SAPR: Interlude 2 - Atlas (RWBY/MLP)

[ScipioSmith]

Every One Thinks Meanly of Themselves​

Every one thinks meanly of themselves for not having been a soldier.

That was a quote by a man who had, amongst other things, compiled the first dictionary. He had never been a soldier himself, so presumably, he spoke from his own personal experience, but it was no longer true. To be truthful, General Ironwood doubted that it had ever been true, even when it was said, but nevertheless, the words had been on his mind somewhat for the last few days.

Since he had seen the look in Twilight's eyes as she begged him to let her fly Dash's airship in support of the kids down in the Breach.

Something that he should have noticed, and done something about, some time ago.

There was a lot of that going around at the moment.

Ironwood drummed his fingers on the table. He had let down Twilight, and Penny too. One by allowing her to think meanly of herself, and the other by asking too much of her.

Come to think of it, the latter might equally apply to Dash and to Soleil as well. Had he asked too much of all three of them? Asked too much of them, and not enough of Twilight? And did he need to add Belladonna to that as well? He had asked as much of her as he had of Dash, Soleil, or Penny, and she had less reason to give it.

Well, the only thing to do in the circumstances was to start making it right, as best he could.

He meant to start with Penny and with Twilight, the ones most obviously affected by his poor judgement, then he could speak to the others later, before Team RSPT left for Atlas.

For now, though, he was in his office, waiting upon a visitor.

The door into said office slid open with a gentle hiss, and Ozpin walked into the room. His cane tapped lightly upon the floor.

"Ozpin," Ironwood said. It was not a surprise to see him – you couldn't just sneak up onto the Valiant; Ironwood had known he was coming since his Bullhead had requested permission to land in the docking bay – but he was nevertheless surprised that Ozpin was here, and he allowed that surprise into his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I had nothing else to do, so I thought that I'd come and see you, James," Ozpin replied lightly. He paused for a moment. "Well, rather, I thought that, since you so often come down to your ship to see me in my office that I might return the favour for once. I must say, it's a long walk down all of these corridors."

"It gives me time to have a chair brought in for important visitors," Ironwood murmured dryly.

Ozpin chuckled as he sat down on the other side of Ironwood's desk. He gripped the head of his cane in both hands. He swivelled slightly in his chair, so that he was a little side-on rather than facing Ironwood directly.

"I suppose I should congratulate you, James," Ozpin said softly. "You are the hero of the hour."

"I command heroes," Ironwood replied. "I don't claim that title for myself. The men and women where the metal meets deserve your praise, not me."

A slightly wan smile appeared on Ozpin's aged features. "Come, James, we both know that isn't how this works. When the histories of these last few days are written, yours is the only name that will feature. Future generations will read that it was General Ironwood – and however many of his nameless, faceless soldiers – who stepped into the Breach – or the Breach – and delivered Vale from darkness. The name of the formation, the ships involved may be noted also, but the men and women? The children? All… gone. All forgotten."

"Considering the names of some of those… children," Ironwood said, "leaving aside whether we really ought to call them that in view of what they've done and been through, I don't think that names like that will necessarily fade into the abyss of memory."

"Perhaps in Mistral, they will remember Miss Nikos," Ozpin allowed, "but is it not the Atlesian way to forget the individual and remember the group?"

"Then why do you assume my name will be remembered?" Ironwood asked.

Ozpin did not reply to that. He didn't say anything, and a silence lapsed between the two men, stretching out for a little while in the confines of the office. Outside the window, a pair of Skybolts looped past as they made their patrol circuit.

Ozpin glanced down at his cane. "I owe you an apology, James."

"There's no need-"

"There is no need," Ozpin said, cutting him off, "for you to be the bigger man, James. Despite what you may think, I am quite capable of admitting when I'm wrong. And I was wrong. I thought that your forces would be… a dangerous distraction, a hindrance, but… they were necessary. When the grimm came through-"

"When the grimm came through, your students stood alongside mine to hold them back," Ironwood reminded him.

"Indeed, but it was your airships that sealed the Breach, your androids that covered the retreat of the children and bought time, your soldiers that sealed the perimeter. It is not for nothing that you are acclaimed for the actions of your forces, and so, for that, I owe you an apology. If you had done as I wished and not come, then… I dread to imagine what would have happened."

"If I hadn't come," Ironwood said, "then my children would have been caught up in the middle of this as the grimm ran through the streets of Vale. Which is why I came: so that my ships, my forces, my weapons would be here to support and to protect them when… it was clear that something was going to happen, even if I didn't anticipate this. I wanted to make sure that when whatever was about to happen happened, that my students weren't hung out to dry in the middle of it."

Ozpin smiled thinly. "And here I thought you came to protect Vale, James."

Ironwood was quiet for a moment. "If it had just been a question of Vale… I would have stayed away when you asked me to before the semester started. I don't… I don't disobey you lightly, Oz, I hope you understand that. But with my… my children at stake, I couldn't… I couldn't leave them hanging in Vale with all of this going on."

Ozpin nodded, if only a little. "Your loyalty does you credit," he murmured, "and as I said-"

"You don't need to say it again," Ironwood assured him. "Especially since I'm not the one who deserves to have it said to me." He paused for a moment. "Oz, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"How did Vale get like this?" Ironwood asked. "A military that has no ships on stand-by, whose soldiers aren't trained to fight outside of a narrow range of conditions, how did it get like this?"

"I believe the phrase is 'guns or butter,'" Ozpin replied. "In the years since the Great War, Atlas has consistently chosen guns, while Vale has consistently chosen butter. I hope you won't attempt to suggest that the lot of the average working individual in Mantle isn't worse than their equivalent in Vale. What Vale lacks in Atlesian technological advancement, I believe it makes up for in its collectivised welfare system."

A lot of good that will do against the grimm, Ironwood thought to himself but kept it to himself. What he said, in as even a tone as possible, was, "You've been on the Council for a long time."

"As you know," Ozpin said, "I've always trusted in the huntsmen that we train at Beacon as the chief bulwark of Vale's defences."

Ironwood had no desire to rub salt in that particular wound, so he asked, "What's the news from the outer settlements?"

"The grimm continue to wait nearby, without attacking," Ozpin said.

Ironwood frowned. "Strange."

Ozpin looked at him. "You think so?"

Ironwood tapped his fingers lightly upon the table. "Let's assume that the grimm massed – only massed, not attacking – in order to draw huntsmen away from Vale."

"Indeed," Ozpin said, "let us assume that; it seems probable."

"Salem's plan – or Cinder's plan, whoever came up with the idea – is pretty clear now," Ironwood said. "They wanted to draw the huntsmen away from Vale to render it vulnerable to a grimm attack, an attack that they intended to orchestrate using the White Fang as their pawns; they used them to mine the Mountain Glenn tunnel, always planning to unleash a horde of grimm directly into the city – a city that would be denuded of huntsman thanks to the threats to the outlying settlements. Then, when my forces arrived, they decided to try and implant a virus in the CCT that would… well, I didn't ask Twilight to analyse the virus, only to get rid of it, so I don't know exactly what it would have done, but I'm guessing that it would have caused havoc with our systems and hindered our ability to respond to the assault. Except…"

Ozpin waited a moment. "'Except,' James?"

"Except, once Cinder was made, why go ahead?" Ironwood asked. "She had to know that we'd inspect the tower's systems and find the virus, and without the virus, she had to know that the grimm would be attacking directly into the teeth of our defence – hell, she invited us to Mountain Glenn to find out what she was up to, throwing away the advantage of surprise. It was daylight madness to waste all of that build-up and all of her resources like that, so why did she do it? And why are the grimm still threatening the settlements? I understand why they didn't attack before, but now? Why not withdraw and conserve her forces? Or if force conservation doesn't matter, then why not attack and see if they can't score some tactical victories?"

"Valid questions," Ozpin said. "However, they assume that the campaign has been decided and that all our enemy may hope to accomplish is to win some tactical victories amidst the overall strategic failure."

Ironwood's frown deepened. "You don't agree?"

"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, James," Ozpin answered. "You – your forces – are the victors… but don't let it go to your head."

"This isn't a question of letting anything go to my head; it's a question of winning and losing," Ironwood declared. "Cinder massacred her own allies in the White Fang; she threw away everything that she spent the past year building up to. All that she had done was leading up to this moment, and she blew it. We won. Her White Fang is gone, her grimm are dead, her route into Vale is shut off."

"And yet, always, after a while, the shadow forms and grows again," Ozpin whispered.

"After a while," Ironwood replied. "It takes time."

"Cinder Fall was neither killed nor captured," Ozpin reminded him. "If she had been, then I might agree with you, but she was not. And, as you yourself pointed out, she invited us to Mountain Glenn. She, as you say, threw away the advantage of surprise. I fear the endgame is not yet behind us. I fear this was just another move, part of a strategy we do not yet discern."

Ironwood bit back a curse. "So what do we do?"

Ozpin was silent for a moment. "We must find a guardian," he murmured.

"Have you chosen yet?"

"Not yet," Ozpin murmured. "And besides… they've all been through quite enough for the moment."

"Indeed," Ironwood agreed, his own voice soft and calm.

"And, since this is not over yet, I would be grateful if you forces could remain here, at least for the time being."

"Of course," Ironwood said. "I'm not going anywhere until the Festival is over." He hesitated. "Oz… don't be too hard on yourself. You're not the only one who has fallen short of the standards you set for yourself lately."

Ozpin looked at him. "How so?"

"Twilight," Ironwood said. "Penny. Penny has been injured on a mission that she probably shouldn't have been on, and Twilight…" He sighed. "'EveryoneEvery one thinks meanly of themselves for not having been a soldier.'"

"Ah," Ozpin said. "To be surrounded by huntsmen and huntresses-"

"Bringing her here was a mistake," Ironwood interrupted. "One which I'll correct next year; if Apple wants to come back, then she can take up the fourth spot in… Raspberry, again? Perhaps I should try and find a new team name. In any case, making Twilight part of a team was my mistake. There were other ways. Next year, I can find someone else to take that spot, but for now… I just need to make Twilight feel… not so lesser. I've always prided myself on my connection to these kids, but I… I didn't see it happening until it was too late."

"You and I have had our differences and our disagreements James, but I've never doubted your leadership abilities," Ozpin said. "I didn't appoint you to be headmaster of Atlas because of your generalship but because… because I thought the students would be lucky to have you. Whatever is needed for Miss Sparkle, I have no doubt that you will find it."

"Thanks, Oz," Ironwood said. "I appreciate your confidence. Really."

A light on the corner of his desk flashed, indicating incoming communication. "Excuse me," Ironwood said, pressing the discrete button to open a channel to the CIC. "This is Ironwood."

"Pardon me, sir," said Lieutenant des Voeux, "but the Valish Council is on the line, requesting to speak with you."

"Hang on," Ironwood said, temporarily muting himself. To Ozpin, he said, "Do you know what this is about?"

"No, but that doesn't surprise me," Ozpin said. "I'm not in particularly good odour with the rest of the Council at present."

"I didn't think I was, either," Ironwood muttered. He unmuted himself. "Patch them through to my office, des Voeux."

"Aye aye, sir."

A holographic image appeared above Ironwood's desk, a long image displaying the faces of four out of the five members of the Valish Council as they sat in chambers. The room in which they sat was dim, and it was hard to make out their faces; in fact, they were little more than silhouettes, outlined against what little light there was behind them.

However, their voices – or at least the voice of First Councillor Aris – came through loud and clear. "General Ironwood," she said, "I hope that we're not disturbing you."

"Not at all, Madam Councillor," Ironwood replied, "although I currently have Professor Ozpin with me."

"Madam Councillor," Ozpin said courteously.

"That is no trouble," Councillor Aris replied, although her voice seemed to sharpen at the recognition of the headmaster's presence. "In fact, it is quite convenient. My apologies for not inviting you to this Council session, Professor, but as you know, four members is a quorum."

Ozpin said nothing. There wasn't much to say, at least as far as Ironwood could tell. It was a snub, at best, to have had a meeting behind his back, but at the same time, what good would calling it out do?

Ironwood was more worried about what they had been meeting to discuss. Was it possible that they were so petty that they intended to order him and his ships out of Vale? They had the authority to do so; if they did demand that he leave, it would be very hard for him to stay – as he had cause to lament before, these weren't his own councillors; he couldn't just ignore them and dare them to try and fire him if he didn't like their instructions. If the Valish ordered him out, he would have to do as they said – or risk an international incident possibly leading to war.

Yes, let's file that under 'last resort.'

"As you are both no doubt aware," Councillor Aris continued, "the recent attack on Vale – following the persistent activities of the White Fang – have led to questions, both in and out of Vale, over whether it is wise or proper that the Vytal Festival should go ahead here in our kingdom."

Ozpin cleared his throat. "Madam Councillor, the Vytal Festival-"

"You have said quite enough already, Professor" Councillor Aris snarled. "A period of silence from you would now be welcome." She took a deep breath. "Vale has already committed a great deal of money into preparations for the Vytal Festival, and we have every intention of hosting a successful tournament and all the other events surrounding it. To do otherwise, to allow Mistral to host the festival as some in that kingdom have had the gall to propose, would be to concede… to concede too much. No, the Vytal Festival will go ahead in Vale, the Council is committed to that. I am going to ask this once, and I expect a more honest answer from the both of you than you have been wont to give me in the past: do you know of any reason why the festival should not go ahead here in Vale?"

"No, Madam Councillor," Ozpin said.

Ironwood looked at him over the hologram. Really, Oz? After what we just finished discussing?

"General Ironwood?" Councillor Aris asked.

Ironwood hesitated. Ozpin believed that the situation was not over yet, and his reasons were convincing… but then, they had never planned to postpone the festival in the face of the threat, even when the threat was much greater than it was now. "No, Madam Councillor."

"I'm glad to hear it," Councillor Aris said flatly. "The Council concurs, but we recognise the importance of confidence, both here and in other kingdoms: confidence in our ability to host a safe and successful festival, confidence in the safety of their visiting students and tourists. Confidence that everything will proceed as it should, with no surprises. And so, for that reason, the Council has consulted with our counterparts in Atlas and decided, General Ironwood, to request that you take over as head of security for the Vytal Festival."

Again, Ironwood glanced at Ozpin. The old man showed no visible reaction to the slight. "That's quite an honour, Madam Councillor," Ironwood said, choosing his words with great care, "but it is custom that the headmaster of the host school is also the head of security."

"Professor Ozpin sat in his tower while Vale was in danger," Councillor Aris said acidly. "Do not mistake this as a sign of the Council's confidence in you, General; I hold you as much responsible for this catastrophe, and for the deaths of six Valish citizens, as Professor Ozpin. But you are, as far as the public narrative goes, the hero of the Breach and the saviour of Vale. News that you are taking personal charge of security will reassure doubters at home and abroad."

"I see," Ironwood murmured. "Thank you for your candour, Madam Councillor." He paused, considering. "I have certain conditions."

"'Conditions'?" Councillor Aris repeated.

"I want a free hand to act as I see fit without the need for your authorisation and approval," Ironwood said. "I don't want you tying my hands anymore."

"Bloody cheek!" Councillor Aspen barked.

"Aspen, that's enough," Councillor Aris murmured. "You ask a great deal, General."

"You approached me, Madam Councillor," Ironwood replied. "If you want me to make your festival secure, then I will secure it, but I won't lend you my name just to give you some credibility."

Councillor Aris took a moment to reply. "Very well," she said. "In matters of Vytal Festival security, you may act as you wish, without reference to this Council or anyone else. Congratulations, General Ironwood; we're all counting on you."

"I won't let you down, Madam Councillor," Ironwood said as he hung upon them.

"That was bold of you, James," Ozpin observed.

"I'm sick of those people holding me back," Ironwood grunted. He had still not forgiven the way that Councillor Aris had prohibited him from doing anything to support the students when they had gotten into trouble in the Emerald Forest. "If they want me to run security, then I'm going to do it my way."

"I have a suspicion that I'm not going to like this," Ozpin murmured.

"I want to put androids in the grounds of Beacon, and the surrounding area," Ironwood said. "It's not the only measure – I'd like to put them on the streets of Vale, but I recognise I still need the Council's approval for that – but I think it will reduce people's nerves when they see that the fairgrounds and the school and the coliseum are well-protected. Plus, I'll be bringing in a third squadron from Atlas, with troops and all other equipment. If there is another move coming, we'll be ready for them."

"I hope so, James," Ozpin murmured, "but now, I will leave you, to address Miss Sparkle's concerns and to plan security for the Festival."

He rose to his feet. Ironwood did likewise, saying, "Thanks for coming, Oz. It was good to talk to you."

"Likewise," Ozpin said, turning away. His cane tapped on the floor as the door slid open.

"Oz," Ironwood said to him, making Ozpin turn and look back. "You still have my respect."

Ozpin did not reply, nor by any means offer any acknowledgement of the general's words. He simply turned away and walked out of the office to where a young officer was waiting to escort him back to his airship.

The door slid closed again. Ironwood stood, casting a shadow across his desk, looking at the door without really seeing the door.

Now, he had to find something to say to Twilight.

XxXxX​

Last year, over break, Twilight had spent some time volunteering at the hospital in Canterlot. Specifically, she'd volunteered at the hydrotherapy pool there: taking names, collecting the dues, making the tea, making sure that nobody drowned. Most of the people who came in to use the pool were sweet old folks, like Applejack's Granny Smith, whose legs or knees or hips might be starting to go and who needed the supported exercise in a way that water could provide. But there was this one boy, or a young man… he'd been in a car accident that had left him completely paralysed. His mother, his sister, and two paid carers had brought him in each week in a large, cumbersome wheelchair, and each week, they had gotten him into his swimming trunks and manhandled him onto a stretcher, which was then picked up and lowered by a hydraulic arm into the water, where he floated in their chair, moving him gently over the surface of the shallow pool, moving his arms and legs to stave off muscle atrophy, moving him so that he could feel movement, could feel for a moment that he was not confined to that chair.

He never talked, he couldn't, but Twilight remembered him; she remembered him enough that she had some sketches of a bodysuit that would connect directly into the cerebral cortex and allow people like that to move around under their own will, the suit obeying them in ways their arms and legs no longer would.

Mostly, she found that she remembered his face; no, she remembered his eyes, the way they looked at her, the way they looked out at the world.

The eyes of a prisoner, trapped in his own body, unable to escape. Helpless.

Penny's eyes were just the same now, as she lay on the table in the workshop that had been set aside for her aboard the Valiant. Her face was frozen, her whole body was frozen; she had been disabled pending total repair. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak; only her eyes could move. And those green eyes stared up at Twilight with that same helplessness that she remembered so well from the paralysed boy.

Like him, she was trapped by her own body and its faults.

Unlike him, Twilight had more to offer than sketches and ideas that might not amount to anything. She plugged a cable, running into a computer on a desk in the corner of the workshop, into the socket on Penny's hair-bow. She smiled. "I'm sorry about this, Penny. Just give me a second, okay?"

Penny did not look reassured by this. She looked no less helpless, no less a prisoner; the look in her eyes was no less imploring.

And no less uncomfortable to look at.

Twilight turned away, crossing the workshop in two brisk strides to walk to the computer. "Trust me, Penny, just a second. Okay," – she began to type – "your speech centre was scrambled by the attack, but if I can connect directly to your core processor and then re-route…" Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Yes, that's right; bypass speech centre and connect directly to external… and done! At least I hope it is."

"Does this mean I can talk again?" the voice that emerged from the computer's speakers was not Penny's voice. It was mechanical, and very obviously so, and rather masculine in its depth besides. But it was a voice, and Twilight could hear it. "This is wonderful! Wait, why do I sound like this? Why don't I sound like me?"

"Because your voice is not innate to your being, Penny," Twilight explained. "You have, in your throat, what are essentially artificial reproductions of vocal chords designed to serve the same purpose: to generate sound. Your father, and Uncle Pietro, selected those vocal chords; they chose the pitch and range of your voice to suit their own preferences. You sound… you sound like your father wanted his daughter to sound like."

Put like that, it sounded a little controlling, but what alternative was there? Nobody got to choose their own voice, after all – if she had, Twilight would have chosen to sound a lot more like Rarity – and Penny was no worse off in that regard than anyone else just because her voice had been deliberately selected rather than being random.

In fact, in as much as her voice had been selected, one could argue she was better off than some people who ended up making some rather unfortunate sounds.

"This computer," Twilight continued, rallying after that brief moment of hesitation, "doesn't have vocal chords, and although the speakers can produce a range of sounds, to produce a replica of your voice would require a lot more programming than I've had time for or will have time for before we get to Atlas."

The holographic emitter next to the computer stirred to life, and a hologram of Twilight appeared. Well, no, it was not quite Twilight Sparkle; it was… it was Twilight Sparkle as she sometimes wished she was, and not just because she wasn't wearing glasses: more confident-looking, with a stronger pose and better posture; more beautiful, too, with long straight hair falling down past her waist like the heroine of a romance comic.

Midnight, for it was she, said, "You did experiment with several different voice programs during my creation, and I still have them in storage. I could transfer them to the terminal, and Penny could pick one she likes."

"Well, when I did that-" Twilight began.

"What kind of programs?" Penny asked.

"You could sound like Applejack, whoo-ee!" Midnight declared, slipping smoothly out of her own voice and into Applejack's distinctive drawl. "Let's round-up them long-horn steers and then get the rest of the chores done. Or you could sound like Rarity, darling, oh, isn't that fabric just delightful?"

"Yes, thank you, Midnight!" Twilight squawked sharply. "I think Penny gets the idea." She laughed nervously. "I… I thought, when I was programming Midnight, that it might be nice if my wisdom and advice came from a friend. After all, my friends are all the best parts of me, so it made sense in my head if Midnight should sound like one of them. Still beside me, still giving me helpful hints on what to do. But, the more I thought about it, the more I worried that it would seem like, I don't know, seem disrespectful, or maybe like I was making fun of them. So I decided to go with something… like my voice, but with a mechanical filter on it so that it didn't sound like me."

"I see," Penny replied. She was quiet for a moment. "I'd kind of like to sound like Pyrrha, or maybe Sunset, but I don't want to seem rude or disrespectful either. I think I'll just stick with this." She paused for a moment. "How is Ruby?"

Twilight's brow furrowed. "It's… nobody's quite sure, Penny. She's still in the hospital; she hasn't woken up yet."

"But she's going to be okay, isn't she?"

Twilight hesitated. "I… we all hope so. Study of magic is… non-existent, but it seems that her powers shouldn't have any harmful side-effects, so on that basis… the odds aren't bad."

"That… that's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, Penny, that's good," Twilight replied. At least, I hope it is.

"And everyone else is okay, aren't they?"

"Well… the Breach was not without casualties," Twilight admitted, "but Pyrrha's fine, and Sunset and Jaune and Rainbow and Ciel, so I suppose, from that perspective: yes, everyone else is okay." She smiled. "You don't have to worry about anyone else."

"Do you think they'll come visit me?" Penny asked in that new and unfamiliar voice.

"If they do, they'll hear you like that."

"Pyrrha won't care," Penny declared. "She didn't care when she found out I was a robot; she won't care that I sound like this."

"Then I'll have Rainbow ask them to come," Twilight promised.

"Thank you," said Penny.

The door opened. It was locked, with a code to which only a few authorised personnel had access to, but it was still something of a surprise when General Ironwood walked in.

"General?" Twilight said.

"Salutations, sir," Penny greeted him with all the enthusiasm of which her temporary voice was capable. That wasn't much, but it was the thought that counted.

General Ironwood blinked as the door slid shut behind him. "Penny?"

"Yes, sir; Twilight fixed up a way that I can talk. It doesn't sound like me, but at least you can understand what I'm saying."

General Ironwood glanced at Twilight, who let out a nervous chuckle. "I'm afraid it's the best I could do at short notice, sir."

General Ironwood chuckled. "If Penny doesn't object, then who am I to object?" He walked around the workbench on which Penny lay, until he was standing on the other side of her from Twilight. He reached out and took her hand. "How do you feel, Penny?"

"I can't feel you holding my hand, sir," Penny said, "but don't let that stop you."

A smile crossed the General's face briefly. "Alright," he said, and his voice was so gentle that he might have been putting a young child to bed for the night. "I'm sorry, I just… old habit, I guess." Nevertheless, as Penny had requested, he did not let go of her hand. "But how do you feel?"

"I don't feel much," Penny admitted. "Except… kind of embarrassed. I'm sorry I let you down, sir."

"You haven't let me down, Penny," General Ironwood assured her. "I am the one who let you down, and I'm sorry for it."

"Sir?" Twilight and Penny said at once, and Twilight was sure that if Penny could have expressed her emotions normally, she would have sounded as disbelieving as Twilight did – as disbelieving as Twilight felt.

"I shouldn't have sent you into Mountain Glenn," General Ironwood declared. "I asked too much of you too soon. You were… created to do great things, and I believe you will, but the reason why I had you enrolled in school, the reason I want you in the Vytal tournament, the reason why you aren't already out on the battlefield is the fact that you still have so much to learn. You and Dash and Soleil… I should have thought less of your courage than of your inexperience. I didn't, and I placed too much on you before you were ready."

"But I still-"

"When a mother bird pushes her chicks to fly too soon, and they fall from the branch to the ground, where does the fault lie, Penny?" General Ironwood asked. "With the young chick whose wings simply haven't grown big enough, or with the mother who ought to know enough to realise that?"

Penny was silent for a moment. "Does this mean you're my mother, sir?"

General Ironwood chuckled. "It means I should have known better, Penny. Now, I'm sure that there are lessons that you can learn from what happened to you down in Mountain Glenn, and I want – I expect – for you to take those lessons to heart, but I don't want you to be discouraged or disheartened, I don't want you to think that this reflects on you in any way. Will you promise me that you won't do that?"

Penny took a moment to say, "I'll try my best, sir."

General Ironwood nodded. "You'll grow stronger, Penny. Remember that, and remember that you are not a failure. Remember it, and don't let anyone tell you different, not even your father. Especially not your father." He placed Penny's hand gently back on the workbench, and only then did he release it, rather than letting it fall to the surface with a thunk. He straightened up and looked Twilight in the eye. "I think that I owe you an apology as well, Twilight."

Twilight blinked rapidly. "What… what makes you think that, sir?"

The General's expression didn't alter. "How long have you felt… how long have you thought meanly of yourself?"

Twilight recognised the quotation to which the General was referring. "How did you know, sir?"

"I finally recognised it from the look in your eye when you asked to fly during the battle," General Ironwood said. "I probably should have done something about it after the incident in the tower, if not before. When did it start?"

Twilight hesitated for a moment. "On the train."

General Ironwood frowned momentarily. "You should have said something."

"You would have patted me on the head and told me not to worry about it, sir," Twilight said. "Like you're about to do now," she added.

General Ironwood did not, in fact, move to pat her on the head. In fact, he didn't do or say anything. He just stood there, looking at her, his blue eyes looking rather sad.

So much so that Twilight absurdly started to wonder if she ought to apologise.

"Twilight?" Penny asked. "What's the General talking about? Why do you… think meanly of yourself. Is that what you said, sir?"

"Yes, Penny, I did," General Ironwood replied. "An old quotation: Every one-"

"'Every one thinks meanly of themselves for not having been a soldier,'" Twilight said softly, cutting the General off.

"Twilight," Penny said. "Is that true? Do you?"

"Shouldn't I?" Twilight asked. "What have I done? Nothing!"

"You helped make me," Penny pointed out. "Or do I not count because I haven't done anything yet either?"

Twilight winced. "No, Penny, that's not what I-"

"If you thought about it for a moment, Twilight," General Ironwood said, "you've done more than any of us."

Twilight frowned. "Sir?"

"You uncovered Cinder's treachery," General Ironwood reminded her. "You uncovered the virus that she planted in the CCT; you brought back warning about the coming attack."

"But that… anyone could have done that last one, sir."

"Perhaps they could," General Ironwood allowed, "but how do you think the Breach might have gone if our androids had turned against us, or if, thanks to that virus, we'd lost communications, or targeting, or even control of our airships? How much worse might things have turned out if Cinder had continued to operate under our very noses? Vale was saved. For the loss of just six lives, Vale was saved, and I will take that, gladly. Vale was saved, and while many people took part in the saving, you deserve as much credit for it as anyone, and more than some. More than me."

Twilight scoffed. "You're just trying to make me feel better, sir; you-"

"Anyone could have organised that defence, once they knew what was coming," General Ironwood said. "Schnee, Rouge, Fitzjames, any competent major or colonel could have done what I did."

"And anyone with a certain level of expertise could have done what I did, sir," Twilight pointed out. "I didn't… I didn't-"

"Fight?" General Ironwood asked.

Twilight glanced down at her hands. "Yes, sir."

General Ironwood reached into the breast pocket of his coat. "I don't keep my sidearm loaded, but I do keep a clip handy just in case," he said, producing said clip. With his thumb, he flicked one bullet out into the palm of his ungloved hand. "You know what this is?"

"Of course I do, sir; it's a cartridge."

General Ironwood nodded. "One of millions produced in the factories of Atlas and Mantle every year, along with every gun to fire these cartridges, and every rocket, and every grenade, and every other weapon that we wield against our enemies. How many of the people who work in those factories, how many of the people who make the cartridges like this one ever see combat?"

Twilight folded her arms. "Few, if any; only those employees who just happen to be veterans."

"And yet, where would we be without them?" General Ironwood asked. He put the round back in the clip, and the clip back in his coat pocket. With his ungloved hand, he took off the glove that concealed the other, revealing the gleaming metal of his prosthetic. "This was made for me by the Polendina brothers," he reminded her, "neither of whom have ever served a day in uniform, and yet, they have served Atlas as well as any soldier; more in fact."

"You've made your point, sir," Twilight murmured. "A little heavy-handedly, but you've made it."

"And so will you," General Ironwood continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "Once you get your own lab next year."

"Huh?" Twilight felt as though she must have misheard the General.

"Placing you here was a misallocation of resources," General Ironwood said. "One that not only wasted your talent – albeit in a way that seems quite fortuitous now – but also damaged your morale. I'm afraid that it's too late to change the composition of Team Rosepetal before the Vytal Festival, but once the year is out, I'll make sure that you get your lab in the research division. You can choose a small team, one or two others - or you can work alone if you'd prefer - your own budget, your own projects. Civilian or military applications, just submit it to me, and I'll evaluate it upon its merits."

Twilight's eyes widened. What General Ironwood was offering was… well, it was what every researcher dreamed of. Independence, the chance to pursue their own ideas, the chance to lead their own team, the chance to prove yourself with results, the chance to see the fruit of your own mind turn into something solid, tangible, useful.

She thought about the paralysed young man. With her own lab, her ideas for a suit that could give him a measure of freedom once more need no longer remain sketches and draught notes.

It could be real. It could be real, and it could help.

It could help… so much more than her learning how to be proficient in weapons usage could.

"General," Twilight murmured. "Are you… are you serious about this?"

"I'm always serious, Twilight," General Ironwood replied, which, while not entirely true, was certainly belied by his present demeanour. "I'm sorry for not considering how putting you in this environment might make you feel, but I'm certain that once you get back to work, all of this will seem like a distant memory. Chaining you down in an academy was a mistake; you should be free to soar, as high as Atlas itself."

"I… I will," Twilight declared. "I promise, I won't let you down, sir."

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: Cover art by Seshirukun

 

[RedWolff]

Team RSPT - and their friend and ally Blake Belladonna - have survived their dangerous mission to Mountain Glenn and the ensuing battle for the fate of Vale. But the victory has not come without cost: Penny has been badly damaged, and must be taken home to Atlas to undergo repairs at the hands of her father; Blake has been scarred on the inside by the death of Adam Taurus, and by the fact that one of his last acts was to free Fluttershy from captivity; meanwhile Rainbow Dash, brought face to face with some of her inadequacies as a Team Leader, faces the challenge of moving forward and doing better by those who depend upon her.

Together, they are drawn to Atlas - home to some, new to others - along with Weiss Schnee, who must go home and face her father as the price for his assistance during the last semester.

But all is not well in the shining kingdom. In the shadow of Atlas, faunus dwell in poverty, questions surrounding Adam's SDC brand remain unresolved, and a desperate cry for help draws Rainbow, Weiss and Blake into a new struggle against the mysterious Merlot Industries and their army of androids.

Click to shrink...

I've only now taken a second look at the summary intro and I've noticed the new changes from the first version of SAPR. I wonder what you have in mind to convince Blake to travel to Atlas this time. Plus, the "questions surrounding Adam's SDC brand" has me wondering whether you plan to introduce Cadence to Blake a lot earlier this time to let us see the progress of Cadence's investigation or inquiries. Plus, now I'm curious to see whether you plan to add anything extra to Weiss' return and interactions back at Atlas and Jackass Gele this time.

 

[ScipioSmith]

After Action​

"You've been reading that thing almost non-stop since we got back from Mountain Glenn," Rainbow observed, and a glance across the dorm room showed that Ciel once again had her nose buried in the catechisms of the Lady of the North. Rainbow attempted a grin as she put the last of her neatly folded clothes into a hold-all. "The ending isn't going to change if you keep re-reading it."

Ciel looked up to deliver a rather withering glance out of her blue eyes, matching the frigidity of her tone. "I find the teachings of our Lady very comforting in times of trial."

Rainbow zipped up her hold-all and sat down on her bed. "Are we in a time of trial?"

"We are always in a time of trial," Ciel declared. She looked back down at her holy book. "For whenever there is light, there, too, shall ye find darkness; and evil shall walk the earth as long as thy descendants shall endure, and thou shalt never see the end of it."

"I guess she had a point about that," Rainbow muttered. She clasped her hands together. "Are you all packed and ready to move out?"

Ciel looked up at Rainbow Dash once more.

"It's my job to ask," Rainbow said.

"Is it also your assignment to underestimate me?"

"No," Rainbow said. "Just to ask."

Ciel sniffed. "All my gear is safely stowed."

"Except that book."

"Yes," Ciel admitted. "Except this book."

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. "I thought you knew it by heart."

"And I thought you were above inane conversation," Ciel replied.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. An indirect approach was not getting her very far. Okay then: straight at it, the Atlesian way. "It's got to you, hasn't it? What she said down there?"

"I have no idea what you-"

"Salem!" Rainbow yelled. "Down in Mountain Glenn. What she said, about the Lady in the North... about her dying at Salem's hands."

"At the hands of one of her servants," Ciel corrected her. "Some latter day Cinder Fall. God's intermediary upon the earth and the great enemy could not even be bothered to triumph over her in person, sending instead some cutthroat bitch to do the job."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"You will not hear it again," Ciel said. "Forgive me, I am-"

"Rattled?"

"A little out of sorts," Ciel corrected.

Rainbow shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. Curse up a storm if you want to."

"No, thank you." Ciel murmured.

"I'm serious," Rainbow said. "Well, maybe not about the cursing, but about... Penny's not here right now; you can take your armour off."

"And what would that serve?"

"What good is pretending that it doesn't bother you when it does?" Rainbow asked. "I tried to pretend that the White Fang didn't scare me anymore, but the moment I found out about Blake, I lost it." She hesitated. "I don't want to see you lose it at the worst time, for your sake."

Ciel shut the book with an audible snap. "You speak of taking off my armour," she whispered, "but the truth is that Salem has shot a hole through my armour already. Duty is my shield, discipline my sword, but faith has always been my armour, but that faith... how can the Lady protect us when she could not protect herself? If God would not intervene on behalf of his beloved, his most faithful servant, then why should he protect any of us?" She shuddered. "When she spoke to me, I saw... I saw Atlas, and it was surrounded by dark clouds which moved as if they were alive. I saw the city burning and the Lady weeping upon her pedestal of stone. And above the clouds, I saw a golden light, and God in all his radiant majesty looking down upon our city... and he turned away, and the darkness consumed everything."

Rainbow crossed the distance between them, leaping over the intervening beds to kneel before Ciel and take her hands. "What she showed us is not prophecy," she said. "It doesn't have to come to pass, and it won't. We won't allow it."

"The two of us?" Ciel asked dubiously.

"All of us," Rainbow replied. "You, me, Applejack, Penny, Trixie, Starlight, Maud, Neon, Flint, everyone. Atlas will not fall while men defend it. What's that phrase, about four corners?"

"Come all four corners of the world in arms, and we will shock them," Ciel said. "We are a rather vain people, are we not?"

Rainbow grinned. "Confidence is sexy; it's why we're so popular."

Ciel snorted. Her face fell shortly after. "It feels less appropriate now than it did before."

"Because we've reached the end of vanity," Rainbow murmured.

"Even so," Ciel agreed, speaking softly. "If the Lady herself could not prevail, what chance do we have?"

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "Is it true?"

"I... I don't know," Ciel admitted. "I have been reading and re-reading, but... leaving aside the fact that the Lady never mentions Salem or our struggle except by opaque references that I am only now uncovering... it is a first-person account; obviously, it does not cover the circumstances of her death."

"What about her going to fight?" Rainbow asked.

Ciel shook her head. "No. Her last writings are concerned with harmonious relations amongst a community of believers and their relations with unbelievers. All that Salem said may be a pack of lies, but-"

"But you don't think she'd be that obvious," Rainbow said.

"Indeed," Ciel said quietly.

Rainbow got up. "Then I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves, won't we?"

Ciel looked up at her. "'Find out for ourselves'?"

"Once Penny is better," Rainbow said. "We'll... research. Take a road trip to some holy sites. There has to be something somewhere, something to tell us what really happened."

Ciel frowned. "And if it really happened exactly as Salem said?"

"Then we'll find out what she died for," Rainbow declared. "Because I guarantee that it wasn't for nothing." She paused. "We can't kill Salem; we already knew that. The Lady probably knew it too. But we can stand between her and the people we care about, and I bet that if we look close enough, we'll find that's what the Lady did too."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I hope you are correct," she murmured. "And I would gladly seek the truth with you, although I do not understand why you would seek it with me. It is not your faith."

"But it's yours, and you're on my team," Rainbow said. "And that means your problem is my problem."

"Then may the Lady guide our steps towards enlightenment," Ciel said. She smiled softly. "Thank you."

"All part of the service," Rainbow said. Her scroll buzzed. "Hold that thought," Rainbow said, as she answered it. "I've got to go," she announced. "The General wants to see me in his office, right now."

XxXxX​

Rainbow Dash came to attention and saluted. "Cadet Leader Dash reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, Dash," General Ironwood commanded, returning the salute from behind his desk aboard the flagship. "And tell me what this is."

Rainbow looked at the scroll that the General had just picked up off his desk. She doubted that General Ironwood would appreciate being told that it was his scroll, so she focused on what was currently on the scroll. "That... that's my report on the operation in Mountain Glenn, sir."

"That's what it appeared to be," General Ironwood replied calmly. "I had to ask, since it's like no other report that you've ever prepared for me."

Rainbow swallowed. "Sir, I understand that this may seem-"

General Ironwood held up one hand to forestall her. "You'll get your chance to defend your position on all counts, but for now why don't we start at the top? Why does this report read like you're describing a defeat?"

"Because the victory was yours, sir, not ours," Rainbow replied. "We failed to complete our initial mission objectives: to forestall the White Fang threat to Vale, to kill or capture Cinder Fall, and to report timely intelligence on enemy dispositions and objectives. And on top of that, Penny was badly injured. Vale was saved thanks to your efforts, sir, but Mountain Glenn itself, we messed up."

