s take a peek.”
Summer folded her arms.
Lionheart approached the statue, holding the pocket watch in his hand. He set it within a hoop attached to the statue’s chains. With a rumble, the statue began to descend.
“No controls on this elevator,” Summer said.
“Exactly,” Lionheart responded. “If you descend, you need someone else to recall the elevator. I will recall it in exactly two hours, so don’t be late.”
Summer checked her Scroll for the time. “Two hours, got it.” She stepped onto the platform as it reached ground level and Qrow followed. “See you then.”
The pair descended down into the depths.
Summer flipped through her Scroll’s functions to set a timer for herself.
“I can’t believe you’re still using that old thing,” Qrow said.
“Upgrading wasn’t exactly my highest priority,” Summer said. She held up the screen. “We’re far enough below the school that ordinary CCT signal can’t reach. Short range radio is probably cut off, too. Burst transmission might work, but it's dicey."
“So no comms without leaving,” Qrow said.
“Yeah,” Summer said.
After several minutes, the elevator arrived at the Vault. As Summer stepped off the elevator, three massive circles lit up in sequence, revealing the Vault’s gargantuan door. On either side of the platform leading from the elevator to the door was a sheer drop into inky blackness.
“So,” Qrow said. “They can’t get into the actual Vault without the Spring Maiden, who is currently with Raven’s tribe — and Raven ordered them to scatter and reconvene at their summer grounds, so it will be at least a month before they’re all gathered close enough to weed out which one is the Maiden.”
“Yeah,” Summer said. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that they have the Spring Maiden.”
“Then they’d have two Maidens,” Qrow said. “You understand how destructive even just one Maiden can be, right? If they have two, they don’t need to sneak in. They could blow a hole in the side of the mountain and still have juice to spare.”
“But they’re not invincible.”
Qrow furrowed his brow, his gaze growing distant. “They’re not.”
“So,” Summer said, walking up to the Vault door. “It’s buried deep in the mountain. No wireless communications except maybe burst transmission. A secured elevator. And a door that won’t open.” She shrugged. “It’s pretty impregnable.”
Behind her, the elevator began to ascend until it had gone up into the ceiling.
Summer turned around at the sound and blinked a couple times. “We just got down here,” she said, checking her Scroll. Her eyes widened in realization.
“If Lionheart is our leaker—” Qrow started.
“Then not only would he be able to get them down into the Vault, he could trap us down here,” Summer concluded.
“Raven can portal to us,” Qrow said. “We won’t starve to death.”
“It’s not starving I’m worried about.” Summer pulled out Thorn and made sure it was fully loaded, then she did the same with Halbmond. “It’s a trap.”
“Hazel.”
Summer nodded. “You have to get back up there. Once that platform comes back down, you fly up, get the others and detain Lionheart.”
The elevator began to descend once more.
“I can’t leave you here alone,” Qrow said.
“I don’t think there’s much time for debate. Besides, I’m your team leader, right?” Summer smiled. “Follow my orders.”
“You got it, Boss,” Qrow said reluctantly. "Don't die again." He leapt up and transformed into a crow, letting out a cry before disappearing into the darkness. As soon as the elevator had cleared the ceiling, he flew up and out.
“Great,” Summer said. Her footsteps echoed as she strode towards the elevator. “Let’s see who tonight’s contestant is.”
The elevator’s grate slid open. Behind it was Hazel Rainart, standing beside a young woman with dark hair and an eyepatch, clad in an asymmetrical red dress with only one sleeve that extended past her left hand’s fingertips. The two of them stepped out to stand opposite Summer.
Summer silently drew her sword. “You know, we really must stop meeting like this,” she called out. “I’m not going to roll over and die. I didn’t back then and I sure as hell won’t now.”
“Shame,” Hazel said, discarding his overcoat. “You could save yourself a lot of pain.”
"Somehow, I doubt that,” Summer said, mostly to herself.
“You’re not the Rose I was expecting,” the other said.
“You’re the Fall Maiden,” Summer said, raising a finger to her lips. She pointed with it, pantomiming a gun with her fingers. “I’m Summer.”
“Fall. Cinder Fall.”
Summer slipped her other hand back under her cloak; it wrapped around the grip of her revolver. “Now that we’re introduced—” She broke into a run, whipping out Thorn and firing both rifle and revolver wildly at Hazel and Cinder.
Hazel raised his arms into a block, one of the bullets grazing his forearm before his Aura came up.
Cinder dodged backwards as Summer slashed for her neck. A sword coalesced into being in Cinder’s right hand and she parried the next slash, the blades locking for an instant.
Summer heard Hazel’s incoming haymaker, sliding to the side and backwards to evade both Hazel’s blow and Cinder’s impending attack.
“Back off. She’s mine,” Hazel ground out to Cinder, before turning back to face Summer.
Summer grit her teeth. “Don’t be so sure.”
Hazel pulled a series of large Dust crystals from his belt. With eyes wide and teeth bared, he slammed each into his arm. He howled in rage.
Cinder, smirking, stepped back as Hazel launched himself at Summer; he was a veritable whirlwind of fists and unbridled fury. Summer blocked and evaded as best she could, her Aura flaring into visibility with each hit she sustained.
Summer’s gaze flicked backwards. Hazel was pushing her towards the edge of the platform.
This close, it was difficult for her to maneuver, but she brought the barrel of Thorn up and pulled its second trigger. The shotgun shell — full of Fire Dust — engulfed Hazel, and he instinctively brought his arms up to shield his face.
Summer leapt to his right and past him, delivering a pair of roundhouse kicks to Hazel’s side. She backed away. With Semblance engaged, she slid Thorn into its holster and reloaded Halbmond with high-pressure rounds.
Hazel flexed, a crystal of Ice Dust in his arm lighting up and extinguishing the flames.
"That's raw Dust," Summer muttered to herself in realization. She grinned to herself for an instant.
Hazel loomed menacingly, wisps of smoke and steam still pouring off his body.
Summer fired Halbmond at the ground at an angle, sending her rocketing towards Hazel. She swung the sword back around to slash at his Aura. It sparked and flared into visibility as she slid past him.
He whirled around, his palms and Aura stopping each thrust and slash of the blade. He stepped forward deliberately, twisting with a hook aimed at Summer’s lower torso. It connected.
She hadn’t put up her Aura, and the blow hurt. She stumbled backwards, firing a shot from Halbmond without really aiming. It glanced off Hazel’s bicep, tearing his sleeve.
“You’re out of Aura and out of time,” Hazel said. He grabbed Summer’s incoming overhead blow with his left arm, twisting the blade out of her grasp and tossing it behind him.
She stepped backwards, assuming the low stance of a Mistralian martial artist as he approached, step by step. She flicked her glance to the massive door at the end of the Vault, which Hazel was slowly pushing her towards.
“This time, no pits, and no tricks,” Hazel said. He grinned with feral intensity. “You’re just going to die."
“You’ve got one or two things wrong,” Summer retorted. “First off, I’m not going to die.”
“And the second?” Hazel asked.
“I’m not out of Aura,” Summer said.
Her Semblance hurt to use. Her body, pushed to superhuman limits, would tear itself apart if she let herself go at full speed. But using it was necessary to slip past his defenses.
Summer stepped forwards, ducking her head to the side to evade Hazel’s jab. She brought her foot down to the ground and her right elbow up into Hazel’s abdomen. She whirled around, her left hand grasping one of the Dust crystals embedded in Hazel’s own left arm.
Hazel’s face froze in shock, eyes wide and teeth bared.
Summer crushed the crystal — Lightning Dust, some detached part of her brain supplied — with her hand.
It crackled, discharging all at once with the sound of a cannon shot — and then another, and another as each of Hazel’s crystals exploded in a chain reaction. Summer was thrown backwards, the tattered remnants of her Aura shielding her from the initial shockwave — but not from slamming into the massive door of the Vault. All the breath was slammed from her body and she was left gasping for air and coughing from the smoke.
After a long moment, the smoke cleared.
Hazel stood, still. What remained of his right arm was limp, useless at his side and covered in ice and frost from where the Ice Dust had exploded, His left arm was gone, charred away into nothing. His bloodstained face still bore a hateful expression as he stepped forward towards Summer.
Summer weakly put a hand up against the door. She shakily began to stand.
Hazel took another step and collapsed forward. Blood splattered over the stone floor.
Summer exhaled, watching his body for movement. The man didn't stir.
“Well, well, well,” Cinder said, emerging from the smoke. “Such a shame, Hazel.”
"So," Summer said, stepping forward. "How do you want to play this?"
Qrow had rarely flown faster. Maybe the only time he had was when he’d been rushing to save Ruby from Tyrian; still, that was over calm forests. This was in the chaotic air of Mistral and he felt even more frantic trying to remember the exact route from Haven back to the safehouse.
Lionheart hadn't been in the Hall, but Qrow's keen avian senses had discovered others: White Fang members hauling equipment out of trucks.
Qrow landed on the open air walkway of the apartment complex mid-transformation, which his knees and lower back did not like and were all too willing to tell him. He sprinted down the hall and skidded to a stop in front of the safehouse door, patting his pockets for the key.
After a moment, he realized that Summer had the spare key.
His fist came up and pounded on the door three times in a row.
Nora threw open the door a moment later.
"Grab your weapons," Qrow said, stepping past her.
Raven, who was slouched in a chair, perked up. "What happened? Where's Summer?"
"Hazel and the Fall Maiden have her cornered in the Vault," Qrow explained quickly, striding across the room and tossing Ren his machine pistols. Behind him, Tifa slipped on her gloves.
“Summer’s in danger?” Raven asked, a barely-held together mask of calm hiding what at the moment maybe only Qrow could tell was a boiling, frothing pit of rage. She rose from her seat immediately.
“Yeah,” Qrow confirmed, even as Raven was already picking up her sheathed sword and her mask. She slipped her sheath onto her belt and slid her sword out of it. "Raven, hold on," he said.
He was pretty sure she heard him, but she didn't slow her walk until she’d torn a portal open and walked through it. It shut behind her, winking out mockingly.
“Shit,” Qrow said quietly before barking out, "Everyone! We gotta go!"
The group ran up the steps to Haven Academy’s entrance. Qrow’s knees were aching as he forced himself up the steep staircases, but he pushed through it.
“Qrow and I will apprehend Leonardo,” Ozpin said, having taken over Oscar. “I need the remainder of you to ensure that the Vault's entrance in the Grand Hall is secured."
“Hold on,” Ruby started. “M—My mom’s still down there.”
“And Raven,” Qrow said. “She’ll get Summer out of there. She can portal out to me.”
“What about the White Fang?” Yang asked. “What if they’re trying to bomb the school? Or release Grimm, like at Beacon?”
“I’ll go,” Cloud said.
“Nobody should go alone,” Ozpin said.
“Then I’ll go too,” Yang said.
Qrow looked over and shook his head. “No. I know you lost your arm to these guys, but you gotta stay focused or else someone gets hurt.”
Cloud surveyed the options carefully. “Weiss, right?” he asked.
Weiss blinked. “Yes, uh, Mister…?”
“Just call me Cloud.” He jerked his head towards the towers. “Let’s go do some bomb disposal.” He led her away from the group, up a side path to one of the CCT Towers’ rear entrances.
The remaining group continued up to the quad.
There was a small squad of White Fang members, clad in uniform and armor holding assault rifles, who snapped into firing positions as Qrow, taking point, emerged at the top of the stairs. He brought his sword around, the flat of the blade protecting his body as they opened fire. From behind, Ren and Nora fanned out, peppering them with machine pistol fire before blasting apart their formation with a well-placed grenade.
“Nice work,” Qrow said.
He slammed open the door to Haven’s Grand Hall for the second time in an hour. It was thankfully empty. The statue had once again returned to its position, sealing off the Vault; Lionheart’s pocket watch was nowhere to be found.
“Oz,” Qrow said. He jabbed his thumb at the statue. “No watch.”
“Lionheart must have it,” Ozpin said. He cleared his throat, stepping up the stairs slightly to seem taller than his current body was. “The rest of you, ensure that this hall is secured.”
“On it,” Jaune said with a salute.
Qrow and Ozpin ran up the stairs and through the corridors, Qrow taking point again. After they’d retraced the route he and Summer had taken scant days before, they came upon the eerily silent waiting room for Lionheart’s office.
Qrow slammed open the double doors.
Leonardo Lionheart was laying facedown in a pool of his own blood. His weapon had been thrown across the room, and a pair of brown suitcases had been toppled over next to the couch.
"No," Qrow said, stowing his blade.
Oscar stumbled slightly, regaining control of his own body. "Oz?" he asked quietly. "You okay?"
He was met with a discomforting silence in his own mind; what once he would have taken as normal was now strange.
Qrow knelt down and flipped the body over. He grimaced; Lionheart had died with an expression of terror on his face. His pocket watch was grasped tightly in his hand, which had been pinned under his chest. Qrow pried his fingers apart enough to free it.
Qrow frowned at Lionheart's bloodstained shirt. He gently tilted the body to examine the wound.
"Oz, come look at this," he said.
Oscar stepped over and knelt down opposite Qrow.
"That's not a wound from a blade," Qrow said, looking at the wound.
"A Grimm killed him," Oscar said, the hairs on his neck rising.
Qrow looked up, the beginning of a sentence on his lips.
A Grimm loomed above Oscar: an orb-like Seer, with a barb prepared to launch into the boy's back.
Oscar's eyes flicked up to meet Qrow's.
With barely a thought, Qrow shoved Oscar aside.
The Seer's barb lanced forward, narrowly missing Oscar and planting itself in Qrow's shoulder, his Aura having come up a fraction of a second too late. Qrow shouted in agony. The second and third strike glanced harmlessly off his Aura, and with a flex and a push from his Aura, the initial barb was ejected from his shoulder, spraying blood out onto the floor.
Oscar leapt forwards, his cane deploying in his hand. With a thrust, he jabbed the Grimm in the center of its mass. He repeated the strike again and again, jabbing at the weak points between the Seer’s bone-like armor until it spun, dazed. Oscar gripped the cane in both hands and swung with all his might, launching the Seer out of the window.
“Shit,” Qrow said, standing up. He winced. “Thanks, Oz.”
“It’s Oscar.” The once-farmboy pursed his lips. “Ozpin…went quiet.”
Qrow chuckled. “Coulda fooled me. The way you move was the same.” He winced again. “Okay. Aura took care of that.” He looked down at the corpse and sighed, shaking his head. “Let’s get back.”
Yang opened one of the double doors by a crack and peered out of it. She turned back to the others. “No sign of them,” she called out.
Ruby called back, “Got it.” She loaded her rifle with a fresh magazine, manually cycling the bolt to load the first cartridge.
Yang peered out the door again.
She spotted familiar red hair across the quad — Adam Taurus.
Her hand — the flesh and blood one — was shaking violently. Her metal arm, holding the door open, let it go to wrap around her left wrist. She inhaled — exhaled thrice, and opened the door again.
Yang slipped out the door, running into the night.
“Yang?!” Ruby shouted. With a button press, she folded her rifle, already sliding it back into its harness at her waist. She ran for the door, threw it open, and disappeared into a burst of rose petals.
Tifa, who had been absently stretching, looked up sharply at the scene. The remaining three — whose names she was honestly forgetting — were looking to her, as the oldest and presumably most responsible in the room.
“I’ll go get them,” she offered, before running for the exit.
"You're wounded," Cinder said as she emerged from the smoke. She twirled her sword. "And disarmed."
Summer smirked. "Don't you know the old Vacuoan proverb that tells us a cornered fox is more dangerous than a jackal?" Her stance dropped again, her eyes narrow.
"Your arrogance is your weakness," Cinder said.
She charged with a brutal slash. Summer caught it in the shoulder.
Summer's right gauntlet came up to block Cinder's follow-up, creating a shower of sparks between the pair. Summer stepped forward and slammed her elbow into Cinder's chest before ramming her shoulder into the woman. She followed up by pressing the attack with a series of quick punches. Cinder's Aura flared into visibility with each blow until Summer punched her backwards with a titanic blow.
Cinder grit her now blood-stained teeth. Her so-far hidden right arm came up and lashed out — Summer realized as the blow flew towards her that the arm was a Grimm itself, with talons rather than fingers.
Summer caught the wrist before Cinder could slice at her face and twisted it down. Her other hand grabbed the elongated forearm of Grimm flesh and pulled, pivoting Cinder around. With a burst of her Semblance, using what little Aura she still had, Summer brought her elbow down on Cinder's arm.
Cinder howled in pain as the limb retracted unnaturally until it was once again hidden by her sleeve.
“This is impossible,” she said. Her eyes glowed before flame erupted from them and she began to float off the ground, propelled by jets of fire.
Summer dove out of the way of her head-on assault. Cinder flew out over the abyss beneath the platform. She slowed, banked around, and sped back towards Summer.
Summer realized almost immediately: at the speed Cinder was moving, Summer would be thrown off the platform by a direct hit.
Summer narrowly dodged, the wind in the Maiden’s wake throwing her off balance. As she steadied herself, a glint of steel caught her eye — Halbmond. As Cinder sped past again, Summer dove atop it and checked its magazine. It was still loaded.
Cinder slowed to a stop, lobbing jets of flame at Summer. Summer caught one in the chest, the blast throwing her back.
Cinder leaned forward, Grimm claw extended. She flew forward, prepared to kill Summer.
Summer steadied herself against the floor, stood shakily, and shifted Halbmond into sword form. She held it with both hands, stance low and defensive.
Before the two clashed—
A rend appeared in the space before Summer, splitting apart into a familiar swirling vortex of black and red. Raven Branwen emerged in a split-second, already drawing her sword into a slash that connected, tearing open Cinder’s aura for a second.
The Fall Maiden careened upwards into a large loop, touching down gently.
Raven, mask upon her head, turned to regard Summer, sliding her sword back into its sheath.
“Overdramatic as expected,” Summer said. She pulled a bottle from her belt — a healing tonic. “Relax. I’m fine.” She uncorked the bottle and downed it in a single gulp before tossing the bottle aside; then she threw off her singed vest and her cloak, letting them drop to the floor.
Raven nodded — a slight, near imperceptible motion — and then turned to face Cinder Fall.
The silence of the Grand Hall was broken by an interior door slamming shut. Jaune, Ren, and Nora whirled around in the hopes it was Qrow and Oscar.
It wasn’t.
“Well, well, well,” Mercury Black said, standing at the top of the stairs. Emerald Sustrai stood beside him. “And then there were three.”
“There’s three of us and only two of you,” Jaune growled. “You’re going to pay for all the Huntsmen you’ve killed.”
“Who are you, again?” Mercury asked, descending one set of the stairs that wrapped around the statue at the hall’s center.
From the other set, Emerald mockingly looked up at the ceiling before snapping her fingers. “That’s right, you were Big Red’s partner.”
Mercury laughed. “Him? And her? Oh, this is going to be easy.”
“I’ll show you easy,” Jaune yelled, charging in.
Mercury stepped forward to meet him, a high kick redirecting Jaune's overhead blow. Jaune pulled back and tried again; Mercury spun to the side of his slash and rammed his elbow into Jaune’s armored chest before bringing the back of his fist up to smack into Jaune’s face.
Jaune stumbled back, bringing up his shield and hunching slightly behind it.
“You forgot one thing,” Mercury said. His arms were spread wide as if to accept all challengers. “This isn’t a spar. There’s no Goodwitch to bail you out when I break your Aura — or your bones. So I hope the three of you have picked up a few new moves.”
Nora charged in with her hammer only for Emerald’s chain sickle to wrap around the handle and redirect her blow shy of Mercury; as Nora followed through, Emerald leapt over the fray and pulled sharply, bringing the hammer around to smack into Ren, who was approaching to attack Mercury himself.
“Ooh,” Mercury said, with a fake wince. “Now that’s gotta hurt.”
Cloud and Weiss ran up to one of the Dual CCT Towers.
“There’s one,” Cloud said, pointing at a bomb that had been planted onto one of the pillars. He stopped in front of it.
“Do you know how to defuse a bomb?” Weiss asked.
“Not really,” Cloud admitted. “But I’ve made enough of ‘em.”
Weiss’s mouth dropped open in shock as Cloud grabbed the bomb from the pillar and pried it off the wall.
“Probably plastic explosive,” he said, cracking open the casing to confirm. He flipped it around so Weiss could see the mass of clay-like explosive inside, wires criss-crossing over and into spikes and soldered to small circuit boards. “Yep. With a remote detonator.”
“How do we disarm it?” Weiss asked.
“Well,” Cloud said, sticking his gauntlet into the casing. A blast of cold emanated from his palm and, as Weiss watched, the explosive grew cold to the touch, frost crystals forming. “Some of the Wutai vets liked to carry Ice materia,” he explained. “They said you could freeze plastic explosives if you couldn’t get EOD on the line. It prevents them from detonating.”
“Freeze the bombs,” Weiss said, examining the stock of Ice Dust in her rapier.
“Look out,” Cloud shouted, shoving Weiss backwards behind him as he drew the Buster Sword to clash with a White Fang member bearing a sword. Cloud threw the man off-balance with the weight of his massive blade before smacking him with the wide flat of his sword. The man slammed into the wall and fell to the ground, out cold.
“Come on,” Cloud said, grabbing Weiss’s forearm and hoisting her to her feet. “We’ve got bombs to deal with.”
“Adam Taurus!”
Yang’s voice echoed across the narrow space between the Haven Library and the campus’s Performing Arts Centre.
Adam turned around, the two White Fang members flanking him spinning and brandishing their rifles.
“A Huntress,” one of them said.
“No. A fledgling,” Adam growled. “Go. I’ll handle her.”
The two at his side carefully stepped backwards before taking off and disappearing around a corner.
Sweat beaded Yang’s brow.
His Semblance was able to pierce her Aura — but as for how he charged it, that was the question that had been left unanswered. If Blake were here—
Yang shook her head. There was no time to dwell on that.
If she assumed it was like her own, that they would fuel each other by trading blows, then it would quickly become a destructive spiral. But she doubted her own Semblance would be able to overpower his own. She would have to strike as hard as she could to knock him out before he could retaliate.
She launched forward.
The clang of metal-on-metal between Adam’s freshly drawn blade and her prosthetic arm echoed into the night. She narrowly ducked beneath his follow-up slash, stepping forward as he stepped back.
Yang stepped back to bait his attack and he stepped forward as she’d hoped. He brought his sword down with both hands; she reached out with her metal right hand and grabbed it. She pulled sharply, his grip sending him towards her, and she punched.