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. "You're right; Cinder did escape," he said. "What could you have done to make sure you got her?"

"I... I don't know, sir."

"Consider this your homework: I want a revised mission plan detailing how you could have proceeded so as to accomplish all of the mission objectives."

"With hindsight, sir, or just with what we knew going in?"

General Ironwood pondered that. "Both," he said. "As I say, you're correct that Cinder escaped and that Penny was wounded. However, the only reason that we – myself, Ozpin, and the Valish authorities – were able to mount an effective response to the Breach was due to timely intelligence on enemy objectives, wouldn't you agree?"

Rainbow frowned. "Feels like we cut it fine, sir."

"If you could have done better, write it down for me," General Ironwood instructed her. "As the Last King of Vale said after the Battle of Four Sovereigns, 'the only thing worse than a battle won is a battle lost.' But a battle lost is worse. I know that the outcome of this operation wasn't perfect, and I won't say that you didn't make mistakes, but being too hard on yourself won't help you to do better next time. Take heart, Dash; you can't learn from your intakes unless you can recognise your successes too. Like rescuing two Atlesian citizens from captivity."

"Yes, sir. About that, sir, did Professor Goodwitch-?"

"Had some words to say on the subject, yes," General Ironwood replied. "Harsh words. Harsher than I think you deserve in the circumstances."

"Sir?"

"Civis Atlarum Sum, Dash," General Ironwood reminded her. "Glynda isn't one of us, for all her sterling qualities, so she doesn't understand that rescuing the two of them became a top priority the moment you found out they were being held captive, not because they were your friends but because they are Atlesian citizens.

"We fight against Salem under Ozpin's colours, but we are still Atlesian soldiers with responsibilities to keep the people of Atlas safe from harm, first and foremost." The General paused. "That being said, going off on your own was reckless."

"I didn't want to spook him into changing his mind, sir."

"I can't condone lying to Professor Goodwitch either," General Ironwood said pointedly. "What's your opinion of the relationship between Cinder Fall and Sunset Shimmer?"

Rainbow hesitated, thrown off initially by what seemed like a sudden change of subject. A moment's thought, however, revealed to her why General Ironwood had chosen to ask this now. She thought about it for a little longer. "It's a little weird, sir, I admit, but I'm not worried."

"No?"

"No, sir," Rainbow repeated. "But, Sunset... Sunset knows who her real friends are; she wouldn't pick Cinder over her team, or mine. Cinder, though... I think she'd do stuff for Sunset that she wouldn't do for anyone else."

"So you think this may work to our advantage?" General Ironwood asked.

"We did get a hostage back without a fight, sir."

"Hmm," General Ironwood murmured. "I can't say that I like it, but you may have a point."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just," General Ironwood added, "as you may have a point about my asking you to volunteer for this mission."

Rainbow winced. "I didn't mean to imply that... I meant no disrespect, sir; I just think that a Specialist detail should have been assigned to this mission instead of two first-year teams." Rainbow hesitated, wondering if she was about to go too far. "A point I think I raised before the mission, sir."

"Yes," General Ironwood admitted. "And do you remember my answer?"

"You said that Professor Ozpin didn't trust our Specialists," Rainbow replied. "You also said it didn't matter why he didn't, just that he didn't." She paused. "I'm not sure it matters either; you should have fought for it anyway, sir."

"You're being very bold today, Dash," General Ironwood murmured.

"That's what you keep me around for, sir," Rainbow said. "And you said it yourself, sir: we may fight Salem under Ozpin, but we're still Atlesian soldiers, and that means that you..."

The General waited a moment. When Rainbow did not continue, she prompted, "Go on."

"I may not be the best student, sir, but I wasn't sleeping during combat school history class," Rainbow began. "I remember that the Mantle armies in the Great War never fully enforced the rules on self-expression during the war, I know the generals turned a blind eye when regiments kept their Colours and their marching songs, and I know that when the King ordered them to start executing every prisoner they captured, they refused to do that either. They told the King to get his ass down there and do it himself if he wanted it done. He didn't have the guts. The point is, sir, that the military has never been afraid to go its own way when it was in the right."

"And that," General Ironwood said, "is precisely why I couldn't defy Ozpin in this."

Rainbow frowned. "Sir."

General Ironwood got up, turning away from Rainbow and walking to the window, looking out over Vale and all the gallant ships who kept her safe.

"As you rightly recall," General Ironwood said, clasping his hands together behind his back, "the Atlesian forces have a certain historical reputation, dating back to before the Great War. Those who don't see us as emotionless robots see a force that is uncompromisingly obedient to its own officers... and almost beyond the control of anyone else. I have to say that my holding two seats on the Council only adds to that impression of unaccountability. There are many, even in Atlas, who fear that the military is outside the control of the civilian authority."

"We couldn't be the kingdom's conscience if we weren't independent, sir."

"The Kingdom's conscience, Dash; is that what you think we are?"

"I think we could be, sir, if there was a need."

"Some would say that we are more keepers than conscience," General Ironwood declared. "Some even in Ozpin's inner circle. I am not... universally well-liked amongst that group, or well-respected. There are those who don't think that I should be a part of this struggle. Those voices will only grow more vocal and, I fear, more influential with Ozpin, if I am seen to act overtly against him."

"Politics," Rainbow growled.

"It gets everywhere," the General agreed, as though it were a persistent mould. "But I can do more good on the inside than frozen out, even if it means I have to pull in my horns from time to time."

"And that's why Ozpin doesn't trust Specialists, isn't it?" Rainbow guessed. "Because he can't control them."

"That, and he's not a fan of armies in general," said Ironwood. "And he'd prefer it if my students didn't end up in one. Let alone his students." The General fell silent. With one hand, he tugged awkwardly at the tie around his neck. "Dash," he began, sounding as awkward as he suddenly looked, "I don't really know how to... how was it? How was she?"

Rainbow swallowed. "I suppose we have to talk about this, sir."

"You can hardly expect me to ignore it, Dash."

"No, sir," Rainbow murmured. "Have you ever met her?"

"No."

"Lucky you, sir."

General Ironwood frowned. "That bad?"

"Pretty bad, sir, yes," Rainbow admitted. "She... she got inside our heads somehow, it was like she knew our worst fears, knew exactly what to say to ... everyone took it pretty hard, sir."

The General winced. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position," he said. "You understand that you can't talk to a counsellor about this, or to your friends, but my door is open if you want to talk about it."

"Thank you, sir, but right now, I'm more worried about Ciel and Penny," Rainbow replied. It was a generous offer of the General to make, but compared to what Ciel and Penny had been hit with, her own visions felt rather trivial by comparison. Besides, it felt a little late for her, all things considered. "They both got hit pretty hard, and with Penny, it's combined with her injuries... I'm worried they've both been knocked sideways a little."

"So what are you going to do about it?" General Ironwood asked.

"Ciel... Salem got to her through her faith; I'm hoping to help her prove that either Salem was lying or at least not giving all the context. Hopefully, that will help. Penny... I haven't quite figured that out, sir, but I will."

General Ironwood nodded. "And Miss Belladonna?"

Rainbow frowned. "It wasn't Salem thet hit her hardest, sir, or at least, I don't think it was. It was the death of all the White Fang down in the tunnel. Thank you, sir, for releasing her from our service."

"I'm a man of my word, and Miss Belladonna has more than held up her end of the bargain. I'm a little surprised you pushed for it, though. I thought you wanted her to come to Atlas."

"I do, sir, but I want her to want it, and not because she's chained to it or because I keep pushing her that way. I was... I was using Blake as a crutch, putting all my hopes on her so I didn't have to improve. I won't be doing that any more, sir. I'll shape up, and Blake can make her own decision."

General Ironwood said, "I haven't noticed any particular areas in need of improving."

"That doesn't mean they aren't there, sir."

"No," General Ironwood allowed. "Alright then, I look forward to a change in you, Dash. It would be nice to be pleasantly surprised for once. Although I am a little concerned about Miss Belladonna. Who's going to help her work through all this?"

"I... I'll make sure that Team Sapphire keeps an eye on her, sir; I'm sure they'll be happy to do it." Rainbow hesitated momentarily. "General... about Blake, but sort of not, do you ever worry that... do you ever worry that the White Fang have a point about us?"

"I can't say that I do," replied the General. "Unlike the White Fang, we don't attack civilian targets."

"No, sir, but we do leave people behind," Rainbow said. "We race ahead and the faunus – some of the faunus, anyway – get left in the dust. Or, I don't know, it's more of a feeling than a thought; I'm sorry to bother you with it, sir."

"Atlas isn't perfect, Dash; it can always be made better," General Ironwood reminded her. "And if you think you have a way to do that, then by all means, let the world know. But first, I want you to work up that revised mission plan."

"Yes, sir."

"That's all; dismissed."

After her meeting with the General, Rainbow returned to Beacon, and with all her packing done for their imminent departure, she sought out the library.

It was pretty empty, what with the semester having officially finished a few days ago. School was breaking up, some students were going home for the break before the tournament kicked off, and those that were sticking around at Beacon didn't have any assignments due. No one had any reason to haunt the libraries right now.

So it was a good thing that Rainbow wasn't looking for a student.

She found the man she was looking for coming out of one of the back rooms with a stack of books in his arms. He reversed out slowly, his back to Rainbow Dash.

"Yo, bookstore guy."

The big faunus put down the stack of books and turned to face Dash with a mildly baleful look in his dark eyes. "That's Mister Bookstore Guy to you, kid. Or you can just call me Tukson."

"Rainbow Dash," Rainbow introduced herself.

"Appropriate," Tukson observed. "So, you're Blake's handler."

"I'm Blake's friend," Rainbow corrected.

"As I understand it, she was running from you just before that mess at the docks."

Rainbow squirmed. "Yeah, well... a lot's happened since then."

"Yeah, I guess it has," Tukson admitted wistfully. He sighed. "I guess I should be thanking you. Now that the White Fang has been taken care of and Adam's dead, I can finally go back to my store."

"Will you?" Rainbow asked.

"Maybe," Tukson said. "This place, well, it really does have every book under the sun. Every book published in Vale, anyway. I feel as though I could spend a lifetime going through the stacks and still not find every hidden treasure here. But... it's my store. I created it, I built it up. Getting chased out of it was bad enough, but never going back? I don't know; that's not a step I could take lightly. Fortunately, it doesn't seem as though Professor Ozpin is in a rush to kick me out, so I still have time to consider it."

Rainbow folded her arms. "You said that you ought to thank me. I'm guessing that means that you don't actually want to thank me."

"A lot of faunus are dead, from what I understand," Tukson said. "I don't expect Vale to mourn their deaths, but I don't have to rejoice at them."

Rainbow didn't respond to that; it was a fair enough point, and not one that she wanted to discuss further. "Have you spoken to Blake lately?"

"No," Tukson replied. "Why? Is she okay?"

Not really, honestly, but if Blake hadn't sought out Tukson's counsel, then Rainbow wasn't going to share her state. Well, maybe she would, but not right now. "I'm not here to talk about Blake. I was hoping... I was hoping that we could talk about you."

"Me?" Tukson said. "Why do... why?"

"Because the only person I know who used to be in the White Fang is Blake, and the only person I know who is in the White Fang would be too busy crowing to tell me anything useful. Plus, I didn't give her my number," Rainbow added. "But I know you used to be in the Wjite Fang too."

"That was a while ago, kid, like I told the cops-"

"This isn't about intel," Rainbow assured him. "I just... I want to know why you joined the White Fang."

Tukson's eyes narrowed. "And why would you want to know that?"

"Because..." Rainbow bowed her head a little. "Do you think it's possible that things could improve enough that people wouldn't want to join the White Fang? And if so, wouldn't we need to know the reasons why if we wanted to stop them?"

Tukson took a few moments to respond. "Well, okay," he said heavily. "Why don't we both take a seat? It'll be easier that way."

They sat down at one of the many empty tables in the library, facing one another across the desk as though they were about to work on a term paper together.

Rainbow leaned forwards as she waited for Tukson to speak.

At last, he did so, although as he spoke, he would not meet Rainbow's eyes. "The first thing you have to bear in mind is that the White Fang I joined doesn't exist anymore," he said. "It got replaced by something different, which kept the name and not much else."

"But people still have the same reasons for joining, right?" Rainbow said. "I mean, I know that some of them are psychos, but not all of them."

"No," Tukson agreed. "Not all of them. That's why I can't help but feel sorry for all the ones who died down there in that tunnel: because they weren't all psychotic killers; in fact, I bet most of them were just people who, in a different life, could have been productive citizens."

"In another life?" Rainbow asked. "Or in a better world?"

Tukson said, "Whatever changes are made now, even if they were made today, it would still be too late to draw back some of those that are on the violent path. Reforms, however necessary, can't erase the memory of past injustices, insults, abuses. And for some, those memories will be too much to bear, too much to shrug off. For some, violence will be the only response still."

"Some," Rainbow said. "But not all? And besides, I'm more interested in whether we can break the chain for any new faunus. The fact that... my first friend has joined the White Fang. That... I don't know if I can say how that feels, but... what's done is done. If that's how she wants it, then fine. But if I can stop more Gildas from joining the White Fang, then... that's not bad, right?"

"Not bad at all," Tukson agreed. "If you can pull it off. There are a lot of reasons people join the White Fang."

"Such as?" Rainbow demanded. "Come on, what's your story?"

"I," Tukson began, then paused. "I was Sienna Khan's Teaching Assistant."

Rainbow's eyes widened. "You were what?"

"Sienna Khan's TA, at Mistral University," Tukson repeated. "I covered some of her classes, assisted in her research, and prepared my doctoral thesis on Ares Claudandus."

"The faunus general from the revolution, right?" Rainbow said.

Tukson nodded. "Impressive. Not many people remember the name."

"Yeah, well, I'm not many people," Rainbow said casually.

She thought it best not to mention that the plume of his hat was said to possess magical protective qualities. Although, with what she knew now, it might actually be true.

"Anyway, he was my field of study," Tukson said. "Sienna Khan was, and probably still is, the most accomplished scholar of the post-revolutionary period living. She's written a biography of Claudandus and was very generous with access to her research material, even as she encouraged me to challenge her interpretations in my thesis. Sienna had taken the same view as many at the time, that he sold out and set the stage for the humans to play divide and rule and reverse the outcome of the war. I planned to be more sympathetic. I think Ares was genuinely trying to build an egalitarian society where faunus and humans were equal, and if he sometimes seemed to be favouring the humans... that was pragmatism, not an abandonment of his ideals."

"I'm guessing things didn't work out that way," Rainbow said.

Tukson sighed. "The thing about studying the history of our people at that level is that it really brings home how much of it really sucks. Did you know that after the counter-revolution, the ex-slaves had to pay reparations? Mistral compensated the slave owners for the loss of their property following the Great War, and for twenty years, faunus were taxed higher than humans to pay that money back. What about reparations to the slaves and the descendants of the slaves to compensate them for the hundreds of years of unpaid labour that was forced out of them under threats of violence and death? And it became so easy to connect those historic injustices to present day problems of low income, low home ownership, tenuous employment. Not that anyone wanted to hear about those connections. What Sienna was teaching didn't fit the narrative of glorious Mistral, ancient and honourable. She was warned by the faculty about inserting too much polemic into her writing, campaigners alleged that she was teaching human students to hate themselves and their race, the Council brought in laws restricting how faunus history could be taught-"

"And was she?" Rainbow asked.

"Was she what?"

"Was she teaching the human students to hate themselves?" Rainbow explained. "I mean, we are talking about Sienna Khan."

"She wasn't the same person then, and no," Tukson insisted. "She was just trying to open their eyes to the truth. But people didn't want to hear the truth; they just wanted us to be grateful that things were better than they had been in the past, as though we should be grateful that we weren't slaves any more. Sienna decided that she couldn't be complicit in that any more, she couldn't record the problems of the past while ignoring the problems of the present. And I went with her. I wasn't going to stay on at the university without her.

"Sienna Khan was welcomed into the high echelons of the White Fang immediately. The Belladonnas were trying to restore the movement after it had atrophied years before, and they were grateful for the support of a heavyweight intellectual with a public profile. That's how I met Blake's parents: Sienna was good enough to keep me by her side for a while." Tukson stopped. "That doesn't really help, does it?"

"It's... kind of specific," Rainbow said.

"I probably should have warned you about that," Tukson conceded. "And even some of the problems I mentioned are more specific to Mistral than Atlas, but... wait here a second; I might have something that will help you more."

He got up and disappeared into the back, leaving Rainbow to sit drumming her fingers on the table as she waited.

Although it didn't help, if what Tukson said about the history lessons was true, it was kind of worrying. Was there stuff she didn't know not because she hadn't been paying attention but because no one was supposed to know? Had things been changed, made to seem different than they really were? Surely not; Atlas was not Mistral; they didn't need to massage their history as a salve to their national ego because the future belonged to them, and they were racing towards it. But, if it was happening, how would she know? Would anyone know, even Twilight?

Blake would know, if anyone did, but Rainbow was loath to bring it up to her, partly because she had enough going on and partly because she... Well, kind of like those Mistralians who had campaigned against Sienna Khan, Rainbow didn't want to damage Blake's perception of Atlas.

Damaging her own perception was bad enough.

Tukson returned and set down in front of Rainbow Dash a book with a faded cover depicting a lion faunus mounted upon a white horse. The faunus wore a blue jacket and a bright red cape that streamed out behind him as his galloping mount bore him along. In his hat was set an enormous white plume, bent back by the air resistance.

The book was titled: A Very God of War: A Life of Ares Claudandus.

It was by Sienna Khan.

Rainbow looked up at Tukson incredulously.

"Like I said, no one's bettered her scholarship since," Tukson explained, "and if you really want to build an equal society, then you could do a lot worse than read about the last guy who tried."

Rainbow reached out gingerly, as though even touching a book written by Sienna Khan would infect her with White Fang-ness. Her fingers brushed against the faded cover. Nothing happened; she didn't feel anything except, well, a book cover.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to take this? I'm going back to Atlas-"

"Don't worry, that's not a library book; that's my own copy," Tukson explained. "Call it a thank you, for all that you've done for Blake."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Take a Trip​

Blake's eyebrows rose. "You... you gave her Sienna Khan's Life of Ares Claudandus?"

"Yeah," Tukson said, as though he couldn't see the problem – probably because he couldn't. "I thought she might get something out of it."

"It's Ares Claudandus!" Blake exclaimed. "Yes, it's unfair that the historical narrative has erased faunus actors from our own revolution, and yes, his generalship deserves to be remembered admiringly, but... this is a man who ruled Mistral in all but name for eighteen months, and in that time, he made divorce illegal, ordered that in the last resort, struggling marriages were to be referred to him so he could decide how best to motivate the couple... in Ares' Mistral, I would have been sent back to Adam and told it was my fault for not trying hard enough to make him happy."

"That's Sienna's interpretation," Tukson replied.

"And it's Sienna's book; what other interpretation is going to be in there?" Blake demanded.

Tukson said, "You don't think-"

"No, I don't think Rainbow Dash is going to become a creep obsessed with other people's sex lives," Blake admitted. "But leaving aside whether she might be as put off by all of that as I was... do you really think it was a good idea to expose an Atlesian to the ideas of a man who held that the people existed to serve the good of the state, not the other way around?"

"The community," Tukson corrected her. "Not the state."

"Whose community was being served when Claudandus decided to reinstate plantation slavery?" Blake asked.

"Is it still slavery when the workers were to receive ten percent of the harvest?" Tukson replied.

"Is it freedom when overseers had the right to beat the workers with clubs and the field hands were legally prohibited from leaving?" Blake shot back.

"Contrary to Sienna's view, I never thought that was Claudandus selling out to the great families," Tukson said. "I think it was a pragmatic decision to get the economy back on track after years of war."

"You could excuse the SDC and all of its abuses on those grounds," Blake argued. "'Yes, it's labour practices are criminally abusive, but the economy!'"

Tukson was silent for a moment. "I suppose you have a point there, and I won't say that the man was perfect, but he had a sincere vision of how to bring humans and faunus together in harmony, and I thought it would do your friend good to be exposed to that. Too many people don't realise that the incarnations of the White Fang aren't the only path to equal standing the faunus have pursued."

"That's true," Blake allowed. "Although that might be a testament to how unsuccessful the others were. I just... I wish I could say for sure what Rainbow would take from it. If I was going to be around to correct any... misconceptions that she might get then... but I won't. Rainbow's team is returning to Atlas for a while before the tournament, but I won't be going with them. I thought about visiting Atlas myself, but... I'm not wanted there anymore."

"Is that what they told you?"

"Rainbow told me my services weren't required anymore."

"I can believe they're not," Tukson said. "I mean the White Fang..."

Blake bowed her head. The two of them were sat outside, on one of the verandas that overlooked the city of Vale. Above the highest towers, the great shops of the Atlesian fleet prowled the skies, symbols of the immense power that had, for a brief season, been her master... and now had cast her off, redundant.

She felt Tukson put his arm around her shoulders. "How are you doing, with all of this?"

Blake closed her eyes. "He let Fluttershy go," she whispered.

"Who?"

"Fluttershy," Blake repeated. "A friend of Rainbow Dash; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Adam caught her. Except he let her go. He showed... kindness, to her. He released her, for no gain and no reason.

"A part of me would like nothing more than to say that Adam was too far gone, that he couldn't be reasoned with, that he had to be stopped, and a part of believes it, but... but then I remember that he let Fluttershy go... and I'm not sure that I can believe it any more.

"And then... everyone else down there, all those faunus... I know that they were willing to put Vale at risk, but-"

"But that doesn't mean you don't regret it," Tukson murmured.

Blake glanced at him. "There was nothing I could do, there were so many grimm, and we needed to-"

"I'm not blaming you," Tukson assured her. "I don't have the right; no one does." He paused. "I wish that I knew what to say to make it all better, but... but I don't know if there are any words to make it better."

"Probably not," Blake whispered.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," Blake said softly.

Tukson squeezed her shoulder. "Can I ask you to do one thing for me?"

"What?"

"Don't forget that you're not alone," Tukson implored her. "You've got people here who care about you, Blake. Remember that."

XxXxX​

Blake stepped silently into General Ironwood's office aboard ship and then waited, in equal silence, for him to speak.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Belladonna," General Ironwood said, rising courteously to his feet as the door closed behind Blake. "I'm sorry about the short notice of my invitation, I realised that I didn't know if you had any plans for the break, and I didn't want to miss you."

"It's fine, sir; I wasn't busy," Blake said, not feeling the need to explain to him that she wasn't planning to be busy for the near future either. "I was a little surprised that you wanted to see me, however."

"Really?" General Ironwood asked.

"Yes, sir," Blake replied quietly. "I thought you were done with me."

General Ironwood frowned ever so slightly. "You don't sound overjoyed by the fact."

"Was I supposed to be?" Blake demanded. "Is that all the impression that any of you have formed of me over the past semester, that I'd be glad to be out? That I'd be delighted to be stuck on the sidelines doing what, nothing?"

"Miss Belladonna-" General Ironwood began.

Blake ploughed on as though he hadn't spoken. "All the missions I've been on, with all the different people, and that's who you all think I am? All the time I've spent with-"

"Miss Belladonna, it's going to be hard for me to defend myself if you don't let me get a word in edgeways," General Ironwood said in a tone of gentle reproof, seasoned lightly with a touch of amusement.

Blake felt her cheeks heat up a little. "Sorry, sir, I just... I've always had a hard time keeping my opinions to myself."

"I understand," said the General. "What I'm not sure you understand is what's going on. You're not being put out to pasture, by any means. But, we had an agreement: you would assist my forces when necessary to deal with the White Fang threat to Vale, and in exchange, we would keep you out of jail. The White Fang threat to Vale has ended."

"But there's so much more going on now, sir," Blake insisted. "Or at least, I know so much more about what's really going on. With so many forces at your command, I can see why you might think that you don't need me, but I swear, I can be useful to you."

"Is that what you want?" General Ironwood asked. "You want to be useful?"

"I want to play my part, sir," Blake replied. "Yes, I want to be useful. Knowing what I know now, I can't just turn away, or stand back and let other people handle it. General, how much do you know about what happened under Mountain Glenn?"

"Dash submitted her report," General Ironwood replied. "She told me everything."

"Then you know that a lot of faunus died in that tunnel," Blake said. "The White Fang wasn't created by Salem, she didn't even turn it into what it is today, but she got her hooks into it, and she used it, and she caused the deaths of hundreds of people. If I can prevent that from happening again, if I can do anything at all to prevent the spread of her influence that brings about so much death and misery, then I want to do it."

The corners of General Ironwood's lips twitched upwards in a smile. "You could be making this pitch to Ozpin instead of me."

"It wasn't Professor Ozpin who put his faith in me, sir," Blake said. "You did. And if it had been up to Professor Ozpin alone, I don't think I ever would have found out about Salem or the rest. And it isn't Professor Ozpin whose forces I've been assisting all semester. I've spent more time with the Atlas forces than I have with any Beacon team, even my own... either of my own. That's why it hurt when you cut me loose-"

"Can I ask what it is that Dash said to you that made you think this was such a dramatic severing of ties between us?" General Ironwood asked.

Blake frowned. "Her exact words were, 'You're free,' sir."

"Well, you're no longer at my beck and call, or that of Atlas. In that sense, if you wanted nothing more to do with us, then you could walk away, and I would have neither power nor will to stop you."

"But I-"

"But I didn't intend, nor do I think Dash meant to imply, that we wanted nothing more to do with you," General Ironwood said, cutting Blake off before she could build up another head of steam. "If Dash implied otherwise... from what she's told me, she feels that she's been putting a lot of pressure on you, and she regrets it."

"I don't think that she has anything to regret, sir; Rainbow was never anything less than honest about what she wanted from me and why she wanted it. That's part of the reason why this sudden turnaround was so, well, sudden. It's one of the reasons I thought we must be about to part ways."

"Perhaps you ought to tell her that yourself, it might prevent future misunderstandings," General Ironwood suggested gently. "For my part... you've been on several missions with my people now; how have you found it?"

"Your students are... very characterful, sir," Blake said.

General Ironwood chuckled. "They are indeed. I'm sure that every headmaster loves their students – at least, I hope they do – but these kids... Miss Belladonna, why do you think that in Atlas, we push so hard to get graduates to move onto the Specialist track inside the military?"

"I think you're about to tell me, sir."

General Ironwood paused. "Oz told me once that being a headmaster is the best job in Remnant, and the worst. The best because you get to watch these brilliant kids, these impossibly brave young men and women, walk through your halls, and you get to help them become the best versions of themselves possible. And it's also the worst because, after four years of knowing them, guiding them, nurturing them... you have to kick them out to let them risk death on a daily basis facing unimaginable horrors. There are many tactical advantages to having a Corps of Specialists in the military, but I must confess that part of it is... I don't have it in me to just cut these kids loose. This way, I can keep an eye on them, and I can keep giving them the support they need, as best I can." Once more, he paused. "Oz says that I can't protect them forever, and that's true. I've lost good kids... I've lost so many. But even if I can't protect them, I'd like to be able to say that I tried."

Blake blinked. She felt the absurd urge to go over to the General and give him a hug. The fact that she doubted he would appreciate it if she did was only one of the reasons why she refrained. "Sir, I don't need protection-"

General Ironwood's voice was tinged with bitterness as he said. "Then it's a good job that I haven't protected you, isn't it? I owe you an apology, Miss Belladonna; regardless of your desire to be in the thick of things, I shouldn't have sent you or Team Rosepetal into Mountain Glenn; I shouldn't have sent anyone in without laying on more support than I did. As Dash reminded me, it's my job to do what's right for my people, regardless of the opinions of others. What you encountered down there, what happened to you, it would tax a far more experienced huntsman. The fact that you're eager to throw yourself back into the fray afterwards... it either says something very good or very bad about you."

Blake frowned slightly. "Which do you think it is, sir?"

"I'm not entirely sure, yet," General Ironwood admitted. "After all of this and your upset when you thought that our working relationship was coming to an end, I take it that working with my people wasn't unpleasant for you?"

"No, sir, quite the opposite. Or at least, the unpleasantness didn't come from your people."

"I'm glad to hear it," General Ironwood said. "Just as you'll be glad to hear that everyone who has worked with you has sung your praises. However, both Dash and Lulamoon noted with concern what they described as a courage verging on disregard for your own safety."

"Shouldn't a good huntress be willing to sacrifice themselves to protect others?"

"Willing, yes, but not eager," General Ironwood informed her. "You can only die once, Miss Belladonna, and you can often save more lives by using your head than by using your body as a breastwork." The General turned away, leaning on his desk with both hands. "I once had the... the pleasure of teaching a very gifted student: talented, intelligent, diligent, popular with everyone who knew him. But, although he was an Atlesian, his ancestry derived from Mistral, from a warrior family old in honour, and his head rang with those ideals: chivalry, honour, personal heroism. This student was at a training camp, when they came under sudden and severe grimm attack. He, along with some other brave students, volunteered to assist the instructors in covering the evacuation of the rest of the student body. However, even when the rest of the camp had been evacuated and the order to pull out was given, he refused to abandon his post. Turning your back on the enemy is not, it seems, what a hero does. I sent a team to get him out of there, to drag him out if they had to... but they were too late.

"It comforted his sister to know that he had died a hero, bravely and with honour, a true heir to the traditions of their clan," Ironwood went on, bitterness ringing in his words. "But how much more might such a gifted student have accomplished by living to fight on, than by dying for the sake of his personal dignity?"

The General turned to face her once more. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bore you with my personal recollections."

"It's fine, sir," Blake said. "I... I'm sorry about your student."

"What's done is done," General Ironwood replied. "But thank you for your condolences." He took a deep breath. "You're no longer bound to the service of Atlas, but that doesn't mean that I can't find a place for you with us, if you wish me to. We can always use people of your calibre. Is that what you want?"

Blake hesitated. "I... I think so, sir. Sir, do you know Ares Claudandus?"

"The revolutionary?"

"Yes, sir," Blake acknowledged. "I don't think highly of every value he held or decision he made, but in the period between his victory and the betrayal by his lieutenants, he planned to maintain his army, a faunus army, as a force both to protect the Kingdom of Mistral and to maintain order within it. He hoped that the faunus would trust faunus soldiers as they did not trust mostly human huntsmen. Maybe it would have worked. Maybe if there were more faunus in your army, people would start to see that as normal instead of selling out, and maybe they'd start to trust your troops instead of the White Fang."

General Ironwood nodded. "You think the military can bring about social change?"

"You said yourself that it was a great engine, sir," Blake reminded him. "Sir, if I had to come up with just one word to describe your people, it would be... it would be hard, I admit, and open to challenge, but the word I'd choose would be 'righteous.' Everyone is trying to do the right thing. That's what I want to do as well, sir. As I see it, I can do everything that a huntress could, and a lot more that they couldn't."

"But you're not a hundred percent certain?"

Blake shook her head. "It feels... unfair on Team Iron, and there's a part of me that feels that if the battle against Salem remains in Vale, then it would be almost desertion to leave Team Sapphire to it and run away to Atlas."

General Ironwood nodded. "Then take the break to think it over. Get some rest, Belladonna; there'll be plenty of battles to fight without going out of your way to seek them out."

"Yes sir, I... I'll try, sir."

XxXxX​

Blake decided to take General Ironwood's advice and speak to Rainbow Dash about precisely what the Atlesian girl had meant to convey versus what she had, in fact, conveyed to Blake.

As she approached the RSPT dorm – she was fortunate they hadn't transferred to their ship yet – she could hear voices coming from within, muffled by the door so she couldn't make out what they were saying. Nevertheless, despite the risk that she would be interrupting something, Blake pressed on. Although General Ironwood had put her more, well, general fears to bed, she wanted to clear the air over the more specific fears she had with Rainbow Dash.

General Ironwood, it seemed, did not want her gone. He simply didn't want to possess her either, but was content to let her come to him, if she so wished.

If she so wished. She did wish it, having admitted the fact to General Ironwood made it easier to admit it to herself; she did wish it, and the reasons why she might not or ought not do it were becoming few and far between.

She wished it, and until very recently, it had seemed that Rainbow Dash wished it too, and ardently so. Blake hoped that that was still the case, and she wanted to make sure, even if it did mean interrupting something.

Blake approached the door and knocked on it.

Her knocking did nothing, as far as she could tell, to stem the flow of conversation within. As the door opened, Blake could finally tell what was being said.

"All I'm saying is, you can be a little insensitive sometimes," Fluttershy said, in a tone whose softness did not quite manage to make the words spoken or sentiments expressed seem soft.

Rainbow made a sound like she was choking on her indignation. "I am not insensitive! I am... hyper-sensitive!"

"Hey, Blake!" Twilight, who had opened the door, said rather more loudly than necessary. "Everyone, look; it's Blake!"

Now, the conversation stilled, leaving no doubt whatsoever in Blake's mind that they had been talking about her.

Fluttershy was worried that Rainbow had been insensitive when talking to Blake? Well, if she'd been wrong, Blake wouldn't have been here.

Twilight stepped back, allowing Blake inside. Twilight's right hand glowed momentarily lavender as she closed the door with her telekinesis.

In the room, besides Twilight and now Blake, were Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Fluttershy.

Blake didn't look at Fluttershy. She couldn't bring herself to... she didn't want to be reminded of... looking at Fluttershy, thinking about Fluttershy, would lead to thinking about Adam too. It was unfair on Fluttershy, perhaps, but there it was. And Blake didn't want to think about Adam right now, which meant that she didn't want to think about Fluttershy either.

So she ignored her and hoped that it wasn't too obvious.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she said softly.

"It's fine, sugarcube," replied Applejack. "We was just..." She trailed off without explaining what exactly they had been just, as though Blake couldn't have guessed already.

Rainbow thrust her hands into her pockets. "Blake, hey," she said. "How... how's Ruby doing, do you know?"

"No change, last I heard," murmured Blake. "I asked Sunset to keep me posted."

"Right, and I'm sure she'll let me know too," Rainbow said. She glanced away. "I spoke to your friend Tukson."

"I know," Blake replied. "I've spoken to him as well. Don't... that book is... Ares Claudandus had many admirable qualities, and some that were... not nearly so admirable. You should keep that in mind before you take him for a role model or assume too much about the person who recommended that you take him as a role model."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "Will do."

Blake was silent for a moment, hoping that Rainbow would make the first move.

Rainbow, for her part, did not oblige.

"I... spoke to General Ironwood-" Blake began.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Twilight exclaimed. "Rainbow Dash, will you just tell her?"

"I don't know how!" Rainbow snapped. "It's not that easy!"

Blake resisted the temptation to fold her arms. "Tell me what?"

"I don't know how to tell you that I want you to come to Atlas without telling you that I want you to come to Atlas!" Rainbow shouted.

There was a moment of silence, broken by Applejack stifling a snort.

"You see?" Rainbow cried. "That's why I didn't say it; it sounds stupid."

"What you said at the hospital sounded worse," Blake pointed out. "I thought you were trying to get rid of me."

"Why would you think that?" Rainbow asked in disbelief.

"Because you sounded like you were trying to get rid of me!" Blake snapped.

"That wasn't... I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to... if you really got that from what I said, then... I only meant-"

"As I told you, I've spoken to General Ironwood," Blake said. "Rainbow, you've got nothing to feel guilty about on the way you've acted towards me."

"Don't I?" Rainbow asked. "I put you up on a pedestal, perfect Princess Blake who was going to make everything better in Atlas, and the worst part is that I did it to excuse my own issues. I didn't have to worry about improving myself to help make Atlas an even better place, because I was going to make Atlas better by giving it you. Even after Sunset made me realise what I was doing, I still pushed you to make a choice I wanted."

"I-" Blake began.

Rainbow held up a hand. "Don't stop me now, or I might not be able to start again. I... I don't have the right to tell you to come to Atlas, or to make you come to Atlas, or to... only, I've so much of that that I don't think I can say how I feel because it will sound as if I'm still pushing you just like I always did."

"I... I see," Blake murmured. "Rainbow Dash, whatever you may think of what you did and said, I always understood what you meant. I'm not an idiot or a naive girl who can be taken in by a sales pitch. I heard you, and I understood you, and I watched and I kept my eyes and ears open for the truth, and the truth is... Well, that doesn't really matter; what matters is that the only time I didn't understand you was at the hospital, where I heard you telling me that I wasn't wanted or needed any more."

"That's not what I-"

"Now let me finish," Blake said. "I thought that you were throwing me away at the moment when I had given... everything for you, and that hurt. And I know you didn't mean it, but it still hurt. But it's okay, because now... now we understand each other again, I hope, and you can tell me how you feel without feeling as if you're doing anything else."

Rainbow looked at her. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "If you came to Atlas, I'd be delighted," she croaked. "You're the best huntress I've ever worked with – no offence, Applejack."

"None taken," Applejack said genially.

Rainbow went on, "You're brave and determined, and you never give up, and we'd be as lucky to have someone like you as you'd be lucky to have somewhere like Atlas. Maybe luckier." She coughed. "But, it's up to you, totally your decision, nothing I can say or do, nothing that I want to say or do."

"That's right," Blake said. "It is my decision. And a decision that I've almost made. I haven't made it yet, but I'm getting there."

"Good," Rainbow said. "That's... good."

Blake admired her restraint in not prying into what that decision might be.

Twilight sighed. "Is that it? Are you good now?"

"I... think so?" Rainbow ventured.

Blake nodded. "We're good. And I'm glad, because... because the last thing I wanted was... I would never have guessed when I met you that meeting you would turn out to be one of the best things that could have happened to me, but... but it was." Blake hesitated. "But now... now I should probably-"

"Blake," Fluttershy said.

Blake froze. She still didn't look at Fluttershy. She didn't want to look at Fluttershy. She couldn't look at Fluttershy; if she did-

"Blake," Fluttershy repeated. "I'm so sorry about Adam. I know that I didn't know him very long, but-"

"Stop," Blake whispered. "Please stop."

"Blake," Fluttershy said. "Won't you look at me?"

Blake didn't want to look, and yet, she felt herself drawn that way, her eyes and her whole body compelled until she was looking at Fluttershy.

"It's okay for you to be sad," Fluttershy said. "You don't have to pretend that you don't care."

Blake stood still for a moment, and then, the next thing she knew, there were tears running down her face, as many tears as faunus had died under Mountain Glenn, tears for a sweet brave boy named Adam, for the cruel and spiteful man he had become... and for the glimpse of the boy who had let Fluttershy go before the end.

She staggered forwards and into Fluttershy's embrace. Soft lilac hair covered Blake's face like a towel to dry her tears.

"I loved him," Blake sobbed.

"It's okay," said Fluttershy.

"He was dangerous and relentless, and he had to be stopped, but I loved him."

"And you don't have to be ashamed of that," Fluttershy told her. "Not here, not with us."

Blake let out another sob. "I'm glad that... I was glad that none of you asked me how I was doing, because the truth is... the truth is, I don't feel okay right now."

"No," Applejack murmured. "No, Ah can't say Ah'm surprised to hear it."

"That's why Applejack, Twilight, and I want you to come to Atlas with us," Fluutershy said.

Blake blinked. "'Come to Atlas'? You mean now?"

"Some of us," Fluttershy said, "don't think you should be alone right now."

"I wasn't going to just leave her alone; I was gonna make sure that Team Sapphire were there for her!" Rainbow exclaimed indignantly.