His mask cracked and fell to pieces.
She could see clearly into his eyes.
One of his eyes was a brilliant blue — but the other was a lifeless gray, half-lidded and burnt. The massive scar of a brand was splayed across his face, bearing three letters — SDC. It was not fresh. It had been like that for years.
She stared into his burnt-out eye and at her own prosthetic hand, wrapped around his lapel. Her arms were shaking, both of them.
He shook the daze and shoved backwards out of Yang’s grasp, firing wildly with the rifle that was his sheath. Yang brought her arms up into a block, the bullets deflecting off her Aura.
He began to advance—
—but stopped, a bullet whizzing past his head as the distinctive crack of Ruby’s sniper rifle, Crescent Rose, sounded over the quad. He flipped backwards, narrowly dodging as a figure in white and black leapt down from the rooftop, smashing a small crater where he had been standing.
Tifa Lockhart launched out of the dust cloud her landing had kicked up. Adam evaded her first hit, smacking her in the stomach with his sheath.
Yang ran in, a kick slamming Adam’s sword back into its sheath as he drew it. Tifa used the opportunity to deliver a hook to Adam’s jaw; his Aura cracked from the force of the blow and he stumbled backwards a step.
A massive airship came into view overhead, its spotlights flaring to life and shining down on the group. Tifa and Yang reflexively shielded their eyes.
Standing above them on the rooftop, silhouetted by the spotlights, stood Blake Belladonna. Her hair and the tails of her coat were flapping in the wind of the airship’s engine.
“Adam!” she yelled. “It’s over! The police have the entire campus surrounded.”
Adam grit his teeth, staring up at her. “Fine. We’ll go together.” He produced a thin metallic cylinder from his jacket, clicked a button at the top, and threw it to the ground.
“A detonator,” Tifa said with a gasp.
Ruby’s rifle fired again — and Adam brought up his sheathed blade and drew it just enough to catch the bullet. His blade hummed with the energy.
“Tifa, wait,” Yang called out. “He absorbs attacks with his sword—”
“—and deals it back,” Tifa finished. She smirked. “Then I’d like to see him absorb this.”
She extended her hand, one of the small green orbs inset in the wrist glowing, and snapped her fingers. A fireball erupted before her, throwing a scorched Adam backwards. The police searchlight took a moment to find him, losing track of him as he absconded.
Yang stepped forward to pursue.
“Wait,” Blake said.
“He’s getting away,” Yang urged.
“No, he’s luring us away,” Blake said. “The police and the people of Menagerie do have the entire campus surrounded. What matters is making sure those bombs don’t go off.”
“The people of Menagerie?” Yang asked, tilting her head.
“Long story.” Blake shook her head. “Listen, I already have someone working on bombs, but there’s no way she’s finished. I don’t know how long Adam left for himself to get away.”
“Not to worry. We also have someone working on the bombs,” Yang said.
“We?” Blake asked. “I know that was Ruby’s rifle, and, uh…” She looked over at Tifa, trying to recall if she had ever seen the other woman.
“Tifa,” Yang introduced. “Tifa, this is Blake, Blake, this is Tifa.”
Blake reached out and shook Tifa’s hand. “Are you a member of the faculty?”
“Nope,” Tifa said. “Just a bartender.”
Blake glanced over to Yang, a question in her eyes.
“My story’s longer,” Yang said with a smirk.
Cloud and Weiss rounded the corner to come upon someone in a black bodysuit hunched over a bomb. Cloud rushed forward as they stood; they narrowly ducked under a brutal slash and dove out of the way.
The bodysuited skulker was a young woman, perhaps within a year of Weiss. What Cloud had assumed was a full bodysuit actually only covered her torso and upper legs — her arms and legs had instead changed colors to decrease her visibility in the shadows and had reverted with the shock of being discovered.
“Camouflage, huh? Hope that’s not your only trick,” he said. “Weiss, get the bomb.”
“Consider it done,” Weiss said. With a gesture of her sword, the bomb was encased in ice.
“But I just disarmed that,” the girl said, confused. “Who—what? Who are you?” She tilted her head to look past Cloud. “Are you Weiss Schnee?”
Weiss growled. “Another White Fang looking to ransom me?”
“I’m not—I mean, technically I was, but—Agh! I’m trying to save the school by disarming the bombs!”
“Disarming the bombs?” Weiss asked. “Who are you working for?”
“Uh—um—the Chieftain of Menagerie,” the young woman blurted out. “Ghira Belladonna!”
“Belladonna?” Weiss asked, stunned.
“Belladonna?” Cloud repeated, confused.
Qrow sprinted down the hallways, the sound of gunshots from the Grand Hall growing louder.
“Wait up,” Oscar yelled from behind him.
Qrow did not slow down; he kicked open the door and drew his sword, the blade curving and hilt lengthening into a shaft as he leapt down from the raised dais to the ground. With a flick of his wrist he deflected Mercury’s incoming attack on Jaune and with a sweep of his scythe he batted aside Emerald’s chain-sickle.
“Branwen,” Emerald said, fear trickling into her voice.
“You two,” Qrow growled, assessing the situation.
Oscar was seconds behind and the rest of the kids were not alright — Ruby and Yang were missing, along with the bartender, Jaune bore a dented chestplate, Nora a head wound, and Ren a pair of slashes to his leg that had left him prone on the floor as his Aura worked to knit them back together.
“Waiting for your boss, I suppose,” Qrow said, stepping forward slowly and menacingly. “You were her escape route last time, too. But this time you’re finished.”
“Yeah?” Mercury said, clearly hesitating.
Massive spotlights shone through the windows; the distinct sound of an airship thundered overhead.
“There’s the police,” Qrow said.
Emerald’s gaze flicked to Mercury. “We can’t leave Cinder,” she said, voice low.
“Yes, we can,” Mercury said darkly. “No Cinder, no smoldering crater of a school, and the police are here. We’ve been outfoxed.” He slid a small cylinder out of a pouch on his belt — a grenade, Qrow realized as Mercury bit the pin and slid it out. He flipped the grenade into the air and it exploded a scant second and a half later as it hit the apex of its parabola.
The effect was instant: a blinding flash and a deafening bang.
When Qrow’s vision cleared, the pair were gone.
The air in the Vault had grown thick with tension and warm with jets of flame.
“You must be Raven Branwen,” Cinder said. She grinned, with a feral edge. “You’re going to tell me where the Spring Maiden is.” A flaming sword coalesced into existence in her hand.
Behind Raven, Summer reloaded her revolver. She spun the cylinder loudly when she was done; Raven’s hand twitched slightly in acknowledgement; she rotated her sheath to affix a new blade.
At once, Raven moved to the left, Summer to the right.
Cinder’s Grimm hand came up to block Summer’s shots, but the bullet went straight through the palm and glanced off Cinder’s Aura right before it would have hit her head.
“Her arm doesn’t have Aura,” Summer called out.
Cinder narrowly caught Raven’s blow with her sword, a new sword forming in her Grimm arm to slash at Raven. The blow cracked the right eye of Raven’s mask, exposing it.
Raven responded by pushing Cinder’s first sword into the ground; the glass sword shattered against the ground. She kicked Cinder backwards; the Fall Maiden stumbled back to where Summer was ready with an elbow strike into a backhand. Cinder barely blocked Summer's follow-up slash, summoning another sword to deflect Raven’s own incoming attack. It glanced off the blade and sparked Cinder’s Aura into visibility, cracking it for an instant.
Summer shoved Cinder’s sword backwards and planted two revolver rounds in her leg; the first shot pinged off her Aura and the second broke through. Cinder cried out in pain and she let out a massive blast of fire, throwing both Summer and Raven backwards toward the massive Vault door.
Cinder roared incoherently. She opened her palms and sent another massive jet of flame towards the pair.
Summer shut her eyes, preparing to feel the heat. When it didn’t come, she opened them gently.
A thick wall of ice had formed to shield them.
Raven stood before her. Her arms were spread, fingertips against the wall.
Summer looked once more at the wall and back to Raven. “Then you’re—”
“Yeah,” Raven said. She turned to show her exposed eye and the flames pouring off of it. “I’m the Maiden.” The wall cracked, water and small chunks of ice pouring out of them. A great cloud of steam had begun to form on the other side of the wall.
Summer laughed. She reloaded her rifle and slipped her revolver back into its holster. “Alright. No holding back now. She’s out of Aura. We end this, quick.”
“Got it,” Raven replied, steadying herself. With a great exhale, the wall of ice shattered outwards.
Summer and Raven charged forwards out of the steam, perfectly in sync.
Cinder launched a fireball at them; Raven drew a blade infused with Ice Dust from her sheath and sliced through it. The blade cracked and shattered as Raven followed through.
“You’re the Spring Maiden,” Cinder said with a feral grin. Her Grimm arm lashed out, stretching abnormally before catching Raven by the throat and lifting her. Some red glow of energy began to move from the hand and back towards Cinder.
Summer inhaled. She drew on the strength of her heart, the strength that grew with connections and friendships and love, and that power poured out of her silver eyes.
As the light subsided, Cinder’s arm was burning, back up and into the sleeve. She recoiled, howling in pain.
Raven’s boots hit the ground and she charged forward; her hand slammed into Cinder's throat and she continued running until she held Cinder above the abyss. She squoze and Cinder gasped for breath. A blast of cold poured out of Raven's palm and into Cinder, flash-freezing her entire body. Her eye, still moving, flicked down to stare in hate at Raven.
"Bye," Raven said plainly.
She dropped Cinder off the cliff-edge.
Summer blinked rapidly to clear the light pouring out of her eyes. She grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around herself before peering down into the depths that Cinder had fallen into. “She dead?”
“She’ll shatter at the bottom,” Raven said coldly.
“Good.” Summer exhaled roughly. “Let’s get out of here."
"Just a minute," Raven said. She turned to face the Vault's door.
Blake’s disorientation grew when Ruby and Yang encountered Weiss, who had evidently herself encountered Ilia by the fact that Ilia was standing awkwardly between Weiss and a spiky-haired man who was introduced to her as Cloud.
Before even speaking, Weiss offered Blake a hug. Blake, naturally, accepted.
“There’s so much to explain to you,” Ruby said. “I mean—well—we have to get permission first—”
“Chill out, Rubes,” Yang said, smiling.
The sight was only slightly dismal when they arrived at the Grand Hall — Nora bore a bandage wrapped around her forehead, and a bruised Jaune was helping Ren into a more comfortable position. Qrow and Oscar stood beside the stairs, discussing.
Blake meekly waved hello, unsure of what to do.
The elevator, finally, returned.
Blake had seen neither of the women standing there atop the platform. Both were injured to varying degrees: the smaller bore cuts all over and bloodstains marred her sleeveless white shirt, and the larger had a considerable bruise developing on her cheek. They were leaning on each other slightly, and as Blake watched, the larger one pressed a gentle kiss onto the crown of her partner’s head.
The smaller woman let out a small laugh, squeezing the golden lamp in her arms closer to her chest instinctively.
Blake couldn’t help but recognize something familiar in the women. “Who is that?” she asked.
“Uh,” Yang said.
“Those are our moms,” Ruby said. She raised her voice and, with a great wave of her hand, shouted. “Hey, Mom! Come meet Blake!”
Chapter 4: Keeping Up With The Roses
Chapter Text
The hospital room was shrouded half in darkness, half in light; upon the bed, Summer Rose sat writing in her journal by the light of a lamp. She yawned and stretched, wincing as she reflexively nearly reopened the wounds underneath her bandages. Bags had begun to form under her eyes and she relented, shutting the journal and sliding it onto the small side table. She leaned back into the bed and closed her eyes.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she jolted to attention, hand quickly finding the revolver she’d set on the end table.
The darkness at the far end of the hospital room swirled and opened. A figure in a hooded black coat stepped out into the room and the darkness undistorted. Summer relaxed, releasing her grip on her gun.
Summer's former-enemy and current-tentative-ally Riku slid his hood back to reveal his long, silvery-blue hair and the blindfold wrapped around his eyes. He strode forward and sat in a chair beside Summer, half in the lamplight.
"The Organization is moving," Riku said.
Summer leaned back in the hospital bed. "Right down to business, huh? So what's the news?"
"I've been observing them," Riku continued. "DiZ and I pinned down their end goal.” Summer nodded for him to continue. “As you know, Organization XIII are Nobodies, so they lack hearts."
"Right," Summer said.
"In order to provide the members with hearts, Ansem's Nobody wants to create Kingdom Hearts. But he's not doing it the way his Heartless did it, by destroying worlds, but instead by gathering hearts."
"Gathering hearts?" Summer asked. She grabbed her journal and flipped back through her notes. "That would mean…extracting the hearts from people, like in Ansem's early research. But those just become Heartless, right?"
"If a Heartless is destroyed by a Keyblade, then the heart is sent somewhere. Organization XIII set up a way to capture those hearts and form them into a different form of Kingdom Hearts."
"Because the other way backfired on his Heartless," Summer said. She tapped her pen against the page. "The kid…Sora has a Keyblade, but he obviously can't use it right now. And that King has one too. So we just make sure he knows not to kill any Heartless."
"It's not that easy," Riku said. "The Organization has their own Keyblade wielder."
Summer's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"I don't know his name," Riku said. "But I think it's Sora's Nobody. And it's worse. They've made a Replica, a body without a soul or heart, and set it to siphon Roxas's powers. Now they have a second Keyblade, even if it's a bit of a sham." He pulled a paper from a pocket on his coat and passed it to Summer. "See for yourself."
The paper was an instant film photograph, not dissimilar to the collection Summer had taken during her adolescence. It portrayed an inky black sky with a bright white castle hovering in the distance, and behind it, a heart-shaped moon loomed ominously in the sky.
"Their base. Kingdom Hearts is already visible," Riku said. He accepted Summer returning the photo to him and slipped it back into his pocket. "If we let them run wild, they could finish it before Sora has a chance to wake up."
"How are they producing more Heartless?" Summer asked.
"Darkness lurks in the hearts of all men," Riku said, holding out a hand. "For some, it would only take a nudge—" He closed his fist. "—and they would lose their heart. And the members of the Organization — who aren't wielding the Keyblade — excel at giving those nudges."
"Then they send the Keyblade wielders after the Heartless they've just made," Summer concluded. She paused. "Does Sora's Nobody know?"
Riku shook his head. "Looks like they keep him on a pretty short leash. I don’t think he even knows whose Nobody he is."
"So what's the plan?" Summer asked.
"DiZ wants you to stay put," Riku said. "Even meeting like this is a risk." He pulled another photograph out. This one was closer to home — in a very literal sense. Summer immediately recognized the buildings as Patch's town square. Striding through it, blurred slightly by a quick pace, was a tall, lanky man with fire-red hair in spikes that stuck up to remind Summer of a particularly irate porcupine.
Summer found herself unable to speak for a long moment.
"Axel," Riku supplied in response to Summer's unspoken question. "Number Eight in the Organization. Taken two days ago. I don't think it's a coincidence that he was doing reconnaissance on your world. They're watching you."
"Why?"
"Your interference with Ansem’s Kingdom Hearts, if I had to guess,” Riku said. He looked at the bandages covering Summer’s burns and scrapes and at last realized where they were. “You, uh…”
“You should see the other guy,” Summer said with a slight laugh. She winced at the pain it caused. “No, I got tangled up with some things here. It’s a really long story.”
Summer could very nearly see Riku’s eyes narrow slightly under his blindfold. “Did you need any help?”
“No.” Summer sighed. “I don’t know. Not now.”
Summer did, eventually, get to sleep. She woke up the next morning to the sun shining through her window. For a long moment she thought back to the conversation the night before, consulting her notes and agonizing over the pair of pictures now stuffed in her journal.
Then she got up and went to the nurse’s station to check out.
Summer, above all else, disliked the necessary bureaucracy in hospitals. After several minutes the nurses, backed up with a doctor, stated she was not free to leave, but she had been deemed well enough that nobody fought her when she said she would take a walk to visit some of the other patients she’d come in with as they finalized the paperwork to release her.
She did feel better, but her Aura was still lower than she would have liked — it had spent the night healing her rather than fully recharging. She plodded along in blue hospital pajamas, consulting with nurses and staff until she had found Qrow and Ruby’s other friends.
She stopped at Team JNR’s room first. At special request, they’d been put into a single room together. Jaune and Nora were sleeping peacefully, finally cleared to get some rest; Ren was sitting up in his bed, reading.
“I asked to borrow a novel from one of the nurses,” he explained, setting the book aside. “Good morning, Mrs. Rose.”
“Call me Summer.” She jerked her head towards the others. “Are they going to be okay?”
“Jaune had several broken ribs, but nothing worse than that. Nora has a concussion but they’re hoping her Aura will have taken care of it when she wakes back up. I, meanwhile, am going to be fine once my Aura repairs my tendons, which will take a few days, according to the doctors.”
“That’s good,” Summer said quietly, still lingering at the door. She quietly shut it. “I think we’re going to have to leave without you and Qrow.”
Ren nodded. “I know.” He looked at the others. “Jaune won’t take it well.”
“We killed two of Salem’s lieutenants last night,” Summer said. “And we prevented another tragedy. You should all be proud. Tell him I said that if he’s angry.”
Ren nodded. “He still won’t be happy. But we’ll continue our training after we’re cleared for duty.”
Summer gave a casual salute. “Good. I’ve gotta go find Qrow.”
Qrow blinked, opening his eyes. This time he could see decently clearly and he was in a hospital, which beat out the last time he’d awoken somewhere he hadn’t been before.
“I hate surgery,” he weakly grumbled.
“Get used to it.”
Qrow jolted, looking to his right for the speaker: Summer was sitting in a chair beside his hospital bed.
“I’m checking out once I’m done here,” Summer said. “Well, and once I can change out of these pajamas. We’re taking it to Atlas.”
“But not me,” Qrow said.
“But not you,” Summer repeated. “You’re an injured alcoholic recovering from surgery. And to be frank, I think that Mistral is going to need you more than we will. Most of Haven’s teachers are missing and the city doesn’t have Huntsmen.”
“You’d better take care of Ruby and Yang,” Qrow said. “Don’t leave them without a mother again.”
Summer grimaced. “I wouldn’t.” She stood. “I hate saying goodbye — so I’ll see you later, Qrow.”
From the rooftop, Blake Belladonna gazed wistfully out over Mistral. Her thoughts were not of the city.
She’d come to Mistral to stop another horrific instance of terrorism — and to be frank, she hadn’t even been certain whether she’d survive another confrontation with Adam Taurus. The scar just below her waist thrummed with pain when she thought about that night at Beacon, even after all those months wandering and recuperating. Something deep in her bones told her even now that it wasn’t over, that Adam would return, and that she would once again confront him — as if he were a manifestation of all her ideals twisted to serve cruelty rather than kindness, and the only way to redeem herself would be through his defeat.
But no, things like that only happened in novels.
Adam was just a Faunus, like her. Only he’d grown up in a Schnee Dust Company mine with only scars and bitterness to show for it, and she’d grown up on boats and trains and carts traveling wherever her mother and father went to advocate for Faunus rights.
She sighed.
Her problem wasn’t Adam, at least not right now. Her problem was the fact that her old team from Beacon had miraculously reformed in their own effort to stop Haven’s destruction, and now she was torn between helping her parents, Sun, and Ilia deradicalize the White Fang or helping Ruby, Weiss, and Yang stop some sort of insidious schemer who had been behind the Beacon and Haven attacks. It was a patently ludicrous story involving the Queen of the Grimm — but it wasn’t a product of Ruby’s naivety. Someone had been manipulating Adam into pushing the White Fang into an all-out war.
The door opened; even without an extra set of ears, Blake would have heard it. She turned, to be met with the spikey-haired swordsman from the night before, whose name she was completely forgetting in the deluge of information that the other members of RWBY had provided.
“Hey,” he said, stepping up to the railing beside her. “Nice view.”
“It is,” Blake agreed. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Cloud. Cloud Strife,” he said flatly.
“I’m Blake.”
“Breakfast is ready,” he said. “But I don’t think you came up here because you were hungry.”
Blake inhaled. “Have you ever had two paths you could follow, but you could only pick one?” she asked.
Cloud ran a hand through his hair coolly. “Can’t say I’ve had a lot of choices in my life.”
Blake bit her lip. “All my life I wanted to help the Faunus. But now, it feels like wanting to do that is…just running away again. This Queen of the Grimm — isn’t that the real problem?”
“This is the real crisis for the Planet,” Cloud said, his voice light and lost in his memories for a second. He shook his head slightly. “Salem could destroy the world. I had a friend who fought to give us — to give me — a future. That’s why I fight. So my friends can have their own future.”
“Could I fight to give the Faunus a future?” Blake asked.
Cloud nodded tersely. “Yeah. But remember: there’s no getting off this train we’re on. Not until we reach the end of the line.”
Blake and Cloud returned to the apartment to find that, as they’d talked on the rooftop, Summer had arrived. She looked haggard even as she embraced her daughters. She’d just changed into her shirt from the night before — as evidenced by a large singe mark where Cinder had almost blasted her, and bandages were visible, peeking out from her collar and sleeves.
“How were they?” Summer asked Cloud, as Ruby scurried over to prepare a plate of pancakes for her mother.
“Rowdy,” Cloud said. “But nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“I’m impressed Raven is sleeping through this,” Summer said. She slumped down on a stool and accepted the plate of pancakes from Ruby. “Thanks. If there’s one thing that doesn’t change, it’s hospital food.” She began to devour her breakfast.
“How’s Uncle Qrow?” Ruby asked.
“He’s alright,” Summer said. “Your friends, too. But it’ll take a bit for all of them to be released. Even with Aura, recovery’s gonna take time, and time we don’t have. We need to start packing up.”
“And just leave them?” Yang asked.
“Yeah,” Oscar said. “Oz says we need to head for Atlas. Their Vault is more secure. Oz trusts J—uh, General Ironwood.”
“We’ll have to take the Argus Limited,” Summer said. “This afternoon, if we can.”
Weiss balked. “That’s so soon.”
“It’s prudent,” Raven said, emerging from the bedroom. She sat beside Yang at the counter and Blake was struck by their resemblance as Summer passed Raven a pancake. “We have to assume that Salem will know about what happened last night very soon. It would be better if we weren’t in the city. The faster we can hide, the better.”
“I’ll have to say goodbye to my parents,” Blake said quietly.
“You’re coming with us?!” Ruby half-shouted.
“Yeah,” Blake said.