"But it sounds as though they've got their hands full with Ruby," Fluttershy said.

"There's her own... there's the team that she's technically on," Rainbow said.

"You said you didn't know them well enough to be sure they'd take care of Blake," Fluttershy said.

"Well, I don't, but-"

"Give it up, partner," Applejack advised.

Rainbow sighed. "Yeah, you're right; I don't know why I bother arguing."

"Neither do we," Twilight muttered.

Blake considered. Going to Atlas – the city, not the school? It wasn't as though she hadn't thought about it. She had thought very seriously about it, as a matter of fact, and at one time had planned to do just that this break. Now, though? Just because the White Fang had been beaten didn't mean that Cinder was, or Salem, and as much as General Ironwood had told her to take a break, did she really want to go to Atlas and leave SAPR to take the strain if anything came up?

"I... I'm not sure that's a good idea," she murmured.

"I'm sure no one will mind," Fluttershy said. "No one could object to you taking care of yourself, or being taken care of."

"But there might be things that need to be taken care of-"

"And I'm sure there are plenty of other people who can take care of them while you take care of you," Fluttershy replied. "And after all, things look set to calm down for a while, don't they, Rainbow Dash?"

"Yep," Rainbow said. "It will take a while for our enemies to recover from this. Even if they plan to come at us again, they'll have to prep from scratch, and that will take time."

"A perfect time to recuperate and recover your strength," Fluttershy added.

"I've done practically no preparation with my team for the tournament-"

"I'm sure your teammates would agree that your wellbeing is more important than some silly tournament," Fluttershy said, her tone sweet and soft and infuriatingly reasonable. "And if they didn't, their opinions wouldn't be worth caring about."

"Plus, I highly doubt you really care about the tournament," Twilight added. "It was just the last excuse you could come up with."

Blake pushed some of Fluttershy's hair out of her face so that she could look at the other girl. "There's nothing I can say, is there?"

Fluttershy smiled. "Let us take care of you, Blake."

"Fluttershy always wins," Rainbow murmured.

"Why?" Blake asked. "Why does it matter to you? Why do I matter to you?"

"Why?" Fluttershy repeated. "Didn't you realise? You're one of us now, Blake."

Applejack grinned. "And we always look after our own."

"One of... you?" Blake murmured. She could have argued, she could have questioned, she could have done any number of things, but really, what round be the point? Why would she want to?

When it felt so warm in Fluttershy's arms, why would she want to pull away?

Wasn't this what she'd been looking for, to belong to something?

She closed her eyes and leaned into Fluttershy's embrace. "Thank you."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Farewell and Adieu​

"You know, it's kind of funny," Flash said as they sat in the lounge waiting for their airship to start boarding. "I expected that, when I told you I was going home for a visit, that I'd have a fight on my hands."

Weiss raised one arched eyebrow as she looked at him. "Really? And why might that be?"

The two of them were sat in the departure lounge of the Vale Heatherfield Skydock. The chairs on which they sat were royal blue, well padded but not particularly comfortable for all of that, while the carpet beneath their feet was a paler shade and quite well-worn. The lounge was just under half full, with many empty seats including, fortunately, around Weiss and Flash. One wall was made up entirely of windows, showing the gigantic skyliners as they waited for takeoff on the concrete outside, while the others were painted in a plain, slightly off-white. A stall selling coffee, cakes, and sandwiches stood before the east wall, while a couple of vending machines, one selling drinks and one selling sweets, sat against the north.

Flash raised one hand preemptively. "I'm not saying that you're a tyrant or anything-"

"I'm glad to hear it," Weiss said. "I don't think I've exhibited any tyrannical tendencies in my entire time as team leader."

"You haven't," Flash assured. "You've been a great team leader."

"Let's not overcompensate for one falsehood with another, shall we?" Weiss asked. "The fact is that, if I had been a little more tyrannical at times, I might have been a better team leader."

"You think?"

"I allowed Cardin a lot of leeway, and look what he did with it," Weiss pointed out.

"That wasn't your fault."

"I'm the team leader," Weiss said. "Everything is my fault. But you were expecting me to row with you for some reason?"

"Well, it's just that the Vytal Festival is almost here," Flash reminded her. "Actually almost here, not 'almost here' the way the professors have been telling us that it's 'almost here' practically since we arrived. It's almost here, and this is probably our last chance to get in some training to make sure that we get selected to compete… only, thanks to me, we're going to miss that chance."

A chance we need more than some other teams, you mean, Weiss thought. "Because of us," she corrected him.

"Yeah," Flash murmured. "That's what surprised me. I thought you'd want to stay here and get ready for the tournament."

Weiss hesitated, because of course, the truth was that was exactly what she'd rather be doing. Flash was right about that, and about the fact that this was their last chance to get in any practice as a team before the tournament selections were made, and that Team WWSR needed the practice more than some other teams. Team SAPR were a man down at the moment, with Ruby in hospital, but even if she didn't wake up until right before the Last Shot, Weiss had little doubt that, between the semblances of Sunset and Jaune, and Pyrrha's all round skill, they would still impress Professor Ozpin enough to get selected for the tournament. It was Pyrrha Nikos, for crying out loud; if she weren't selected, then Mistral would probably declare war on Vale or something.

Team WWSR had no such assurance. They had not impressed particularly during the year – well, not at first; Weiss had some hope that their good service with the police and their glowing reports from Lieutenant Martinez might have clawed them back some of the respect of the faculty – and so, for them, the Last Shot might really be their last chance at impressing Professor Ozpin.

Unless Professor Ozpin was so moved by the name of Schnee and the fear of offending her father that he always meant to put her through to the tournament regardless.

But he had never given her that impression in any of her meetings with him. And besides, she wasn't sure if she'd really want that.

No. No, she was sure. She was sure that she did not want that. She was the heiress to the Schnee name and company, but she was not her father. She didn't intend to have everything in her life handed to her. She would take it for herself, just like her grandfather had.

Or she would try, which would be much harder in the case of Vytal Festival glory if they were not selected because they had no time to practice as a team.

She could say that she wasn't that interested in the Vytal Festival, but while she certainly didn't consider it to be the be-all and end-all – she had come to Beacon to learn how to be a huntress, not a Mistralian tournament fighter – the fact remained that she did want to represent herself in the Amity Colosseum, if only to set herself apart from her father on the world stage and show Remnant that she was a different kind of Schnee.

And besides, she had made no secret of the fact that she had Vytal ambitions in front of Flash, Cardin, and Russel when they had collectively resolved to get their acts together. She could hardly pretend that she had been lying.

Nor did she feel that she had to. Flash was her teammate, her friend, someone who, if he were not her teammate – and were she not the leader of Team WWSR – she might have considered as something more than a friend. She could tell him the truth; she could trust him with the truth. It wasn't as though he would use it against her.

"I'm not… I'm not going home because I want to," she admitted. "I'm going home because…" She hesitated. Saying that she had no choice in the matter sounded rather melodramatic, even in her head. "I'm going home because I promised that I would."

"'Promised'?" Flash asked, his eyes narrowing a little. "Promised who?"

"My father," Weiss replied. "Do you remember that spot of trouble that Cardin got himself into earlier this semester?"

Flash managed to grin in spite of the circumstances. "How can I forget?" he asked. "For a moment there, I thought we were all going to be tarred as racists for the rest of our lives. Never allowed to live it down."

"You're taking that prospect rather well," Weiss observed.

"It wasn't really Cardin's fault," Flash said. "I mean, he was an idiot, and I wasn't happy with him at the time, but the fact that the rest of us got pulled in… just because of what happened to my father doesn't mean that I have to hate all faunus, and just because the SDC enjoys a certain… reputation doesn't mean that you have to hate them either. If people assume our thoughts and feelings because of stuff like that, then that's on them. It's not Cardin's fault; he's only to blame for the things he did." Flash paused. "And besides, while I was a little worried for a minute, it all seemed to blow over pretty quick, didn't it?"

"Yes," Weiss said softly. "There's a reason for that. I asked my father if he would have his PR people take care of it."

Flash's eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

"As you might imagine, a not inconsiderable amount of their time is spent countering the accusations of racism and impropriety levelled against the SDC," Weiss said, diplomatically leaving out whether the accusations were justified or not. "They're very good at what they do. I don't know how they do it, exactly, but they manage to sweep these things under the rug very expertly, making sure that stories like ours are quickly forgotten."

"And they-"

"Got to work, yes," Weiss said. "And I, for one, was quite relieved when they did."

Flash's mouth hung open for a moment. "You didn't mention that at the time," he said quietly.

Weiss shrugged. "What would have been the point?"

"Our gratitude?"

Weiss snorted. "I will take gratitude for things that I've actually accomplished, not for calling my father and asking him to make my problems go away."

"All the same," Flash said, "I am grateful. I can smile about it now, but… at the time, it was kind of nerve-wracking, thinking that that might follow me for the rest of my life."

"I don't think it would have followed us for the rest of our lives," Weiss replied, "but the rest of our time at Beacon would have been bad enough. In any case, your gratitude… your gratitude belongs to my father." That was a bitter thing to say, and it had to be dragged out of Weiss throat by such effort of will that she might as well have cast glyphs in her windpipe to drive it out. "He was the one who made all of that go away and made it possible for us to go on with that… unpleasantness forgotten."

"Is that why you're going home?" Flash asked. "Gratitude to your father?"

"I'm going home because that was my father's price," Weiss muttered, a scowl settling upon her features. "He wants me back for a little while. My mother has missed me terribly, it seems."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Flash said.

"I'm not sure that it's true," Weiss said. "My mother… wasn't around enough when I was growing up to miss me when I'm gone."

Her mother didn't really miss anyone, so long as she had a well-stocked drinks cabinet, but Weiss was not cruel enough nor indiscrete enough to say so in front of Flash. He was her friend, but… there were some things, you just didn't say in front of outsiders. Some things were best kept within the family, as it were.

Flash's face fell. "You really don't want to go back, do you?"

Weiss was silent for a moment. "Why did you come to Beacon?"

Flash blinked. "You… are you asking me why I want to be a huntsman?"

"No," Weiss said. "No, I know why you're training; what I mean is… why not Atlas? Everyone else from your combat school seems to have gone there except for Sunset, and I can understand why a faunus might want to get away. I can see why Pyrrha chose Beacon – Haven's reputation is absolute garbage – but you… why did you choose Beacon over Atlas?"

"Because I want to be a huntsman," Flash said simply.

"Not a soldier?" Weiss asked.

"I'm not going to say anything against the Specialists, not even where Rainbow can't hear me," Flash said at once, a smile briefly appearing upon his face, illuminating for a moment his deep blue eyes, "but if I had gone to and graduated from Atlas, if I'd gone into the Corps of Specialists, I wouldn't have been a huntsman or soldier, not really. My mom… she's the Council's lawyer; she's the one who tells them if the new laws are going to clash with any old laws, whether she thinks a proposed decree is constitutional, what the likely challenges are. She's not famous, almost nobody outside of political insiders knows who she is, but she knows how the deals are done and where the bodies are buried, and she's got influence. She didn't want me to go to any academy, but she couldn't stop me… but, I knew that if I went to Atlas, joined the military like most do, she'd use her pull to get me assigned to some safe position counting ration packs or something, nothing that would put me in danger. Nothing that would help people."

"She doesn't want to lose you," Weiss murmured.

"That's my choice," Flash replied. "It's not hers to make. So what about you? Why did you choose Beacon over Atlas? After all, your sister went to Atlas, and she seems to have turned out okay."

"Winter," Weiss declared, "has turned out a lot more than 'okay.' She'll be commanding general when General Ironwood retires, maybe even headmaster too."

Flash grinned. "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Weiss said primly. "Everyone else did."

"You must be proud."

"Winter doesn't need my pride," Weiss said. "But she is… an example to me. She's made her own way in the world, carved out a place for herself, and she did it purely on her own merits."

"Are you sure about that?" Flash asked.

Weiss gave him an old-fashioned look.

Flash held up his hands. "I'm just saying… this is Atlas we're talking about, and she's a Schnee; you both are. Do you really think that that doesn't matter, that it didn't matter to anyone who helped your sister get where she is today?"

"My father didn't want Winter to go to Atlas Academy," Weiss said. "He certainly didn't want her joining the military, and he wouldn't help her to advance once she got there."

"But the name still carries weight, especially to people who don't know what you just told me," Flash reminded her. He paused. "Was he worried about her?"

Weiss snorted. "Hardly. He had me, and my brother Whitley, and he'd always had us in case anything happened to Winter. I think… honestly, Father finds all of this beneath him. Fighting, swords, aura, semblances… that's all something for other people to do. Poorer people. Lesser people. People who can't afford to have other people do it for them. People whose power doesn't rest on more lien than many could possibly imagine. Father saw Winter lowering herself, and in a way that would compel her to take orders from someone else, someone inferior, and he didn't like it." She sighed as the memory of those arguments rose to the forefront of her mind. "He didn't like it one bit, and he liked it even less when he made clear his displeasure, and yet, she did it anyway."

Flash looked away. His expression was strained, awkward, like someone who has found themselves eavesdropping on an uncomfortably personal conversation. "You… your father…" he said quietly, his voice a little choked. "He sounds like… he sounds like-"

"I know," Weiss murmured, not forcing him to say anything that went against the image that every Atlesian possessed of Jacques Schnee: the titan of industry, the captain of innovation, the guarantor of Atlas' financial and technological supremacy. Perhaps it had been wrong of her to tell him all this, to intimate what he really was, but if she could let anyone see the truth, it was Flash.

Nevertheless, he looked rather uncomfortable, and for that, she felt sorry. "Well… if you need any help," he said, "just give me a call, okay?"

Weiss smiled. "You'll ride in on a white horse to rescue me?"

Flash let out a self-deprecating chuckle as a blush rose to his cheeks. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't," Weiss assured him. "It sounds very sweet." She leaned forward and planted a gentle peck upon his cheek. "Thank you."

Flash's mouth hung open. He stared at her, slack-jawed, making a wordless noise for a moment or two before he recovered himself somewhat, at least enough to say, "It was just, well, you know… whatever you need, okay, I just…" He looked around, seeming to want to look everywhere or anywhere except at Weiss, and it was as his eyes darted around the lounge that he suddenly said, "Hey, is that Blake?"

XxXxX​

"Now are you sure that you've got everything?" Yang asked. "Do you have a scarf, because I hear it can get pretty cold up there. Do you have a warm coat?"

Blake rolled her eyes. "Aura can keep a person warm in the cold, you know that."

"I also know that being out in the cold drains aura, so you should wrap up warm just in case," Yang said.

"She ain't wholly wrong about that," Applejack said, quietly but unhelpfully, from just behind Blake.

They were stood at the gate into the departure lounge; only passengers with tickets for one of the departing skyliners were allowed to wait in the lounge, and so, Blake was saying her goodbyes at the gate that led into the same. Her scroll, with her ticket on it, was held loosely in one hand, while a small hold-all bag with everything she was taking with her – which was most of the few possessions that she owned – dangled from the straps by the other hand, at about the level of her knees. Fluttershy and Applejack stood behind her, Winona sitting by Applejack's heels as they waited for Blake to join them heading through the gate. Rainbow wasn't there to say goodbye to them – Team RSPT were moving Penny onto the Atlesian cruiser Hope, which would carry them to Atlas in probably less comfortable circumstances than Blake was going to enjoy. However, even without Rainbow, Ciel, or Twilight present, there were plenty of people come to see her off: Yang, Ren, Nora, Sunset, and Pyrrha, three of the five having taken a break from Ruby's bedside and the hospital to come and say goodbye to her.

It would have been touching – it was touching, in its own way – if it hadn't led to… well… this.

"I'll be fine, Mom," Blake said pointedly.

Yang laughed nervously. "Sorry, I just… you've been through a lot lately; it would be kind of a shame to go through all that and then die of a chill or a cold or something, right?"

"I'll be okay," Blake assured her. As it happened, she didn't have anything particularly suitable for cold weather to wear, relying on her aura to help with that, but if it really was a necessity, then she was sure that she'd be able to find something in Atlas that was okay to wear in Atlas. "Listen, I'm sorry about leaving right before-"

"It's fine," Yang replied, before Blake could finish saying what it was she was sorry for. "It's just a tournament, right? Who cares, really?"

Sunset coughed into one hand.

Yang smirked. "You always said that you wanted to see it, and you were always honest that we might not be getting you for very long-"

"Or at all, really," Blake muttered.

Yang chuckled. "Or at all, as it turned out," she agreed. "You want to check the place out before you commit, that's fine; that's smart. If you didn't plan to, I'd have suggested you did it."

Blake looked down at her scroll and her bag before she looked back up at Yang. "I barely know you," she said, "and yet, you've done so much for me, worsened your own team's chances for me, sacrificed to help me out, it… I know you far less well than you deserve."

Yang grinned. "The year's not over yet; there's still a little time. And besides, I'm not in this for the glory or the trophies; like I said, it's just a tournament. It might be fun to strut our stuff, but that's not why we're here. Isn't that right, guys?"

"We're here to be huntsmen," Ren declared. "To learn to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"And together, the three of us are as tough as any four-man team!" Nora added enthusiastically.

"You just take care of yourself," Yang told her. "We'll be fine." She held out her hand. "Best of luck up there."

Blake took her hand; Yang had a firm, strong grip. "I don't plan on needing any luck," Blake said. "I plan on taking it easy for a while."

Yang shook her hand firmly. "You do that," she urged, before releasing Blake's hand and taking a step back.

Sunset stepped forward. "Blake," she said softly.

Blake turned to face her, and they were so close that she could see – could notice, in a way that was unavoidable now – the dark bags under Sunset's eyes. "Sunset, are you-?"

"I'm fine," Sunset assured. "I'm just having a little trouble sleeping at the moment; it'll pass."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Are you going to tell me to wrap up warm, now?"

Blake snorted. "Sorry, I just-"

"You've got enough to worry about," Sunset told her. "Take care of yourself; let me take care of me and mine."

"You've got… you were there too," Blake murmured, lowering her voice so that it didn't carry much further than Sunset herself. "You don't… are you really saying that…? I don't believe that you can be the one who walked out of Mountain Glenn smiling, like it didn't bother you at all."

Mountain Glenn, after all, had gotten to all of them in one way or another, but Sunset had as much cause to be gotten to than Blake, and more than some others.

Sunset's face was still, almost without expression. She paused for a moment, and her voice became a little hoarse as she said, "Whatever I have to do; for them, for you, whatever… I'll do whatever it takes and with a light heart. My team, my friends, my responsibility."

Blake wasn't sure whether to believe that; at least, she wasn't sure whether to believe Sunset about the light heart. She could believe the rest, but she couldn't believe that it wasn't weighing on her.

It would weigh on anyone, even someone as strong as Sunset.

Still, there was nothing more to be said upon the subject now, at least not by Blake and in this circumstance. There wasn't time, and this was not the place. All there was time to say was, "Thank you, for everything."

Sunset reached out and pulled Blake into a hug, almost clinging onto her as though she feared that Blake might disappear like one of her clones the moment that she let her go, or that she, Sunset, might be swept away into some landless ocean the moment that she let go.

"You're too good for Atlas," she murmured into Blake's ear. "They don't deserve you."

The corners of Blake's lips twitched upwards. "That's kind to say," she said, "but ultimately up to me, don't you think?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Sunset conceded, releasing Blake and stepping back. "You take good care of her," she instructed Applejack and Fluttershy.

"We will," Fluttershy said, "I promise."

Pyrrha stepped forward, reaching out to take Blake's hand in both of hers. "Blake," she said, warmth and softness in her voice in equal measure. "Although I'm sure we both wish your visit was under better circumstances, I hope you have a wonderful time in Atlas."

Blake smiled. "Thanks," she said earnestly; after all of these concerns for her wellbeing – well-intentioned though they were – it was nice to get a simple expression of good wishes.

Pyrrha nodded. "I was only there for a very brief visit, but if you get the chance, I highly recommend the Marigold Museum of Antiquities. Some of it's acquisitions are… controversial, but the fact remains, it has the most varied collection of artefacts from across Remnant anywhere in Remnant. Also, you should try and find time to dine at the Sorbonne, the menu there is excellent…" Pyrrha trailed off, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she added, "if, uh, if a little expensive." She chuckled. "And besides, what am I saying, recommending places to see in Atlas as though you didn't have several actual Atlesians ready to be your guides?"

"I'll keep what you said in mind," Blake promised.

Even if the museum was filled with loot stolen from across the kingdoms, that didn't mean that it wasn't worth seeing – the reverse might be said to be true – and while the restaurant was probably inaccessible to anyone who wasn't an Atlesian plutocrat or a visiting Mistralian noble, the recommendation had been well-meant, and that was what mattered.

Blake stepped forward, lowering her voice as she said, "Keep an eye on Sunset, okay? I'm a little worried about her."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together as her green eyes flickered from Blake to Sunset and then back again. "Of course," she whispered. She raised her voice to add, "May the gods bless you with fair winds, clear skies, tranquil seas, and not a grimm to be seen."

Blake bowed her head. "And may we meet again, on whatever shore the fates decree."

Pyrrha released Blake's hand. "And now you really had best be going, before you miss your flight."

"Right," Blake said, stepping back. "I should, um, I'd better… see you guys!"

"Have fun!" Nora yelled as Sunset waved silently with one hand.

Blake turned away and joined Fluttershy and Applejack – and Winona. With their scrolls, they showed their online tickets to one of the guards at the door, along with Blake and Applejack's student registrations and accompanying licenses to carry weapons. Their bags were scanned – although Blake was a little unsure as to the point of this, considering that, again, Blake and Applejack were both wearing their deadly weapons openly about their person – and then they were cleared to go through into the departure lounge, with its blue chairs and its slightly paler blue carpet and its vending machines.

They had barely begun to look for somewhere to sit when- "Hey, Applejack!"

Their eyes were drawn by the sound of Flash's voice to where he stood, waving to them. Weiss was also visible, seated at his side, regarding them all with an inscrutable look on her face.

Applejack waved back before the three of them sauntered over to him. "Howdy, Flash."

"Hey," Flash said again, smiling as Winona ran up to him, tongue out, panting eagerly as she leapt up and planted her forepaws upon his stomach. Flash started scratching her behind the ears as he continued, "I'd ask what you guys were doing here, but I guess you're headed home too, huh?"

"Eeyup," Applejack agreed. "And about time too. It'll be good to see the farm again, though we're gonna check in with the girls in Atlas first."

Fluttershy bowed her head a little. "I'm sorry that I got you into this."

"Now, Fluttershy, you know I didn't mean it like that," Applejack replied. "Ah'm just sayin', it'll be good to be home, is all."

Flash looked up from Winona's ears. "How… how was it? I heard that you-"

"We'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay, Flash," Fluttershy murmured with a glance at Blake.

Flash didn't appear to notice the gaze. "Of course," he said. "I didn't mean to… the last thing I'd want is to bring up any bad memories; I'm sorry. I should have thought. Anyway, Applejack, Fluttershy, this is my team leader, Weiss Schnee. Weiss, this is Applejack and Fluttershy, two old friends of mine from Canterlot."

Applejack touched the brim of her hat. "Pleasure to meet ya, Miss Schnee."

Weiss started to get up, but Applejack motioned to forestall her. "Now, now, keep yer seat, ma'am; ain't no call for-"

Weiss got up regardless and held up one hand to silence Applejack. "Applejack, was it? First of all, please don't call me 'ma'am,' it makes me sound old; second of all, while my name is Schnee, and yes, I am one of those Schnees, I'm also a huntress in training just like you, which means that while courtesy is appreciated, deference is not required." A small smile appeared upon her pale face. "I'm not going to buy your land just because you didn't show me sufficient respect. Weiss will do just fine. With all that said," she curtsied, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Applejack, and you, Fluttershy. It's always nice to meet friends of Flash's."

"Likewise, Weiss," Fluttershy replied. "Are you travelling back to Atlas together?"

"I'd rather travel with a friend than alone but with complimentary drinks in first class," Weiss said. She looked at Blake. "And what about you, Blake? I wouldn't have expected you to visit Atlas."

"I want to see what it's like," Blake said, "before I make any permanent decisions on my future."

"I see," Weiss murmured with very little indication of her feelings in her tone.

"Flight to Atlas now boarding," the announcement rang out over the tannoy. "Flight to Atlas now boarding."

"Sounds like that's all of us," Flash said, grabbing his suitcase. "Say, why don't we all have dinner together tonight, the five of us?"

"Blake?" Fluttershy asked. "What do you think about that?"

Are you okay with this, or will it make you uncomfortable, in which case we won't do it? It was… kind of her to be so considerate, Blake supposed, but it also wasn't subtle in the least bit.

Blake, for her part, didn't take her eyes off Weiss Schnee, who was looking at Blake with those icy eyes that hid whatever she might be thinking.

She hadn't done anything to Blake, not even when the truth about her past came to light; she had been scrupulously inactive with regards to Blake.

But still… a Schnee.

I thought the same when I first saw a faunus in an Atlas uniform. If I'm really going to judge Weiss by her family name, then why am I even bothering to go to Atlas in the first place?

How can I ask her to see more than the White Fang in me if I can't see more than the SDC in her?

Weiss was not the one who had branded Adam, Weiss was not the one who ground down the faunus in the mines of Mantle. She was not born guilty of her father's crimes.

There had to be hope for a better future, or there was no hope at all.

"Dinner," she said, "sounds like fun."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Over the Ocean​

The Hope, like all Altesian cruisers, had a long prow stretching outwards like the tip of a spear, enabling the vessel to lance through the sky as it flew from post to post upon its assignments. Most of the ship — CIC, engineering, the great guns, the brig, the canteen, and a large number of the armouries and crew quarters — were contained aft in the wider, boxier rear section of the cruiser; forward, along the prow, were mostly weapons: the mortars that had descended upon Vale to seal the Breach, the point defence weapons bristling upon the hull to engage any flying grimm or missile that got too close, the missiles that the ship itself could launch at anything big enough to need them, they or their launchers were all embedded on or into the prow, although there were a very few quarters and the like built in there too.

As well as being a long, narrow weapons emplacement, the prow was also a great place to stand for a view, especially if one didn't mind the open air or the possibility of a long drop down, and so it was on the prow that Rainbow stood, looking down at the civilian airship that kept company with them, the faster warship limiting its speed to that of the slower, unarmed craft, like a mother whale shepherding her calf.

Speaking of which, Rainbow Dash thought that she could see some whales down below them. Hopefully, Fluttershy was watching them too; someone was definitely out on the deck of the skyliner, and Rainbow was fairly certain that one of them was Blake, thanks to the way that her black outfit and hair stood out against the metallic sheen of the airship, but as to whether or not Fluttershy was one of the others, she wasn't so sure.

But hopefully, she was; she'd enjoy seeing the whales. Even Rainbow thought it was kind of cool, watching them go down there in the sea beneath the airships, breaching the water with their backs and tails, spraying geysers upwards, splashing their tails down as they dived beneath the waves again.

She didn't know what they were doing, but it was fun to watch all the same.

It took her mind off things for a little while.

Mind you, the things that were on her mind were things that bore thinking about, so she couldn't let her mind be taken off them for too long. At this speed, keeping pace with the civilian airship, she estimated that it would be about three days before they reached Atlas.

Three days before everything began. In those three days, she didn't have a lot to do, but she needed to start making some progress with Penny. Penny … well, she'd never really gotten over the fact that Rainbow, Ciel, and Twilight had been set upon her by the General, assigned as her teammates, rather than a team forming around her in the normal course of events like what happened for normal students.

Perhaps Penny had just never made her peace with the fact that she wasn't getting treated like a normal student. That wasn't something that Rainbow could do much about, but she could do something about the way that Penny saw her teammates. She didn't know if Team RSPT would survive … correction; she knew – because Twilight had told her so – that Twilight would be leaving them at the end of the year, and honestly, that was for the best. Getting her own lab was a great opportunity and an amazing show of confidence from General Ironwood; she'd get to pursue her own projects, follow her ideas without the limitations or the jealousies of others, and she'd be able to make Atlas an even better place in ways that she would never be able to do as part of their team.

And making Atlas an even better place was the name of the game, wasn't it? It was what they all ought to be aiming for.

So, yeah, Twilight was going, and good luck to her in the place she was going to, so when Rainbow thought that she didn't know what was going to happen to RSPT, she really meant that she didn't know if she and Ciel would be sticking with Penny or whether they would be transferred to other assignments.

She didn't even know whether the plan was for Penny to go through the entire four years, which, as her team leader, she probably ought to have known, but honestly, she wasn't sure the General even knew himself. He had been very cagey with his plans for Penny, and Rainbow had the impression that that was because they weren't firm in his mind yet. General Ironwood — and Atlas — were waiting to see how things played out, how Penny performed, before deciding how much education she needed.

Right now, Rainbow would say that Penny needed another year, at least. She wasn't without promise, but she wasn't there yet. Her injuries … they weren't exactly her fault, but at the same time, if somebody got hurt that bad in their first year, you'd say they needed more experience before you trusted them to go out into the field … out into the field with a license.

Anyway, it would be for the best if she acted as though she and Ciel weren't going anywhere and made an effort to get through to Penny accordingly.

If she could. Ciel and Twilight — especially the former — had made much more of an effort with Penny than Rainbow had; Rainbow herself had been preoccupied with Blake; she hadn't ignored Penny or been unkind to her, and she had done her job and protected Penny to the best of her ability — even if the fact that Penny was now immobile on a workbench made that 'to the best of her ability' look a little unreliable — and she would even say that she had done some good things for Penny, and Twilight hadn't even had to her prompt her to do some of them. Letting her stay at Beacon that first semester had been one hundred percent Rainbow's idea … okay, it had been Penny's idea, but Rainbow had enthusiastically adopted it, championed it to the General, and nobody had had to tell her that Penny deserved it.

But that had been before she met Blake, before she befriended Blake, before Blake started absorbing a lot of Rainbow's energies.

Still, the main issue was not Rainbow's relationship with Blake, because even if Rainbow had been distracted, and even if Rainbow had thought that Blake was a better bet for Atlas than Penny, Ciel had been there to pick up the slack; no, the main issue was that Penny didn't appreciate Ciel either. She couldn't get over the fact that they had been appointed to her, which was why she held the friends that she had made of her own choice — Ruby and Pyrrha and now, it seemed, Sunset — that much closer to her heart in consequence.

That was fine, as far as it went; your teammates didn't have to be your best friends. Yeah, everyone idealised the teams like SAPR that were a family, the ones that stuck together after graduation, everyone talked about friendships that would last a lifetime. But honestly, Tempest Shadow wasn't friends with Trixie, Starlight, or Sunburst, and it didn't hurt the effectiveness of TTSS; Team PSTL were reckoned a pretty good team for all that their team leader treated them more like servants than like friends, and while Rainbow had been tight with Applejack in the old days, and while she had gotten on with Spearhead well enough, Maud … Rainbow respected Maud, but she wouldn't call them friends. Maud didn't have any friends except for Pinkie, if sisters counted as friends, anyway. The point was that you didn't have to like someone to work with them, even to work well with them. But it could help, and it certainly helped if you didn't think of the people you were working with as an imposition that you'd rather weren't around.

That's what Rainbow had to make Penny understand, that just because General Ironwood had assigned them to Penny, it didn't mean… they all cared about her, even if they didn't all show it very well.

She had to make Penny understand that. She had to try and make Penny understand that, hopefully before they got back to Atlas when it all kicked off, as it certainly would, because God only knew what Doctor Polendina was going to say about the state of her.

He'd probably call for Rainbow to be reassigned, if not kicked out of Atlas completely.

General Ironwood wouldn't let the second one happen, and Rainbow didn't mean to let the first one happen either. She'd been ordered to do a job, and she was going to do that job until the job was done. She wasn't going to quit, she wasn't going to walk away, and she wasn't going to take the easy out of letting Penny's father have her reassigned.

Apart from the blow to her pride, if she wasn't going to put all of her ambitions on Blake's shoulders instead of her own, she was going to have to learn how to play politics, and sometimes, that meant surviving people who were out to get you, even if you had to use your connections against theirs.

If Penny wasn't receptive to Rainbow aboard ship, it occurred to her that maybe her uncle might have some idea of how to get through to her. Yes, he'd been kicked out of the R&D division and was slumming it down in Mantle with the troublemakers, but he was still Penny's uncle, and he might have some ideas.

And apart from that, she also owed Scootaloo some bonding time, since that had been unexpectedly cancelled when the team ended up staying in Vale; she'd promised Ciel that they'd look for answers about the Lady of the North; she needed to read that book that Tukson had given her; and, since Blake was coming to Atlas anyway, Rainbow should probably check in on her at least from time to time to see how she was getting on.

And she needed to speak to Cadance to see if she'd made any progress looking into that SDC brand.

Yeah … she was going to be busy. Still, at least she wouldn't be bored.

"Is there a reason you're standing so close to the edge?" Ciel asked.

Rainbow looked over her shoulder. Ciel was standing a healthy distance behind her, in the centre of the prow, where — even narrow as it was — there was black metal on either side of her. Rainbow grinned. "You can't see anything from back there."

"Is there anything worth seeing?" Ciel asked.

"It depends," Rainbow replied. She turned away and closed the distance with Ciel. "How's Penny?"

"Bored," Ciel said. "I half-think we should have put her to sleep for the duration of the journey."

Rainbow shook her head. "She'd hate that. She'd feel even more broken than she does right now."

"I'm not sure that it's possible for her to feel more broken than she does right now," Ciel said. She paused. "Her father will have harsh words with us when we arrive in Atlas. And he will be right; we have been … we have not been diligent in our duty towards her."

"You've done the best you could," Rainbow assured her.

"Then results would suggest that my best was not good enough," Ciel said frostily.

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. "In my position, if you'd been leading the team in that situation, what would you have done instead?"

Ciel was silent for a moment. "Blake—"

"Yeah, Blake, to make up our numbers and form a rearguard, but what else?" Rainbow asked. "You've done everything you could for Penny."

"And you?" Ciel asked quietly.

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. "I split my focus, and I might not have hit the balance right."

"Have you seen her?"

"Blake?" Rainbow asked. "No. I thought I might pop over for a quick visit, check on Applejack and Fluttershy as well, but I haven't seen them, no."

Ciel nodded. "Her beau tried to stowaway aboard the ship."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "Sun?"

"I hope she has no others," Ciel muttered.

"On … on that ship?" Rainbow asked. He could have just bought a ticket.

"On this ship," Ciel corrected her.

Rainbow's eyebrows climbed yet higher still. "Sun tried to sneak aboard the Hope?" At Ciel's nod, she asked, "Is he still alive?"

"I found him when I checked the crawlspace under the floor of our airship before we took off," Ciel informed her. "I told him that he was lucky he had not made it on board the Hope and sent him away. Then I remained on board the ship until the rest of you arrived to make sure he did not return."

"Thanks," Rainbow murmured. "I thought he'd gotten past that."

"He claimed his teammates were amenable to his decision."

"Then why not just buy a ticket?" Rainbow asked loudly. "I mean, he did realise that Blake was on the other ship, didn't he?"

"I wouldn't like to hazard a guess as to what that young man knows or does not know," Ciel declared. "If you ask me, Blake would be well-advised to drop him."

Rainbow frowned. She would have liked to have asked just what Ciel meant by that, and why she meant it, but the truth was that it would have been disingenuous of her to do so, because she already knew exactly what Ciel meant. In Atlas, anybody could rise high, but they couldn't necessarily do it by being themselves. If Blake meant to commit to Atlas — and Rainbow hoped she did — then she would have to be careful who she associated with: the wrong man — the wrong marriage — could ruin her entire career in the military. Sun was a good guy, and he was canine in his loyalty, but unless he was hiding a lot of polish under that rough and ready exterior, a lot of people wouldn't think that he was suitable.

He wasn't really suitable, it had to be said.

"That isn't for us to say," she said quietly.

"If you are her friend—"

"It still wouldn't give me the right to police her love life," Rainbow declared. "I have put up with watching Twilight date much worse guys than Sun Wukong." She ran one hand through her hair. "And, you know … he's not a bad guy. Maybe the fact that Blake should drop a nice guy who'd do anything for her because he doesn't know which fork to use with the fish course says worse things about us than it does about him?"

"Such things may seem petty, even ridiculous," Ciel said, "but they are important symbols, and we abandon them at our peril. It is by holding the line for the smallest pebbles of civility that we prevent the undermining of the broader building blocks, the principles that hold a truly civilised society together. A man who cannot be bothered to dress properly, who feels free to behave boorishly in front of his hostess because he knows that he has a good heart and a soul bathed in righteousness, will soon feel free to break his marriage vows with wild abandon and violate the person of his wife because he knows he has a good heart and a soul bathed in righteousness."

"Sun isn't going to hit Blake!" Rainbow yelled.

"I agree that he would not," Ciel allowed. "But my point is that we hold the outer wall of civilised conduct that the citadel of principles may never come under attack."

"I'm not sure everyone in Atlas would agree with you," Rainbow muttered. "Anyway, like I said, I'm not going to bring it up to her."

"I think that is a mistake," Ciel said.

"Oh, now you tell me when you think I'm making a mistake," Rainbow snapped tartly.

"What do you mean?" asked Ciel.

"I mean that you must have realised that I wasn't doing the best job leading this team, and you let me carry on regardless," Rainbow said. "I had to hear it from Sunset!" Her voice quietened. "You must have known."

Ciel looked away guiltily. "I have not been silent," she muttered.

"You didn't say enough," Rainbow replied.

"I was not hoping to see you fail, if that's what you think," Ciel said quickly.

"I didn't think that," Rainbow said softly. "I just want to know why?"

"Is it not obvious?" Ciel demanded. "You are General Ironwood's most trusted … everyone in the academy knows that he favours you, and Atlas … you are not blind. I love this kingdom, I would die in its defence, but we both know the importance of patronage and connection when determining advancement. Or the lack of it."

Rainbow's eyes widened. "You thought … you thought that if you criticised me, I'd screw you over with the General?!"

"Some would," Ciel said, matter of factly.

"Yeah, but God, Ciel!" Rainbow cried. "I … we need to get to know one another a lot better, clearly. I wouldn't… God! You really thought that I would do that? You really thought that I was that thin-skinned?"

She debated whether or not she really wanted to know the answer to that.

Ciel took a moment to reply. "I do not come from a good family," she said. "My father is an NCO; my mother never rose to any great rank. I have not known the General from youth, I do not count his god-daughter as my best friend, I am not insulated against disaster thus. General Ironwood has given me a great honour with this posting, but one that could just as easily turn out to be a poisoned chalice for my ambitions. And with my … manner, I am not likely to win many friends on the way up; I cannot afford to make enemies. Yet it appears that I may have done so unwittingly."

"You haven't," Rainbow reassured her. "I get it. I … just because I'm a faunus doesn't mean that I can't be more privileged than you. I didn't think that it might have been … intimidating, having someone like me as your team leader. But that's not who I am. I'm not going to punish you for being right, or even for disagreeing with me, whether you're right or wrong. Maybe you don't believe me, and I need to try and prove to you that's not who I am, and I'll try, but please … if you think that I'm doing something wrong, then tell me. Because if you don't … if you don't, then we really will have a disaster on our hands." She smiled. "And don't worry, I'll make sure that nothing hits you when we get back to Atlas. Don't worry about Penny's father, or any of it."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "That is generous of you, although I am not sure that you can give such a guarantee."