“Alright!” Ruby said, pumping her fist. “It’s not Team RWBY without the ‘B’!”
“It really isn’t,” Weiss said, stepping over and hugging Blake. Ruby and Yang stepped over and it became a hug between the entire team.
The group hadn’t even really unpacked, so it was relatively easy for everyone to get ready to go. They stopped by the hospital for RWBY to say their goodbyes to Qrow and JNR and to deliver their luggage before swinging around to Tifa’s apartment to pick her up — Cloud had gone ahead of them to let her know their plans and she was just finishing handing off her keys to the building supervisor when the rest of the group arrived.
Waiting for them on the benches outside the station were Blake’s parents and an excitedly-waving Sun Wukong.
“I messaged my parents saying I would be leaving with you all,” Blake said, visibly misty-eyed. “I guess I should have expected them to see me off.”
“Yo,” Sun said, walking up to the group. “You didn’t think we would just let you leave without saying goodbye? Not this time!”
Ghira and Kali Belladonna stepped up to embrace Blake in a tight hug.
“I don’t think we can tell you to stay out of trouble,” Ghira said, “but at least stay safe.”
“Make sure you’re eating alright,” Kali added. “And don’t set anyone’s house on fire.”
“Thank you,” Blake said, close to sobbing in the embrace.
“Oh,” Sun said, looking around. “Ilia went in to grab some coffee, she’ll want to say goodbye, too.”
“Why don’t you all head in and find someplace to sit?” Summer suggested. “I’d like to have a word with, uh, the Belladonnas here.”
“Got it,” Tifa said, ushering the group along. As they passed into the train station, the wind picked up slightly.
Summer stuck out her hand. “I’m Summer, Ruby and Yang’s mother,” she said awkwardly.
Kali shook it hesitantly. “Aren’t you…a bit young to be their mother?”
“Yes. Yes I am. It’s a long story,” Summer said. “I’ll have to tell it to you someday.”
Ghira stepped up to shake Summer’s hand. “We’ll take you up on that, Gods willing,” he said.
“You’ll…look after my daughter, right?” Kali asked. “She’s strong — stronger than she knows — but I’m worried about her.”
“Well, I’m a licensed Huntress,” Summer said. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best to keep them all safe.”
“I think that’s the best we can hope for,” Ghira said. “Take care of yourself, too.”
“No promises,” Summer said.
This train station was completely unlike the rural one Summer and Oscar had met at scant days ago. It was opulent and massive, with over a dozen platforms and a massive board displaying arrivals and departures, the individual letters of the displays flipping to show a new set as Summer strode up to the counter.
“Tickets for—” Summer did a quick mental headcount. “Nine, I guess. To Argus. Next available.”
The clerk manning the counter joylessly scanned Summer’s ID and took her Lien as payment before printing the tickets. Summer picked them up and began to stride across the station towards where the rest of the group was sitting.
Summer felt a sudden chill run up her spine. She looked across the platform she was walking past.
There, on the opposite platform, was a man staring directly ahead — at Summer. His graying black hair was tied back in a ponytail and he bore an eyepatch, but otherwise he was dressed the same as anyone else in the station. People bustled and moved around him, but he stood as still as a statue, barely breathing.
Summer tensed as he raised his hands—
—and pointed them at her in a pantomime of firing a pair of pistols, just as an arriving train blocked him from view.
Summer exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She hurried along towards the group.
Two men had stood themselves between Summer and the group, which had parked themselves and their litany of bags on a pair of benches. As Summer approached, she noted their weapons — held prominently, but casually. That would make them Huntsmen, and more than likely, somewhat recent graduates spared the bloodletting of local Huntsmen purely out of the dumb luck of landing a steady contract with the rail company. Ruby and Yang, standing, were visibly tense as they spoke.
She could catch what one of the men was saying as she approached from behind: “...for a generous tip, we can make sure your passenger car gets extra-special attention — should things get dangerous.”
“Oi,” Summer said. The men turned around. “You’d better not be fleecing my—” Summer hesitated for an instant, trying to find some way to not raise any questions. “—little sister. We can take care of ourselves.”
Both Ruby and Yang had prepared to make silly faces at the Huntsmen, but were instead looking at Summer with an expression of bewilderment.
“We’re not fleecing anyone,” the Huntsman with the spiked mace said. “We’re professional—”
“Professional Huntsmen,” Summer completed, cutting them off. “The fact you carry those weapons says that much; the fact you display them so prominently says you’re inexperienced. Try again the day before yesterday.”
Ruby stuck out her tongue at the men behind their backs; Yang mockingly pouted.
“We don’t have to take this,” the rifle-bearing Huntsman said, turning and storming off. His partner followed after shooting a glare at Summer.
“I got tickets,” Summer declared.
“Fantastic,” Weiss said, completely deadpan.
Their group was now large enough to occupy two compartments — with one extra in a compartment. Team RWBY had gravitated into their own compartment, clearly used to it from their time at school. Summer could already hear them preparing to hunker down and play video games for the duration of the train ride.
Summer leaned against the second compartment’s sliding door, keeping it held open.
“You’re on edge,” Raven commented, putting a hand on Summer’s hip as she slipped past her. She deposited her luggage on the rack above the seats; it was comparatively small — her nomadic lifestyle evident in her sparse belongings.
“We’ve had bad experiences on trains,” Cloud commented, already seated.
“I’ll be fine once we’re moving,” Summer said. “We’re probably heading for the safest place on Remnant now.”
“We glossed over this when planning, but how exactly are we getting to Atlas?” Tifa asked. “I’m not an expert, but locals talked a bit about them closing their borders.”
“Which is concerning,” Oscar said, in the hesitant way he did when he was relaying information from Ozpin without Ozpin assuming direct control. “But we can send a message to General Ironwood.”
Cloud shifted in his seat. “It’ll get lost somewhere in the chain of command.”
“There’s always the direct way,” Raven said, with a raised eyebrow. “Summer’s trained in basic airship flight. If we commandeer a military airship and take down the Argus base’s communications—”
“That’s our last resort,” Summer said sharply. “I’d rather not get locked in an Atlesian brig again.”
“It’s good to keep our options open,” Raven replied with a teasing lilt. “Besides, the food wasn’t so bad.”
With a lurch, the train began to move. Summer stumbled and braced herself against the doorframe before stepping in and shutting the door behind her. She sighed as she sat down.
“Here we go again,” Cloud said.
“So she goes in for the punch, and Cloud just steps aside, and at the last second she hits a patch of sleet and falls down the entire hill,” Tifa explained.
“No kidding,” Summer said, completely entertained.
The entire train car shook violently. Summer braced herself against the compartment’s wall as it subsided, clambering out and into the corridor to peer out the window.
It was snowing. The sky was a blinding white to very nearly match the snow, but Summer could see dark shapes. It took her a moment to recognize them as Manticores — decidedly fearsome Grimm. She counted them haphazardly. They didn’t have a solid formation, but more and more were emerging from the storm.
Ruby and her team poured out of their compartment. On the opposite side of Summer, her own compartment had followed to get a better look for themselves.
“Manticores,” Summer explained. “I’ve never seen a flock this large.”
“Those Huntsmen are going to need our help,” Ruby said.
“I think you’re right,” Summer said. “But we approach this tactically. Ruby, I need you at the front of the train. Focus on any that land on the train. The rest of your team will focus on keeping you safe. Yang, I need your bike.”
“No way,” Yang said. “Not without me.”
Summer grunted. “Fine. You’re driving me, then. Raven, you protect Ruby.”
“With my life,” Raven said, putting her mask on.
“Tifa, Oscar, I want you on the caboose,” Summer said. “Take out anything that lands.”
“And me?” Cloud asked.
Summer smirked. “Well, let’s hope there’s another motorcycle for you.”
They rushed back into the cargo section, past racks of bags and suitcases and packages bound for Argus and Atlas. At the very back were Yang’s motorcycle, Bumblebee, and another motorcycle under a canvas tarp.
Yang swung a leg over her bike as Cloud stepped past and flung the canvas tarp off the other bike.
It was a motorcycle which reveled in being a motorcycle. The engine was large and exposed, with twin exhausts jutting out to the rear. The front wheel’s fender had been removed, and the entire thing had been painted black and gunmetal gray.
Yang whistled in appreciation. "Now that's what I call a chopper."
Cloud swung a leg over it and ran his hand over the bike’s dark metal. He drew in a breath, closed his eyes, and nodded seriously. “I can work with this.”
“Got it,” Summer said. She paused. “And how are you going to start it?”
“Magic.” Cloud snapped the fingers of his left hand over the ignition. An arc of electricity jumped from his fingers into the metal, causing the engine to start; it sounded more like a feral beast than a motorcycle engine.
Yang started her own bike.
Summer slid open the cargo door, letting in a blast of cold air. She ran back to Yang and climbed aboard the motorcycle. She pulled her rifle out.
Cloud smirked. "Try to keep up."
With that, his motorcycle roared into action, leaping out of the car.
"Hold on tight," Yang said, gunning the throttle of her own bike. They hit the frozen ground and accelerated up.
They leapt from the train car, the motorcycle slamming down on the cold ground alongside the tracks. Yang slammed down her heel and pivoted the entire motorcycle until it was parallel to the tracks. They rocketed off alongside the train.
The crack of Ruby’s rifle sounded over the howl of the wind; Yang swerved as a disintegrating Grimm slammed down in their path.
The Grimm had converged around the rear of the train — Oscar and Tifa were up there, along with the pair of hired Huntsmen. Along the length of the train, automatic turrets swiveled and fired at nearby Grimm. At the front of the train, Ruby had taken up a sniper’s position and was picking off any that approached the train.
Before them, Cloud swung the Buster Sword in a sharp arc that sent a wave of energy up and into another Grimm, which slid apart in midair.
Summer took careful aim and fired up into the horde — the Manticores had plating, but only on the upper side of the head. Attacking their heads from underneath was an effective strategy.
“Hey, Alpha,” Summer mumbled to herself. She grinned to herself. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
The surviving Grimm — those who had enough intelligence to not attack immediately — hesitated for a moment. Summer reloaded her rifle.
From within the fog behind the train, a great shape moved, and a bellowing roar echoed. At the call, the Manticores swooped in, several landing on the train itself. Tifa and Oscar began to head up the train while Blake and Weiss moved down it.
The massive shape darkened until it came fully into view — a Manticore twice the size of the others, which swooped down viciously on top of the two hired Huntsmen. Its head came down viciously to chomp down on one of them, and his Aura flared into visibility to resist its bite before cracking and shattering. The Manticore lifted the man and bodily threw him into the forest.
Yang’s head whirled around for an instant, tracking the arc of the man’s descent.
“Keep on the train,” Summer ordered. She switched from her rifle to her revolver, firing wildly at the massive Grimm.
Ahead of them, a giant tunnel loomed. Cloud and Yang, nearly in sync with each other, slammed the brakes, sending twin plumes of snow up before they kicked back into gear and leapt onto the tracks.
The Alpha leapt off of the caboose just as the front train cars began to enter the tunnel. Its wings flapped harshly to slow itself before it hit the wall. Below it, Summer clung tighter to Yang with her left arm as they sped into the tunnel.
“Is that it?” Yang asked.
Summer looked back. The Alpha had resumed its pursuit, the remainder of the Manticore swarm ahead of it — and they were quickly catching up.
“No,” she said plainly.
Cloud gently decelerated to ride alongside them.
“Plan?” Summer asked.
“Catch me,” Cloud said, before decelerating again into the Manticore swarm. With each swipe of the Buster Sword he cut down another Grimm. He spun his bike around, cleaving through the air to create a whirlwind that tore through all the Grimm save the Alpha. As Summer watched, Cloud stepped up atop the bike, front foot on the seat and rear foot on a handlebar.
“Oh, he’s joking. Yang! Hit the brakes,” Summer called out. Yang complied, and the bike slowed dramatically. They ducked their heads under the Alpha Manticore’s wing as it passed overhead.
Cloud leapt from his bike with a flip and cleaved straight through the Alpha’s plating and through its skull.
Yang swerved the bike to dodge the Grimm’s corpse and catch Cloud, who landed on the front of the motorcycle. The other bike flipped end over end and exploded in the face of the few Grimm that were still pursuing.
“Get us back onboard,” Summer said coldly as they exited the tunnel. “I have some questions for Ozpin.”
Summer threw open the door of their compartment. Inside, Tifa was busy using magic to heal some of Raven’s wounds, and Oscar was looking out the window, concern evident on his face. Team RWBY huddled behind Summer, each curious as to what was happening.
“I need to talk to Oz,” Summer said. “That wasn’t a normal Grimm swarm.” She pointed sharply to her bag. “Were they after it?”
Oscar nodded, his eyes flashing as Ozpin took over his body. “Yes,” he said softly.
“I need you to tell me everything about what this is, what it does, and how we can use it,” Summer said.
Ozpin silently nodded. “I will tell you — but not here. Not in public. Soon.”
“When we get to Argus,” Summer said.
“When we get to Argus,” Ozpin repeated.
The train barreled onwards at full speed into the fog.
Chapter 5: Fears and Lies
Chapter Text
The Argus Limited rolled into the station with little fanfare, despite the harrowing journey it had just endured. As it rolled to a stop, the passengers began to spill out into the station. Out of one of the cars emerged a member of the train staff to inform the station’s management about the loss of one of their hired Huntsmen, as the rail company would have to call in one of their replacements before the train could depart for Mistral in the morning. Many of the passengers reunited with friends, family, and loved ones.
One group marched past all of this and out onto the station steps, with one lagging behind to secure a motorbike from the rear cars.
Summer Rose had shed her distinctive cape and was wearing a bulky, red-and-white patterned sweater. She silently tasted the air. It was cold and bitter, the wind rolling off the sea giving it a salty taste. The storm that had tormented the train had mellowed to softly-falling flakes this far from the center.
Argus had once been a satellite state of Mantle before the Vytal Peace Accords that carved up the Mantle Empire at the end of the Great War, and even now Atlas — as Mantle’s successor state — kept a small military base barely offshore. It was this relationship that enabled Argus to have a gargantuan wall to the south for defense, which shaded the buildings in the afternoon and leading into the evenings — just as it was doing now, a diffused sliver of setting sun peeking out between the storm clouds and the wall.
“So,” Summer said, turning back to face the group. “We need some place secure to stay. Raven, do you have anywhere around here?”
“The Branwens don’t travel this far north,” Raven replied, folding her arms. “It’ll have to be a hotel.”
“Something with a large suite,” Summer said, rifling through her bag for money — most of what she found was the vaguely orblike munny used by Moogles and adopted as a common currency on most of the worlds she’d visited, but here on the fringes, only local currency would do. She found a stack of lien cards that Taiyang had provided her and pulled it out with a grimace. “This’ll get us a night or two, right?”
“Nowhere five-star, but it should do,” Raven said.
“I’m on it,” Weiss said, pulling out her Scroll. She winced at its cracked screen but began looking through the city’s directory. “I think I’ve got something.”
By the time they’d gotten there, the sun had set below the wall and the snowstorm had fully arrived in town. The hotel itself was a little run down, the front facade in dire need of deep cleaning, but the inside was warm and relatively clean. In the corner, a large fireplace roared, and the low lights — oil rather than electric — gave the lobby a cozy, rustic atmosphere. At this hour, with the snowstorm bearing down on them, it seemed like the guests had retreated to their rooms, as the lobby was unoccupied.
The clerk behind the front desk was a man in his early twenties with dark hair and glasses and a slightly round face. He looked up from a thick novel as the door closed and greeted Summer and the group following her with a bright smile. “Good evening,” he said. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”
“Not exactly,” Summer said. “We’re going to need a large suite — if that’s not available, anything with conjoined rooms. We’re a party of nine.” She slid across the stack of lien.
The clerk nodded, sliding the lien the rest of the way across the counter and counting it quickly. Finding the amount satisfactory, he began checking on his computer. “It looks like our largest suite is available,” he confirmed. “Name on the room?”
Summer’s eyes flicked back to the group for a moment. “Uh, Tifa,” she said to the clerk. “Tifa Lockhart.”
“You got it,” the man said. He pulled a pair of brass keys off the wall and presented them to Summer. “These are your room keys — top floor, elevator’s right over there. Room service ends at ten, and we have a breakfast menu from five in the morning until midday.”
“Thanks,” Summer said. She took the keys and tossed one to Cloud.
“Have a good night,” the clerk said, “and thank you for staying with us, Miss Lockhart.”
The hotel’s sole elevator was old and rickety, so they could only go up in groups. Given the weight of their equipment, Cloud and Tifa hauled a couple of the heavier bags up the stairs. As a result, Oscar deferred the first elevator ride and waited down in the lobby with Weiss and Blake. Weiss looked distinctly tired and had taken to resting her chin on Blake’s shoulder, one of her arms wrapped around Blake and holding her hand.
Impressive, isn’t it? They were at each other’s throats last year. Ozpin sounded distinctly proud.
They deserve to know. All of them, Oscar shot back.
Oscar could feel Ozpin recoil slightly. That is not a decision you should make lightly.
What happens when they find out you’ve lied to them? Oscar inhaled. You think Salem cannot be defeated, not by anything on Remnant.
I know it.
You don’t know everything. You only think you do.
Oscar opened his eyes as the quiet bell of the elevator rang to signify its return. Blake stepped forward before he could, dragging Weiss by the hand, and opened the grating. They piled into the elevator, pressed the button, and it trundled upwards to the top floor.
The suite’s double doors opened as the last of the party walked into the room. The suite itself was fairly lavish, but at least a decade or two out of date. There were two separate bedrooms, a small kitchenette, and a sitting room with plush armchairs and a couch.
“I’d almost forgotten how much I hate stairs,” Cloud grumbled, setting the Buster Sword against the wall.
“All the rooms are clear,” Raven said, emerging from the smaller bedroom. “No bugs, recording devices, or peepholes.”
“Then we can get started,” Summer said from her spot in the sitting room. She removed the Lamp of Knowledge from her bag and set it on the table in the sitting room. Oscar sat down opposite her as Blake and Weiss settled into the couch to accompany their teammates. “So what exactly is this?”
Oscar’s eyes closed gently and reopened with a small flash of light. “The Relics are the last traces of the Gods,” Ozpin began, speaking through Oscar’s mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, no, that’s not the beginning. This is the beginning: There was once a girl who had been locked away in a tower by her father.”
Raven scoffed. “Cut the fairy tale bullshit.”
“Let him go on,” Summer said.
“I know this one,” Ruby said. “The Girl in the Tower, right? Every Valean knows this.”
“Miss Rose, I’m sure you can tell it better than I,” Ozpin said wryly.
Ruby closed her eyes and inhaled. Her face was serious — not the grim determination of a fighter, but something more solemn. She opened silver eyes to regard the room.
“When the world was young, there was a man, cunning and strong, and gifted with magic,” Ruby began. “He was a fearless slayer of beasts who ascended the Great Mountain and fought the dragon for the hand of the princess, and upon her rescue the king rewarded him with a demesne and the princess herself. But his new wife took ill upon giving birth and perished, and so the man locked the child in the tallest tower of the grandest castle.
“And so the child grew, first into a girl and then into a young woman, her father showering her in all the splendors of the world save for the one she craved the most — freedom. Below, in the castle that grew colder each year, her father grew crueler, forbidding her of even speaking of the world outside her tower.
“The young woman, who had inherited her father’s cunning, devised a means to escape her imprisonment. She persuaded her father to give her, rather than the jewels and riches he had brought before her, simple ink and paper with which to draw. Instead, she wrote her own tale, promising all the riches of the castle to whomever should free her from the tower. She let copies blow from the tower’s window to all corners of the land.
“Word spread and many fought and died by her father’s hand when they came to challenge him until the day a hero from a distant land rose, using his own cunning and magic equal to the castle’s master to defeat him and free the woman. And so he rescued the girl in the tower, and they lived happily ever after.”
“Were it so easy,” Ozpin said quietly. He cleared his throat. “Well told, Miss Rose. You have the gift of a storyteller.”
“Oh! Thank you,” Ruby said.
“But who can tell me what the Girl in the Tower is about?” Ozpin asked.
Blake cleared her throat. “It’s metafiction. A fairy tale about fairy tales. The story is told from the perspective of the captive, and she writes her own ending,” she explained. “You, Professor Ozpin, said as much in the postscript for it in the fairy tale compilation that’s in Beacon’s library.”
Ozpin smiled and pushed up a pair of glasses that weren’t there. “Luckily, some of my students still do the required reading. Stories are sometimes all we have of ancient history — and the Girl in the Tower is a better example than most, for my own telling of the story would be colored by my own hand in the narrative.”
The room was quiet for a long moment,
“You’re the hero that saves her,” Yang said finally. “But — how? You’ve been, what, reincarnating that long?”
“I have,” Ozpin replied. “But that was my first life. Once, I was named Ozma — and I saved a girl trapped in a tower, and that girl’s name was Salem.”
“What,” Summer said flatly. “You—and her—”
“Lived happily ever after? Not exactly,” Ozpin said. “We lived for many years together and it was quite nice, but…then I died. It was a plague. Salem survived. She sought the power of the Gods to revive me, but in the process she became overwhelmed with darkness—”
“Darkness,” Summer said, with a start. “Wait, were you alive during this?”
“No. This is—well, this is from her own words, what she told me about the time after I died.”
Summer slumped back down into her chair but pulled her journal from her bag and began to take notes.
“Qrow told us about this,” Ruby said. “The Brother Gods made humanity and then left behind the Relics. Is that what she did back then?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Ozpin said. “She was reluctant to discuss it — when I saw her next, her skin and hair were pale as bone, and her eyes had turned black and red. When I returned to life, humanity had begun to reemerge from an apocalypse — one that had left them without the magics of the past, save for our own and the Relics.”
“The Relics,” Ruby said. “Uncle Qrow said whoever has them all could change the world. Is that true?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Ozpin said. “Each is intensely powerful on its own, but limited in their own ways. Bringing them together, however, will call the power of the Gods to judge humanity. If we are united, living in harmony, then the world will enter an age of harmony and magic, like our prehistory. If not, we will be destroyed.”
Summer looked up from her notes. “So Salem’s gunning for destroying all of us. But why? Wouldn’t that just kill her?”
“That may be her aim,” Ozpin said wearily. “Out of anyone, I know the dangers of an immortal life.”
“She’s set this entire thing up to kill herself?” Cloud said.
“She’s…invincible,” Ozpin said, visibly reluctant. “Whatever power she gained, she can’t be killed by mundane weapons, or Dust, or even my own magic.” He inhaled. “And I learned from the Relic of Knowledge that I can’t kill her.”