"I'll try my best," Rainbow assured her. "You don't deserve to be blamed for what happened, not when … not when you're the one who cares about Penny the most."

Ciel did not instantly reply. "I feel … I am the eldest of seven siblings, and the other six all brothers."

Rainbow nodded. "I know."

"Growing up, watching my mother get with child time and time again," Ciel went on. "I prayed to the Lady that she would intercede with God to send me a little sister. Either she did not bother to demean herself with such selfish requests, or God took no notice, because my prayers went unrewarded." A soft smile played across her face. "Until now." The smile died, and a sigh escaped her lips. "And yet—"

"And yet, she doesn't love you," Rainbow said softly.

Ciel bit her lip. "At the risk of sounding unpleasantly jealous, it is a little … Ruby, at least, I can understand; she has a manner easy to get on with, but Pyrrha is nearly as awkward as I am, and yet—"

"She chose them," Rainbow said softly. "It's not about who you are, or who they are; it's about how she came to them, against how we came to her."

"She cannot still think of us as her gaolers?"

"I'm afraid that's exactly how she thinks of us," Rainbow replied. "Which isn't your fault, but … I'm going to try and get through to her about it. Try and make her … I don't know, try and make her see that the days when we looked at her that way are gone."

"I could—"

"I'll go first," Rainbow said. "I'm the team leader; it's my responsibility." She paused, and the corner of her lip twitched upwards. "Unless you think I'm making a mistake."

"No," Ciel murmured. "No, I think it is your right to try. After all, I have not succeeded yet."

"So I'll give it a try," Rainbow said. She stepped back, and let her Wings of Harmony pop out from either side of the backpack. "But first, I'm going to quickly check on the girls on the other ship."

Ciel nodded. "Wish them well for me."

"Will do," Rainbow promised, and kicked off the prow of the Hope and into the blue skies beyond.

XxXxX​

Blake rested her hands upon the cold metal balcony rail.

The skyliner had a large, open observation deck sprawling forward, covering most of the top of the airship's superstructure, but only Blake was using it at present. Only Blake was up here, standing at the rails, feeling the wind blow through her long, black hair.

The wings of the airship beat up and down, up and down like vast oars driving them through the air. Blake couldn't see the rear wings from where she was standing — she was too far forward — but she could see the front wings rising and falling, revealing part of the ocean to her and then obscuring it as the great white paddles descended once again. Up and down, up and down. It was almost relaxing to watch them, to let her eyes become captivated by the lazy rhythm of their rise and fall. Blake wondered how necessary it really was; it seemed incredible that such slow motions could be moving them forward, still less keeping their airborne.

But then, if they were not necessary, then why bother with them at all?

Blake glanced upwards for a moment, to where the Atlesian warship kept them company on the way to its home; it had no visible wings — which was one of the reasons Blake wondered if there was a performative element about the civilian airship — only slender engines emerging from the back to drive it on.

Someone was stood up there, on the open prow, looking down … well, looking down; whether they were looking down on Blake or on the airship or anything of that sort, it was hard to tell. She couldn't make out who it was either; they were too far away and too indistinct against the black of the airship and the blue of the sky.

She didn't wave up at them; she didn't want to be presumptuous in case they weren't looking at her.

Blake turned her eyes down again, looking downwards to the ocean far below. It looked as though there was something moving down there, something … whales. Yes, she was fairly certain that they were whales, although she didn't claim to be an expert on wildlife, so she couldn't be sure. She certainly couldn't say what kind of whales they were, although whatever they were, they looked quite majestic with the way that they rose and fell, their grey-blue bodies partially emerging out of the water, only to disappear again.

It occurred to Blake, watching, that the flippers of those whales were about the same size in proportion to the bodies of the creatures as the wings of her airship in proportion to the ship itself; she began to re-evaluate her opinion of said wings and their effectiveness.

A gasp from beside her alerted her to the presence of Fluttershy, who had otherwise stolen upon her without Blake realising it.

"Humpbacks!" Fluttershy cried. "Oh, this is incredible. I've never seen anything like this in real life before!" She pulled her scroll out of the purse dangling from one arm and began to take pictures, the camera built into the device flashing over and over again.

"'Humpbacks'?" Blake asked. "Is that what they're called?"

"Mhmm," Fluttershy acknowledged. "Humpback whales." She stopped taking pictures and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Blake; I should have asked if you wanted company."

"It's fine," Blake assured her. She smiled too, although how bright it was, she couldn't have said; she wasn't feeling particularly luminous at the moment. "Hey, Fluttershy."

Fluttershy chuckled softly. "Hello, Blake. Are you enjoying the view?"

Blake looked out again, her gaze descending from the slowly-beating wings down to the ocean below. The whales had disappeared out of sight, sinking down into the depths once more. "It's kind of relaxing," she murmured.

"Are you sure I'm not bothering you?" Fluttershy asked anxiously.

"I'm sure," Blake said. "The downside of this view being so relaxing is that … well, while there are a few new things to look at out here that I couldn't see from my room, it's still … once you get used to the view, you have a lot of time to think about things."

Fluttershy reached out and laid her hand on top of Blake's hand. "You mean…"

"Yes," Blake murmured, not moving her hand away from Fluttershy's touch. "Do you…? I … you probably don't want to talk about it, but—"

"It's alright," Fluttershy said softly. "I don't mind. I understand that … this matters to you, doesn't it?"

Blake blinked. "I… yes. Yes, it does. I don't know whether it should or not, but it does."

"You were close, weren't you?" Fluttershy asked.

Blake glanced at her, and then looked away. "You … you could say that."

"He mentioned you," Fluttershy told her. "He was … he said that he'd had someone that he cared for very much. Someone he thought that he could trust. Someone … someone who meant everything to him."

Each word was like a dagger through Blake's heart. Her free hand found that heart, hovering over it, her fingertips resting upon her breast. "And what," she asked, "and what did he say happened to me? What did he say that I'd done to him?"

"He said…" Fluttershy hesitated. "He said that Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer had stolen you away."

Blake let out a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a hollow bitter laugh. "Rainbow and Sunset … they stole me? He still … even then, even at the last, he just … he didn't get it. He didn't understand at all. I'd hoped that maybe … maybe whatever it was that you did to him had caused him to see—"

"I don't know that it didn't," Fluttershy offered. "That … the change in him came after."

Blake turned to get a better look at her. The wind was blowing through Fluttershy's hair too, the long lilac hair streaming out behind her, exposing her face. It was a pretty face, a soft face, largely untouched by the hardships of the world, and yet, her eyes made it seem a face more suited for tears than for smiles in some strange way that Blake felt but couldn't really explain. Just as she couldn't explain why, with this face made for tears, it nevertheless felt wrong for Fluttershy to be sad.

"Tell me," she implored, her voice breaking. "Please, tell me everything."

"'Everything'?" Fluttershy asked. "Are you sure?"

"If there is bad along with the good … I know enough bad already, a little more won't change my mind," Blake told her. "I just … I want to know."

Fluttershy nodded silently. She paused for a few moments before she spoke. "He scared me, at first," she confessed.

"He had that effect," Blake replied. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"He came in, and as soon as I realised that it was him and not Gilda, I … like I said, he frightened me," Fluttershy repeated. "Especially since he seemed angry or upset about something. He made fun of my outfit," she added. "I suppose it was a little much, but Rarity had worked so hard on it, I couldn't bear to tell her that it wasn't practical enough. Then Applejack … Applejack said something that made him angry."

"Not difficult," Blake murmured.

"He told us that he hadn't received much generosity in his life," Fluttershy added. "Is that true?"

"That … that depends," Blake said. "When he was younger … did he show you the … did he show you—?"

"The mark on his face?" Fluttershy guessed.

Blake winced. "So he did?"

Fluttershy nodded. "Did the SDC really do that to him?"

"So he told me," Blake said softly.

Fluttershy gasped. "How could anyone … how? That's … that's just … that's just wrong! How … how can you know that things like that happen and still want to come within a hundred miles of Atlas?"

"Because I … because I don't want to be like him," Blake replied, her voice trembling. "I don't want to condemn a whole city or kingdom for the actions of a few. For what I hope are the actions of a few."

"That's incredibly kind of you," Fluttershy whispered. "And you're not scared?"

"Of it happening to me?" Blake asked, to which Fluttershy gave a mute nod of assent. "No," she said. "I trust you. Rainbow Dash, Twilight, I trust all of you. And, if it turns out that I'm wrong … other faunus have suffered far worse than I in the struggle for our liberation and will still have suffered more than I, even if I do get three letters seared into my flesh."

Fluttershy swallowed. "I … I don't know whether to applaud or be appalled," she murmured. "Are you sure that you want to sit down with—?"

"Weiss didn't brand anyone's face," Blake said. "I can't blame her any more than I can blame Atlas. That way lies … you know where that road leads."

"Did he tell you how it happened?"

"No," Blake said. "He didn't like to talk about it."

"Does … does Rainbow Dash know?"

Blake nodded solemnly. "She … she saw it. She knocked off his mask while fighting."

Fluttershy gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

"She's … fine," Blake assured her. "She … it was some time ago, and I think… I can't read her mind, and it seemed to bother her at first, but … don't worry, she's still your friend."

"I know," Fluttershy said. "But that doesn't mean… I'm still sorry she had to find that out. She … Atlas means a lot to her."

"And not to you?" Blake asked.

Fluttershy shrugged. "Gilda came in before Adam could do anything," she said. "She seemed… she tried to protect us from everyone."

"Gilda," Blake murmured. "Gilda was never very fond of bloodshed."

"Adam tried to send her away," Fluttershy said, "but she wouldn't go."

That surprised Blake. "She defied him?"

Fluttershy nodded. "For our sake."

Blake's eyebrows rose. She wouldn't have thought that anyone would have had the courage to defy Adam, and certainly not Gilda Swiftwing; evidently, things had changed since she left. "But that's not why he let you go, is it?"

Fluttershy shook her head. "That was when I told him what we'd been doing in Vale in the first place: studying the wildlife." She smiled sadly. "Did you know that he liked birds when he was a boy?"

Blake looked down at her feet. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, he told me about that. Colourful canaries down the mines and fat—"

"Fat pigeons in the streets of Mantle," Fluttershy finished.

Blake nodded. "He always… he was always angry," she said softly. "He always had so much rage in him, but … when he talked about the birds they had down the mines, or about the football that they used to play once they came up from the mines to unwind before bedtime, about the songs the work gangs sang … all that anger would seem to leave him, for just a little while, and instead…"

"Sadness," Fluttershy murmured.

Blake thought about it for a moment. "Yes," she acknowledged. "Yes, he became sad, and solemn, but not angry. Not the way that he usually was." She paused. "I'd like to say that it was the sadness that drew me to him, not the anger, but the truth was that it was both. It was … the first time I met him, he'd just returned from a successful mission. Successful, but not without cost. Everyone else was celebrating their victory, but he … I found him outside, in the dark, crying over his fallen comrades. He cared then, he cared so much about our people and our cause, and his anger, it … it was a righteous anger, then; a rage against the injustice of the world. But then, later, as time went on, he … it was like he was deliberately trying to put the sadness away, somewhere where it wouldn't weaken him, and his anger came to seem less righteous and more … indiscriminate. And I could see it happening to the rest of the White Fang around me too. That's why I had to leave, leave them and him; it was nothing to do with Rainbow, it was nothing to do with Sunset, it was … it was him, and what he was becoming." She closed her eyes. "And yet—"

"It's not your fault," Fluttershy insisted.

"So I'm told," Blake murmured. "And I'm sure that everyone who tells me that is right, but … what right did I have to judge someone who had suffered so much more than I have? What right did I have to judge any of them, to take up arms against them, to let them die in that tunnel? What right do I have to be here when Adam and so many others have given their lives for our people?"

Fluttershy was silent for a moment. "I'm not a faunus," she said, "and I don't have the right to talk about what the White Fang is fighting for or what you've suffered, but I do know that all life is precious and not to be thrown away lightly. After all, it's only by living that things can get any better, isn't it? For us, and for the people we care about."

"I know," Blake said, "but—"

"Sometimes, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it," Fluttershy replied. "But we have to, all the same."

The door opened onto the observation deck, and Applejack ambled through. "Howdy, girls," she said, greeting them both with a wave of one hand. "I hope Ah'm not interruptin' anythin'; I just thought Ah'd come up here for some fresh air 'fore dinner."

"You're not interrupting," Blake said, "and even if you were, there's plenty of room."

Applejack laughed as she looked around the otherwise empty observation deck. "Yeah, Ah guess you're right about that, ain't you?" She paused. "Feel that wind blowin', Ah'm glad Ah left mah hat back in mah room. Not much chance of gettin' it back if it went overboard, huh?"

"I'm sure it wasn't this windy the last time we came this way," Fluttershy said.

"Probably 'cause summer's drawin' to a close," Applejack said. "Autumn's on the way, so we get that autumn weather. Still, it ain't too cold, and as far as Ah'm concerned, it beats spending all day in that cabin. I don't like to be cooped up too long."

"You missed some majestic whales passing beneath us," Fluttershy said. "They were beautiful."

"Ah'll take your word for it," Applejack said as she wandered over to the railing to join them. She leaned against the cold metal rail. "You're probably sick of folks askin' how yer feelin', sugarcube, so I'll ask you how you feel about gettin' to Atlas?"

Blake took a few moments to consider her reply. "I feel … curious. I've only ever heard about Atlas — and not in the sense that everyone has heard about Atlas — I mean like … I had a friend who lived there for a while, she went to a school you know, Crystal Prep."

"Yep," Applejack said heavily. "We know Crystal Prep alright, don't we, Fluttershy?"

"They weren't that bad," Fluttershy said.

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one, sugarcube," Applejack replied. "Although, I must say, Ah'm surprised to hear about a faunus goin' to Crystal Prep. Ah don't remember seein' any of them when our schools met up."

"She was passing for human at the time," Blake explained.

Applejack blinked. "You mean … your friend was the one who—"

"Yes," Blake said. "I understand you've heard of that too."

"And she's your source about Atlas," Applejack said.

"For what it's worth, she was actually very complementary," Blake said. "Sort of. She said it was a city of dreams. A city where she had to hide what she really was in order to fit in."

"All the same," Applejack muttered, "Ah don't know if you want to go takin' her word for it."

"I'm not taking anyone's word for it, Ilia's or Rainbow Dash's," Blake replied. "So I suppose that what I'm feeling is … curiosity, to find out for myself what Atlas is really like."

Applejack held her hand up to her eyes, shielding them from the sun as she looked upwards. "Speakin' of Rainbow Dash," she said.

Blake looked up too, in time to see a figure descending through the air towards them from the cruiser up above.

She and Fluttershy sidestepped nimbly out of the way as Rainbow dropped onto the deck.

"Hey," Rainbow said. "How's everyone doing?"

"We just saw some wonderful humpbacks in the water below," Fluttershy said.

"Oh, is that what they were?" Rainbow asked. "I thought they were whales."

"Humpback whales," Fluttershy explained.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense," Rainbow acknowledged. "But are you three okay?"

"Ah'm about as well as could be expected," Applejack said. "But Ah think Blake might be gettin' a little tired of folks asking her if she's okay."

"Right," Rainbow murmured. "On the one hand, I'm sorry, but on the other hand, it isn't my fault if everyone else has gotten to you first."

Blake smiled a little. "It's fine," she assured her. "It's not a problem. I … am okay. I'm as well as could be expected, as Applejack put it."

"Are you—?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Blake said, before Rainbow could finish her inquiry. Although she then felt the need to add, "Although I am a little apprehensive about dinner with Weiss and Flash tonight."

"You're having dinner with Weiss and Flash?"

"We all are," Fluttershy said. "Flash thought that it would be nice, and Blake didn't mind."

"I don't mind," Blake said. "I just … it's Weiss Schnee, you know."

"Weiss Schnee," Rainbow said. "Not Jacques Schnee. We're none of us our parents."

"I know," Blake replied. "But you can understand why I'm a little … I don't know what to expect."

"Expect some nice food on a ship like this," Rainbow said, with a grin. "Do you think there'd be room for one more at your table?"

"Aiming to stick around?" Applejack asked.

"Not me, Twilight," Rainbow said. "I'll fly her over this evening and then pick her up again when you're all done."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Fluttershy declared. "But are you sure that you can't join us too?"

Rainbow shook her head. "I'm having dinner with Penny tonight."

"How is Penny?" asked Blake.

Rainbow scratched the back of her head with one hand. "Defeat bothers her more than her injuries, I think."

"Tell her that she oughtn't let it get to her," Applejack said. "We all take some lumps from time to time."

"Yeah, I know," Rainbow said. "But Penny … Penny's been told that she's really awesome, and now she's finding out that, well, she doesn't feel that way right now." Rainbow paused for a moment. "But she'll be okay. We'll all be okay, right?"

"Ah hope so," Applejack said.

"I'm sure we will," Fluttershy added.

"And … and so do I," Blake said, after a moment. "It might not be instant, it might take a while, but I hope, I think, I'm sure that we'll get there."

But before that, there was dinner with Weiss Schnee to get through.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Evolution​

The RSPT – RST would probably be a more accurate way of referring to them – quarters aboard the Hope were small, but there was enough for an exceedingly modest desk, upon which Twilight deposited the small canister in which swirled Sunset's magic. It glowed a bright and somewhat eerie green as it sat there, casting a light upon the desk around it.

Spike hopped up onto the chair and rested his forepaws on the desk, staring at the glowing canister with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He barked at the magic as it swirled within its container.

"Careful, Spike," Twilight informed him. "If that spills, there won't be any more where it came from." Not for some time, possibly not ever; there would be limits to how much of her own magic Sunset would siphon off for the sake of Twilight's research. Not to mention, there ought to be limits beyond which Twilight could not ask for more. Considering Sunset's misgivings about the idea, one could say that she'd given enough already.

Just to be safe, she moved the canister back until it was touching the wall, then lifted Spike off the chair and put him back down on the floor. He whined a little bit but swiftly started rooting around in her bag for a toy.

"Yeah, that's much safer," Twilight murmured, scratching him behind the ears. "After all, we don't know what magic might do to you. We don't know what magic might do at all. So much to find out, so much to uncover. Although probably something I should study at home; I don't want to raise too many questions about what I'm working on."

Spike barked.

Twilight smiled as she sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the lower bunk on the left hand side of the room, her legs hunched up to avoid touching the opposite bunk. She picked Spike up off the floor and put him on her lap and started to tickle him under the chin.

"I mean, I can't really deny that a part of me would like everyone to know," she said. "To prove that I was right all along, that there really is more out there than we're aware of… but it's not my secret to reveal. I don't want to make trouble for Sunset, especially since she didn't have to give me this magic in the first place, especially since I don't think that she really wanted to. Besides, I'll have to become used to keeping secrets."

She paused for a moment, looking down at Spike, who stared up at her with big eyes, his mouth open and his tongue out.

"I know so many things that I didn't know before, so much that is new, and I can't tell anyone about it, not even our friends. Not that I'd want to tell my friends everything, because some of what I know is kind of scary, but some of it is exciting as well: the Power of Creation. A power wielded by the gods themselves, and they left us a part of it. Just imagine what that relic could do, Spike! We could… we could feed the world, end poverty, make so many lives so much better. But I'll never get to tell anyone about it, and we'll never get to find out what it can do because, from the sounds of things, the only goal is to keep the Relics out of Salem's hands. And I get that that's important, and I suppose that if we used the Relics, then she'd be able to find them much more easily, but… I don't know; it just seems like such a waste to me.

"But do you know what the worst part is?" she asked rhetorically. "The worst part is that none of what I know now tells me anything about what happened to me when I was little. None of it tells me who the woman who saved us was or how she did what she did. I know Sunset thinks that this is all connected, that Professor Ozpin's organisation is connected to the Old Man and the wizard from the old stories, and I can see why she thinks that; I just… I don't know, maybe I'm just hoping that General Ironwood isn't keeping more secrets from us."

The door slid open, and Rainbow Dash came in. "Hey, Twi," she said, looking down upon Twilight as the door slid shut behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Just talking to Spike," Twilight replied.

Rainbow snorted. "What about?" she asked as she stepped over Twilight's legs before sitting down on the floor opposite her, her arms resting upon her upturned knees.

"This and that," Twilight said. "Sunset's magic and how I'll have to study it at home, for one thing."

Rainbow looked at the glowing canister on the desk. "Yeah, that… that's a thing, isn't it?"

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose. "Does it bother you?"

"Do you understand it?" Rainbow asked.

"Not yet, but-"

"Then yeah, it bothers me a little bit," Rainbow said, cutting her off. "I'm okay with there being things that I don't understand, but the fact that you don't understand them either worries me."

Twilight chuckled. "Everything was incomprehensible at some point, until it became understood," she pointed out. "There was a time in our history when mankind didn't understand dust."

"And I hope they were careful with it until they did understand it," Rainbow said. "And when you understand Sunset's Do-Anything juice, then I'll relax."

Twilight smiled. "I'll try and clear up the mysteries for you as fast as I can."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "I just flew over to the Skyliner to check on Applejack and Fluttershy; they're having dinner with Blake, Flash, and Weiss tonight; I thought you might like to join them."

"I wouldn't mind," Twilight said. "Although there is the logistical difficulty that I'm on this ship and they're on another one."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Twilight, I have a jetpack – a jetpack you made me – I'll fly you over."

"Are you going as well?"

"No," Rainbow said. "I'll fly back over here, and then you can text me when you're ready to get picked up."

"Okay, Mom," Twilight said, amusement in her voice. "Although you could always just eat with us, and we can fly back together when we're done."

Rainbow grinned. "I'm not sure the Wings of Harmony are appropriate dinner wear," she said. "And besides-"

"This isn't about giving Blake space or anything, is it?"

"No," Rainbow said quickly. "It's about the fact that if I go to dinner with the rest of you, then Ciel will be stuck watching Penny, and it's not right to offload that all onto her. I'll take you over, come back, spend the evening with Penny, then pick you up tonight. Come on, Applejack and Fluttershy would like it, and I think Blake could use a friendly face."

"Applejack and Fluttershy are right there," Twilight pointed out.

"She hardly knows them," Rainbow replied.

"She doesn't really know me, either," Twilight said.

"This is the perfect time to fix it then, isn't it?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight covered her mouth as a slight laugh escaped her. "Okay," she said. Twilight paused for a moment. "Hey," she said, "how big do you think the welcome home party is going to be?"

"I think it will be small, but really, really good," Rainbow guessed. "No guests, just us, but a really great time."

Twilight nodded. "I can see that," she acknowledged. "You know… it's going to be our first time back with all of them since we found out…"

"About all the stuff that we can't talk about," Rainbow murmured.

"Mhm," Twilight agreed. "It feels weird. I've never… never lied to them before."

"Keeping secrets doesn't have to equal lying," Rainbow argued.

"It's a pretty thin line, don't you think?" Twilight responded.

"It's for the right reasons, don't you think?"

"I understand why we have to do it," Twilight said. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"There are things that I like less," Rainbow said. "I mean, I… I'm glad I know, aren't you?"

"You mean would I rather not know?" Twilight asked. "No, no I wouldn't. Unless, of course, there was nothing to know."

Rainbow snorted. "Yeah. That would be awesome, but-"

"If it is the way it is, then I'm glad I know," Twilight said. "At least this way, I can help."

"From your brand new lab," Rainbow said teasingly.

Twilight felt her cheeks heat up a little. "The General might be going a little overboard there."

"Twilight, you've been putting yourself down all year for not being something you were never meant to be," Rainbow said. "Don't put yourself down over what you actually are."

Twilight hesitated. "Yeah, thinking that, just because I was on this team, I ought to be a great huntress, or even a capable huntress, was kind of stupid of me. Trying to play huntress at all was kind of stupid of me. I admit that, I realise it, and it won't happen again, but-"

"But nothing," Rainbow said. "You made my wings, you made that armour, you created Midnight. Hell, you helped make Penny! And the first of those three, you did by yourself in your spare time. Think what you could do with, like, work time and proper resources. I don't know what you have in mind-"

"I've got one or two ideas."

"-but I know it's going to be awesome," Rainbow finished, "and I can't wait to see."

A smile briefly crossed Twilight's face, then faded. "Hey. I… I understand that you saw… down there, you saw-"

"Yeah," Rainbow said gruffly. "Yeah, we did."

"What was-?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Rainbow said quickly. "I'm sorry, Twilight, I just… I don't want to, okay?"

Twilight thought that was perhaps unwise, but nevertheless, she nodded. "Alright, but if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Always," Rainbow said as she got up. "I've got to go."

"I didn't mean to drive you off!" Twilight protested. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's not about that," Rainbow assured her. "I need to go and speak to Penny."

XxXxX​

The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss as Rainbow Dash walked into the room where Penny was being kept until they reached Atlas.

Since the Hope was the same class of ship as the Valiant, it was no surprise that her room on the Hope looked pretty much the same as her room on the Valiant. Penny was on a table in the middle of the room, just as she had been, and she was even wired up to a computer – although the computer was on the opposite side of the room. This room was less cluttered; there wasn't much paperwork in evidence here. It was just Penny.

Rainbow could only imagine how boring this was for her right now, and for a moment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing, telling her off for not appreciating Ciel enough, trying to change the way that she saw her teammates. Maybe it wasn't the right time. But… if it wasn't the right time, then when was the right time? The longer she put this off, then the harder it would be to get through to Penny, and it would be hard enough already. Maybe it was unfair to take advantage of a captive audience like this, but it was also a chance, and one that she had to take.

"Hey, Penny," Rainbow said, as she walked in. She didn't bother asking how Penny was, because the answer was both obvious and pretty dispiriting.

"Hello," Penny said, and the voice that emerged from out of the computer sounded very appropriate for how downcast Rainbow imagined Penny's mood to be.

There was one thing in the room besides Penny, and that was the book of fairy tales that Blake had given her on their Cold Harbour mission. Ciel had been reading it to Penny while she was incapacitated. Rainbow put the books tucked beneath her arm down beside it with an audible thump before she sat down in the chair next to Penny.

"Did you bring a new book?" Penny asked, unable to see for herself.

"Uh-huh," Rainbow said. "I thought you must be getting to the end of those fairy tales by now."

"I don't mind hearing them again," Penny replied.

"Do you still like The Shallow Sea the best?"

"I think so," Penny replied. "But I really like The Girl in the Tower, too."

Rainbow got up, looking downwards so that Penny, looking up, could look at her in turn. "Is that how you see yourself?" she asked. "Locked up by your cruel father?"

Penny did not reply.

Rainbow frowned. "I'm going to need you to give me an answer on this, Penny."

"Are you ordering me to answer you?"

Rainbow sighed. "I'm asking you to tell me how you feel."

"Like you asked Ciel to carry me away," Penny replied. "And then you ordered her to do it when she didn't want to."

"Do you think that was wrong of me?"

"I'm not sure it's really asking if you insist on getting your own way regardless of the answer."

Rainbow sighed. "Penny… you're very young, I get that, believe me, but… you can't be a kid about this kind of thing. On the battlefield, as a leader, I can't always nicely ask, and I can't always respect everyone else's opinion, especially when they're not making any sense. The only reason Ciel argued with me about taking you back was because she was too proud to want to leave. Yes, I yelled at her, and I threatened her, but what should I have done instead, with you in the state you were in?"

Penny didn't reply.

"Exactly," Rainbow said. "Like I said, on the battlefield, sometimes, I need to give orders, and I need those orders to be obeyed immediately. But we're not on the battlefield, so I'm not ordering but asking you to tell me how you feel?"

Eventually, after some hesitation, Penny said, "What's my father going to do to me?"

"Nothing," Rainbow said.

"Won't he be upset with me for failing so badly?"

"I don't know how he's going to feel, and I don't care," Rainbow replied. "He's not going to do anything to you, I promise."

Penny was silent for a moment, before she said, "I don't believe you."

Rainbow closed her eyes for a moment. "No, I bet you don't." She opened her eyes again. "Penny, do you remember that I let you stay at Beacon, even when I was sent to bring you back to Atlas? Do you remember that I let you tell Ruby and Pyrrha about what you really were?"

"Only because the General gave you permission," Penny replied. "And you made me promise to do exactly as you said while we were at Beacon."

"And I had good reason for that."

"If General Ironwood had told you no, bring me back, then you would have," Penny pointed out.

Rainbow winced. "I mean… okay, yes, I would have-"

"Just because the Girl's gaolers let her out into the garden sometimes doesn't mean that they stopped being her gaolers," Penny replied. "Or that Tower became a home."

"So you do see yourself that way," Rainbow murmured. "And we're the gaolers, right? Me, Ciel, and Twilight?"

"Aren't you?" Penny asked.

Rainbow sat down again for a moment, gathering her thoughts together as she pondered how exactly to answer that. "I should have spoken to you about this a long time ago," she muttered. She raised her voice. "You don't like us, do you, Penny?"

Penny didn't say anything.

"You can be honest," Rainbow urged.

"Why should I like you?" Penny demanded. "You're only here because General Ironwood ordered you to be, to keep an eye on me for him and my father. You're here to make sure that I don't do anything that they don't approve of. And Ciel treats me like a kid, and you baby me and act like I need protection, and the worst part is… the worst part is that you might be right."

"Don't take that last part personally; I act that way with all of my friends," Rainbow told her.

"That's not funny."

"Good, because it's not a joke," Rainbow said; she stood up again, so that Penny could once more see her face and tell that she was being serious about this. "I treat all of my friends as though they need help to keep from breaking. You saw how I was with Twilight after the fight with Cinder in the tower. Let me tell you something: it is killing me that Fluttershy and Applejack are on another ship right now, and it doesn't matter that I can fly over there whenever I want with my wings; the fact that they're over there, on another ship, an unarmed ship, a ship that I'm not on… it's making my hands itch. Now maybe that's a flaw on my part, I don't know; I hope not, but it might be. But even if it is, it's something that I can't change. Some things are just a part of who we are, and we can't alter them without losing who we are. You don't have to like it – which is good, because you obviously don't – but it's not about you or what you are or how this team was put together. And as for Ciel… Ciel is really who I wanted to talk to you about. You're treating her badly, and it isn't right, and I'd like you to stop. You can dislike me all you want, but Ciel doesn't deserve it, and… do you know what Ciel is risking to be here? Do you know what Ciel has given up to be here?"

"'Given up'?" Penny repeated.

"Ciel should have gone to the Academy last year," Rainbow reminded her. "If she hadn't been injured, then she'd be a sophomore by now. Even taking the injury into account, if she'd started at Atlas as an ordinary freshman, I bet she'd be a team leader right now. Gods know that she's got the smarts for it; she knows the rulebook inside out. She's… the kind of person they put on the recruiting poster, because she looks the part just that much. But she didn't start at Atlas as an ordinary freshman; she took a post on this team because the General asked her too, even though it meant serving under me, no chance of being team leader."

"She's so unlucky."

"Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't suit you," Rainbow said sharply. "It never suited you, and it certainly doesn't suit that voice." She paused. "What I'm about to say may sound… not very nice, but here it is anyway: this mission has an equal chance of ending in disaster as triumph for Ciel. And she's the only one who can really say that. Yes, if everything works out, if you do great in the tournament, if at the end of your testing, everyone is really impressed, then we'll all reap the rewards: General Ironwood will be impressed, people will remember our names, we'll get headhunted by elite units once we graduate. But if it doesn't work, if you don't work out, then Twilight will go back to the lab, nobody's going to blame her; I'll still be able to count on General Ironwood, unless I screw up majorly, but Ciel? What's Ciel going to do, who's going to take her side? She's got a lot to lose, but she's here anyway."

"For her duty," Penny said.

"Because duty called, yeah," Rainbow admitted. "But also for you. We care about you, Penny. Maybe… maybe we didn't, at first, maybe you were just an assignment to us, a job that we'd been asked to do, a feather in our caps, but… you've really grown on us. On Ciel especially. I think… you know she's got six younger brothers?"

"No," Penny said. "I didn't know that."

"Well, she does," Rainbow said. "And so, if it seems like she's babying you, try and remember that, with two parents in the military, she's probably spent half her life babying everyone around her, and mommying them, and… telling them what to do. That's another reason she'd have made a good team leader. But what I'm trying to say is that when she treats you like that, it's not because she doesn't like you, and it's certainly not because she doesn't care. It's because she's treating you like part of her family; that's… that's the opposite of not caring. And the fact that you don't… the fact that you treat her like she's some machine just following orders… it's hurting her. And she doesn't deserve to be hurt."

"She doesn't seem hurt," Penny replied.

"Yeah, well, that's… that's part of what it means to be a family," Rainbow said. "You don't… you don't let them see you bleed."

Saying that made her think of her own parents, packed off to Menagerie and out of her life. How much had that hurt them, how much had all of her rejections hurt them, that they had never let on?

Maybe something else I have to make amends for.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Penny asked.

"That… that's a good question," Rainbow admitted. "And I get it, I mean… the worst thing that anyone ever said to me was when they suggested that Twilight and the others weren't really my friends, that they just wanted a faunus friend they could parade around in some kind of virtue signalling. And it hurt because I kind of believed it; I thought it might be true. I get that it's hard to have faith sometimes, and it's hard to take some things on trust, but you… you can feel. If you give Ciel a chance, I know that you'll feel how much she cares about you. So will you do that? Will you give her a chance, not for me but for Ciel? And for you too." She paused. "I know that we aren't the friends that you chose. I know that you didn't get any choice in the matter, and… I can see that might bother you. But that doesn't mean that we can't be your friends, if you give us a chance."

Penny took a very long time to answer, but answer she did, "Okay."

Rainbow let out the sigh of relief she didn't realise that she'd been holding in. "Great," she said. "Thanks, Penny; Ciel will appreciate it, and you… you won't regret it, I promise." She sat down. "And now," she added, "I know that you could listen to those stories over and over again, but I thought we might try something a little bit different today." She picked up the book. "My grandpa read me this story when I was laid up in bed, sick. It's about a farmboy who has to rescue the princess after she gets kidnapped by a pirate. Or is he an evil prince? It's been too long since I've read this, but I remember it being really good, sword fights and romance and everything. What do you say?"

"Sure," Penny said. "I'd like to hear it. Go on."

Rainbow smiled. "As you wish," she said as she opened up the book.

XxXxX​

Rainbow Dash walked into the RST room, wearing her Wings of Harmony upon her back. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready to go," Twilight replied.

She had exchanged her spectacles for contact lenses, which she found somewhat uncomfortable, but at least they probably wouldn't fall off on the flight between the two ships and leave her blind. She was dressed in a knee-length dress of bold pink with a ruffled skirt three layers deep and a white sash bound tightly around her waist, tied into a bow off-centre in front of her. A strip of lavender, and then another of white, crept up the bodice towards the shoulderless sweetheart neckline. Her legs were exposed, but since it was likely to be at least a little chilly flying through the air – however briefly – she had covered them with a pair of long lavender stockings, while a maroon jacket served the same function for her arms and shoulders, which would otherwise have been left bare by her dress. A pair of plain, high-heeled purple shoes enclosed her feet, with straps around her ankles to ensure that they too did not fall off, while her hair was bound up in a bun to ensure that it didn't blow into Rainbow's face as they were flying.

"What do you think?"

"It's a little much for my taste, but you make it work," Rainbow said approvingly.

"Good to hear," Twilight said as the two of them headed out, leaving the room empty save for Spike.

Save for Spike, and the glowing green canister of Sunset's magic that swirled upon the table.

Spike barked. He snuffled. He ran around the room in a circle and leapt up onto Twilight's bed.

He lay down upon the pillow for a moment, but then got up again and restlessly leapt down onto the floor.

He barked and then leapt up onto the chair from where, standing on his hind legs, he could see the canister and its swirling green contents.

The magic danced, reflected in his eyes, as he barked once more.

From out of a crack between the lid and the canister, a thin, wispy tendril of magic emerged, creeping out of its container like a thief. It danced in the air, turning in circles, making a loop, but moving closer, ever closer, towards Spike.

The reflection of the green glow in Spike's eyes grew ever closer, but Spike didn't move. The magic held him spellbound as it worked its way through the air within the room until, finally, it touched him on the nose, as though giving him a gentle gesture of affection.

Spike's eyes glowed green for a moment as he sat down upon the chair.

"Whoa," he said.

XxXxX​

Weiss dressed simply for dinner, in a white dress with a gauzy, semi-transparent collar, and a slightly flared skirt that stopped just below her thighs. The only accessories that she added to this simple accoutrement was a slight and slender diamond bracelet which she clasped about her right wrist and, of course, the tiara set in her off-centre ponytail.

There was a knock on the door into her cabin.

"Who is it?" Weiss called out.

"It's me, Flash," Flash replied.

The doors on this airship were not automatic, and for Weiss, that was a good thing, seeing as it came with a certain suggestion of privacy that would have been lacking on a man-of-war.

She picked up a small white purse – containing her room key, lien, and a few other necessities, since she couldn't exactly wear belt pouches with this dress – and crossed the small stateroom gracefully to the door, which she opened to reveal Flash waiting outside. He was dressed in a suit, minus the tie and with his collar undone; she seemed to recall that he'd been dressed that way at the dance, too.

Not that there was anything wrong with that; so was she.

"Is it that you don't own a tie?" she asked playfully.

Flash let out a slightly nervous laugh. "I'm not a huge fan," he admitted, "but now I'm starting to wonder if I should have worn one anyway."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Weiss said. "It's not as if we're dining first class. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, sure," Flash replied. "Would you, um, I mean, would it be too much if I…" He trailed off, but offered his arm in any case to demonstrate what he meant.

Weiss smiled. "No, that wouldn't be too much at all," she replied as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "In fact, that would be quite courteous."

Flash smiled, and a faint blush rose to his face as the two of them left Weiss' room behind – the door slammed shut behind them – and began to walk towards the nearest elevator, the dining room being located at the bottom of the ship.

"Thank you," Flash said as they approached.

"What for?" Weiss asked, as they reached the lift; she pressed the button to summon the car. "Having dinner with you?"

"Having dinner with my friends," Flash corrected her. "I haven't seen Applejack or Fluttershy in a while; it'll be good to catch up."

"It's no problem," Weiss assured him. "They seem like nice people."

"They are," Flash assured her. "They're… they're the best people I know. Everyone at school – hell, everyone in Canterlot – knew that they could depend on those girls in a pinch. No matter what the problem was, no matter what was going on, you could always rely on them to help and to find a way to fix it."

The elevator arrived, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty cab. The two of them stepped inside, and Flash pushed the button for the deck they wished to go to.

"Please stand clear, doors closing," announced the automated voice as the doors slid shut. The lift began to grind downwards, thrumming and throbbing as it went.

Weiss looked up at Flash. "Did they ever help you?"

Flash glanced down at her. "Once or twice," he said softly. "After Sunset and I broke up… they were there for me when I needed them. Twilight, especially."

"Ah, yes," Weiss remembered the awkwardness of their first meeting when RSPT had shown up at Beacon. "You had a crush on her, didn't you?"

Flash laughed. "I misread the signals," he replied. "Not for the last time," he added, glancing down at her again.

Weiss adjusted her grip on his arm. "I wouldn't say you misread the signals," she said casually, "so much as the situation."

"I… see," Flash murmured. "Doesn't it come to the same thing, in the end?"

"Perhaps," Weiss admitted. "But it isn't your fault, and it isn't something you should blame yourself for."

The lift came to a stop. "Doors opening."

The doors did, in fact, open, and Weiss and Flash stepped out into a lobby, tastefully decorated in emerald furnishings, made all the greener-seeming by the soft green lights which illuminated everything. Beyond the lobby, Weiss caught sight of their dining companions – Applejack, Fluttershy, Blake, and Twilight Sparkle too – all standing at the bar, drinking something that she was too far away to identify.

"I hope we haven't kept you waiting," Weiss said as she and Flash swept – well, Weiss swept; Flash just walked – across the lobby to join them. The bar was deliberately antique in style, with a wooden, well, bar, to stand at, and two pumps like they used to have in the old days, even though all beer was bottled now. Weiss wondered what the point of the pretence was; it struck her that, in its own way, Vale looked to its past just as much as Mistral did. It just didn't shout about it so much.

Fluttershy lowered the orange juice – as she got closer, Weiss could see that they were all drinking some kind of fruit juice – and said, "Not at all, Weiss, you're just in time. And you look lovely, by the way."

"Thank you, Fluttershy," Weiss replied. Applejack and Fluttershy had not bothered to dress, although considering their circumstances, that was quite understandable, indeed to the point where Weiss might have felt guilty about dressing up herself except that Twilight had bothered to dress, and rather nicely too, as had Blake, who was wearing a plain dress of dark purple with a narrow skirt and a black belt around her waist. "Good evening, everyone."

"Evenin', Mi- I mean, Weiss."

"Good evening, Weiss, Flash."

"Hey, Twilight."

"Weiss," Blake said softly. "Flash."

Weiss inclined her head. "Blake."

"I feel," Blake added, "as though I ought to thank you."

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "For what?"

"For being at the Breach," Blake said. "For standing your ground there and being part of the fight, both of you."

"For being huntsmen and huntresses, you mean?" Weiss replied. "No thanks are necessary. It's what we – what I, for one, signed up for."

"What we both signed up for," Flash added.

"Hear hear," Applejack murmured, raising her glass of apple juice and taking a drink.

Blake's golden eyes locked onto Weiss' icy blue eyes, and for a moment, neither said anything.

"So," Twilight said, "would you two like something to drink, or shall we get our table?"

"Why don't we sit down?" Weiss suggested. "If that's alright with everyone else?"

Nobody had any objections to taking their seats, so they approached the 'Wait here to be seated' sign, where fortunately, there was a waiter in a waistcoat and bow tie waiting to take their reservation and show them into the dining room proper. It was somewhat crowded at this hour, and the waiter led them through tables occupied by couples, families, or work colleagues talking shop before he brought them to a trio of square tables shoved together to make room for six places. A white tablecloth covered the table, as such a cloth covered all the tables, but did not disguise the joins.

Flash pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down on the left-hand side of the table, finding herself opposite Blake with Flash sitting at her right. Twilight sat opposite Flash, next to Blake, with Applejack and Fluttershy taking the last places at the table. Applejack took off her hat and placed it on the floor beside her.

Everyone except Weiss and Flash already had drinks which they hadn't finished, but the waiter took their order and left them with the menus before they disappeared.

Weiss studied the menu in front of her idly. The food was not of the highest quality, but then, if she'd wanted that, then she ought to have travelled first class and used that, separate, restaurant. Besides, it looked to be as good quality as the food at Beacon, perhaps even a little better.

It wasn't all particularly healthy, but considering where she was going and how reluctant she was to be going there, Weiss wondered if she could perhaps afford to indulge herself just a little.

If her figure was even a little too wide in the waist when she arrived back home, her father would have it put right soon enough.

Unfortunately, he would also feel the need to mention it to Weiss, repeatedly, and without much politeness in his tone… or in the method of his correction, most likely.

Her mother had begun to let herself go a couple of years ago; her father had tolerated it up to a point, but when his patience with it had snapped…

Weiss was already letting him drag her back to that house; she wasn't about to give him an excuse to lock her in her room on a strict diet for the duration of her stay there.

She dismissed the idea of indulgence and turned her gaze upon the healthier options.

Yes, the seabass ought to be safe enough.

Weiss glanced up from her menu. "Applejack, Fluttershy," she said, "I imagine you're relieved to be going home after what you've been through."

"You can say that again," Applejack muttered.

"Oh, yes," Fluttershy said. "It was fun up until… well, you know, but I'm glad to be going back to Atlas."

"You were really unlucky, running into those people the way you did," Flash said, "and nobody knows what they were doing or why? Four students just decided to try and hack the CCT, almost killed Twilight, kidnapped you two, and allied with the White Fang, and no one knows why?"

"'There are more things in heaven and earth than we can dream of,'" Weiss murmured. "I'm sure that their reasons made sense to them, even if to an outside eye, they appeared nonsensical or deranged."

"And they didn't say anything to you about their motives?" Flash asked.

"They don't have to talk about it," Blake said.

Flash frowned. "I know, and I'm sorry if you don't, but… when Blake and I were being held by The Purifier, he had plenty to say about why he was doing all of this."

"Oh, that Cinder had a few things to say," Applejack agreed. "Not much of it of any use in workin' out why she was doin' the things she was doin'."

"The White Fang made a little more sense," Fluttershy offered. "I felt… I felt sorry for them."

Blake blinked rapidly, and looked down at her menu and said nothing.

"'Sorry for them'?" Weiss asked. "After they kidnapped you and held you hostage?"

"They didn't hurt us," Fluttershy pointed out. "Their leader even set me free, since I wasn't a huntress or a fighter."

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "I… really?"

"You don't believe her?" Blake asked.

Weiss was quiet for a moment. "The White Fang does not have a history of sparing non-combatants."

It hadn't helped her father's temperament when the few friends he had started being picked off, either in bombings or kidnapped and executed. None of them had been huntsmen or fighters, either.

"No," Fluttershy whispered. "I'm aware of how lucky I am. But that doesn't change the fact that it happened, and it doesn't change the fact that the faunus we met down there weren't evil; they'd just been given bad opportunities and so made bad choices."

"Hmm," Weiss murmured. "Very bad choices. And I, for one, feel better for knowing that the consequences of those choices caught up with them."

"You mean you're glad they're dead?" Blake demanded.

Weiss did not flinch. "They were willing to encompass the deaths of the entire city of Vale," she replied, her voice calm and a little cold. "They unleashed a horde of grimm into one of our great cities, the heart of a kingdom. I feel as though that should be borne in mind before we start shedding tears for them." She paused for a moment, but not long enough for Blake to get a word in before she added, "I suppose you must be glad to be going home as well, Blake, after so long away on your undercover assignment."

You'd do well to remember your cover story, even though everyone here knows that it's false; it was bad enough at Beacon when you nearly gave yourself away with your attitudes; not everyone in Atlas will be as forgiving.

Blake hesitated for a moment. "I, yes, my… undercover assignment," she said.

Weiss smiled at her. "Try and keep up, Blake; this is supposed to be your life, after all." She paused for a moment. "May I offer you a piece of advice?"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"I suppose that, being among the White Fang for so long, it became very easy to sympathise with them," Weiss suggested.

"You… could say that," Blake murmured.

"I have no opinion on that, one way or the other," Weiss said, "but that sort of talk won't go down too well everywhere in Atlas. Not from anyone," she added, with a glance at Fluttershy, "but certainly not from a faunus, however valiant your service to the kingdom. Just something to bear in mind, for your own good. Not everyone who has suffered at the hands of the White Fang will be as tolerant as Flash is being."

"We're not without experience of the worst of the White Fang ourselves," Twilight reminded Weiss.

"All the more reason to remember what others have been through," Weiss told her. "I'm not denying that the faunus have suffered, and I'm certainly not denying the part that the SDC has played in that… but that doesn't change the fact that, in their campaign for justice, the White Fang has left a trail of bodies in their wake."

For a moment, the table fell silent. Then Blake said, "You're right, of course; after… after spending so long with the White Fang, I do feel the desire to help my people, because they are still my people. But I wouldn't be here if I didn't also feel the need to stop them."

"As I understand it, you have," Weiss said. "In Vale, at least."

Blake glanced away. "Well… so it seems."

Weiss' brow furrowed. "I apologise, perhaps I shouldn't have brought the subject up."

"No, it's fine," Blake said quickly. "You… you gave me some very good advice, which I'll bear in mind, and which I needed, having been… so long away from Atlas." There was a pause as the waiter returned with Weiss' and Flash's drinks. Once he had set them down and then – having taken their orders – departed once again, Blake raised her glass. "To Atlas."

The rest all raised their glasses, clinking them together in the air above the white-clothed table. "To Atlas!"

XxXxX​

Twilight carried her shoes in one hand and walked barefoot down the corridors of the Hope back to their room, with Rainbow following behind her.

Neither of them said anything as they reached the room itself. The door slid open, and the two stepped inside. Rainbow flicked on the lights as the door slid shut after them.

"Hey, Twilight, check this out!" Spike cried in a high, boyish voice.

"Aah!" Twilight cried, stumbling backwards into Rainbow Dash, hitting her in the act of stumbling backwards in turn so that they both fell over together, landing with a crash on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Uh," Rainbow said, "did Spike just-?"

"That's right," Spike said smugly, grinning from where he sat on the chair. "I can talk now. Pretty cool, huh?"

"No!" Twilight yelled, as she untangled herself from Rainbow Dash. "Not, 'pretty cool,' not cool at all!"

"Well-" Rainbow began.

"Not cool at all!" Twilight repeated, louder and with additional emphasis, silencing Rainbow in the process. She returned her attention to Spike. "What… how… since when? How did this happen?"

"I dunno," Spike said. "I was looking at that canister, and then this green light came out of it-"

"What do you mean it came out?" Twilight demanded. "It's sealed up!"

"Apparently not," Spike replied.

Rainbow groaned as she picked herself up off the floor. "Great. Spike, did you see any more green stuff come out of there and where did it go?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Twilight snapped.

"Look, Twilight, I admit it's kind of weird that Spike can talk now-"

"'Kind of weird'?"

"But I'm more worried about what magic leaking everywhere could do to the ship," Rainbow went on. "Or, you know, the crew. Or us."

"I didn't see any more coming out," Spike replied. "Just the stuff that got me."

"Well, that's good to hear," Rainbow said. "All the same, I think we should try and find somewhere safer to put that, just in case. Like a dust case; they're resistant."

"I don't see what the problem is," Spike said. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, but I don't want to count on us getting that lucky every time," Rainbow said.

She knelt down and reached under the lower bunk, dragging a shining metallic case out across the floor. Rainbow opened the case with a click, revealing various phials of dust of every different type and colour nestled within. Two by two, Rainbow began emptying the case, depositing the dust on the floor beside her.

"Will you please stop having a conversation with Spike?" Twilight moaned as she sat down on the bed.

Rainbow looked at her from over her shoulder. "I mean, he's answering back. It's not like I'm talking to a regular dog."

"There's nothing wrong with talking to a regular dog," Twilight declared. She sank down onto her bunk. "It's the answering back that's the problem!"

"But why?" Spike asked. He hopped into her lap. "Twilight, I'm still me."

To prove it, he leapt up and licked her face for good measure.

A smile crept onto Twilight's face in spite of herself. "Sorry, I just… this is… how do you feel?"

"Confused?" Spike suggested. "But not that I can talk. More like I'm confused that I couldn't do it before. It's so easy."

Twilight couldn't help but chuckle as she picked Spike up and cradled him in her arms.

"So long as you're okay, then I guess that's okay," she said, pressing his face to her cheek. "After all, I guess we all change, all the time, and that's a good thing."

"Sure," Rainbow agreed. "But I'm still going to lock that canister away until we get to Atlas."

The laughter of Twilight – and Spike – filled the room.

XxXxX​

The door slid open before her.

Ciel stepped inside. Her footsteps echoed upon the metallic floor beneath, and the door hissed a second time as it closed after her.

Other than that, the room was silent. Like an empty church after the congregation had departed.

No, not like that at all. There was a comfort to be found in such silences, or at least, Ciel found it so; she meant nothing against an organised service, there was something to be said for hymns or communal prayers, there were certainly times when there was something to be said for a sympathetic ear from the pastor, but there were also times when Ciel preferred to simply walk into the empty church — the door was left open, even though the valuables were often secured at such times — and sit in one of the pews in the back row and pray. Or to approach the altar and kneel at the feet of the Lady, as the Lady knelt before God, and seek solace, wisdom, guidance, whatever one felt the need of at the present time.

It was sometimes good to be able to commune with the Lady — and through her, with God — absent intermediaries or interruptions, with nothing getting in the way of one's thoughts flying heavenward. And, to speak truth, an empty church was about the only place left in the world where you could truly escape the world; there was no getting away from it anywhere else these days; if the people didn't follow you, the culture would.

This was not a comforting silence. This was not a silence conducive to contemplation or to seeking solace. This silence had a prickly and uncertain edge to it, a silence that bred fear and misgiving, a silence that revolted against her presence. A silence that evoked darkness, however brightly lit the room might be.

A silence that made her want to leave.

But she would not leave. She would not turn and flee. She was a Flower of the North and made of braver stuff than that by far.

This … this might not be pleasant, but it was necessary.

Although the fact that the room was so silent was not a good sign.

Penny lay on the desk. It revolted Ciel to see her this way: immobile, naked, voiceless. It reminded her of the … the streets of Mantle, her home, were full of the homeless; they lurked upon street corners, and whether they sat hunched under the light or sought the shadow was a good indicator of whether one should offer them alms or stay well clear; sometimes, they were not alive to receive such charity. Despite the heating grid, the cold of night sometimes claimed them all the same. One saw their bodies, eyes open, bodies frozen in the position of their last shivering moments. One morning, they had found one such poor fellow blocking the stairwell of their tenement. It was never a pretty sight, and never an easy sight to forget. And Penny was lying there in just such a way, it…

Ciel trembled, as though the cold of Mantle's night was reaching her even here. She swallowed. Her throat was dry.

"Penny, will you speak?" she asked, words tripping swiftly out of her mouth. "Say something, anything."

"Good evening, Ciel," Penny replied, her voice issuing out of the computer to which she was connected. "Is everything okay? You sound anxious."

Ciel swallowed again, and was glad that she had not yet stepped into Penny's field of vision. "I am … as well as you are," she said. "Or 'So long as you are well, then I am well,' as the Lady opens her epistles."

"I don't feel well," Penny opined. "I can barely feel anything."

Ciel stepped forward, until she was looking down on Penny, so Penny could see her. She hoped that none of her feelings about Penny's present condition communicated themselves in her expression. "Then my own wellness is reduced accordingly, for how could I be…"

Ciel trailed off; even in her head, that sounded absurdly melodramatic; it was one thing for the Lady of the North to write that way, but she was not the Lady of the North to speak so.

"I am not happy if you are not happy," she said plainly.

"Sceptical: Really?" Penny asked.

Ciel frowned. "What is that?"

"What is what?"

"Saying the word 'sceptical,'" Ciel explained.

"How else are you supposed to know how I feel?"

"Don't do that," Ciel instructed her. "It sounds ridiculous."

"Now you understand why I'm sceptical," Penny said.

Ciel paused for a moment. "I apologise; that was poorly judged of me." She sat down. "Although, that being said, simply because I cannot be happy while you are unhappy does not mean that your happiness alone is enough to bring me joy."

"Because I have to be happy doing what you want," Penny said.

"What I want is not the issue," Ciel insisted. "The issue is … Penny, why do you think that we have etiquette classes at Atlas?"

Penny was silent for a moment. "I don't know. I thought they were boring."

"I suspect you are not alone in that," Ciel muttered. "Nevertheless, there is a purpose."

"What?"

"Well," Ciel said, "in one of the trashy novels with which Rainbow Dash is unfortunately enamoured, the hero identifies a supposed ally as an enemy spy by the fact that he is so gauche as to order red wine with fish, which no well-educated Atlesian would ever do." She cleared her throat. "Not that I've read any of them, of course."

"Your secret's safe with me, don't worry," Penny said.

Ciel chuckled. "I miss your voice, Penny," she confessed. "I … miss being able to hear the emotion in it as you said such things."

"Amused: Your secret's safe with me."

"That is no substitute at all, I'm afraid," Ciel said dryly. "More pertinently, the reason for an etiquette is not merely the whim of some past headmaster; rather, it is because we are civilised people, defending a civilised world, and it behooves us to behave as such. Virtus, Penny, sometimes translated as virtue — although that is not as exact as the similarity in words might have you think — as set against the furor of grimm and of barbarians alike. And the higher, more refined quality will always triumph over the baser. The Vacuans think us soft, they think that a hard land has made them strong, and with their strength, they would sweep us aside if it came to it, but history shows it is not so. Nor shall it be so, because our virtus will always be superior so long as we maintain it. So, if it sometimes seems that I am hard on you, that I hold you to standards that are unnecessarily higher … it is only because I do not wish to see you fail."

"Because that's your mission," Penny said. "To make sure that I don't fail."

"That is the mission," Ciel conceded. "But it is not the source of my desire. I … I care about you, Penny. It… I confess it saddens me that you did not realise that."

Penny was silent for a moment. "Rainbow Dash says that I should apologise to you, for being mean," she said, "but I don't think this is my fault; how was I supposed to know that you cared when you treat me like that?"

"I treat you as I would treat any of my own brothers!" Ciel declared hotly.

"Do your brothers know that you care about them?" Penny asked.

"Of—" Ciel stopped, because as easy as it would be reflexively to declare that of course they did … she hadn't actually asked.

Such things … they didn't tend to talk about such things in her family. Feelings, care, all rather awkward. And there were always more important things than sentiment, and in any case, with mother and father both so frequently away, she had — as the eldest — been forced to step into a role that made her somewhat more than an equal to her brothers. It was hard to talk about love and devotion when you were trying to corral an increasing number of boys to get their baths, or brush their teeth, or go to bed on time, and I know you didn't say your prayers, Maurice! God may forgive you, but I may not!

She thought about her youngest brother, Alain; he was ill, quite grievously so, if the doctors were not very much mistaken. His condition made him fragile, and Ciel — they all, but Ciel's focus was upon her own behaviour — took great pains with him on account of it.

She wondered, suddenly, if he found that as irksome as Penny apparently found her treatment.

"I … I hope so," she said softly. "But I fear … you are correct; the fact that you could not discern my intent is not your fault. I should have been … I should not have assumed. I am sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Penny said. "I didn't want to … I just wanted to … I want to be my own person."

"And you think that I do not allow that?" Ciel asked.

"What is it that you want me to become, Ciel?" Penny responded.

Ciel considered her response for a little while; she would not lie to Penny — she might only get one chance to say this — but she would phrase the truth in the best way.

"I want you to be a good Atlesian girl," she said.

"Like Rainbow Dash?" Penny asked. "Is she a good Atlesian girl?"

Ciel licked her lips. "Rainbow Dash … our esteemed leader has her virtues, although she is not without fault."

"What about Neon Katt? Or Trixie Lulamoon? Or Starlight Glimmer?"

"Neon is a fine fighter and a better wit," Ciel admitted, "but she takes her virtue to such excess that it becomes a vice; she has in her a little too much levity at times. I confess I do not know those other two save by reputation."

"Are they good Atlesian girls?" Penny asked.

"I think you have a point to make," Ciel guessed. "I would have you share it."

"Why do they get to be weird, or flawed, or less than perfect, or something other than a good Atlesian girl, but I don't?" Penny demanded. "Is it because I was made?"

"Yes," Ciel admitted. "But not for the reasons you think."

She paused for a moment.

"My brother Tyson wants to enlist as a mechanic, the same as my father," she said. "I have no doubt that he will be accepted; he has skilled hands, and the military is always eager for recruits. In that position, any eccentricities he possesses — I confess I do not know if he has any — will be tolerated, as long as he keeps the airships flying. But I … I desire more than that."

Again, she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Do you know that Neon Katt and I grew up in the same tenement in Mantle? That our families worship at the same church?"

"No," Penny said. "I didn't know that."

"No, Neon doesn't seem the religious type, does she?" Ciel commented dryly. "Nevertheless, it is the truth. Neon … Neon is more entertaining to be around than myself, I grant; I myself enjoy her company, although perhaps I should tell her so in case she, too, has failed to realise it. She is witty, charming … and I fear she will be lucky to reach lieutenant in this army, let alone higher. Starlight Glimmer, with her record … she may behave as she pleases, for she has blotted her copybook with her conduct already; no one will trust her with a command. Rainbow Dash enjoys General Ironwood's favour and his patronage. Trixie Lulamoon … as I say, I do not know her; I cannot say whether she realises what an impression she is making with her antics. But I do know that she is not from Mantle."

She took a deep breath and forced down the anger that she felt, the anger that she did not allow herself to feel, over the way in which those who hailed from Mantle were treated like second class within their own kingdom. Over the way in which those with ability and the accomplishments to prove said ability were passed over in favour of those who spoke with the right accent, who came from 'the right background,' who had 'good families' who would speak up for them and ensure their places.

"Do you remember our mission to Cold Harbour?" Ciel asked.

"Yes," Penny replied.

"I fear I maligned Blake there," Ciel admitted. "When she … gave you cause to doubt yourself, and to doubt how Ruby and Pyrrha would react to learning the truth about you, I was very cross with her. But the truth is, she was not entirely wrong. You and I … we will always be outsiders, and that means that we cannot afford to be anything less than good girls, not if we wish to prosper on the inside."

"And what if I don't want that?" Penny asked. "What if I'd rather just be me?"

"You do not know the cost of what you ask," Ciel replied.

"And you do?"

"I know it well; my father has lived it his entire career," Ciel declared, her voice rising even as she herself rose to her feet. "My father … my father wanted to be a pilot. He had the educational qualifications necessary to qualify him to enter flight school, but when he went to the recruiting office, the sergeant assumed, based on his background, that he had come to join up as an enlisted man."

"Why didn't he say anything?"

"He was too nervous," Ciel said, "and confrontation is not his way. It has to be admitted that he is a good mechanic, but at the same time, it must gall him, to have been treated in such a way, never to rise beyond the middle reaches of the non-commissions, to grow old in the service taking orders from a succession of arrogant young officers who do not know one tenth of what he has learned about airships or engineering, but they were born in the right place, and they know the right people!"

She turned away, half-covering her mouth with one hand.

"I am sorry, Penny, I did not mean to raise my voice. The Lady teaches us that anger is not a thing to be indulged. And yet … and yet, there are times when … there are times when I fear that the light of Atlas is not so pure and untarnished as I would have it." She sighed. "But we must live in the world that is, even if we seek to make a better one. I would be more than my father was condemned to. That will not happen if I am not … correct, in all aspects."

"That's what you want," Penny pointed out. "But that doesn't have to be what I want."

"You want to spend your life watching others rise around you while you are ignored?" Ciel asked, turning back towards her.

"I don't think I want to be a general, or a colonel, or even a major," Penny said. "I think I'd rather be happy. Are you happy, Ciel?"

Ciel did not reply for a moment. "So long as you are happy, Penny," she said, "then I will be happy."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Through the Clouds​

"Huh," Rainbow said.

"Hmm?" Ciel said, looking up from her book. "Something interesting?"

They were on the open deck of the skyliner. Everyone was there in some fashion: Rainbow, Ciel, Twilight, Spike, Applejack, Fluttershy, Blake; Twilight had even rigged up Penny's optical sensors to a drone so that – the drone being over there with them – she could 'see' everything that the drone's cameras could see and speak out of a speaker plugged into the miniature flyer. Since Rainbow couldn't bring everyone over to the Hope – you could make a case for Applejack or Blake, but definitely not for Fluttershy – she had instead flown everyone and the drone over to the civilian airship, where they all stood or sat upon the deck. Rainbow was leaning with her back to the safety rail, reading that book that Tukson had given her; Ciel was standing, ramrod straight, in the middle of the deck, likewise reading – In Search of the Historical Lady of the North. Fluttershy was fussing over Spike, while Applejack and Twilight sat on the deck playing cards. Blake leaned upon the rails, her elbows resting on the metal as the breeze whipped through her long dark hair as she looked out across the white expanse of Solitas spread out all around them.

That was why they were all on the open deck; that was why Rainbow had gotten everybody here like this. They had crossed the ocean, and now, the two ships were on their final approach to Atlas itself. Rainbow wanted everyone to be here for that moment when they broke through the clouds and beheld the shining kingdom because… well, because it was a sight to see, and it would be cool for them to all see it together.

It made Rainbow's heart soar, every time.

"I've only just started, but listen to this," Rainbow said. She cleared her throat. "'This book is dedicated to Doughnut Joe Sr., whose shop I frequented when I was living in Atlas.' I never realised that Sienna Khan lived in Atlas; I thought she was from Mistral."

"No," Blake murmured. "She was born in Atlas and only moved to Mistral when she was a young adult."

Twilight looked up. "But why would she dedicate her book to a guy who owned a doughnut shop, even if she did used to go there? It's not like I'd dedicate a book to Mr. and Mrs. Cake."

"I'm getting to that," Rainbow told her. "'He was a man of great curiosity and always willing to talk with me about anything and everything new that I had learned or discovered. One day, he said to me, "You're always talking about this book of yours; why don't you write it?" I told him that I needed to go to Mistral to research in the archives there and that I didn't have the money right now – at the time, I was working as a researcher for the Atlesian News Network, saving as much as I could. Joe asked me how much I needed, and I told him about a thousand lien. That was all he said on the matter at the time, but the next time I was in there, he pressed eleven hundred lien into my hand. "On to Mistral, then," he said, "and if you need more, let me know." Without his help, I would never have been able to start on this journey.'" Rainbow lowered the book. "It makes you think, doesn't it?"

"What does it make you think?" Penny asked, her mechanical voice emerging from out of the drone where it sat on the deck.

"It makes you think about the White Fang," Rainbow explained. "And what would have happened if Joe Senior hadn't lent Sienna that money to go to Mistral. Imagine if he'd kept his lien and Sienna had had to stick around Atlas trying to get enough money together for her trip. Maybe she never would have managed it, and maybe the White Fang would have stayed a peaceful organisation under Blake's father."

"I doubt that," Blake said, turning to face Rainbow. "To be honest, I don't think even Sienna Khan would attribute that kind of importance to herself."

"She is pretty important," Rainbow pointed out. "I mean, she's the reason that the White Fang turned to violence five years ago."

"No," Blake replied, "she's the one who led the White Fang into violence; there's a difference."

"Post hoc ergo propter hoc," Ciel said.

"Post what now?" Applejack said.

"'After this, therefore because of this,'" Twilight translated. "Just because one thing follows on from another doesn't mean that the thing that came before is responsible for what came after."

"But if a leader takes charge of a group and then that leader does a thing, then the leader taking charge is responsible for the thing that they did," Rainbow said. "That seems obvious."

"I believe Blake's point is that at or around that particular moment, it was inevitable that there would be a change of leadership in the White Fang and that that new leader would adopt policies similar to those instituted by Sienna Khan," Ciel said.

"Exactly," Blake agreed. "Five years ago, my father was tired of the struggle, and faunus inside and outside the organisation were tired of the lack of results; it wasn't Sienna Khan who forced my father to step down, it was the general clamour for a new approach. And yes, Sienna Khan was the person who stepped up in those circumstances, and yes, she advocated for a muscular, confrontational, violent approach to the struggle for equality, but no one who didn't advocate for that could have succeeded my father – that was what people wanted, a High Leader who would stand up to the Kingdoms – which means, equally, that anyone who succeeded my father would have done as she did. It's interesting to speculate on Sienna Khan's personal history if she hadn't been given that gift that allowed her to go to Mistral, to study, to publish, to get her PhD, but her personal history is all that would change. If you wanted to change the trajectory of the White Fang, you would have to have my father achieve some tangible results to stave off criticism and renew his energy for the fight."

"So the person doesn't matter?" Applejack asked. "Who they are, where they come from, how they were raised don't make no difference? We're all just… placeholders? Ah don't know if Ah buy that."

"I wouldn't go that far," Blake replied. "Sienna herself goes into much more detail on this in that book, but the thrust of it is that people are shaped by their world far more often than the reverse, and that while writing history as the story of a heroic protagonist shaping said history by their actions may make for a good read, it betrays the complexity of the world and the economic and cultural forces that shape it. Sienna concedes that there is such a thing as a Great Man – and that Ares Claudandus himself was one of them – who can exercise an outsized influence on events, and without whose presence, the course of history would look different; but even they rise out of their specific moments and are shaped by them. Without the Great War, there would have been no Faunus Rights Revolution, Claudandus or no."

Rainbow began, "And Sienna Khan-"

"Is not on that level of greatness, no," Blake said. "As I said, I don't think even she'd claim that."

"Hmm," Rainbow murmured. "I get what you're saying, but… like Applejack said, I don't know."

"None of us are immune to the influence of where and how we grew up," Twilight pointed out.

"Influence, sure, but we're all so much more than that," Rainbow insisted. "What about where or how I grew up made it obvious that I would become a huntress? What about-?" She pointed at Applejack, and then stopped. "Okay, it kind of works for you."

Applejack rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

Rainbow grinned. "Come on, it's not my fault you're like 'salt of the earth family values' one hundred percent."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with family values," Applejack declared. "Or with salt of the earth, for that matter, neither. Ah'm proud to be proud of where Ah come from and what Ah come from."

"I never said there was anything wrong with that; I'm just saying that you really are who you are because of where you were born and how you were brought up in a way that isn't true for the rest of us," Rainbow said. "It isn't true for me, it isn't true for Fluttershy; Fluttershy, your parents were engineers; who could have predicted that you'd be able to communicate with animals, or that your brother would become a hairstylist? And a creep."

"Rainbow Dash!" Fluttershy said reproachfully. "That isn't very nice."

"Nor is getting hit on all the time," Rainbow muttered. "But I'm sorry, you're right, I shouldn't have said it, but the point is that we're all so much more than where we came from. Ciel, sure, your folks are religious, but society isn't, so how do you explain that?"

"I understand your point, but feel as though you may be missing Blake's," Ciel said. "Or at least reducing it down to a level it was not meant to sink to."

"No, I understand what Blake is saying; she's saying that big historical events happen because of everything else that was going on at the same time," Rainbow said. "And I'm saying that, haven't we been involved in big historical events? The White Fang in Vale were not defeated because of the economy or the culture or society or any other big ideas like that; they were defeated because of you, Blake. They were defeated because you decided that you wanted out, you decided that you couldn't take it anymore, you decided that you had to do something. And also because I tried to kill you and scared you into running away and somehow we ended up at the docks but we're all friends now so let's move on anyway. My point is that if Sienna Khan is right, then that would have all happened anyway with or without you, but how? Who would have stopped the robbery, who would have captured Torchwick? Are you just a placeholder, like Applejack said, and if you weren't around, someone else would have left the White Fang and come to Beacon instead? I don't buy that. I don't buy that one bit, and you know why: because no one else did. Only you."

"You never know," Spike said. "Maybe Blake's one of those Great Men of history?"

Rainbow was of the opinion that Spike had a very good point there, and once upon a time, she would have said so, but she'd promised Blake – okay, maybe she hadn't technically promised, but she'd as good as promised Blake – that she wouldn't put that kind of pressure on her anymore, so she didn't say anything, and even tried not to smile as a flush of colour rose to Blake's cheeks.

"That is…" Blake trailed off. "I'm sorry, I still can't believe that you're talking."

"I'm getting that a lot lately," Spike said.

"I also can't believe that you're all so okay with this," Blake said.

"Why wouldn't we be okay with this?" asked Penny.

"It isn't exactly normal," Blake pointed out.

"Neither am I," Penny replied. "Normal is very relative."

"I…" Blake trailed off for a moment. "I suppose you're right about that, Penny."

"Besides, it ain't like we got much choice 'cept to accept it," Applejack drawled. "It is what it is: Spike's talkin' now, and hootin' and hollerin' about it ain't gonna change it."

"I'm a little concerned," Fluttershy admitted, "but I've checked Spike over, and I agree with Twilight that it doesn't seem to have done him any harm."

"I told you I was fine!" Spike declared.

"I know," Fluttershy said, scratching him beneath the chin, "but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know I'd be worried sick if anything was wrong with you."

"Well, when you put it like that," Spike said, rolling over onto his back in Fluttershy's lap, kicking his legs happily in the air.

Blake smiled very slightly at the sight, then turned away to once more look out beyond the airship. They had left the ocean behind, crossing the shoreline and passing over Solitas itself. The water beneath them had changed to tundra fields; it wasn't quite fall yet, so the ground wasn't frozen, but it was hard and rocky and desolate all the same. Nothing grew, nothing lived – or at least not much, and nothing that could be seen at the moment. Venture along the coasts, and you could find penguins, seals, and maybe you might find caribou or, if you were unlucky, a polar bear, but not very many of any of them, and none could be seen right now.

"How do you manage to grow any food?" Blake asked.

"The first colonists didn't bother," Rainbow said. "They lived on seal meat and other things they could hunt, like walruses or whales."

Everyone looked at her.

"I know some things!" Rainbow said defensively.

"Thankfully, we don't do that so much any more," Fluttershy said.

"It was never quite so simple," Ciel announced. "Although it is true there was no farming in the early days of Solitas, there was some gathering of wild plant life."

"But you don't still live on seal and whale meat?" Blake asked.

Applejack shook her head. "We farm just like any other folks do these days. Solitas ain't all this bleak lookin'. There's some darn fine farmin' country off towards the west coast. That's where I grew up; that's where we've still got our family farm: Sweet Apple Acres." Her face fell. "Of course, out west where it's less icy and such, the grimm are a lot friskier than they get out here. Something you always gotta watch out for."

Blake winced. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't sayin' it fer pity," Applejack said. "And I'm just sayin', that's the way it is. You asked, I answered."

"There are also the biodomes," Twilight said.

"Don't talk to me about them; they ain't real farmin'," Applejack said dismissively.

"'Biodomes'?" Blake asked.

"Big greenhouse kind of things," Applejack said. "Artificial indoor farms stuck in the middle of the cold. Lot of robots in 'em, doing all the hard work. Well, like my Pa always said, you ain't a real farmer 'less you getting your hands dirty." She shrugged. "Anyway, truth be told, most of the food in Atlas ain't grown in fancy domes nor in the west. It gets shipped up from Mistral in huge airships."

"Really?" Blake asked.

"Uh-huh," Applejack said.

"The General told me once that about a third of the fleet is protecting the Mistral food convoys at any one time," Rainbow said.

"I suppose there's not much more important than food," Blake said. "A kingdom could survive running out of dust more easily than it could survive running out of food for its people." She paused. "It's funny, isn't it, the way that everything is integrated? As if someone deliberately set out to make the four kingdoms dependent on one another."

"Why would anyone do that?" Twilight asked.

"To prevent another war?" Blake suggested.

"Attention all passengers," the loud-speaker declared, "we are approaching Atlas now. We'll be in sight of the city shortly."

Rainbow shut the book and stowed it hastily in a waterproof bag at her feet. "Okay, everyone this is it, get ready. Blake, Penny, this is your first time, or first time back, so you won't want to miss this."

"I might," Penny murmured as everyone else got up and found somewhere to stand where their view would not be obstructed by anyone or anything.

Rainbow looked at the drone, sat down on the deck. She knelt down in front of it, so that she was closer to the camera. "It's going to be okay, Penny. I'm going to make sure of it." She grinned. "Now come on. This is one of the greatest sights in Remnant."

She picked up the drone and held it up above her head as the skyliner – and the Hope which kept it company – sailed on towards a thick cloud bank, a wall of whiteness which obscured anything which might be found upon the other side.

The frigid tundra, white with the snow which covered the ground, bleak with the lack of anything but snow, fell away beneath the airships as they sailed onwards. The skyliner's wings beat up and down, up and down, as it bore its passengers towards the clouds.

The Hope was slightly in the lead, and its long prow was the first to pierce the cloudbank. The black hull began to disappear from sight as more and more of the great ship flew into the all-consuming whiteness, but Rainbow could still see the green position lights of the cruiser's port side blinking on and off, dim but visible, penetrating out through the cloud.

Then the bow of their own ship, just a few feet away, passed into the clouds, and as it did so, Rainbow ceased to be able to see it. The cloud, the wall of white, seemed to roll towards them over the deck, devouring all before it.

"My glasses always get so wet after this," Twilight moaned.

"It's part of the experience," Rainbow said, as with one hand – the other still holding Penny's drone aloft – she pulled her goggles down over her eyes.

But as the cloud bank engulfed her, engulfed them all, as it swept across the skyliner and consumed it, Rainbow didn't activate any of the modes that might have helped her see better. Not only would they have spoiled the view when they came out of the clouds again, but Rainbow felt as though this, too, was part of the experience.

Everyone was gone. Everyone had disappeared, lost from sight in a fog so thick that Rainbow couldn't see them. They had been so close before, all around her, but now, they were gone, as if they had been snatched away in an instant.

There was nothing. Nothing but the deck beneath her feet – a deck which, for all that she could see, didn't extend much past her feet – and the blinking green lights of the Hope where it flew upon their right, and even then, it seemed to be nothing but green lights, disembodied, blinking as they floated in the air.

The droplets of water touched her face, tickling her cheeks, dousing her hair. She could feel the water running down her raised arm.

"Is everyone still here?" Penny asked.

"We are, Penny," Ciel confirmed, her voice emerging from out of nowhere. "We are all still here."

"Am I the only one who thinks this is a little creepy?" Spike asked.

"Only if you're quiet," Twilight said. "And even then, it's the good kind of creepy."

"There's a good kind of creepy?"

"Of course there is," Twilight explained. "It's the difference between a horror ride and a horrifying experience."

"Does it always take this long?" Blake asked.

"It builds suspense," Rainbow replied.

Blake paused for a moment, before she asked archly. "When we get out of this cloud, are we going to find that somebody has been murdered."

"'Murdered'?" Penny cried. "Why would anyone be murdered?"

"Blake is referring to a cliché of melodramas and murder mysteries," Ciel explained. "A group of characters gather in a room. The lights go out. Somebody screams. The lights come on again, and one of the characters is dead. Obviously, that will not happen here."

Rainbow let out a blood-curdling scream at the top of her voice, prompting a squeal of alarm from Fluttershy.

"Rainbow Dash!" Applejack snapped reproachfully.

"Oh, come on!" Rainbow replied, as sniggers slipped out of her mouth. "Ciel set that one up perfectly!"

"That was not my intent," Ciel murmured.

"I thought it was funny," Penny said.

"Thanks, Penny," said Rainbow Dash.

And then the skyliner passed through the layer of cloud, emerging once again into the clear skies to behold, floating in the air before them, Atlas.

It was the most glorious sight that Rainbow Dash had ever seen, and probably would ever see; certainly, she couldn't imagine anything more magnificent than the sight that confronted them as they cleared the cloudbank. This was what they were here for, this was why she had gathered them all out here on the open deck, because this… this was worth it.

The city of Atlas flew. It was something that everyone knew, but it was one thing to know it and quite something else to see it, an entire city raised up into the sky, reaching towards heaven.

And they weren't just talking about floating buildings, or a flat disk to build upon, no, this was a whole chunk of rock, a mass of earth so deep that a crater had been left where it had been before, all of it lifted up out of the ground by gravity dust and great engines of unmatched power.