The tension in the air rose sharply. Yang rose to her feet first, fists clenched. “What?”
“Yang, sit down,” Summer barked. Yang flicked her glance over to Summer and carefully sat back down. Summer looked back at Ozpin, eyes steely. “Were those the exact words?”
“I asked how I could destroy Salem,” Ozpin said, “and she said, ‘You can’t.’”
“She said you can’t,” Summer said. “How does the Lamp work?”
Ozpin shut his eyes for a long moment and shook his head. He exhaled and opened them and Summer could tell it was Oscar once more, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You call her name,” Oscar said. “There should be two questions left. That’s as many as we get for a hundred years.”
“And Ozpin?” Ruby asked.
“Oz needs a minute alone — well, as alone as he can be,” Oscar said. “I don’t think he wants to see whatever the Lamp says.”
“We won’t do it tonight,” Summer declared. “We’re all tired and we still need to figure out how we’re getting to Atlas. This doesn’t change that.”
Summer woke in the early morning — well before the sun would even think about rising. Beside her in the plush bed, Raven stirred slightly as Summer leaned up into a sitting position. Summer sighed and quietly slipped out from under the covers. She peered out the window at Argus. The snowfall had slowed significantly, lazy flakes falling in the dark of the night. A few scattered lights were visible in the distance through the snowstorm.
She emerged into the main area — though no lights were on, the Relic softly illuminated the room from where they had left it on the table. Cloud was waiting in the dark kitchenette, his eyes faintly glowing green in the dark. “Morning,” he whispered.
“Should have figured,” Summer said, stepping up to the bar. “Making coffee?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll take a cup.”
The cheap plastic coffee maker warmed up, the plastic audibly creaking as the Fire Dust heated the water pumping through the tubes within.
“They were worse tonight,” Summer said. “The dreams. Worse than they ever were. I kept dreaming of darkness and Salem’s face.”
“I think we can tackle it,” Cloud replied. He pulled a pair of paper cups off a short stack and set them beside the coffee maker.
“Wish I had your optimism,” Summer groused. “Regretting coming with me at all?”
Cloud shook his head. He pulled the coffee maker’s carafe out and poured coffee into the two cups. “They don’t have sugar or real cream,” he said, setting a canister of powdered artificial creamer before Summer. “Just this.”
Summer poured some in her coffee and stirred it with a thin wooden stick.
She stepped up to the window. It faced out toward the ocean, although you could barely see it from where the hotel was. Cloud sat on the couch beside her. They watched the sunrise in silence.
By mid-morning, Summer had brought up a veritable buffet from the breakfast downstairs and cajoled everyone back into the sitting room for a strategy meeting. Team RWBY was perched atop the stools at the kitchenette’s bar — save for Yang, who was standing beside the counter. Everyone else but Summer was sitting on the armchairs or couch.
“Okay, let’s work the problem,” Summer said. “Problem one, we have to get to Atlas and we’re quickly running out of money.”
“Not the biggest problem,” Raven said, “given Atlas shut its borders weeks ago.”
Summer nodded. “That’s problem two, then.”
Blake looked over. “Weiss, how did you get out of Atlas? Maybe we could use the same way to get in.”
“I hired a smuggler,” Weiss replied, taking a cup of coffee from the kitchen into the sitting area and sitting beside Tifa on the couch. “Unfortunately, we ran into Lancers on the flight into Mistral. He…didn’t make it.”
Ruby gasped quietly.
Summer nodded gravely but gave Weiss a thumbs-up. “Smugglers are definitely an option.”
“Doesn’t solve the money problem,” Cloud said.
Weiss nodded. “It’s true. I used all of what I had set aside for getting here, and I’ve almost certainly been fully cut off now.”
Oscar cleared his throat. “Oz did say we should contact General Ironwood. There’s the Atlesian military base just off the coast, we could probably have them relay it.”
“That’s an option, but it means we would be stuck here for who-knows-how-long,” Summer said.
Raven nudged Summer. “There is my idea.”
“No stealing military airships,” Summer said. “Not until we’ve exhausted our other options, at least.”
“I hate to say it,” Blake offered, “but we do have Weiss Schnee — heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. We could use the pretense of getting her back to Atlas as a means to get there.”
“Ex-heiress,” Weiss corrected. “But it’s possible.”
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Summer said. “Finish eating and pack up. We’re gonna get the Atlas military to give us a ride.”
The Argus Outpost was just offshore, but it was accessible by a massive bridge that connected the city to the island. Summer led the group as they approached the gate — the massive rock the base’s central building was constructed out of shadowing the space beyond the steel gate and concrete walls.
A pair of guards in uniforms and peaked caps snapped to attention as Summer stepped up to the gate.
“Good morning,” Summer said in greeting. “I’m—”
“This is a restricted area,” the guard on the right barked. “This is property of the Atlas military. Civilians are not permitted.”
“Not a civilian,” Summer said, fishing her card from her pocket. She held it aloft for them to see. “I’m a licensed Huntress. I’m trying to get to Atlas; I need to speak to your base commander.”
“The Mistral-Atlas border is closed,” one guard said.
“Have a good day,” the other punctuated.
Raven huffed. “The two of you seem to be sharing half a brain — anyone in there with more than that?”
The two guards bristled slightly; Summer raised her hands up placatingly. “Listen,” she explained, “We’ve got Weiss Schnee here. I’m trying to deliver her home safely to Atlas. Civil flights are halted, so I was hoping we could arrange something. I’d like to speak to your base commander.”
The two guards looked at each other.
“Go fetch the commander,” one said to the other.
“You fetch her,” the other said.
“No. I will remain here and watch the gate. They could climb the fence.”
“Fine. I will fetch the commander.” The guard turned and retreated into the central building.
Behind her, Summer could hear Raven grumbling.
Several minutes passed.
“They’re not going for it,” Raven said quietly. “Still time to pivot.”
“Not yet,” Summer said as the guard reemerged — with the commander following behind.
Summer was not, by any means, a tall woman. Even in comparison to her, however, the base’s commander was diminutive — yet carried herself with the self-assurance of someone with all the power in the room. “I am Commander Caroline Cordovin,” she said. “What appears to be the situation, Huntress?”
Summer cleared her throat and prepared her license. “I’m a Huntress registered with the Vale Huntsmen Guild. These are my credentials. I’ve been contracted by Miss Schnee here, who is trying to return to Atlas.” She stepped up to the gate and passed her license through.
“Yes, yes,” Cordovin said, taking Summer’s license and examining it. She tilted it lightly to examine the reflective markings. She glanced over at Summer. “You’re remarkably young-looking for forty.”
“Good genes,” Summer said.
“Everything does seem to be in order,” Cordovin said, eyes narrowed. “I do believe her father has been making a fuss in the media about her abduction — trying to play the sympathy card, naturally — so I will allow her and her alone through, on an express flight back to Atlas.”
Summer turned to Raven for a moment, leaning in close. “Take the group back.”
“You have a plan?”
“I’m improvising.” Summer turned back around. “Ma’am, as per the International Huntsman Contract Bylaws, Section 36b, I will be accompanying her,” she said. “She did pay up front — though I could just leave her to your men, I’d rather see her safely to Atlas.”
“Mercenaries,” Cordovin all but spat. “I’ll secure you — just you — a one-week Huntsman’s visa. That should be enough for you.” She pulled a walkie-talkie from her belt and held it to her mouth. “Open the gate.”
Summer gave her a jaunty salute as the gate opened before her.
“Captain,” Cordovin barked out to a nearby officer, typing something on her Scroll. “Take these two to the airfield. We have a flight departing for Atlas today, and they’ll be aboard.”
The Captain saluted and then gestured for Summer and Weiss to follow.
Summer turned to the rest of the group. “Raven! Cloud! Take care of them. We’ll figure something out.”
Raven and Cloud nodded. Summer turned back around and followed the Captain through the base.
“I’m impressed,” Weiss said quietly, keeping pace with Summer. “I was expecting…”
“Expecting what?”
“Well, given Ruby and Yang’s track record, something a little more explosive,” Weiss admitted.
“I’d rather not meet Ironwood in handcuffs,” Summer said.
“Are there actually bylaws like that?” Weiss asked.
“Kinda,” Summer replied. “Not really, though. I was banking on her not having read them. Besides, we never had a contract.”
Out on the airfield, a single transport was being prepared. A crewman unscrewed the fuel line from it and hauled it away as the group approached. He saluted the Captain.
“One flight to Atlas,” the Captain said. “Get comfy — it’s not scheduled to take off for another couple hours.”
“Great,” Summer said.
Weiss sat ramrod straight in the airship’s cabin. She’d nervously checked her Scroll at least a dozen times, despite it being in communication-disabling flight mode since they’d taken off. She’d eventually just taken to sitting and staring out the window as the sun set. There was little to see but the ocean on either side, but when she left Atlas had been in a cargo hold. The view alone was worth it.
Across from her, Summer had pulled a pouch of small cheese crackers out of her bag and was nonchalantly eating them. “Hungry?” she asked.
“No,” Weiss said reflexively. She reconsidered after a moment. “Yes. Maybe?”
“Here,” Summer said, passing the bag over.
Weiss accepted it and had a handful. It felt like she could barely taste them. She diligently chewed and swallowed, however. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with my father,” she admitted.
“Mhm,” Summer acknowledged, taking the bag of crackers back when Weiss held them out. “Not a good relationship?”
Weiss almost laughed. “No. I don’t even know if he loved any of us or not. He married Mother for the company, and when she found out, it broke her.” She sighed. “When I met Ruby and Yang, I was jealous that their dad actually wrote letters back.”
“He’s a great guy. I didn’t know what I’d do without Tai those first couple years,” Summer said. “Or have done, I mean. He was always the responsible one.” Her own gaze flicked out the window. “I’m not exactly a role model when it comes to parenting.”
“Ruby and Yang always said you were fantastic,” Weiss consoled her.
“That’s because you don’t speak ill of the dead,” Summer said flatly. “I was home a lot less than I should have been.” Her gaze flicked back out the window; on the horizon, she could see the faint glow of massive lights in the dark sky. “Do you want to go back to your father?”
“No,” Weiss said almost immediately.
“Then you won’t have to,” Summer said. “We’ll pull whatever strings we need to. There’s no way in the nine Hells he’ll be able to take you by force, and we’re going to go talk to the head of the Atlesian military. If there’s any loopholes to sneak you through, he’ll know ‘em.” She flashed a grin. “So relax.”
Weiss pursed her lips. “Talking to you is strange. I almost feel like I’m talking to Ruby, but then I get jarred when you’re so…adult.”
Summer laughed. “Trust me, Ruby’s more like me when I was her age than I’d like.” She sighed.
On the horizon, Atlas began to peek out over the horizon. The landmass, torn from the ground and lifted into the sky, shimmered in the night, covered in pinpricks of light. Around it, swarms of military airships patrolled in a massive defensive perimeter. The city of Mantle glowed faintly underneath, a massive scar of a crater indicating where the now-floating city had once been.
“Was it like this when you left?” Summer asked, peering through the window.
“I don’t know,” Weiss replied. “I was stuffed between a couple cargo containers at the time.”
Summer stepped off the transport. It was cold — at the height that Atlas tended to hover at, it was much colder than Argus’s sea level. She began fishing her cloak out of her bag and wrapped it around herself.
The airport was deserted of civilians — a wing of it, however, had become an ad hoc refueling station for military airships. Summer and Weiss strode across the tarmac at a fair clip, Weiss having to rush to keep up with Summer’s quick walking pace. They entered the airport structure properly through a crew access staircase; a guard waved them in and held the door open as Weiss dragged her rolling suitcase over the threshold.
There, standing in the terminal, was Jacques Schnee, in a white silk suit that had been immaculately pressed. He was flanked on either side by well-built guards in dark blue suits and black sunglasses.
“Oh no,” Weiss quietly muttered.
“Someone must have let him know we were coming. Let me handle this.” Summer dropped her duffel bag and strode out in front, glancing quickly around at the various military policemen in the terminal. “Mister Schnee,” she greeted loud enough to echo.
“My wayward daughter,” Schnee said, ignoring Summer. “I do hope you’re over whatever pique caused you to run from the manor. Your — mother — she was devastated when you departed so suddenly.”
Weiss grit her teeth together slightly.
“Mister Schnee, please stand aside,” Summer said flatly before he could continue.
“Huntress,” Schnee said, finally deigning to acknowledge her. “Turn my daughter over to me and I can assure you, you will be compensated for the time and effort it took to bring her back — well compensated.”
Summer cleared her throat. “Weiss, do you want to go with him?” she asked loudly.
“Not really, no,” Weiss replied, just as loud.
“Weiss is above the age of legal majority under Atlesian law,” Summer said. She adjusted her cape, reaching behind her back with her right hand and pulling the bottom half of the cape away. “You cannot coerce her to accompany you. You cannot bribe me to turn her over to you, as per the Hunter’s Code of Ethics and Conduct.” She tucked the cape behind the holsters on her gun belts and rested her off hand on her hip — pointedly just below the grip of her revolver. “You don’t want a confrontation here.”
Jacuqes Schnee looked around finally, realizing just how many military personnel were within earshot and how many were looking at the scene — including a trio of MPs that were striding towards them all. He glared at Weiss and Summer before storming off, beckoning his own guards to follow with a quick gesture.
Summer softly exhaled; Weiss followed a moment later. “That could have gone a lot worse,” Summer said.
“Any problems, Miss?” the lead MP said. He had a helmet and a pair of opaque snow goggles on, large and reflective enough that Summer could see her own face.
“No,” Summer said. Her teeth clacked together once. “How was that man allowed in? Isn’t this a military airport now?”
The MP looked at some of his crew for a second. None of them offered any answers. “It’s possible he came in through a less-guarded entrance,” the MP replied as he turned back to Summer.
“It’s possible?” Summer repeated pointedly.
“I’ll have to consult—uh, just a moment, Miss.” The man pressed the left side of his helmet closer to his head, clearly listening to something. “Copy that, sir. Understood. Right away.” His attention went back to Summer and Weiss. “Hope you’re not busy. I’ve been informed that you’re being requested, Huntress.”
“By whom?”
“The highest level of authority,” the MP replied. “Follow me. Your car is waiting.”
Summer stared out the tinted window of the black staff car. Their driver was a terse man with a scar on his chin who had driven them out of the airport and onto the raised expressway that cut through the heart of Atlas. After some time, they took an exit and passed into an underground tunnel, orange lights illuminating concrete walls.
They were drawing closer into the nerve center of Atlas — the underground military fortress beneath Atlas Academy. Eventually, they were stopped at a security checkpoint for a moment before the officer manning it looked at the driver’s orders, blanched slightly, and waved them through to a loading dock with a massive steel door guarded by a trio of MPs. As Summer got out of the car and unloaded her and Weiss’s bags, the door began to open slowly with the hiss of pneumatics. It hinged open to reveal a quartet of soldiers, assault rifles slung around their midsections.
“The welcoming committee?” Summer asked, jogging up the steps.
“This way, please,” one of the soldiers said gruffly.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Weiss muttered as she stepped up beside Summer.
Two of the soldiers lead the way while the other two watched Summer and Weiss from behind. They passed out of the cargo loading dock and up into the clean, well lit corridors of the base itself — Summer was certain that the soldiers were leading them in a roundabout path through the base, avoiding major thoroughfares and intentionally confusing the two.
“Your weapon’s in your suitcase, right?” Summer asked Weiss, her voice a whisper.
“Yes,” Weiss replied, equally quiet.
“What can you do without it?”
“Not a lot. Some glyphs. I can summon.”
Summer nodded.
Finally, they used an elevator to ascend up into Atlas Academy’s central compound, and transferred into another that took them up the tower.
It deposited them into an octagonal antechamber. The two soldiers in front parted and let Summer and Weiss pass into the center.
Standing in the far doorway was General James Ironwood. He emerged out of shadow and Summer could see he was dressed in a uniform and overcoat with the subtle bulge of a sidearm in a holster at his hip. His expression was grave.
“It’s good to see you, Miss Schnee,” he said.
“General Ironwood,” Weiss said, walking forward. She stopped — his expression hadn’t softened. “What’s wrong?”
Ironwood stepped past Weiss; he drew his sidearm — a large-caliber revolver with intricate engraving — and pointed it at Summer. “Summer Rose disappeared over a decade ago. This woman you’ve been traveling with must have obtained her Huntsman’s License to impersonate her — as a spy.”
Behind her, Summer heard the soft clicking of safeties being disengaged as the soldiers shouldered their rifles.
“General!” Weiss cried out. “What are you doing?!”
Summer engaged her Semblance, Aura burning in her muscles and her reaction time shortening. Time expanded before her, seconds lengthening as she stared down the barrel of a gun.
She flicked a glance to Weiss, who had pulled her suitcase closer, ready to draw her sword from it. Summer gave her a tiny nod.
Ironwood’s finger squeezed the trigger.
Summer dropped to a crouch as the bullet lanced through where her shoulder had been. Her right hand came up, throwing her cloak up and forward at Ironwood as she spun to face the soldiers behind her.
Their rifles would be maximally effective at range. The solution was obvious: she charged right at them empty-handed.
Shots ricocheted off of her Aura as she stepped into range, slamming her elbow into one of the soldiers with a speed-enhanced blow. As he reeled she tore the rifle from his grip, flinging it at the next in the line. It hit him on the head as Summer advanced, shoving him forward into the next soldier. They fell into a tangle of limbs as Summer whirled around to confront the last soldier.
The soldier had thrown his gun aside and pulled a knife from his belt; Summer dodged backwards at his first swipe. As he came in for a stab at her midsection she grabbed his wrist with her opposite hand, her other hand shooting up to capture his an instant later. The man rotated the blade upwards to slice into Summer’s wrists and her Aura sparked and flared into visibility as she smacked the blade out of his hand and slammed him into the ground. She kneeled down on top of him to pin him in place, sliding her revolver out of her holster to aim at Ironwood.
Her cloak fluttered to the ground, revealing Ironwood pointing his own revolver at her.
The tip of Weiss’s rapier came up to Ironwood’s neck. “Drop it,” she said, voice cold.
Ironwood carefully lowered the gun.
“I have the package from Haven Academy,” Summer said. “It was attacked. Oz and I retrieved it and I’ve brought it here for safekeeping.”
Ironwood narrowed his eyes. “Show me,” he said.
Summer gently opened her bag and pulled the Relic out barely enough for him to see. “Will this suffice?”
“For now.” Ironwood holstered his revolver, and Weiss slipped her rapier back into its sheath and clipped it to her belt. “You definitely have an uncanny resemblance — and your Semblance is the same as what’s on Rose’s file. You’ve got a lot to explain, but not in the open. My office is secure.” He pulled his Scroll out. “Follow me. I’ll have a medical team up here for these men.”
“I wasn’t too rough,” Summer said.
One of the fallen soldiers groaned.
Ironwood led them into his office — darkly colored, and with a massive bay window with a panoramic view of Atlas. It was fully nighttime now, and the city glimmered with light, with a handful of military airships visible by their running lights.
“Oz can confirm I am who I say I am,” Summer began. “He’s back in Argus, with the rest of Weiss’s team and my new one.”
“He found you quickly, then,” Ironwood said. “That’s good.”
“What’s going on in the city?” Weiss asked.
“It looks worse than it is,” Ironwood replied, sitting in his seat. “Which is its own problem. Did you notice all the campaign posters in the city?”
Summer laughed. “Wasn’t a lot of time to sightsee.”
Weiss thought for a moment. “It’s the entire wrong time of year for an election. Why campaign posters?”
“Until a month and a half ago, we were under martial law,” Ironwood explained, “which precluded the normal transition of power. At the urging of the council, I was persuaded to relax the restrictions, meaning that one of the council seats would go up. The incumbent declined to run for reelection and Jacques Schnee took the opportunity — I think he’s been trying to plot my downfall since the closure of Atlesian importing and exporting. Robyn Hill from Mantle is opposing him; most of the other parties’ candidates have dropped out, but she’s keeping up with him in the polls.”
Weiss scoffed. “My father as councilman? That won’t end well.”
“Oh, it will not,” Ironwood said. He gave a small smile, nearly invisible under his beard. “Just between you and me.”
“So how’s the race?” Summer asked.
“It’s bad,” Ironwood said. “Schnee’s put himself on a populist platform; he’s promising economic growth by reopening the ports fully. I guess people think that having a businessman do that sort of thing makes sense, but we’re far past the SDC’s most profitable years with all the reforms and bans on paying Faunus laborers in company scrip. Hill’s running on a platform to prevent further martial law from being enacted and dismantle some of our military institutions in favor of smaller, independent defense cells. She started ahead in the polls, but now it’s neck-and-neck.” He clenched his flesh-and-blood fist. “It’s ironic. Both see me as the enemy — and so do the people. Whichever one wins will strip me of my rank and my position as Headmaster.”
“Assuming we all live that long,” Summer said flatly.
“Exactly,” Ironwood replied. He turned to face the window. “I’m not going to pretend that you bringing the Lamp of Knowledge here doesn’t paint a target on Atlas’s back. It’s entirely likely Salem already has agents moving against us, and any overt action on my part will exacerbate the questions about my own judgement. Which is why we’ll need to move up the timetable.”
“Timetable?” Summer repeated.
“The one thing I can do with the rest of my time in office is reestablish global communications,” Ironwood said. “As you know, Vale’s CCT tower fell with Beacon, and since it was centrally located, it was the hub for communications between ourselves, Mistral, and Vacuo. I’ve been pouring what resources I can into retrofitting Amity Arena into an ad hoc replacement — perhaps better than ad hoc. If my engineers are correct, we should be able to replace Vale’s centrally located CCT with a more powerful one in the upper atmosphere.”
“I get it,” Summer said. “Almost like an artificial moon.”
“I’d like to hire you and your teams,” Ironwood said, standing up and striding across the room to face Summer directly. “We’ll need all the manpower we can get for this project, and there’s a rather thorny complication we’ve run into that a group of Huntsmen — and Huntsmen-in-training — would be perfect for.”
Summer clicked her tongue. “Two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“We don’t work for the military,” Summer stated. “We’re independent contractors. We answer directly to you, and we need total disclosure at all times.”
“Done and done.”
“We also need the rest of the group here,” Summer said.
“I’ll draft the orders right now.” Ironwood extended his hand for a handshake.
Summer accepted it. “Then it’s a deal.”
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