Lifted out of the ground by science and cleverness, by geniuses like Twilight and Penny's father, by the same kind of people who had designed the fleet of airships that patrolled around the city, the black shapes of the cruisers looking like insects buzzing around their hive.

The skyliner was approaching from slightly higher than the city itself, although not as high as the highest towers, so Rainbow and the others could get a good view of the upper city as they made their way in: they could see the irrigated fields on the east and west sides, where the climate control systems allowed a little farming to be done in spite of the temperatures and the high altitudes; she could see the miniature mountains to the north, which would have been dwarfed by the actual mountains on the tundra below if Atlas had been set down upon the ground but which looked pretty cool when taken by themselves – how many people could say they made their mountains fly, huh, even if they were just little mountains? She could see the raised spur on the eastern side just below the mountains, the mansions of the Schnees and the Marigolds built up on the highest land in the highest place in Remnant where people could live. She could see the rest of Atlas, forming first an O around the central peak, then moving downwards between the farmland to the east and west before spreading out like a fish's tail as it approached the edge of Atlas, stopping short of that edge because, you know, it was a long way down to the tundra below. She could see the high towers of glass and steel, she could see the megamalls, and the parks, and the open squares. She could see the monorail lines looping around the Academy and spreading out across the city.

And she could see Atlas Academy itself, the highest pinnacle in the highest city, set upon a lonely mountain of dark rock, joined by air and monorail and elevator with the city around it; the grounds weren't as spacious as Beacon, it didn't have the same wide open expanse, but it was beautiful nonetheless, at least in her eyes: the iron tower, lit up with lights of blue and white, surrounded by lesser towers like the points on a crown.

And it shone. It shone in the night with the million lights that were as high up as the stars themselves, it shone in daylight as the sunlight reflected off the glass. It shone with what it was, what it meant, what it represented, not just the greatest kingdom, but a shining light for all the kingdoms. A promise to Remnant.

A promise you broke.

Rainbow Dash frowned. That was Sunset talking, not her. She was… she didn't feel… she had done what she had to do, for Applejack. More than that, she'd done the tactically smart thing. She'd done the only sensible thing. None of what had happened after was on her. She had no regrets.

This wasn't the time for regrets, or the place, not with Atlas in view, and getting closer.

True, it wasn't perfect, and true, the presence of Low Town in the crater down below, lurking in the shadow of Atlas above like a shameful secret, was like a stain on a picture – except worse, because it was kind of like a stain on the spirit too, but still… it was Atlas. It was Atlas, bright and beautiful, grand and glorious, Atlas in all her radiant majesty and hers. Hers to have, hers to fight for, hers to share with those she loved.

A shining kingdom in the clouds, for all of them.

"Everyone," Rainbow said, a smile spreading out across her face. "We're home."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Welcome​

"Does anyone need a ride anywhere?" Weiss asked.

The Rosepetals had returned to the cruiser; they had to take Penny to the lab to begin her repairs immediately, and so Blake and the others might not be seeing them again for a little while. Blake, Applejack, and Fluttershy had gone back to their cabins to get their bags — Blake had been packed and ready before they went up on deck — and were now waiting on the concourse deck for the airship to finish docking and let them out. Weiss and Flash had joined them there, likewise waiting alongside all the other passengers aboard the skyliner. The hubbub of casual conversation rose all around them as men and women waited to depart.

"You mean share a cab or somethin'?" Applejack asked.

"No," Weiss replied. "I, um…" She paused and, for a moment, looked a little embarrassed to have brought the subject up. "My, um," she cleared her throat. "My butler will be coming to pick me up in the limo, and it would be no trouble to drop you off wherever you'd like to go."

"That's very kind of you," Fluttershy said, "but we're meeting my parents at the skydock, so we'll be fine."

"Are you sure that it's okay for me to stay at your house?" Blake asked. Fluttershy had offered her the use of the spare room in her parents' place for the duration of her stay. "I wouldn't want to put your family to any trouble."

Fluttershy smiled. "It will be fine, Blake; my parents are looking forward to having you. We couldn't just let you stay in some hotel all by yourself after everything you've done for us."

"Ah'd let you stay at mah place," Applejack said. "Only mah place is on the other side of Solitas."

"So where are you staying until you go back there?" Blake asked. "Or are you leaving right away?"

"Nah, Ah'm stayin' with Pinkie for a little bit," Applejack said. "Just a couple of days, most likely, but still. Most of her family spend their time out on their estate, so the Atlas house always has plenty of room — it's just Pinkie and Maud right now — but… well, Pinkie can take some gettin' used to; Ah ain't sure you'd want to room with her."

"Hmm," Blake murmured. "I think I know what you mean."

"I wouldn't mind taking you up on that offer, Weiss," Flash ventured. "I mean, if it's no trouble; I wouldn't want to put you out."

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't willing to follow through," Weiss informed him. "Trust me, going out of my way a little before going home will not be putting me out."

The bulkhead opened. Unlike at Beacon, where the airships that carried them to school had extended a ramp out to meet the docking pads which had been built only for much smaller airships, here, the skyliner had landed bodily upon the much larger docking platform, and at once, the passengers began to pour of the open doors, heading across the dark grey platform to the docking complex on the other side.

Applejack grinned. "Well, y'all have fun, now."

"Thank you," Weiss said. "It was lovely to meet you… all of you." She glanced at Blake before she began to move, dragging her case behind her as she joined the throne headed for the doors.

"Bye, girls," Flash said, before he fell in behind Weiss.

"Goodbye, Flash," Fluttershy said.

"Don't be a stranger, ya hear?" Applejack called to him.

Flash, already halfway to the door, turned and waved back at them before he turned away, presenting his back to them once more. Soon, they had lost him in the crowd.

"We should probably get movin' ourselves," Applejack said. Winona, on a leash at Applejack's side, tugged upon the lead in her eagerness, but Applejack kept a firm grip on it and kept her dog from getting away or causing any trouble as the three of them made their way out.

They were some of the last to leave, joining the tail end of the crowd as they spilled out of the narrow exit and onto the wide expanse of tarmac, and then narrowing again like a river which briefly forms a lake to pile through the doors into the skydock. A blast of cold air hit Blake's face — and other places besides, biting through clothing that she was beginning to think might not be entirely suitable for the surroundings — as they left, before being replaced by a sudden feeling of warmth as they stepped out of the open and into the skydock lounge.

The access and exit lounge was white as snow, with lights flickering through the colours of the aurora above them so that the white lounge was continuously being cast into different shades — and so was everyone within it. Android attendants, the cool blue lights of their heads reflecting off their pristine white bodies, moved amongst the rows of padded chairs, bearing trays of drinks and snacks. A hologram of a woman in a crisp blue uniform was being projected from a raised circular podium near the door.

"Greetings, visitors, and welcome to Atlas," the hologram said in a chipper voice. "I'm sure that you'll enjoy your stay here in the greatest kingdom in Remnant. Unless, of course, you are Atlesian and returning to us, in which case, welcome home! Now that you've seen what lies beyond, I'm confident you'll never want to leave again! Those of you travelling from other kingdoms on a first class ticket may be confused by the absence of a first class lounge. It's quite simple really: here in Atlas, first class is standard class! So please take a seat, and an attendant will be with you shortly to offer you a full selection of hot, cold, or alcoholic beverages — proof of age may be required — as well as snacks, cakes, sandwiches, and hot meals all included in the price." The hologram looked directly at Blake. "Blake Belladonna, welcome; it appears that you don't have any accommodation or transport booked; why not use one of our terminals and rectify your lack of forethought before you leave?"

Blake's ears pricked. "How… how does it-?"

"It accesses your scroll through the network," Fluttershy explained.

"It can do that?"

"Uh huh," Applejack muttered. "Sometimes Ah think we got a little too much fancy technology around here."

Winona barked.

"Jacqueline Apple," the hologram said, "all dogs must be kept on a lead at all times."

"And Ah hate it when it does that, too," Applejack said. "Come on, let's go."

"What is the point of that?" Blake asked as they made their way towards the exit. "Other than making people uncomfortable?"

"It's a security measure," Fluttershy explained.

"It's supposed to detect wrong'uns," Applejack clarified. "Accessin' their data, findin' out who they really are, that kind of thing. Ah guess it's needful, what with shapeshiftin' White Fang types trying to impersonate Councillors — no offence."

"None taken," Blake said evenly.

"But that don't mean Ah gotta like it, and Ah'll wager Ah'm not the only one who feels that way," Applejack went on.

They left the lounge, emerging onto the concourse, which was every bit as starkly white as the lounge, but without the somewhat distracting lighting that shifted colours nearly constantly; Blake wondered if the absence of it here was because the queues of people lining up to buy or collect their airship tickets needed to be able to see in order to work the machines.

As they walked, Blake could hear the terminals talking to the customers.

"Greetings, customer! If you are collecting a pre-booked ticket, press the green 'Collect Tickets' icon; if not, select the red 'Choose My Destination' icon to choose your destination."

"Hooray! You have selected a destination! I'm sure you will enjoy your visit to… Mantle. Now it's time to pay!"

"You're all set! Enjoy your destination and have a nice day!"

Blake couldn't help but think they sounded inordinately cheerful; far more so, in fact, than the people using them appeared to be.

"So," she said, "where are-?"

"YOU'RE BACK!"

Blake's eyes widened, and her ears pricked up in astonishment, as a pink blur appeared out of nowhere and collided with Applejack, who did very well to keep her feet — and keep hold of Winona's lead in one hand — in the face of the flying object which resolved itself into Pinkie Pie, dressed in a puffy blue parka and tight lavender pants, with her arms wrapped around Applejack's neck.

"You're back," Pinkie repeated, slightly more quietly this time, before she reached out with one hand to grab Fluttershy, pulling her in so that she had one arm around each of them. "Both of you. You're back and you're okay and you're right here."

Applejack smiled fondly as she wrapped her free arm around Pinkie. "It's good to see you too, Pinkie Pie."

"We missed you as well," Fluttershy added.

"'Missed you'? It's not just about missing you!" Pinkie cried. "I mean, I did miss you, of course I missed you, I missed you every single day, but that's not what this is about! This is about the fact that… that we almost lost you."

"But we didn't, Pinkie Pie," Rarity declared as she strode towards them, wearing a sparkling overcoat of royal blue with buttons fashioned to resemble gemstones and a light grey fur — or faux fur — trim around the hem. "So let's leave the past behind us and not dwell on old unpleasantness. Our friends are safe; that's all that matters now." She turned to Blake. "And I believe that we have you to thank for that, Blake."

Blake looked away. "I… I didn't do anything; I was just… there."

"Oh, you were just there when a rescue mission happened to be going on," Rarity said dryly. "Well, if you put it like that… I mean, haven't we all found ourselves in that situation at one time or another, just passing through when people are being rescued in the vicinity?"

Blake looked at her.

"I may not have taken my combat training as far as some," Rarity added, "but I do know that not everyone can be the one who kicks down the door and cuts the bonds. In the circumstances, I think that simply being there is quite enough, and quite worthy of praise." She held out one pale, slender hand; the golden band around her wrist glimmered under the lights. "Thank you," she said. "I only wish I could conceive of a circumstance in which I could repay you."

Blake took her hand, and was a little surprised by the firmness of Rarity's grip. "You say that," she replied. "But I have been wondering about whether I'm really dressed for this kingdom-"

"Well, I wasn't going to bring it up — it would have been rather rude to have done so unprompted — but yes, darling, your attire is somewhat unsuitable. It won't repay our debt, but what do you say tomorrow we go shopping for something a little more appropriate?"

Blake smiled, even as she let go of Rarity's hand. "That sounds like a great idea. I'll look forward to it."

"Marvellous!" Rarity declared. "I'd offer to make you something, but I'm afraid you need it rather sooner than that. Although I shall probably make you something anyway, because one can never have too many outfits, can one? Anyway, I'll pick you up at Fluttershy's, we can go shopping, and maybe see some of the sights of our fair city afterwards."

Blake nodded. "I… yes, that would be great, I'm sure."

"Maybe if Rainbow and Twilight are done with their work, we can all meet up," Pinkie suggested, releasing Applejack and Fluttershy.

"That would be nice," Applejack said. "But Ah don't know if it'll be possible; they said they're gonna be pretty busy."

"But you're going to stick around until they're not so busy so we can all hang out, right?" Pinkie asked. "You have to! We have to all go to Sugarcube Corner together like we promised! Our first trip as the Spectacular Seven!"

"Um, 'the Spectacular Seven'?" Fluttershy murmured.

"Uh huh," Pinkie said, nodding eagerly. "There were six of us, but now we have Blake; that makes seven."

"Pinkie," Fluttershy said softly. "I'm not sure that Blake-"

"I'm honoured," Blake said, "to be a part of your group, provided that none of you object."

Applejack chuckled. "It ain't our objections we were worried about," she said. "And yeah, I'll stick around. We do deserve some kind of reunion."

Pinkie gasped. "A reunion party, that's perfect! Applejack, you're a genius!"

"That wasn't quite what I-" Applejack began.

"The cab is waiting outside," said a girl who sauntered up to them. She was tall, taller than Blake, about of a height with Rainbow Dash, with stern grey-violet hair with bangs, cut straight across her forehead, descending to about the level of her eyebrows, with the rest of her hair straight down around her head to just below her shoulders. She was dressed in grey, with only a black belt to add a little variety. Her voice was soft, and rather even, without much in the way of inflections. "Hey, Applejack. Good to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Maud," Applejack said, taking a step towards her and holding out one hand. "How've you been?"

Maud slowly took Applejack's hand. "I'm good," she said in that same even tone.

"This here is Blake Belladonna; she's been workin' with Rainbow Dash these past few months," Applejack said. "Helped get me out of a tricky spot too. Blake, this is Maud Pie, used to be mine and Dash's teammate."

"I'm also Pinkie's sister," Maud said. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Blake murmured. "You have the same… eyes."

"So I've been told," Maud said. "Pinkie, we should go. The meter's running."

"Okay, looks like this is goodbye for now," Applejack said. "See you soon Fluttershy, Blake."

"See you both tomorrow, darlings!" Rarity trilled.

"It's nice to see you, by the way, Rarity."

"Oh, Applejack, you know I'm always delighted to see you!" Rarity said, and as the four of them walked away, she put one hand on Applejack's back. "But there, I've said it, do you feel better now?"

Fluttershy smiled. "I suppose we have tomorrow planned out already."

"Yes," Blake said. "Unless… sorry, I didn't think, did you-?"

"No, it's fine," Fluttershy said. "What better way to start than by showing you around Atlas? Anyway, we should probably get going; I'm sure my parents will be waiting around here somewhere."

XxXxX​

"Welcome home, Miss Schnee," Klein declared jovially as he waited by the side of the waiting car.

Weiss smiled. "It's good to see you again, Klein," she said, carefully not saying that it was good to be home. "I'd like you to meet my teammate, Flash Sentry; Flash, this is my family butler, Klein Sieben."

Klein was a short, slightly portly man with a round face and a slightly large nose; his eyes, at the moment, were a shade of light brown, the same shade of remaining hair that circled the back of his head and, indeed, the moustache that covered his upper lip. The bald crown that was normally visible was presently concealed beneath a hat, just as whatever else he might be wearing was hidden beneath his dark double-breasted overcoat.

"Pleasure to meet you," Flash said affably.

"Hmm," Klein murmured as he took a step towards Flash. His eyes turned to a smouldering red as he suddenly thrust his face forward into Flash's space. His voice hardened and became a harsh croak as he said, "Now listen, sonny, I don't know what your little game is, but any funny business, and you'll answer to me, understand?"

"Klein!" Weiss gasped.

Klein's eyes changed colour again, turning to a bright blue as he laughed a childish giggling laugh. "Sorry, madam, just having a little joke."

Flash laughed nervously, casting a sidelong glance at Weiss.

"Flash isn't used to you, Klein," Weiss pointed out. "Try and bear that in mind."

Klein's eyes returned to their usual brown colour. "Of course, Miss Schnee. Forgive me, sir."

"That's uh, fine," Flash said. "Don't worry about it."

"I told Flash that we'd give him a ride home," Weiss explained.

"Ah, then allow me to take your luggage, sir," Klein said, and he seized Flash's case without waiting to be invited. "Miss Schnee."

"Thank you, Klein," Weiss said as she handed over her own case in turn.

As Klein put the luggage in the boot, Flash stepped closer to Weiss and whispered to her, "What's with the eye colour?"

"It's… I suppose you could call it his party piece," Weiss explained. "He can change his voice, his mannerisms-"

"How is he changing his eye colour?" Flash asked.

"I don't know," Weiss admitted. "But ever since I was a little girl, he's always been able to cheer me up by 'becoming a different person,' as it were. It's just something he does and something I appreciate."

"I… well, I won't say that I understand, but that's fine," Flash replied. "Just so long as he doesn't actually hate me just for standing near you."

Weiss chuckled as the two of them made their way into the car. It was her father's car, which meant that it was spacious and comfortable, without chairs at the back, but rather, a sofa which wound from the door to the back, then around in a blocky U-shape before stopping at the other door. The seats were crushed leather and soft beneath them.

There was a mini-bar propped up against the partition separating the passenger section from the driver, although it was currently empty; however, the glasses marked with the Schnee snowflake were still there, even if there was nothing to put in them.

"Nice," Flash observed. "Very nice."

"Mmm," Weiss murmured noncommittally.

"Is something wrong?" Flash asked.

"No, nothing," Weiss replied. "I just… it's nothing."

Klein, having stowed their luggage, returned to the driver's seat in the front. "Where to, young man?"

"Number Nine, Frederick Street, please," Flash replied.

"Of course, sir," Klein replied, and the car sprung to life, elevating just off the road and beginning to glide above it, guided by Klein's deft hand on the wheel as he drove them out of the skydock car park and onto the roads. Atlas was not completely friendly to cars — there were quite a few narrow pedestrianised districts where people could move on foot without fear — but there were also roads enough for them to get around unimpeded.

"So," Weiss said, leaning back on the leather sofa, "do you have any plans?"

Flash hesitated. "Not really," he admitted. "I guess I'll just see what happens. You?"

"No," Weiss replied. "No, I don't have anything planned. I'm not even sure that I'll be able to keep in practice."

"Maybe we could… practice together, sometime?" Flash suggested.

The corners of Weiss' lips turned upwards slightly. "I'd like that," she said. "Unfortunately, I can't guarantee it. I think that I shall have to remain at home for most of this vacation."

"It's not enough that you're here in Atlas?" Flash asked.

"I…" Weiss sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "It ought to be, but… I don't know. I'm not sure what my father… I'm not sure why he's so anxious to have me back. It may involve a blizzard of tedious social functions, for all I know. He might even want me to sing."

Flash shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, if you can get away, give me a call. I'd… I'd like to see you."

"I will," Weiss promised. "If I can get away."

The rest of the journey to Flash's home passed in silence, a silence made awkward not by the company but by the situation — or perhaps better to say, the uncertainty of Weiss' situation, the questions to which there were no answers, the things that they could not speak of regarding her father and his intent in dragging Weiss back here from Beacon. It would have been difficult to speak freely at the best of times, but judging by the way in which Flash kept glancing at Klein up in the front, Weiss thought that he might also be put off by the butler's presence. Technically, he did work for her father, after all, and while Weiss knew that Klein would never betray her confidence, she also didn't want to put him in the position where he would have to lie to her father. For all his faults, or perhaps because of them, Jacques Schnee was not a man to be trifled with, and it was hardly Weiss' desire to see faithful old Klein thrown out on the street like Laberna had been before him. Once had been quite bad enough; to have it happen again and because of her, because of a position she had put him in… no, she could not bear that. She wouldn't treat Klein that way; she would not discomfort him that way.

And so she allowed Flash his misapprehension and kept her own counsel until the car pulled up outside of an elegant townhouse in one of the more elegant streets in Atlas.

"This is me," Flash said as the car came to a stop. "Thanks for the lift."

"It was no trouble," Weiss said as Klein got out and began to walk around the car to get Flash's luggage out of the trunk. "I hope to see you, but if I don't, have a good break."

"Thanks," Flash said. "I… I'd wish you the same, but I'm worried it would come off as clueless or fake."

"I'll take it in the spirit that it was intended," Weiss assured him.

Flash nodded. He opened the door and started to climb out. "Call me, if you can," he said. "Or even if you can't," he added. "I mean, even if you can't leave the house, we can still talk, right? I'd like… I'd like to know you're okay."

And what would you do if I wasn't? Weiss thought, but did not say. It might have sounded like a discouraging question, and she didn't want to discourage Flash any more than she wanted to compromise Klein. And besides, it was a good point about their scrolls; just because they couldn't meet didn't mean that they needed to have nothing to do with one another.

"I'll call you when I get home," she promised.

"Great," Flash said. "I want to know that… if you need… let me know if… tell me if there's anything wrong."

"I will," Weiss said. It was not a lie, but at the same time… it would depend on what exactly was wrong. It was very gallant of him to clumsily offer his aid like that, but her father was not a monster to be defeated by a gallant knight in shining armour. An eager young man with a good heart could not rescue her from his castle. If it was that easy, she would have rescued herself some time ago.

Nevertheless, her lie — or half-truth — seemed to reassure Flash; he looked a lot better, even smiling as he shut the door, accepted his luggage from Klein, and made his way up the steps towards his own door.

As Klein returned to the driver's seat, Weiss slipped out and into the front, sitting down on the less comfortable seat beside him.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked.

"Not at all, Miss Weiss," Klein said as he started the car again. "He seems a nice enough young man," he added as the car began to move at his instruction.

"Yes," Weiss said, a slight smile playing across her face. "He is a nice young man."

"Is he-?"

"No," Weiss said quickly. "He's my teammate, and I think it's rather foolish to mix relations that way."

"I wasn't aware there were any rules against that at Beacon," Klein observed. "Although I know that there are in Atlas."

"No, Beacon doesn't have rules against… fraternising within the team," Weiss agreed. "But perhaps it should. It seems… a little unwise to take the risk, when you still have to work together, put your lives in one another's hands, even after things haven't worked out."

"Assuming that things don't work out, Miss Schnee."

"Yes, but one has to account for the possibility," Weiss said. "I think, to try it, you would have to be either unaware of the risks or else very, very certain that it was going to last, at least until graduation."

"No doubt you're right, ma'am," Klein said in a voice that made it unclear if he really did think that Weiss was right or not. "If I may, I'm glad to see that you have at least one friendly face at school."

"I'm closer to Flash than to my other teammates," Weiss admitted, "but I think we've reached an understanding. By the end of the semestern we were working quite well together."

"Really, Miss Schnee?"

"Yes," Weiss declared proudly. "We were seconded to the Flying Squad of the Valish Police Department and assisted in the capture of a dangerous White Fang terrorist and his associates."

"That does sound terribly impressive, Miss Schnee," Klein said. "And I understand that you were involved in that dreadful business with the grimm recently."

"Yes," Weiss murmured. "As you say, it was… not good."

"Although it could have been much worse, so they say," Klein added.

"Well, the city didn't fall to the grimm, which it could have done," Weiss replied. "So, yes, I suppose you could say that it could have been worse. Although, I think that a horde of grimm emerging out of the ground into Vale itself is probably bad enough."

"It does make me glad to live in Atlas, Miss Schnee."

"Because we don't have an underground for the grimm to come up from?"

"I suppose so," Klein acknowledged. "But also because it isn't the sort of thing that one can ever imagine happening here. It just doesn't happen in Atlas."

"It didn't happen in Vale either, until it did," Weiss pointed out.

"No, but that's Vale," Klein said. "Atlas is, well, Atlas, and it always will be." He paused for a moment. "But in spite of that, are you enjoying Beacon, Miss Schnee? I must confess, there was a time when I was worried about you there. Not because of the physical danger — I know that you're extraordinarily capable — but because things… didn't seem to be going so well."

"You mean when I had to ask my father for help in getting the press off my back?" Weiss asked.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, ma'am, yes."

"That was… a low point," Weiss admitted. "But, as I say, I've come to an understanding with my teammates, and our performance has improved accordingly. And, although it came at a price, it's one that I'm prepared to pay."

"But are you happy there?" Klein pressed.

"Not all the time, no," Weiss conceded. "But the path to success cannot always be easy; indeed, one might almost say that it should not always be easy. I may not always enjoy it, but I am more convinced than ever that this is the road I want to walk."

"I see," Klein said. "And how is Miss Winter, if I may ask?"

"Well, I think," Weiss replied. "Although her duties mean I don't see much of her."

"She, too, has found the road she wishes to walk."

"Yes, and she's doing quite well," Weiss said. "She's a brevet major now, and on General Ironwood's staff."

"I had no idea, ma'am," Klein said. "Your father doesn't much mention Miss Winter these days."

I'll bet he doesn't. "How is my father?"

"As successful as ever, Miss Weiss."

"And my mother?"

Klein hesitated for a moment. "I'm afraid she's suffering the old trouble again."

You mean she's drinking. Weiss sighed. "I see. And Whitley?"

"Oh, Master Whitley is in very high spirits, ma'am."

"Really?"

"Yes, indeed, Miss Weiss," Klein assured her. Once more, he paused for a moment. "I know that you're not overjoyed to be here, but I hope you understand what I mean when I say that I'm glad to see you back. I've missed you, Miss Weiss."

Weiss smiled. "I understand perfectly. Thank you, Klein."

Shortly after, having passed out of Atlas and up onto the Spur where the self-proclaimed elite of Atlas made their homes, Klein pulled up the car in front of the palatial Schnee Manor. The house that Weiss' grandfather had built was large enough to swallow entire city districts, a grand expanse built in the Art Deco style, with two wings five storeys high and a centre flanked by four high towers — two at the front and two at the back, just visible from the front — which were too narrow to have anything but decorative value. The driveway itself was interrupted by a raised section, upon which were mounted three pillars, one — in the middle — much taller than the others, and all topped with the Schnee snowflake; they glowed only faintly in the daylight, but come nightfall, they would shine as bright as the stars themselves.

It was a beautiful house. Weiss only wished that that which lay within could be so fair.

"Chin up, Miss Schnee," Klein urged as he lifted her luggage out of the boot. "I'll take these to your room, shall I?"

"Yes, Klein, thank you," Weiss said, and as Klein carried the bags inside, Weiss remained outside for a moment longer, looking up at this immense house.

Immense, beautiful, and yet, like the company whose wealth had financed the house, it had become corrupted. Something wicked had crept in and taken root here.

She did not want to go in. She did not want to enter here. She did not want to come back, she didn't want to stay, she didn't want to subject herself to what it meant to live in this house and be a part of this family. But she was a part of this family; she availed herself of the luxuries of being part of this family. And there was a price she had to pay for that. This price.

Weiss took a brief breath and attempted to steel herself as she walked in through the door which Klein had left open for her.

She closed it behind her. It shut heavily, with a solid thump that seemed to seal not only itself but also her fate.

Oh, don't be melodramatic; it's only for a little while.

That doesn't mean I have to like it, though.

"Ah, home the hero comes," Whitley said. Her younger brother was small and slight, with a fragile build that was accentuated — in Weiss' eyes, at least — by his utter lack of martial training. But while he showed no sign of inheriting any of the warlike talent or semblance of the Schnee family, he did possess their white hair, blue eyes, and remarkably pale complexion. He was dressed like their father in miniature, with a blue-grey waistcoat over a white shirt, dark trousers, and polished shoes.

"Hello, Whitley," Weiss said dryly.

Whitley approached across the large but largely empty hall, crossing the giant snowflake emblazoned on the floor. "I'd ask if you missed us, but I know that you're only here because you ran into some trouble at school."

"So," Weiss murmured, "you know about that?"

"Yes," Whitley said. "I was sorry to hear about it, although I don't see why it bothered you. Accusations of that nature never seem to bother Father."

"I'm not our father," Weiss said.

"No," Whitley agreed. "You've got a thinner skin. I also heard that you were in some sort of battle. Was it dangerous?"

"Battles usually are," Weiss replied.

"Well, thank you for trying to get yourself killed so that I can inherit the company," Whitley drawled, "but it all seems so very… unnecessary. Why do you need to risk your life in these barbarous brawls when there are so many other people who can do that for you? People… with less to lose."

"I doubt you'd understand it even if I tried to explain it to you," Weiss said.

She didn't even get the chance to explain it to him, because at that moment, their father appeared, descending the stairs towards them. Jacques Schnee, although not a Schnee by birth, nevertheless appeared to possess the features common to the name: the white hair, the blue eyes, although the painting of him as a younger man showed his moustache as black. But then, he had been younger then, and the moustache which had been pencil thin was now rather thicker, so perhaps he had simply gotten older. He was dressed in a white suit with a blue shirt and just a hint of a blue waistcoat visible beneath, with a white tie and a red handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket.

His hands were clasped behind his back, and his smile did not reach all the way to his eyes.

"Weiss, sweetheart," he said, "how wonderful to see you again." He crossed the hall to her and planted a kiss upon her cheek. "Welcome home. It's so good to have you back where you belong."

Weiss fought the urge to wipe her face. "Hello, Father. It's good to see you again."

"Of course," Jacques said. "Now, you must be tired after your trip, so why don't you go to your room and rest up for a little while?"

Weiss bowed her head. "Of course, Father."

"But I'm having a little dinner party at eight, just a few business associates," Jacques went on. "So make sure that you're both presentable by then. Sadly, your mother will be too ill to attend, but I'm sure that you'll both make a good impression. Especially you, Weiss; everyone would be delighted if you would sing for us."

Weiss sighed. "Of course, Father, I'd be delighted to."

Welcome home, Weiss.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Polendina​

Doctor Japeth Polendina was a man entering the end of middle age, with long hair falling down in waves to his shoulders, carefully brushed back from his forehead and curled around his ears. His hair remained dark, in spite of the fact that his beard was almost completely grey or white with only a few flecks of darkness remaining. His eyes were brown and sharp and fixed upon the three organic members of Team RSPT as they wheeled Penny into the lab on a pair of gurneys.

Rainbow and Ciel pushed the first gurney, with Penny's actual body on it; for reasons of operational secrecy, they had to wheel her in covered up in a black bodybag – what people thought they were doing, wheeling a dead body around the office of Research & Development, hardly bore thinking about, but if everyone had been able to see Penny, it would have looked even stranger. They had tried to be as gentle as possible as they had carried Penny out of The Bus and then wheeled her down off the landing pad on top of the research building, into the elevator and down the hall; Rainbow wasn't sure what, if anything, Penny could still feel, but there was no reason not to be gentle with her. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to avoid the bumps getting the stretcher into and out of the lift.

But they were here now, and now, they could finally unzip the black bag and, together, lift Penny out of said bag and off the gurney and place her on the high-tech examination table. Said table sat in the centre of the lab and had all kinds of scanners and stuff built into it. It was solid and grey, and the surface was white right now, though it would change soon enough once it got turned on.

Penny was completely still. She had been disconnected from the computer and from any drone, so she couldn't speak. It was all kinds of unfortunate that they'd had to stuff her up in that bag, because she looked… kind of dead already. It was only the light in her eyes that stopped from looking like a corpse.

At least there are no injuries to cover up because they're too upsetting to look at.

Twilight followed Rainbow and Ciel inside, pushing the second stretcher with the disconnected blades of Floating Array laid out upon it.

The lab to which they had brought Penny and her weapons was cold, grey, and metallic, with the only spots of subdued colour coming from the computer monitors that lined four out of the six walls of the hexagonal chamber. The lighting was subdued, leaving Doctor Polendina in his pristine white lab coat to stand out all the more in the room. His stare was more like a glare as the two huntresses and Twilight brought in Penny in all her pieces.

Rainbow and Ciel both stood to attention. Although Doctor Polendina wasn't an officer, he was a senior member of the R&D division and was entitled to respect on that basis.

For now.

Twilight didn't stand to attention; she'd been a part of Doctor Polendina's team working on Penny, so he knew that she wasn't any kind of huntress and wouldn't expect her to act like one. Instead, she crossed the room to stand by Moondancer, the only one of Doctor Polendina's assistants who was here today, where she lurked in the corner.

"Team Rosepetal reporting, sir," Rainbow said.

Doctor Polendina glowered as he made his way over to the examining table. "Penny. Oh, Penny, what have they done to you?" He glowered at Rainbow Dash. "What have you done to her?"

"Doctor, this isn't Rainbow Dash's fault," Twilight murmured.

Doctor Polendina ignored her. "Are you the team leader?"

Rainbow's face was without expression. "Yes, sir, I am."

"Then this is your fault," Doctor Polendina said. "Your job is to protect my daughter; that is your only job! How could you let this happen?"

"My report-"

"I have already read your damn report; I know what happened!" Doctor Polendina snapped. "I want to know why you let it?"

"Sir-" Ciel began.

"Quiet! I'm not interested in what you have to say, I don't even know who you are, I'm talking to the leader, not the…" He waved one hand dismissively. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I made a decision," Rainbow said, her voice even. "That decision turned out to be… a mistake."

"'A mistake'? A mistake is an understatement. Your orders were to keep my daughter safe!" Doctor Polendina yelled. "If you can't do that, then I will see you tossed out on your ass and find someone who can do the job they were selected for! That goes for both of you."

"This isn't Cadet Soleil's fault, sir," Rainbow said. "She followed my orders and performed her duties to the best of her abilities-"

Doctor Polendina held up one hand to silence her. "You," he said, snapping his fingers at Ciel. "Are you alive?"

Ciel blinked. "Sir?"

"It's a simple question," Doctor Polendina declared impatiently. "Are you alive, or am I talking to a ghost?"

What kind of question is that? Rainbow thought.

"I am alive, sir," Ciel said.

"Then you didn't do everything you could," Doctor Polendina growled.

Twilight gasped. "Doctor?!"

"Sir!" Rainbow cried. "I must protest. That's out of line!"

"'Out of line'?" Doctor Polendina repeated incredulously. "You bring my daughter home broken, and you tell me that I am out of line? You do not have the right to tell me what is or is not out of line in my own laboratory!" He turned away, his lab coat swirling behind him. "Twilight, it's good to see you again."

Twilight nodded. "Likewise, Doctor."

"The lab has been a little less bright in your absence," Doctor Polendina said. "I've been starved of intellectual conversation."

Twilight let out a slightly nervous laugh, even as she kind of turned away from Doctor Polendina so that she was half-facing Moondancer instead. "That's very kind of you to say, Doctor, but I'm sure that Moondancer-"

"Doesn't come out of her shell as much when you're not around, do you, Moondancer?" Doctor Polendina said. "She shuffles about, does what I instruct her, answers my questions, but she doesn't think for herself. You must learn to think for yourself, Moondancer! A good scientist must be an iconoclast, and a good iconoclast must be courageous!"

"Yes, Doctor," Moondancer murmured, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched.

Moondancer Crescent had the pale complexion of someone who didn't get out in the sun very often; her purple eyes were framed by a pair of glasses rounder than Twilight's spectacles but with thicker rims; they'd broken at the bridge and been stuck back together with so much white tape, the original bridge was invisible. Her hair was mainly auburn but with a streak of lavender and purple going straight down the centre, lining up perfectly between her eyes. Her lab coat was half-open, revealing underneath a badly-fitting dark grey sweater that was starting to shed fluff like a cat.

She glanced at Twilight. "I've missed you," she whispered.

Twilight smiled with one corner of her mouth, making it look as nervous as it was encouraging.

"Moondancer, would you mind putting those swords on the workbench on the right, please?" Doctor Polendina said. "We won't start any work until I've completed my examination and analysis of Penny."

"Of course, Doctor," Moondancer said as she left Twilight's side and crossed the lab to where Twilight had left the gurney with the swords on it. She didn't look at either Rainbow or Ciel, but calmly moved the swords from the gurney onto the workbench as quickly and efficiently as she could.

"Thank you," Doctor Polendina said. He stood over Penny, looking down upon her while Penny had no choice but to look up at him, paralysed as she was.

"Unacceptable," he said, shaking his head so that his hair flew from side to side behind him. "Absolutely unacceptable. You should be better than this, Penny, and you…" He rounded upon Rainbow and Ciel. "I trusted you with Penny because I was told that you could be trusted! Ironwood assured me that…" He paused, running both his hands through his hair. "Do you have any idea what Penny is?"

"Yes, sir," Rainbow said quietly.

"No," Doctor Polendina said. "You don't. How could you? How could either of you?" He looked at Twilight. "I'm a little disappointed in you, Twilight; I thought you understood."

"Twilight wasn't there, sir," Rainbow informed him. "As my report states."

"Ah, yes, yes, I remember now," Doctor Polendina said, "Twilight, you remained behind, didn't you, that was very wise. Perhaps the only sensible decision in this whole wretched endeavour."

"Doctor," Twilight said timorously. She clasped her hands together over her chest, dry-washing them as she spoke. "Are you… how are you feeling?"

Doctor Polendina sighed. "Angry. Distressed. My daughter is lying on my table in this state; how do you think I feel?"

"Have…?" Twilight trailed off. She licked her lips. "I'm sorry to ask—"

"You want to know if I've been taking the pills?" Doctor Polendina suggested. "If that's what you mean to ask, Twilight, then just spit it out, don't stand there stammering. Courage, Twilight!"

"Yes, Doctor," Twilight said softly. "So, have you been taking your medication?"

"The pills dull my mind, you know that," Doctor Polendina said. "It's bad enough that I have to be reminded of something I read a few days ago, but…"

He began to walk away from Penny, approaching a desk which sat, laden with paperwork, towards the back of the lab. And as he walked towards it, Doctor Polendina began to speak quietly to himself. "Sinusoidal signals and responses to them of a linear system are the basis of acoustic systems. This introduction gives a brief summary of mathematical expressions for sinusoidal functions that develop the basic… develop the basic… come on, I read this when I was a graduate student, and I've been able to recall every word of it ever since. This introduction gives a brief summary of mathematical expressions for sinusoidal functions that develop the basic… the basic…"

He let out a wordless growl of frustration as he flung out his hands, sweeping the papers off the desk and flinging them across the room, engulfing the lab in a flurry of white sheets as if it had been caught in a sudden heavy snowfall. Anything heavier than paper crashed to the floor with clangs and bangs and clatters.

"Doctor!" Twilight cried.

Doctor Polendina leaned upon the suddenly empty desk with both hands. "I… I'm dying," he announced.

Rainbow glanced at Ciel. It was clear from the widening of her eyes and the way that her mouth was slightly open that this was as much a shock to Ciel as it was to Rainbow Dash. "I… we didn't know that, sir," Rainbow murmured. "General Ironwood didn't-"

"I haven't told General Ironwood," Doctor Polendina said. "If I told him, if I told my colleagues, if I told the Director of Research and Development, I'd be put on leave, told to go home, get some rest, put my affairs in order. Prioritise my wellbeing. Take care of myself." He spat those last two statements as though the sentiments that they contained were worthless — or worse, actively insulting.

"Doctor, you shouldn't be so pessimistic," Moondancer murmured. "The experimental treatments—"

"Are just that, experimental, unproven—"

"'A good scientist must be an iconoclast,'" Twilight said softly.

Doctor Polendina laughed. "Very good, Twilight. An iconoclast indeed, and courageous; that's why I'm submitting myself to an ever-growing list of quackery and unreviewed research, but…" He paused for a moment. "I do not seek death. I will not submit to its embrace lightly, but nor will I live in denial about my chances any more than I will go home and spend what could be my last days pottering about like a race horse put out to pasture. I have dedicated my life to the greatness of Atlas, and I will continue to do so as long as I am… as long as I am alive. That is why I am keeping my condition a secret. Aside from my personal physician and his team, the only people who know are my brother Pietro, Twilight, and Moondancer. And now, the two of you."

"The three of us," Rainbow said. "Penny can't speak, but she can hear everything." Rainbow glanced at Penny, where she lay on the table. It was probably all in her head, but she almost thought that if Penny could speak, she would be screaming right now.

Doctor Polendina looked around. He looked as surprised to be told that Penny could hear him as Rainbow had been surprised to hear that Penny was dying. "Penny, I… I thought you'd put her to sleep. Twilight, why didn't you put her to sleep?"

"There didn't seem a need, Doctor," Twilight said.

"No need? What need was there to keep her awake so that she could hear everything?"

"I don't like turning her off, Doctor," Twilight said, her voice rising. "I don't like the fact that we can switch off a person by command, even with her consent. And in her present state, we can't ask for her consent. And besides, Penny preferred being awake. I hooked her up to a computer on the Hope so that we could talk on the way back and connected her sensors to a drone so that she could watch the final approach to Atlas. Penny preferred that to being shut down for days."

Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment. "I see," he said quietly. "You … you are a good girl, Twilight, kind and considerate; Penny is… Penny will be lucky to have you."

Twilight looked away from him. "Doctor, I really think that you should take your medication."

Doctor Polendina shook his head. "I need to be able to think. It's bad enough that my memory is slipping away from me, but when I take the pills, it's like a fog has come down over my mind. I… I don't need a stable temperament to work on Penny, I need my intellect at its fullest… and I need your help, both of you, especially as I start to… I need you to pick up my mistakes and anything that I might miss, and I need you to bear with my moods, even if that's difficult. Can you do that, Twilight? I need you to do that, and so does Penny."

Twilight hesitated for a moment. "Of course, Doctor."

"Sir…" Ciel began. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because, since I appear to be stuck with the both of you, at least until the Vytal Festival is over, I need you both to understand," Doctor Polendina said. "Penny is more than just my creation, more than just my daughter, more than just a soldier or a weapon; Penny is... Penny is the last and greatest gift that I will ever bestow upon the Kingdom of Atlas. Penny is my legacy, she is that for which I will be remembered and that which will benefit this kingdom long after I am gone, Penny is… Penny is everything."

And what if she doesn't want to be? Rainbow wondered.

Doctor Polendina went on. "I have always been glad to serve this kingdom. Atlas is… Atlas is a light of knowledge and science and progress amidst a world which is still awash with backwards ideas and nonsensical traditions. In Mistral, they cling to their past because they know in their heart of hearts that they have no future worth speaking of; in Vale, they haver between a past that is gone beyond recall and a future they fear for its uncertainty, shuffling awkwardly between both, taking one step forward and two steps back; in Vacuo, barbarians dwell amidst sandy wastelands, scavenging for scraps and scraping for water in the dirt. Only here in Atlas do we embrace the true gods of knowledge and reason. Only here in Atlas do we truly move forward, not only for ourselves, but for all others who share in the gifts that we bestow, like… like angels in the old myths. I am proud of all the good that we have done, and of the contributions that my work has made towards that good, but none of it compares to Penny. Yes, the circumstances of her creation make her difficult, if not impossible, to reproduce; yes, my vision was circumscribed by time and budgetary limitations; yes, if I had unlimited resources, I would do things differently, but what I did… what I did was to not just create life itself, but life imbued with capability and purpose from the outset. Penny carries my name, and so long as that name lasts, then I will be remembered long after I am gone. She is the culmination of everything that I have done, all my research and my experimentation, all the years spent learning my craft, refining my skills, testing my ideas, it has all led to this. To her.

"That is why Penny cannot fail. That is why I will not allow Penny to fail. That is why you cannot allow Penny to fail. That is why the Vytal Festival is so… so vital; I need the world to see Penny for the wonder that she is, I… I need it."

"And what about her, sir?" Rainbow asked. "Have you talked to her about any of this?"

Doctor Polendina straightened up and looked at Rainbow Dash. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you've got some big plans," Rainbow said. "What if they aren't what she wants?"

"This is what she was created for," Doctor Polendina declared.

"But… she's a person, sir," Twilight reminded him. "She has aura, a soul, free will. She isn't just an instrument of… of our will."

"What are you saying, Twilight?"

"Twilight's asking whether this is what Penny wants, sir," Rainbow said.

"I'm suggesting that we ought to consider it," Twilight suggested, modifying Rainbow's language somewhat.

"To what end?" Doctor Polendina demanded. "So that if Penny wants to do something other than that for which I created her, she should be allowed to? Twilight, you have a… you have a sister, don't you?"

"A brother, Doctor," Twilight said. "I have an older brother."

"Older, yes, older brother," Doctor Polendina muttered. "Moondancer, do you have any siblings?"

"No, Doctor."

"What about you, Crash?"

"Dash, sir, and no." She didn't want to talk about Scootaloo with Doctor Polendina, at least not before she was clear why he was asking.

"You?"

"Yes, sir," Ciel said. "I have six younger brothers."

"Younger brothers, yes, good, and suppose that one of your younger brothers no longer wished to apply himself to the limits of his potential, suppose that he wished to waste his life and the treasure of his time in idleness and frivolity, would you allow it? Would you let it pass because it was what he wanted? Would you observe it without comment?"

"No, sir," Ciel admitted. "Not without comment. My comments would range from disapproving to… fiercely disapproving, depending on the exact nature of the behaviour involved, the company kept, the place concerned. I would prefer to see my brothers become virtuous and upstanding citizens."

"Precisely! You have some rudiments of sense after all!" Doctor Polendina proclaimed. "Just because something is wanted does not mean that it is desirable, just because Penny does not want what she was made to do doesn't mean that she should be allowed to do something else just because she wants it. I have a brother, Pietro, a mind almost as sharp as my own, talents almost my equal, so much ability to do good for Atlas, but what does he do? He lives in Mantle, in Mantle, down in the dirt, fitting prosthetics to mine workers. Anyone could do that! A fourth-year medical student could do that; you could program robots to do that! All the things that only Pietro can do, all the things that only his intellect could conceive, all wasted and for what? Forget for a moment the vast sums of lien that have been spent to make Penny a reality, I will not see her gifts thrown away like my brother's, not while I have the power to see it otherwise."

Rainbow took a deep breath. "Penny… Penny doesn't belong to you, sir," she declared. "Nor to any of us. Only to herself."

"Penny belongs to Atlas," Doctor Polendina replied. "As do you, so long as you wear that uniform."

"I can choose to take the uniform off if I want to."

"Good for you; I can arrange it very easily if that's what you desire," Doctor Polendina said sharply. "But Penny, thank goodness, does not have that option. Though this city is full of wasters forgetful of the debt they owe to the kingdom that has nurtured and protected them, I will not have Penny join their number. What was she doing in Mountain Glenn?"

"Huh?" Rainbow said, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

"What was she doing in Mountain Glenn?" Doctor Polendina repeated. "What were any of you doing in Mountain Glenn? That was in no way a suitable mission for Penny or for students at all."

Rainbow glanced at Ciel. "That's… classified, sir."

Doctor Polendina folded his arms. "Don't play games with me; I have vermillion-level clearance."

Rainbow swallowed. "And this information is classified beyond vermillion. And General Ironwood will confirm that."

Doctor Polendina looked down at her in silence. "You're dismissed," he said, as he turned away. "I have work to do."

"Yes, sir," Rainbow said. She glanced at Penny and mouthed 'we'll be back' to her, before she and Ciel turned away and marched out of the laboratory.

Rainbow didn't say another word as they walked down the corridor back the way they had come, ignored by the scientists in lab coats passing this way or that, until they reached the elevator, which was empty until they stepped inside.

She pressed the button for the roof, where their airship was waiting.

Only once the doors closed, and the lift began to move smoothly up the building, did Rainbow say anything.

With her arms folded, standing on the other side of the car from Ciel, she said, "You could have backed me up a little bit there."

Ciel kept her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. "Doctor Polendina made a rather compelling analogy," she said.

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "You think?"

"Doctor Pietro Polendina does waste his talents," Ciel sniffed.

Rainbow frowned. "Do you think the people with the prosthetic arms feel that way?"

"As Doctor Polendina said, many less talented could perform such routine work."

"Maybe they could," Rainbow allowed. "But they aren't."

Ciel glanced at her. "Since when did you start sounding like a Happy Huntress?"

"Hey!" Rainbow snapped. "Do not lump me in with the Happy Huntresses or anything like that; I am nothing like Robyn Hill! I'm just saying that… look, there are places in the kingdom that are pretty deprived, and where if someone were to come in offering to make your life a little better, you probably don't ask if that's the best use of their talents. You're just glad that someone showed up."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I suppose you have a point. However, it does not detract from Doctor Polendina's larger point. If one of my brothers sought to take a crooked or unworthy path, I would do all I could to dissuade them."

"Would you force them to do something they didn't want to do?"

Ciel snorted. "I will not suffer disapproval upon this point from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you are the most controlling person I know," Ciel declared.

Rainbow made a wordless sound of outrage. "What? What are you talking about?"

Ciel gave Rainbow a sideways glance. "Would you be happy to see your friends become huntresses?"

Rainbow's mouth opened, and then closed again silently. When she opened it again after that, she was able to get words out, "That is completely different."

"Is it indeed," Ciel murmured.

"Yes!" Rainbow snapped. "I never sat down any of my friends and told them that they had to do a certain thing with their lives, I never called them 'my legacy,' I never talked about them like the most important thing about them was how it reflected on me, and I certainly never acted like I owned them! Yes, okay, I would 'do all I could to dissuade' Pinkie or Rarity from becoming huntresses, because guess what, you can die doing this; if you're not strong enough, or fast enough, if you don't know what you're doing, or if you don't have the right attitude, then you can die. But I would never, ever force any friend of mine to do something that they didn't want to do because it would make me look good."

"Do we not each have a task?" Ciel asked. "What is Penny's, but to serve Atlas? It is literally what she was created to do, at vast expense."

"But what about what Penny wants; don't you care about that?"

"Of course I care!" Ciel snapped, rounding on Rainbow. "Do not dare suggest otherwise. I care as much as if Penny were of my own blood, but… we must confine our wishes within the limits of the world in which we live. If one of my brothers wished for a pair of wings to sprout from his back, I could not give them to him with the strength of my affections. If Penny were my sister out of my mother's womb, I would give full weight to her desires, limited only by what was right and proper and due concern for her reputation, but it is not so. Penny is not… she is not ours to do with as we will."

"Nobody owns Penny."

"Her father does, and so does Atlas."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Rainbow asked. "When Twilight asked me if we were making a slave, I didn't buy it, but now… how is that not exactly what we've done? How is that not exactly what she is?"

"I would think a faunus would have more care not to diminish the horrors of real slavery," Ciel said. "If this is slavery, it is more comfortable than the most comfortable lies that ever the slave-owners of Mistral spun about the condition of the faunus."

"But she isn't free," Rainbow said.

Ciel frowned. "Perhaps not," she allowed. "But we cannot make her so. Therefore, if we love her, then our best course is to not encourage her to dream beyond the realms of possibility, but to accommodate herself and find such happiness as she may within realistic limits, as we all must. There comes a time when we must all put aside childish wishing and set our sights on what we know can be. And we will serve Penny better by remembering that than by throwing futile tantrums that her condition is not as we would like."

"So you don't like it."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "There is nothing to be done."

Really? Rainbow thought. We'll see about that.

But first, we have to see what Penny actually wants.

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: I mentioned this before in regards to Cinder's backstory, but this fic was concieved and originally written during the V5-6 break, before Pietro was introduced in volume 7 and we didn't know anything about Penny's father. Although Pietro will be appearing in this fic a little later on, I decided to keep the character that I created for Penny's father.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Atlas​

A little faunus girl from Mantle going to the city of dreams.

As she walked down the street, with Fluttershy on one side of her and Rarity on the other, Blake found herself thinking about Ilia Amitola.

They hadn't seen each other in a few years now; Adam had taken Blake to Vale, Ilia had remained with the Mistral Chapter. Skilled as she had been, there was a good chance that Ilia was dead now. Life expectancy in the White Fang could be as short as it was down any Atlesian mine; even the very best tended to die before their time: gunned down, cut down, bombed, devoured by grimm, all lost to the hazards of the huntsmen, the Atlesian military and the monsters of the night.

Perhaps Ilia filled a shallow grave somewhere in Anima; perhaps there wasn't enough of her left to be so disposed of; perhaps she still lived and fought for the White Fang's cause; perhaps she still lived and had seen the folly of their ways as Blake had. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; the truth was that Blake had no way of knowing for sure, or of finding out.

But as she walked down the street, with the cold air nipping at her face and nibbling at the tips of her cat ears, Blake thought about her and her story.

She'd found it incredible at the time, the rules that Ilia had consented to obeying, the shackles that her parents had sought to place upon her, the way that she had denied who and what she was in the name of fitting in.

Blake had listened to Ilia's story and found it impossible to believe that Ilia — that anyone — could have failed to resent the imposition involved in such self-denial. Of course, she had then been hypocrite enough to start engaging in just such self-denial herself during her first semester at Beacon but only, so she had told herself, out of absolute necessity.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to believe Ilia when the other girl had claimed it wasn't hard.

Especially if it meant being in Atlas.

It was the tone of her voice that Blake remembered most of all: the lingering longing as Ilia said the name of Atlas, the city of dreams; the way she said it, it almost sounded as though it were not a place but an idea to strive for, a kingdom of heaven built on Remnant. So different from the scorn and hatred with which Adam had spoken about his home; it had seemed impossible to think they could be speaking of the same place or to conceive why anyone would speak of the infernal pit of Adam's memories with Ilia's lovelorn sighs.

It had been impossible for Blake to believe that any place, still less a place so racist that Ilia's only chance to dwell there had been to deny her race, could inspire such feelings.

Of course, Rainbow Dash spoke that way as well, something that Blake had found equally hard to believe as Ilia's nostalgia at first. Now that she was here, now that Fluttershy and Rarity were showing her all the wonders of the technopolis amongst the clouds, Blake found herself starting to get it.

It must be wonderful to live here as yourself without having to hide, to be accepted in this place where it seemed like anything was possible and life could only get better.

The city flew. The city was flying. The clouds were not only above, forming vague shapes before getting blown away by the passage of the angular cruisers proceeding on their stately passages overhead, but beneath them too, and all around them as the floating city nestled in their midst like a particularly rocky cuckoo in the nest.

Blake and her companions passed a robot using an extendable clawed hand to pick up litter off the sidewalk, and as they sidled around it, the android had given a courteous nod of its inhumanly square head. "Good day, ladies."

Blake stopped and stared at it. "Uh, thank you."

"No, thank you, Miss," the cleaner-bot said, before resuming its litter picking.

Blake watched it go along its merry way. "That… that was politer than the hologram at the skydock," she observed. "Do all the robots talk in Atlas? And so politely?"

"A lot of them do, yes," Fluttershy said. "My parents' vacuum cleaner is very polite when he's asking me to move my feet out of the way, but Rainbow was so annoyed by her toaster that she, um…"

"There was a little bit of an accident," Rarity explained. "Involving Rainbow, the toaster, and a lump hammer. Twilight fixed it up, but then there was another accident, and she ended up scavenging it for parts."

"Huh," Blake said as she continued to look at the litter-picking robot. For a moment, she wondered why they still needed faunus to work the mines of Mantle, but then she remembered that faunus were cheaper than robots, and in some ways more durable as well, able to recover from injuries that would break an android beyond repair.

And faunus labourers don't cost anything for the SDC to replace.

"Blake?" Fluttershy asked. "Are you okay?"

Blake realised that she must have been showing something of her thoughts upon her face and quickly forced her expression into something more neutral, even as she covered her mouth with her scarf against the bracing breeze. "I'm fine," she said softly. "Is it always so cold around here?"

"'So cold'?" Fluttershy asked. She was dressed for the weather in a turquoise overcoat with a lilac belt clinching her waist and bands of the same colour around her cuffs. In fact, lilac was the dominant colour of all Fluttershy's accessories, including the mittens enclosing her hands and the beanie sat loosely atop her head. "Oh no, when fall really starts, it's going to get much colder around here; I'm almost glad to be spending the autumn in Vale for the Vytal Festival … except that means I won't be able to adjust to the cold before winter gets here."

"How bad is it?"

"Oh, it's never allowed to get too bad," Rarity said. "In fact, thanks to the city's heating grid, it can often be quite pleasant, even in winter, but they do turn the temperature down enough to allow a little snow from time to time. Not enough that anyone gets snowed in or put at risk, but enough that there is a decent layer for children to play in for a few days or a couple of weeks."

Blake looked around, at the towering structures of glass and steel that loomed over her head, rising like stalagmites into the sky. "I'm a little surprised that the city puts up with the disruption just to let kids have some fun."

"It isn't just for that," Fluttershy conceded. "Twilight explained that … well, I don't really understand it myself, but apparently, it isn't healthy for us or good for the heating grid to keep it running at maximum all the time; we need to conserve the systems to make sure they don't wear out unexpectedly, and allow time for routine maintenance. And besides, if we melted all the snow that fell on Atlas, then Low Town would get too much rain at once."

"What?" Blake asked, not understanding.

"When the snow melts, the water falls down to the city below like rain," Fluttershy explained. "It's the only weather they get, living in our shadow like they do."

I wonder if they enjoy the slight variation in their weather routine or curse it, Blake thought.

"Speaking of the weather," Rarity said, "we were going to help you find something more suitable to wear, weren't we?"

Blake shivered a little. "Yes, that might be a good idea."

Rarity smiled. "I know just the place. Follow me, darlings!" She strode off, leaving Blake and Fluttershy to follow in her wake as swiftly as they could.

They followed her down the wide thoroughfares and the bustling streets, beneath the shadows of the towering structures and past the robots diligently working to keep the streets and windows clean and the city on the move; Atlas, Blake observed, was a city of many parts, and none of the parts that she observed matched Adam's rancorous description. She had no doubt that something like the hellish place that he described existed, perhaps in the Low Town dwelling in perpetual shadow of the city amongst the clouds, living around the ever-growing heap that was the refuse of those literally and figuratively set above. But not here. Not when she was amongst the clouds herself.

Here, she could see why Ilia had been so enamoured of Atlas. Here, she could almost see why her old friend had described it as a city of dreams. Atlas, as she walked through it in Rarity's wake and with Fluttershy by her side, seemed almost like a place where anything was possible.

Atlas was a city of technology. Blake had always known that, everyone knew that; even more than martial force, Atlas prided itself as an exporter of all the most advanced technology, on being the workshop of the world, the place that had given Remnant not only the CCT network but all of its other modern wonders that so enriched the lives of everyone who dwelled within the kingdoms.

But being in Atlas itself, standing on the sidewalk of Remnant's self-proclaimed workshop, brought home to Blake the fact that this was no idle boast. Every building was a cathedral to the worship of science and technology; it was like an entire city modelled after the CCT tower (of course, the tower was modelled after the city, but Blake's thoughts went to that with which she was more familiar), where even the shopping malls had a sepulchral feel to their architecture and design.

Everything was modern; there were a couple of stores they passed with a faux-antique front, but in design, in construction materials, everything looked as though it had been built within the last few years using the most advanced techniques and cutting edge materials. Blake would seriously not have been surprised if Fluttershy had turned around and told her that they tore everything down after about five years and built it all from scratch so that it never got old.

Small hordes of robots toiled unseen, unthanked, and unregarded by the people milling around them: they picked the litter; they swept the streets; they scaled the vertical sides of the towers of glass and stone with spidery legs to wash the windows until they sparkled; they controlled the flow of traffic on the roads; they patrolled the streets and plazas. Some of them, like the litter pickers with one clawed hand and the other holding a bag, looked human, or at least they looked humanoid; some of them, like the rolling street sweepers or the little security ancilla that looked like bins on wheels, that Blake only recognised were robots when she saw one of them ram into a pick-pocket hard enough to knock him off his feet before tasering him, did not look human at all. Of the vast variety of droids Blake saw maintaining Atlas, only the battle droids — surprisingly few in number, but then, she supposed that the Atlesian authorities thought it was overkill to deploy robots designed to kill their enemies for law and order duties — were familiar to her; the rest, she had never come across even in the heart of Vale.

"I've heard that technology in Atlas is twenty or thirty years ahead of the rest of the world," Blake murmured. "Now that I'm here … I guess it's true, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know much about that," Fluttershy murmured. "You should really talk to Twilight if you want to know about science and technology."

"We're here!" trilled Rarity, coming to a stop outside of a store with a blue front which sparkled as though the stone had been infused with diamond dust, and where graffiti-styled art decorated the windows and the displays behind the dresses out for show.

"Um, Rarity," Fluttershy murmured. "Isn't this where you work?"

"Yes, it is, as it happens, where I'm doing my internship," Rarity conceded. "But that only means that I know we'll find something suitable for Blake inside."

Blake eyed the window displays. The dress that looked as though it had a skirt made of clouds certainly looked pretty enough, but she wasn't sure about its practicality. "Does this place have anything…? I mean, just because I'm here on a break doesn't mean I don't need something … day to day."

"Oh, these are just some high-end examples to attract custom," Rarity explained, with a degree of exasperation in her voice. "There are plenty of … mundane items on the other side of the door. Honestly, sometimes, I must say that I grow weary of the constant suspicion under which I labour. You'd think I wanted to put everyone in avant-garde every moment of every day." She paused. "As opposed to every conceivable special occasion."

Blake smiled, if only a little. "You're right; I should trust you," she admitted and allowed herself to be steered inside by Rarity, with Fluttershy following them in.

"Coco!" Rarity called out, projecting her voice across the open, spacious boutique.

Blake's first, absurd thought was that Rarity was calling out to the second-year protégé at Beacon, who would have been a favourite to win the Vytal Festival if Pyrrha had been just one year younger; but that was ridiculous; just because that was the only Coco Blake knew didn't mean that it was the only Coco in Remnant.

The girl who emerged from the other side of a rack of dresses was not Coco Adel. She was a deal smaller and more slight, for a start, and paler for another. Her hair was cyan and opal, cut short and worn in a bob that curled around her ears, and she was dressed in a purple blouse with a sailor neckline and a ruffled blue and purple skirt above cyan stockings. Her light blue eyes blinked in surprise.

"Rarity?" she said. "Oh, so you did bring your new friend here! You must be Blake."

"That's right," Blake said softly. "Blake Belladonna."

"This is my roommate, Coco Pommel," Rarity explained. "She's also interning here at Prim Hemline's boutique."

Coco stepped forward, and offered Blake her hand. "Thank you, for all your service."

"All my— oh, yes," Blake said. That's right, I'm supposed to be an Atlesian spy, aren't I? "It was nothing, really."

"Blake, as you can see, needs something more appropriate for our kingdom," Rarity said.

Coco smiled. "You have something in mind already, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Rarity replied.

"Shouldn't this be my choice?" Blake asked.

"Oh, of course it's your choice, darling," Rarity said. "I'm simply going to ensure that you don't choose poorly."

Rarity proved all of Blake's suspicions unfounded, as Blake had to admit as she emerged from the store some time later; with Miss Hemline, the boutique owner, absent and Rarity taking the day off, Coco Pommel had been left to hold down the fort, and she was ever so obliging; she hadn't done much to help Blake choose an outfit — Rarity had that well in hand — but she had rushed from one end of the store to another and then allowed Blake to change in one of the fitting rooms after Fluttershy had paid for the ensemble.

Yes, Fluttershy had bought her outfit. That wasn't something Blake had requested, it wasn't something that she had sought, but she had nevertheless found it impossible to prevent. Fluttershy hadn't raised her voice, Fluttershy hadn't said anything particularly forceful, she had simply smiled and adamantly refused to take no for an answer until Blake had given in.

Blake exited the boutique with her black scarf still wrapped tightly around her neck, as well as her white crop undershirt and her white shorts. Underneath her black vest, she wore a second undershirt, this time of purple that covered up her exposed belly and offered an additional layer of warmth in Atlas, while her arms and shoulders were covered by the long black and white tailcoat, falling down to below her knees, which she wore over the top. The front was white, although bordered by black at the neckline and in stripes running down the sleeves; the back was black, turning to white again as the tails fell away; the inside was lined with soft purple velvet. She had exchanged her boots for a much higher pair which went up almost to her thighs, concealing her stockings and even a little of her shorts.

It was, to be perfectly honest, more comfortable than Blake had been expecting. She felt a little warmer already.

"Thank you for this," Blake said, as they stood once more on the sidewalk outside. "Thank you for your help, Rarity, and Fluttershy, for—"

"Don't mention it," Fluttershy said.

Blake chuckled. "Okay, I won't."

"Now that you're properly dressed for Atlas," Fluttershy went on, "where would you like to go next?"

"I don't know where I am," Blake said with perfect honesty. "Where would you like to show me?"

Fluttershy raised her head to look at the drones passing by overhead, some of them laden with parcels and packages while others looked as though they might be watching the crowds below. "Would you like to see the Garden of Serenity? It's one of my favourite places in the whole city."

"Then I'm sure it's great," Blake said. "Lead the way."

Atlas was a city of surprising greenery. Atlas was a city torn out of the earth, uprooted and unmoored from the land, only to be moored again with technology, and Blake would have expected it to have little patience and less love for green and growing things. Yet as Fluttershy led the way, and Blake kept pace beside her, Blake could see that it was not so. In fact, Blake found herself surprised by how much of Atlas was not given over steel and glass and carefully-shaped stone. It was true that, for any sign of greenery, Blake had, paradoxically, to look upwards onto the rooftops of the ornate buildings — and that fact did make her a little suspicious as to how many of these spaces were open to the general public, as opposed to those who owned those buildings or leased out parts of same — but at least it was not nothing, and even those who could not enter the rooftop gardens could hopefully appreciate the sight of them, for whatever that might be worth.

But while green spaces might grow in the sky, it appeared that animals and birds did not. So far as she could see, nothing lived here but people, hordes of people untroubled by beast or bird or insect. Blake had never been considered a particular lover of any of those things — she couldn't stand dogs, for one — but she noticed their complete and utter absence now and wondered that those all around her could not do so. No doubt, time had rendered them carelessly complacent of what they were missing.

"Most of the animals in Atlas are pets," Rarity explained, seeming to guess at Blake's thoughts. "And kept indoors. There's the public zoo, and rumour is that the Schnees have the most fabulous menagerie— oh, goodness, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's just a word," Blake assured her. "The issue is with those who named the island, not with your use of it. You were saying, about the Schnees?"

"It's said they have a private zoo," Rarity said. "Containing absolute wonders, creatures that are extinct in the wild."

"If they do, then it seems very cruel to keep them that way," Fluttershy murmured.

"But if they were to be released now, then surely they would just die off, darling?" Rarity asked.

"Animals aren't meant to live in cages," Fluttershy insisted. "I volunteer at an animal shelter, where unfortunately, we don't have much choice sometimes, but my dream is to open up a real sanctuary here in Atlas, an open space where the creatures can run free and wild."

Blake frowned. "Then why not just release them into the wild?"

"Some animals can't survive without help," Fluttershy said. "Because they were bought as pets and then abandoned or because their natural habitats have been destroyed. Do you know how much damage dust mining does to the environment?"

"No," Blake replied. "I was always more concerned with the damage that it did to the miners."

Fluttershy didn't seem to know how to reply to that; she looked away without saying anything.

Blake felt a twinge of guilt. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't," Fluttershy assured her rapidly. She brightened up. "You should come and visit the shelter sometime; if you're going to transfer to Atlas, then you should meet Major Leaf."

"Major who?"

"He's sort of General Ironwood's pet tortoise and sort of the Atlas Academy mascot," Fluttershy explained. "Rainbow says that it's considered an honour if the General lets your team take care of him, but with General Ironwood and so many of the students away at Beacon, the shelter has been taking care of him so he doesn't get lonely. Tank's there, too."

"Rainbow's pet tortoise," Rarity explained.

"Ah," Blake said. "Is there any reason why tortoises?"

"They're very adorable," Fluttershy said. "Maybe that's enough."

Nevertheless, despite having been assured that animals did live in Atlas, they did not live out in the open where they could be seen but, apparently, huddled behind closed doors, out of sight and mind. Atlas was a city built by humans and occupied by humans, and by the machines that they had built to serve them. It had neither time nor place for animals, whether they were true beasts or simply those colloquially described as such.

Atlas was a city of division. In this whole bustling metropolis, she couldn't see a single other faunus face, not a single one glimpsed in the crowd, no trace of a tail or a pair of ears, no teeth or claws. High Atlas was a human city, built by men for men to dwell in, and they meant to keep it that way. No one commented upon it, Blake didn't even notice anyone staring, let alone whispering; she didn't see any 'no faunus allowed' signs on any shop doors.

But she didn't see any faunus either.

No wonder Ilia had snapped the way she had; passing for human or not, knowing that you were the only faunus in the room, day after day … it must have been hard on her. It would be hard on anyone.

At least I'll have Rainbow, if I make that choice.

Atlas was a city of war. If Blake hadn't known that already, if she hadn't already possessed enough experience to have told her that, if the sight of the cruisers and the airships passing overhead had not been sufficient to tell her this, then she would have certainly realised it as Fluttershy and Rarity led her past what looked like the only structure in the entire city that was more than a few years old.

To reach the Park of Serenity, the girls brought her through another city plaza, open and empty, with grey stone slabs staring upwards at the sky and clouds above. In the centre of this plaza, the only object in the entire square, the focal point without any distractions, was a statue. An old statue; Blake didn't know exactly how old it was, but in the middle of this hyper-modern city all around it, placed in the midst of a world that was racing forwards towards a new and brighter future, it looked like a relic from some ancient bygone kingdom. A woman, carved out of pure white marble, unmarred by vein or blot or flaw in the design, stood atop a towering plinth of black stone. Her face was ageless, her eyes were closed, and her head was bowed downwards towards the ground; she was simply dressed, with her arms bare and her feet hidden beneath her long skirt and one breast bared as though she were about to feed a child. Perhaps it was for that reason alone that she put Blake in mind of a mother, or perhaps there was some other ineffably maternal quality that Blake could detect but not really describe.

Blake stopped and stared at the statue as her friends, noticing, halted also.

"Would you like to get a closer look, darling?" Rarity asked softly

Blake nodded, and the three of them walked across the pedestrianised space until the maternal figure, high upon her plinth, would have been looking down upon them if she had but opened up her eyes. Her arms, bare and devoid of sleeve or glove, were spread out on either side of her, gesturing or encompassing that which lay before her. Beneath her feet, upon the heavy bronze disk that separated her statue from the black pedestal that hoisted her into the air, were embossed in gold the words 'These Are My Jewels.' And all around the statue, beneath the woman's hands, were more statues wrought in bronze, statues which had an antique style but nevertheless appeared newer than the woman who embraced them as her children: a soldier, his rifle resting upon his shoulder; a huntress in the uniform of the specialists, one hand upon her sword; a pilot, her face concealed beneath her helmet and visor; an engineer with a toolkit in his hand; a scientist in a lab coat. The jewels of Atlas, who kept the city safe from the monsters who surrounded them.

Flowers were laid around the statues' base, garlands and bouquets, blots of colour around the black stone plinth and grey stone slabs that formed the floor. Some of the flowers were accompanied by photographs; other photographs had been pinned to the pedestal itself: smiling faces, laughing faces, grave faces, faces set in posed expressions, proud and noble faces; so many faces set in a single moment staring out at Blake with sightless eyes.

"Who are all these people?" Blake asked, thinking that she knew the answer already.

"Those we've lost." The answer came not from Fluttershy or Rarity, but from Applejack. Blake hadn't seen her there, but she wandered around from the other side of the statue now, her hat held in her hands. "Those who've given everything for this kingdom. Anyone can leave a picture here, don't matter who it is: your brother, your cousin, your best friend, that jerk you knew in school who made something of himself … and gave everything of himself. Your parents." She glanced away, and her smile was as thin as it was brief. "Howdy, girls."

"Good morning, Applejack," Fluttershy murmured. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Applejack brushed one of her twin ponytails over her shoulder. "It's been too long since Ah paid a visit, what with … well, you know."

Blake frowned. "Is … is someone you know on here?"

Applejack nodded. "One or two," she said softly. She didn't elaborate, and Blake didn't push her. She'd said enough.

They stood in silence, under the shadow of the marble woman and her treasures, the jewels of Atlas that would never gleam again.

Perhaps it was nothing more than her imagination at work, but as she looked again, Blake almost thought that it looked as though the woman was about to weep. Perhaps that was why her eyes were closed.

"Who was she?" Blake asked.

"She represents the city," Rarity said.

"I thought she was meant to be a queen from long ago," Fluttershy said.

"Ah don't rightly recall," Applejack admitted. "You'd need to talk to Twi if you want a history lesson. All Ah know is, this is where we say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Blake whispered, feeling the inadequacy of the words. How many of the photographs strewn around or pinned upon this statue had met their ends not because of the grimm but because of the White Fang?

How many brothers and sisters of the White Fang have lost their lives in exchange?

The answer, she was sure, was too many on both counts. Too many had given their lives in this war, too many heroes on both sides had paid the ultimate price for their ideals, and all for what? What had changed? What had all the gallantry and sacrifice accomplished? The battle lines could not have moved less if Atlas and the White Fang had dug their trenches across either side of a muddy field somewhere and competed to see who could slaughter more of their own men trying to move the battle lines an inch or two.

Is there no alternative to this? No better way? Is this doomed to be the way it is forever?

It was enough to make her weep with frustration the tears that the old queen or Atlas anthropomorphised could not.

"Blake," Fluttershy said gently. "Are you okay?"

"I," Blake began, pausing for a moment. "I was just thinking about how much has been lost, you know?"

Fluttershy nodded understandingly. "Would you mind if we left now? This place … it always makes me so sad."

If that was true, then Blake could well understand why, because it was making her sad too; if it was a lie, then it was gently meant, to be sure. "Okay," Blake said. "Let's keep moving."

"You're welcome to join us, if you want to," Fluttershy said to Applejack. "We were just about to show Blake the Park of Serenity. That is, if you don't mind, Blake."

Blake was about to say that no, she didn't mind, but before she could speak, Applejack had already done so. "Nah, you two go ahead. I … I think I'm going to be here a little while longer. There's still one or two things I have to say."

One or two … and one, at least, is very close. Not the jerk in school who made something of himself. Her brother? Her parents?

Blake couldn't help but wonder, even as she knew that it was not her place to know. Applejack remained, lingering under the shadow of the statue, looking up at the woman on the pedestal as Fluttershy and Rarity led Blake away.

She hadn't realised what an oppressive mood had prevailed about that statue until they were away from it; although the mood of melancholy that oppressed her soul did not abate by a long shot, it did ease off just a little, once they were out of sight of the memorial and all it represented to her.

And so they led her to the Park of Serenity, the only green space that Blake had seen thus far in the entire city that was at ground level and not raised up on a roof somewhere tantalisingly out of reach. It was encased within a transparent biodome that kept the worst of the elements at bay and which, Blake could see, would be necessary when the winter came and the weather made these mild temperatures seem tropical by comparison. Within the dome, inside the park itself, a hundred different kinds of flowers bloomed in carefully-tended flower beds — tended to by actual gardeners, what was more: grey-haired faunus in straw hats and waistcoats who moved amongst the visitors with rakes and hoes and buckets — blooming with chrysanthemums, lavenders of blue and green, iris and rosemary and rue, roses red and white and pink, daffodils and tulips. Apple trees spread out their boughs as succulent-looking green fruit bloomed upon their branches. Cherry trees blossomed radiant pink. And in the trees sang hundreds of birds in as many colours or more than there were different kinds of flowers in the garden.

It was like a different world, one wholly removed from the technological marvel outside the glass — or glass-seeming — world from which they had just come; it was like the fairy stories in the battered old book that Blake's mother had used to read to her and which she had given to Penny: the ones in which the protagonist entered into a fairy world, lingering there a day or two, only to find that ten or twenty or a hundred years had passed in the real world when they returned.

That … that might even be comforting, Blake thought. To spend an age in here and come out to find that Sienna Khan and all those whom I knew in the White Fang had died, and perhaps even the White Fang died with them. Then I could see what the world had become in my absence.

A world without Rainbow or Sunset or Sun. A world where anyone who ever cared about me had passed on long ago.

No. It's for the best that this isn't that kind of story.

For her part, Fluttershy too looked as though she had stepped into another world, a better world, one that better suited her temperament. She looked relaxed here as she had never quite looked outside, and as a bluebird flew out of its tree to land upon her outstretched finger, she looked as enchanted by the chirruping creature as Ilia had ever sounded by the wonders of the city of dreams.

As Fluttershy stood, murmuring softly to the little bird which sat upon her hands, Blake and Rarity sat down upon a bench, an uneven bench made of a solid plate of metal that was torn and frayed around the edges and pock-marked upon the surface as though something had been beating on it.

It was so strange, to see such shoddy workmanship in Atlas, that Blake could not help but stare at it for a moment.

Rarity noticed her confusion. "It's all recycled, dear. Everything — the chair and the benches and the like — in this garden has been made from the fragments of … the Superb, I think the name was. After she went to the breakers' yard, her metal was repurposed. I find it rather… well, I don't know if it's appropriate, but I appreciate the meaning behind it."

Blake's brow furrowed. "What is the meaning?"

"That even the most hideous things can become part of something beautiful," Rarity explained.

Blake nodded. "Do you … do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do, darling," Rarity replied. "I am a fashionista, after all."

"And what about people?" Blake asked.

"'People'?" Fluttershy repeated, turning away from her bird to face Blake and Rarity.

"If horrible things can become part of something beautiful, then what about horrible people?" Blake asked, stating it baldly. "Can they ever become part of something beautiful as well?"

Fluttershy stared at her for a moment. "You're not a horrible person, Blake."

"No offence, Fluttershy, but you don't know me," Blake said. "Neither of you know me, and you don't know what I was."

"'Was'?" Fluttershy said. "Not 'is'?"

Blake looked away for a moment. "I'd like to think so," she muttered.

"Then does it matter?"

Blake stared at her, golden eyes wide. "You don't think it does?"

Now it was Fluttershy's turn to look away. "Nobody's perfect," she said. "Sometimes, even your best friend can hurt you without meaning to. If I held on to grudges because of the things that they'd done, or if they held onto grudges because of the things that I'd done, I wouldn't have any friends at all."

"What I've done is a lot worse than just hurting my friends," Blake said. Calling my father a coward isn't even in the top fifty worst things I've done.

"Maybe," Fluttershy acknowledged. "But do you regret it?"

"Every day."

"Then you aren't the person who did those things, are you?" Rarity asked.

Blake blinked. "And … that's it?"

"What else is there, but change?" Fluttershy asked. "And doing better next time?"

"Redemption?" Blake asked. "Penance?"

Fluttershy was silent for a moment. "Rainbow and Twilight tried to get me into video games once. I didn't really enjoy them. I remember one game, you could do all kinds of horrible things and get negative points that would make everybody hate you … but then you could just buy them cookies or rescue stray kittens, and they'd forget all about the terrible things that you'd done because your positive points would cancel them out. Until you did something bad again, anyway. That didn't seem right to me."

Blake nodded, understanding what Fluttershy was saying: that expecting that you could or should do a set of arbitrary good things until you hit an equally arbitrary point at which you had cancelled out all of your prior bad acts was just as facile — if not more so — than the idea of a blank cheque of forgiveness. "But … how do I know if I deserve to be forgiven?"

"I'd ask if you were certain you'd forgiven yourself," Rarity said. "But the answer, I'm afraid to say, is becoming more obvious by the moment."

"So what?" Blake asked. "What does that matter?"

"It's the only thing that matters," Fluttershy said. "Even if the whole rest of Remnant forgave you personally, none of that would matter if you couldn't forgive yourself. You'd still be trapped by what you'd done, unable to move forward."

Blake let out a dispirited sigh. "That … that explains a great deal about how I feel," she admitted. "I've been running and running to do something, anything, that will make up for what I did, but … but none of it made me feel any better."

"I don't know, for certain," Fluttershy admitted. "But perhaps…"

"Perhaps we can find out together, darling?" Rarity said.

Blake glanced from Fluttershy to Rarity and then back again. "I … I'd like that," she said. "Yes, I'd like that a lot."

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: Major Leaf was created on tumblr and is used by permission of IronwoodProtectionSquad.

 

[ScipioSmith]

A Letter Home​

The dorm rooms in Atlas were smaller than the rooms at Beacon, with four bunk beds — two across and two high — situated against the right-hand wall, with the duvet covers in royal blue, matching the strips of that same colour on either side of the midnight blue carpet that covered most, but not all, of the grey tiled floor. The window was high as the room itself, with dark metal lines crawling up it in slightly winding patterns, while desks for working sat opposite bunks against the left-hand wall. As Team RSPT had taken most of their stuff to Beacon, the dorm at Atlas where Rainbow and Ciel were staying — at least for now — was even more barren and austere than it was normally. The doors of Atlas Academy's dorm rooms were automatic, like so much else about Atlas, and so, the door into RSPT's Atlas dorm room slid open to admit Blake without anyone having to get up and let her in.

She walked inside, the tails of her new coat trailing slightly after her. "Good evening, Rainbow," she said. "Ciel."

Ciel was on the bottom bunk, out of sight of Rainbow Dash, but the latter heard her say, "Good evening, Blake."

"Hey," Rainbow said. "Nice outfit."

"Thank you," Blake said. "Rarity did a good job helping pick it out for me."

"Rarity always does a good job picking outfits," Rainbow said. She hesitated. "Well, almost always. Anyway, how was your tour of Atlas?"

"You have a very impressive city here," Blake replied. "It's very … shiny."

Rainbow snorted. "Yeah, you could say that. But is that a good thing to you?"

"I don't think it matters," Blake replied. "I'm going to make my choice based on more important considerations than the architecture or the look of a place." She paused. "There aren't very many faunus here, are there?"

"I … wouldn't say that, necessarily," Rainbow said. "I mean, there's me, and Neon. There's you."

"I don't count," Blake said flatly.

"Okay, there's … there's Lycus Silvermane, Fourth year, Team Pastel."

"Three."

"Moondancer, who works in the lab and helped with Penny."

"Four."

"Specialist Amin, who graduated at the end of last year," Rainbow said. "Pretty cool guy, too, you should meet him."

"Five," Blake said.

Rainbow hesitated. "Uh … Lemon Zest, who used to go to Crystal Prep."

"Six."

"That's more than you can count on the fingers of one hand," Rainbow pointed out.

Blake raised one eyebrow.

Rainbow grinned down at her from the top bunk. "You're right," she said. "There aren't that many faunus here in Atlas."

"I didn't see a single one today."

"Unless you make great boasts for your eyes, that does not prove that they were not there," Ciel pointed out.

"Maybe not, but the chances of me missing all of them are pretty slim," Blake replied.

Rainbow didn't mention that there were more faunus in Low Town or Mantle; the fact that there were more faunus living in the poor, wretched parts of the kingdom than there were in Atlas was hardly an antidote to Blake's point. "That's why it's important that we do our best," she said. "We have to keep pushing so we can get faunus into the room, at the table, just like Rudi Antonio says in his book."

"To what end, if faunus can't even live in Atlas?" Blake asked.

"How is that ever going to change unless we can get faunus making the decisions?" Rainbow responded. "I like Councillor Cadenza — I'll have to try and introduce you to her too — I respect her, she's very smart, and she genuinely wants what's best for Atlas, and I believe that she believes in equality. And that's impressive, considering."

"I'd rather hope it was the norm," Blake murmured.

"The woman was kidnapped by the White Fang," Rainbow reminded her, "and she escaped and was still willing to have a faunus at her wedding. I have to give her some credit for that."

"The faunus aren't the White Fang and vice versa," Blake declared. "I'm … a little less inclined to give credit for the fact that someone was able to remember that."

"There have been times in our acquaintance when you have failed to do so," Ciel pointed out.

"Cadance is a good person," Rainbow insisted. "Give her a chance, and I swear she'll impress you. Of all the civilians on the Council, she is by far the best."

Blake was silent for a moment. A smile fleeted across her face, and her voice acquired a hint of gentle teasing. "You said that so that you didn't have to choose between her and the General, didn't you?"

"I … may have, yeah," Rainbow admitted. "But my point stands. She's a good person, she does her best for Atlas—"

"But she's not a faunus," Blake murmured.

Rainbow sighed. "But we still have Low Town right underneath the city; most of them work up in Atlas; they do construction, maintenance—"

"I'm a little surprised that isn't done by robots," Blake observed. "So much seems to be here."

"A lot," Rainbow agreed. "But you can programme a robot to pick up litter, you can programme a robot to identify grimm and shoot at them, but you can't programme a robot to be able to guess why you don't have hot water in your house. Some things you need a person with intuition for."

"So they get to keep Atlas' water warm but not live here."

"I didn't say it was a good thing; it isn't," Rainbow said. "And that's my point, we need to push forward so that we can get faunus into positions of authority where they can make the decisions that will help the people."

"Our people," Blake murmured.

Rainbow hesitated. "I … I don't know if I have the right to say that," she said softly.

"Are you a faunus?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"And do you want to help them?"

Rainbow nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Then they're your people," Blake said. "You can be Atlesian and a faunus; you can have two tribes, two layers of identity; isn't that the point of this? Isn't that what sets us apart from Sienna Khan's White Fang?"

"And from the Happy Huntresses," Ciel muttered.

"Who?" Blake asked.

"Never mind," Rainbow said quickly.

"A certain group," Ciel explained, despite Rainbow, "who believe that one can either be of Mantle or of Atlas, not both."

"Don't worry about them," Rainbow assured Blake. "They're not a problem, just a few troublemakers." That was possibly selling them a little short, but Rainbow didn't really want Blake to find out about Atlas' problems with separatist movements. They were supposed to be making a good impression, after all. "But, apart from the fact that there aren't enough faunus, you liked what you saw?"

"What I saw was impressive," Blake said, "but as I said, 'like' doesn't have much to do with it." She paused. "We ran into Applejack at the memorial."

"Right," Rainbow said quietly. "That's not surprising."

"There is a saying," Ciel said. "At some point, you will run into everyone at the memorial."

"That's an exaggeration," Rainbow said. She looked down at Blake. "Don't get the wrong idea about These Are My Jewels, okay?"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "And what is the wrong idea?"

"That it's … that they're the ones who matter," Rainbow said. "I mean, of course they matter, but they matter because … every face up there, everyone who has ever had their photo put up there, everyone who has ever had flowers left for them there, those are tragedies, every one. They're not the goal; they're not what we strive for. We honour them, and we recognise that sometimes, you don't have a choice but to put your body between danger and those who rely on us … and even if there was another way, we honour them regardless, because it would be … anyway, the point is that if all we wanted to do was sacrifice the jewels of Atlas, we could do that without the ships and the bombs and the androids. But we do all of those things because the aim is not to die for Atlas; it's to live for her."

"'No one ever won a war by dying for his kingdom,'" Ciel declared. "'But by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his.' Pardon my language."

"A quote, I presume," Blake said.

"General Colton," Ciel said. "The Valish officer who—"

"I know who General Colton is," Blake said. She glanced up at Rainbow Dash. "Has he turned up in the book Tukson lent you yet?"

"Yeah, I've gotten through the Great War stuff," Rainbow said. "She doesn't spend as long on that as I thought she might."

"Sienna Khan was writing with an eye to expounding on politics; the Great War offered less opportunity to do that," Blake replied. "And besides, the Mistralian front in the Great War was — thanks in no small part to Ares Claudandus — something of a sideshow, and neither he nor his principal lieutenants were involved in any of the more prominent theatres."

"Lucky them, considering," Rainbow muttered.

Blake nodded. She gestured to one of the chairs sitting against the other wall. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Rainbow replied.

Blake got the chair, dragging it across the floor until she was sitting close to the bunks. "So, what do you think so far?"

"He was an impressive soldier, wasn't he?" Rainbow said.

"Sienna rates him as great a warrior as the Last King of Vale," Blake said. "I disagree. I think Claudandus was better."

"That is quite a claim," Ciel observed.

"The Last King accomplished great things, but he had a nation behind him and an army that he had had time to prepare for the conflict that he must have seen coming many years before the storm broke," Blake explained. "Ares Claudandus took a bunch of slaves who had been beaten down, degraded, whose masters had done everything in their power to make them feel as though they were no better than animals, and he fashioned them into an army capable of standing up to any other in Remnant. If you've read the section on the Great War, then you'll already know that they went up against Colton, Vale's best general after the king himself, leading a Valish army, and they beat him tactically and strategically and sent him home with his tail between his legs."

"It's impressive," Rainbow said. "I'm not sure about all the backstabbing, though."

"You don't think it was necessary?" Blake asked.

"I would appreciate a little context," Ciel said.

"When the Great War began, the main Mistralian army under Lord Rutulus drove the Valish westward to the mountains," Blake explained. "There, they were stymied by the Valish defences in the pass, and an attempt by Mantle to break the stalemate by landing in the north of Vale and marching south was also blocked."

"I am aware of that," Ciel said softly.

"However, Vale also planned to break the stalemate by sending a relatively small army under General Colton to land in Anima and attack Mistral directly. The plan was to raise the faunus in arms with a promise of freedom," Blake went on.

"And it worked; thousands and thousands of faunus flocked to join Colton's army," Rainbow Dash. "And one of them was Ares Claudandus. He started with about a hundred faunus who had all worked on his master's plantation, and he drilled them until they were the best unit in the whole army. And then he worked his way up, gathering more and more soldiers under his leadership. And all the while he was fighting for Vale, he was secretly negotiating with the Mistralians; he promised that if they abolished slavery, then he would switch sides and fight for them."

"And when they did — if only because they didn't have many other cards to play — he did," Blake said. "So, from a certain point of view, he kept his word."

"It does not sound as though he kept his word to General Colton," Ciel pointed out.

"General Colton wasn't going to stick around when the war ended, and no matter what happened, the war was never going to end with Vale occupying Mistral," Blake said. "Some of Ares' later actions bother me, but I can see why he switched sides like that; as a faunus, he had to do what was best for his people, and that meant putting himself in a position where he could deal with Mistral after the war. He thought that he had a better chance of doing that as a Mistralian general than as someone who had fought for the enemy." Blake looked at Rainbow. "Like you, he thought it would be important to have a faunus in the room when the fate of his people was decided."

"It didn't help; they were all set to ship the faunus out to Menagerie," Rainbow said.

"True, but…" Blake hesitated. "As Sienna Khan says, Ares Claudandus was a faunus first, but he was also a Mistralian second. I think … I believe he genuinely wanted to fight for Mistral, if they would have him and set his people free."

"Yeah," Rainbow replied. "That's not something I expected when I started reading. The guy was … kind of a patriot, wasn't he?"

Blake nodded. "Perhaps too much so, in the end."

"No spoilers," Rainbow said.

Blake snorted. "Okay, I'll let you get there by yourself."

"So, if I may ask, what happened in the war?" Ciel asked. "How did he defeat General Colton?"

"Through sheer guts, by the sound of it," Rainbow said.

"It's not quite that simple," Blake said.

"They deliberately charged the front lines to show how brave they were," Rainbow pointed out.

"True," Blake allowed. "But for a good reason. Why don't you read it?"

Rainbow picked up the book, flicking back a few pages to the point just after Ares Claudandus had switched sides, joining with Mistral against the Valish. "Let's see … 'having no other cards to play, the Emperor' … okay, here it is. 'Colton, in his dispatches back to Vale, described the effect of the Imperial proclamation as electrifying; that is because he was unaware of for how long, and how patiently, Ares had prepared the ground in expectation of this moment. In truth, the effect was less that of an electric shock and more the eruption of a volcano: the moment when forces long gestating out of sight spring into open view. The faunus troops, evading all efforts to disarm or detain them, deserted en masse, and immediately turned their arms against those who had bestowed them. Colton raged against this treachery, but Ares responded with a scornful letter, reminding Colton that he had not escaped from plantation slavery to become a bondsman to Colton or the King of Vale; he was a free man, and free to choose his own path and that of his people.

"'General Colton soon discovered that it was far easier to march through Anima as a friend of the faunus than it was as their enemy. At every place one might conceive an ambush, there, Ares had set a trap; the Valish would be harried on the march, yet when they pursued those who shot at them, they found only labourers with their hoes and shovels — yet every labourer was hostile to them now; every hill pass was held, and every fortress defended with a dogged determination that astonished Valish and Mistralian alike. Colton ordered a brigade to capture the fort at Praesentum, but Crixus and a few hundred fighters defended it so fiercely that soon, the entire Valish army was engaged in the siege. One night, a ragged, half-starved faunus approached the Valish line; he claimed he was a deserter, and that many others were contemplating taking that step. The Valish gave him food and water, and then he stole a horse and galloped through their lines: he was no deserter at all, but a messenger with word for Ares.

"'But Ares knew that if he merely subjected Colton to the death of a thousand cuts, he and his soldiers would be thought little better than brigands by Mistralians eager to dismiss them. He needed to defeat the Valish in pitched battle, and so, he gathered all his strength and marched to the relief of Crixus at Praesentum. Colton withdrew to open ground, where he could better guard against ambushes, and offered battle there. Ares accepted eagerly, drawing up his troops in line of battle; some of his fighters did not have guns, only spears if that; these, he placed in the centre of the formation.

"'Both captains addressed their men before the battle began. Colton dwelt on the victories that they had won in the north and how, having defeated the pride of Mantle, it would be shameful to be defeated in turn by a rabble of slaves. Still he did not comprehend against whom he fought and what power there is in the cause of liberty. It was a lesson many were to learn in the days and years to come. For his part, Claudandus reminded his fellows of what was at stake in this battle and the rewards of victory that would accrue to them. "How often," he asked them, "have you laboured in the fields and heard the revels of your masters in the great house? How often have you served wine in the halls of your masters and come and gone as you were bidden? I tell you that if we win this battle, and drive these invaders from our soil, then we shall be free folk forevermore, and those who come after us shall not know the whip or the chain, but they shall dance in the great houses, and they shall drink wine in the great halls, and we shall be the equals of the grandest humans!" Oh, how revealing is this, what Ares aimed at? Not to tear down the society of Mistral but to join it. This was to cause much grief for him and for the faunuskind, but for now, it fired the bellies of the freedmen.

"'They attacked from the front, advancing at a flat run over open ground. Colton had promised his men that the slaves would break at the first volley, but the first volley crashed home, and they only ran faster towards their enemies. More volleys were fired, faunus fell, but with every faunus that fell, they closed up the ranks and continued to advance without faltering. Boukman, leading the left flank, was killed, and his followers took up his name as their battle cry as they pressed on nonetheless. Crixus, on the right flank, was shot in the arm, but refused to retire until the battle had been decided. Three shots passed through Ares' coat, but he himself was not struck by any of them, and it was from this that the first stories about the magical plume of his hat that would protect him from harm originated.

"'The faunus advanced, and the more they advanced, the more discomfited the Valish became. When the faunus could see the whites of their enemies' eyes, they halted. They were fired upon, the Valish poured shot and shell into their midst. The faunus closed up their ranks, and every warrior who had a gun presented it towards the Valish. They fired a single volley, devastating in its effectiveness, and then they charged, shrieking like devils, falling upon their enemies with bayonets, knives, spears, axes, farming tools. These were men who had lived with the threat of death for every moment of their lives; there had never been an hour, much less a day, when they could not have perished in some grotesque fashion upon the whim of their master. Having lived with the possibility that they might have their rears stuffed with fire dust and then ignited, death by gunshot or bayonet thrust had no terrors for them. Even so, the Valish might have won the day yet by committing their reserves, except that — in spite of all Colton's caution — Ares Claudandus managed to spring an ambush on him after all, having sent his nephew, Antoninus, with a thousand troops on a long march which brought them behind the Valish lines. The Valish fled in disarray, and Ares soon recaptured for Mistral all which he had helped the Valish conquer.'"

"Impressive," Ciel conceded. "And yet, as you say, Rainbow, I must confess to a certain unease with the treachery involved. Yes, a free man is free to change his mind, but that does absolve him from censure for it."

"It's easy to be honourable when your position is strong and secure," Blake pointed out.

"And yet, it is when we are at our weakest and most vulnerable that it is most important not to lose sight of those higher qualities that make us civilised people," Ciel replied.

"But Ares Claudandus was not civilised," Blake declared. "He had been born a slave, he taught himself to read in a time when he could have been killed if he'd been caught, he never learned to write in his own hand — he dictated that reply to Colton to a secretary. Can someone brought up in those circumstances, who saw what might be the only chance in his lifetime or longer to achieve freedom for his people, really be blamed that he didn't observe all the niceties in order to reach his goal?"

Ciel was quiet for a moment, down there in the bottom bunk. "It strikes me," she said softly. "That Sienna Khan might defend herself in much the same way."

Blake was silent for a moment, before a slight chuckle escaped her lips. "I really don't know how she'd take that comparison," she admitted. "On the one hand, to be compared to one of the leaders of the freedom struggle would be a great honour, but on the other, as you'll see, she doesn't really like Ares that much. She has a lot of disagreements with him as the book goes on, and when I was with her, she would often talk about the mistakes he made. She'd probably prefer to be compared to Crixus."

"He's going to be important later, then?" Rainbow asked.

"Oh, very much so," Blake replied.

Rainbow nodded absently. "So … how long did you spend with Sienna Khan?"

Blake tapped at her knees with her fingers for a moment. "Three years, almost four," she said. "From when I left my parents until Adam was sent to command of the Vale Chapter, and I went with him."

"Do you ever miss them?" asked Rainbow.

"Sienna, or my parents?"

"Either? Both?" Rainbow said. "It's up to you, really."

Blake was silent for a moment. "Sienna … no, not really. She was kind to me, indulgent even; she taught me an awful lot, and I get the feeling — I hope, anyway — that she would have protected me from Adam, but… she is the reason it took me so long to break with Adam and the White Fang in the first place; she's the one who spent so long convincing me that what we were doing was right and just. No, I don't miss her. Because, if I was with her, I wouldn't be here, if that doesn't sound trite."

"And your parents?" Ciel murmured.

"I…" Blake fell silent for a moment. "I regret the way that I left things with my parents. I wish that I had … I wish that we had parted in a different spirit. They … they didn't approve of my choices, and I was— I was downright scathing about theirs." She glanced away. "I don't regret … I do regret … I do, and I do not regret my choices, I regret the immediate consequence and do not regret the longer consequences which brought me here. I wouldn't wish myself to Menagerie at their side."

"No?" Rainbow said. "Chieftain's daughter? Some might call that a pretty sweet deal. Some might call that a pretty powerful deal as well. I mean, we talk about getting a faunus in the room … on Menagerie, you'd own the room."

"A little room," Blake said. "With few visitors. Yes, my father is the Chieftain of Menagerie, but what is that worth? What is Menagerie to the outside world? A little land, unrecognised, not part of the system of the world created after the Great War, a place unthought of and out of the way, and its chieftain someone of little note. I was able to use my real name at Beacon, and nobody guessed who I really was; doesn't that say something about what little regard my family is held in in Remnant? I could do more good here than I ever could in Menagerie; I could do more good at Beacon than I ever could at Menagerie. But, all the same … I regret that I parted from my parents the way I did."

Rainbow looked down at Blake, as Blake herself looked down at the floor, but in Rainbow's mind's eye, it was not Blake's parents she imagined but her own, sailing away to Menagerie.

Perhaps Blake wasn't the only one who ought to wish that they'd parted in a different spirit.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," she said. "I just—"

"It's fine," Blake assured her. "You were only … it's fine."

"Anyway," Rainbow said. "You had a good day?"

"I'm not sure that I ought to describe a day in which I visited a war memorial as good," Blake said. "But it wasn't a bad day." She smiled briefly. "How's Penny?"

"Her father has started working on her," Rainbow said. "Hopefully, she'll be up and talking — with her own voice — before too long." She paused for a moment. "Hey, Blake, can I ask you something?"

"You shouldn't answer this," Ciel declared.

Blake's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because it will not do any good," Ciel said.

"That doesn't mean that we should close our eyes," Rainbow insisted.

"What is it?" Blake asked.

Rainbow climbed down from the top bunk, careful not to leap since she should have easily hit Blake. "Do you think … I know that you're not that close to Penny, but you know what she is, which makes you kind of objective, I guess, but what do you think…? Do you think that Penny ought to be freer, to live her own life and make her own choices?"

Blake let the silence linger in the room for so long that it started to become uncomfortable. Rainbow shifted awkwardly from side to side, waiting for a response. Blake herself licked her lips, and played with her hair with one hand.

"You do not have to say anything," Ciel said softly.

"I … wasn't really aware that Penny wasn't free to live her own life and make her own choices," Blake said carefully.

"That might be said to prove that the infringements on her freedom are so minor as to be beneath notice," Ciel suggested.

"But Rainbow seems to have noticed them," Blake pointed out.

"Penny was created to serve the Kingdom of Atlas," Ciel said.

"But she doesn't want to?"

"She might not," Rainbow said. "If not right now, then one day. She might want something different out of her life. And I'm worried that she wouldn't be able to have it."

Blake leaned back in her chair. "There is an obvious comparison to be made here," she pointed out.

Rainbow cringed. "That's what Twilight said, that's what I was afraid of."

"An overblown comparison," Ciel insisted. "Penny is happy."

"The slaveowners maintained that their slaves were happy," Blake pointed out.

"Penny is genuinely happy, you know that!" Ciel cried. "This isn't my claim in the teeth of the evidence; this is the truth!"

"The truth is that Penny doesn't like you nearly as much as you like her," Rainbow said. "That isn't fair, but I do understand it." She paused for a moment. "You might feel like her sister, but will she ever feel like yours while you're keeping the keys?"

Ciel pursed her lips together. "It is … it is an honourable thing to fight for Atlas, a noble thing and worthy of the highest hearts and of the highest hearts from all the rest; it is no mean punishment to which Penny is…"

"Condemned?" Blake suggested.

"Indemnified," Ciel insisted. "If you feel that our service is so unworthy of consideration, then why are you here?"

"That's a ridiculous comparison, and you know it," Blake said, keeping her voice calm as she did so. "I'm here of my own choice, and I will make a choice. Penny hasn't had that opportunity. Maybe she would choose everything that has been laid out for her anyway, or maybe—"

"'I want so much more than they've got planned,'" Rainbow whispered.

Ciel frowned. "That's from—"

"Penny said it to me, on the day that we met Sapphire," Rainbow explained. "Yes, it's from a movie, from a movie that you showed her. She's always wanted more. I don't know if she knows exactly what she wants, but she's always wanted more."

"It cannot be," Ciel declared. She stood up. "General Ironwood has indulged so much, but this? He will not permit it, and her father … it cannot be."

"The status quo always seems too strong to be challenged," Blake said. "But it is only by challenge, however forlorn the challenge may seem, that it is ever broken."

Ciel frowned. "With … with all that we know, and all that is opposed to us—"

"The fact that there's an actual honest evil out there makes it even more important that we be the good guys, don't you think?" Rainbow asked.

"Even if it means discarding a vital…" Ciel trailed off before she could actually refer to Penny as a weapon. "I do not find this an easy question."

"Neither do I, and I hate it," Rainbow muttered. She ran one hand through her many-coloured hair. "Sorry, Blake, this isn't your business; you've got enough going on without—"

"No, it's fine," Blake assured her. "I'm … I'm glad to know what you're thinking on this. It hadn't occurred to me, but now that it has … well, anyway … oh, Mrs Breeze said to invite you for dinner, since I was headed this way."

"That is really nice of her," Rainbow said. She glanced at Ciel. "But—"

"Please, don't stop on my account," Ciel said. "I'll be fine."

"In the empty cafeteria?" Rainbow asked. "Is it even open?"

"It's not completely empty," Ciel pointed out.

"I'm not going to just ditch you; that would be a real jackass move," Rainbow said.

"Are you going to stay so that we can argue more about Penny?"

"No, I'm going to stay so that you're not—"

"Why don't I call Fluttershy and ask if they mind having you both over?" Blake suggested.

"A generous offer, but I would not wish to impose," Ciel said. "I don't know the family at all."

"Neither do I, really," Blake pointed out. "And you'll never get the chance if you turn down invitations like this."

"You make a very good point," Ciel murmured, "and I am hardly swimming in better offers."

"I'll give Fluttershy a call," Blake said. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Tell her we won't be over right away; I've got something to take care of first," Rainbow said.

"What?" Blake asked.

"It doesn't matter; it won't take me that long," Rainbow assured her. "I just need a second. And some privacy."

"And as we are going out, we should probably shower and change," Ciel added.

"I'll join you in a second," Rainbow said. Unlike at Beacon, the Atlas dorms didn't have en suite facilities, so Ciel would have to go to the shower room down the hall. As would Rainbow herself, but for now, it would get Ciel out of the room.

"I'll make the call, then," Blake said, as Ciel gathered her toiletries and a dress — Rainbow didn't pay much attention to what kind of dress it was — and they both, in quick succession, left the dorm room.

As the door slid shut behind them, Rainbow sat down at the desk. She grabbed a pen and a few sheets of loose paper that were sitting on the work surface and took a moment to think about what she wanted to say.

Having thought for a little bit – but not too long, because she hadn't got all day – Rainbow started to write.

Dear Lady Belladonna,

You don't know me, but my name is Rainbow Dash, and I'm a student at Atlas Academy. I'm also a friend of your daughter, Blake.

I know that that probably sounds weird, and you don't have any reason to believe it, so I enclose this picture to prove that I do know Blake.

Rainbow got out her wallet. Several pictures, some more crumpled from repeated folding than others, nestled in the front section behind her bank card. The picture that Rainbow wanted, the picture that she fished out of her wallet and placed on the desk, was a photo of her and Blake standing on the Beacon cliffs, with the blue sky behind them. Their fingers were intertwined as Rainbow's hand rested upon Blake's shoulder.


They looked … happy, which was important. If Blake had looked miserable to be in Rainbow's presence, then it wouldn't have done much good with her mother at all.

My parents, Bow Hothoof Dash and Windy Whistles Dash, both residents of Kuo Kuana, can verify that the other girl in the picture is me and that I am who I say I am. Hopefully, this is enough to prove that I'm telling the truth.

Blake is my friend. I care a lot about her, and although she doesn't know that I'm writing you this letter, I hope that she'll forgive me when it all works out in the end. I know that Blake is sorry about the way that things ended between you, her father, and her, and once you read what I have to say, I hope that you'll be able to forgive her.

Blake isn't with the White Fang anymore. She quit almost a year ago now and has been studying at Beacon Academy to be a huntress. She almost got into trouble at the start of last semester when the police found out that she used to be part of the White Fang, but the Kingdom of Atlas granted her diplomatic immunity in exchange for her help stopping the White Fang who were very active in Vale at the time.

Although, if anyone asks, Blake was never really part of the White Fang but was actually an Atlesian spy on a long-term undercover assignment. That's what the Valish Council told the press to save face.

Blake has been a great help to us; with her assistance, we arrested a major criminal ally of the White Fang, stopped a series of robberies, and uncovered a plot to launch a massive attack on Vale. Your daughter is, by any reasonable measure, a hero. She's also a great person: smart, brave — a little too brave if you ask me, but let's not get into that. Although she has abandoned the White Fang, she hasn't abandoned her convictions and never hesitates to call out injustice when she sees it.

I admire her. I admire her a whole lot, and I think that you should be proud of her.

She is considering transferring to Atlas next year so that she can continue serving with us; I hope she does it because I think she could do great things here, but then, I'm sure she'll do great things whatever she decides to do.

Unfortunately, our victory was not without cost, and although Blake was not hurt, she is sad about some of the things she had to do; with all due respect, I think that a letter from her parents letting her know that there are no hard feelings might lift her spirits.

I don't know how things went down at the end, when you parted ways, and maybe I'm being impertinent to ask this, but I think if anyone deserves to be forgiven, Blake does, so I hope you'll consider it.

At the very least, I hope it helps you to know that Blake is alive and well and in good company.

Yours,

Rainbow Dash

PS: I'm afraid I might have had to promise the bearer of this letter that you would pay them on receipt in order to stop them throwing the letter off the boat; I'm sorry to put you out of pocket, but if you can find some lien for them, that would be great.

PPS: Also enclosed is a letter for my parents; if you could deliver it to them, that would be very kind of you. They may ask for the photo of me and Blake for their scrapbook.

Rainbow pushed the letter to Lady Belladonna aside. She had covered all of one side and most of the other; hopefully, she'd gotten her point across.

Now she had to write to her own parents.

It was a little harder to think of what to say.

Nevertheless, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, Rainbow held her pen hovering over the blank page. What to say? What to say after so long?

She shouldn't have left it this long, but what good was that now? She had left it for that long, so… what to say?

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to write to you, I have

Rainbow paused before she could write 'I have been very busy.' No, that was just barefaced excuse-making.

I have no excuse. I should have let you know how I was doing before now. I'm sorry, but I was just talking with a friend of mine, and she reminded me how lucky I am to have parents who agreed with the path I wanted to take and who supported me.

I'm sorry it took this long for me to appreciate that.

Twilight is well, physically, but she's had a bit of a tough time this year; I can't talk about what has happened because it's classified, but I hope that it's all over with now and Twi will start to feel better soon.

I have had to retake my first year at Atlas after my team broke up. We were on a training mission and, well, things didn't go so great. Spearhead was injured; he's okay now, with the help of a prosthetic leg, but he didn't feel like returning to school, and he has now opened up an art gallery in Mantle where he is pursuing his passion. I wish him luck, and I should probably check in on him more often than I do.

Maud also decided that being a huntress was maybe not for her after all; she's studying geology now at the Everton Institute.

Applejack took the year off.

Rainbow debated inwardly how much she could say about exactly how un-relaxing Applejack's year off had ended up being.

She offered to take Fluttershy on a tour of Vale exploring the wilds and the wonders of nature. They ended up getting into some trouble with the White Fang, but we rescued them, and they are safe home now without a scratch on them. I'm not sure if Applejack will want to come back to Atlas next year, but I think she will anyway because that's the kind of girl she is.

As for me, I was given a special assignment by General Ironwood, although I can't say what it is. It was a great honour to be chosen, and although I haven't always done the best job, I think in the end that I've done a pretty good job. I kept my teammates alive, which is the most important job that any team leader could have, and we helped save Vale from the White Fang, which would otherwise have done a lot more damage than they did and probably hurt the reputation of faunus everywhere.

As part of this assignment, I have two new teammates. Ciel Soleil is uptight and always argues with me, but I like her anyway. She keeps me honest and on my toes, and when she gets on my back, it's usually for a good reason. She's earnest, honest, dutiful, and disciplined; she's what every Atlas soldier should aspire to be.

Penny

Again, Rainbow paused, wondering just what she could say about Penny.

Penny is sweet and innocent and seems very young. She's very eager, but I worry that that's more because she doesn't really know what she's eager for half the time. I let her down. I made a bad call in the field, and Penny was injured because of it. She doesn't blame me, but that kind of makes it worse.

I want to protect her.

I feel kind of the way that I feel around Pinkie, that this is someone who needs somebody to look out for them, except with Penny, it's even more so. I'm not sure that her father has her best interests at heart, but he's plugged into all the top people in Atlas, so there's nothing that my word can do against his reputation.

I want to keep her safe, but I don't know how.

I want to show her that I care, even if she doesn't think I do.

Sorry, this doesn't mean anything to you, does it? The first letter you've gotten from me, and I'm just rambling on about stuff that you don't care about and couldn't do anything about even if you did. Sorry.

One thing that will interest you: I've been in Vale for most of this past year, and I ran into Gilda there. She is in management already, so she must be doing something right. She seemed healthy and happy, and I wish her all the best. I'm sure if she knew I was writing this, she'd send her love.

I also made a new friend while I was in Vale: Blake Belladonna, the High Chieftain's daughter. She is also a huntress in training, and I had the honour to fight alongside her more than once. I'm not sure we could have saved Vale without her help. She's inspired me to write this letter to you, but also to think about the way that the faunus are suffering down in Low Town where we used to live. I haven't been back there in some time, but I realise now that I can't ignore what's going on down below. I'm a faunus too, and I have to try and help make things better, as we all do. We've quit the field and left it to the White Fang for too long.

I'll try and write more frequently, although being that you live on Menagerie, it might take a while for the letters to get there.

Regardless, I will keep doing my best, and I hope that you keep living your best lives down by the beach.

Say hi to Gilda's folks for me.

With all the love that you deserve,

Your daughter,

Rainbow Dash

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: Art by Seshirukun

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Atlas That Can Be​

Cadance's office looked as though it was made of glass. The floor was so shiny that Rainbow could see herself reflected on its surface as she walked in, and it was the same with the walls too, like the whole office was one giant mirror surrounding her and the councillor. Cadance's desk was made of metal and polished to a sheen as reflective as the walls themselves. The back wall was taken up with a giant window, out of which she could see the skyscrapers of Atlas stretching out towards the edge of the world, and the airships — military and civilian — flying over and around them like whales mingling with sharks.

An Atlesian flag sat in the corner of the office, there was a law school degree on the wall, and on the desk sat various little touches that mitigated against the impression of a glass box: photos in digital frames, a couple of trophies, an old chipped coffee mug and a model of an Atlesian cruiser.

Cadance got up from her chair as Rainbow Dash walked in, and the door slid shut behind her. "Rainbow Dash!" she said, as the smile on her face reached all the way up to her eyes. "Welcome home."

Rainbow smiled. "It's good to be back, ma'am," she said, "but you don't need to get up for me."

"But I did anyway," Cadance said. "Please, sit down?"

"That's fine, ma'am," Rainbow said, clasping her hands behind her back as she stood in front of Cadance's desk.

"Suit yourself," Cadance murmured. She did sit down, the smile still on her face. "So, how does it feel to be back home?"

Rainbow thought about it for a moment. "Beacon was nice, and the people we met were cool, and there were long stretches when nothing happened, but … then something would happen, and you remembered that this was a town with the White Fang running amuck. It's good to be somewhere that can't happen. It's good to know that Twilight, and the others, are somewhere that can't happen." She grinned. "Plus, I've missed the cakes at Sugarcube Corner."

Cadance chuckled. "How are you doing, Rainbow?"

"I'm fine," Rainbow said.

"Really?" Cadance asked. "Twilight says that you've been subdued lately."

Rainbow hesitated. "You've spoken to Twi?"

"I am her sister-in-law," Cadance reminded her, not that Rainbow needed reminding. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, ma'am," Rainbow said. "It will be fine, anyway."

Cadance raised one eyebrow. "You don't have to say that if it isn't true."

"You're on the Atlas Council, ma'am; you don't need issues that I can take care of myself," Rainbow said. "But … there is one thing — okay, there are two things, but you know about one of them already, so one other thing — that you could help me with, or that I could use your advice on."

Cadance rested her hands upon the desk. "Name it."

"Has Twilight spoken to you about Penny?" Rainbow asked. "She had doubts almost from the start; I didn't take them seriously at the time, but since then, I … I've started to think she might have been right all along."

"In what way?"

"So Twilight has spoken to you about this?" Rainbow asked.

"About Penny?" Cadance clarified. "No, I'm afraid she hasn't. Enlighten me. Is something amiss with the project?"

"That's the problem," Rainbow said. "Penny is a person, not a project, and I … when we first moved in to Beacon, Twilight asked me if we had built a slave. I told her 'no.' I didn't exactly blow her off, but I … well, I gave her an answer that seems … looking back, it seems like kind of an easy answer."

"Which was?"

"That we wouldn't be forcing Penny to do anything because she'd obviously want to fight for Atlas," Rainbow said. She smiled sheepishly. "I think that, back then, I couldn't imagine why anyone wouldn't."

"Has that changed?" Cadance asked.

"Atlas can still rely on my loyalty," Rainbow assured her.

Ninety-five percent of it, anyway. Ninety-eight percent. Some pretty high percentage. If that train had been about to smash into Atlas, I would have stopped Sunset. If Rarity and Pinkie and Fluttershy had been in Vale — being onboard the Valiant doesn't count — I would have stopped the train. Ninety-something percent. Yeah.

"But I understand why not everyone would feel the same way. I … I don't want you to think that I'm making excuses for Chrysalis, but I understand a little more why some people hate us, even if we — as in all of us, as in you, as in Twilight, as in the girls and the General and people who haven't done nothing — don't deserve it. The point is that what I told Twilight back then, that it didn't matter if Penny didn't have a choice in the matter because she'd choose what everyone wanted her to do anyway … I'm not sure I believe that any more."

Cadance was silent for a moment. "And what do you think that she would do instead?"

"I don't know," Rainbow admitted. "I haven't asked her. Nobody has."

"Then it's a little early to be worrying about it, don't you think?"

"Isn't it time to think about it now, rather than when she decides what she wants and finds out that …" Rainbow trailed off.

"Put like that, you're making me regret that the Council didn't probe harder into the ethical ramifications of this before signing off on Penny's creation," Cadance murmured. "We were promised the future of warfare."

"For what it's worth, I'm pretty sure — almost certain pretty sure — that Penny wants to be a huntress," Rainbow said. "I'm just not so sure that it's under the banner of Atlas."

"Atlas paid for Penny's creation," Cadance reminded her.

"Atlas pays for the defence of most of Remnant; how much of that is really to our benefit?" Rainbow asked.

"Do you want to get into the cost-benefit analysis of all our military operations and the general benefits of maintaining life and stability across Remnant?" Cadance asked.

"I probably should," Rainbow admitted. "But right now, I'd prefer to remind you of what you said when you were sworn in as a member of the Council: Let every nation and all peoples know, whether they wish us well or ill, that we shall support any friend, oppose any foe, meet any hardship, surmount any obstacle, bear any burden, pay any price to ensure the survival and the success of liberty."

Cadance leaned back in her chair. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I said that. And I meant it. Old Mantle sought to decouple life from liberty, thinking to preserve life by circumscribing it, by putting limits upon it, by chaining hearts and minds and souls in the name of safety and security. Now we know better. Now we know that life without liberty is … not worth living."

"Then what about Penny's liberty?" Rainbow asked. "How can we go out there to every corner of Remnant and fight for the freedom of all peoples when we're forcing someone to fight for Atlas against her will? Councillor, I … I believe in what you said, I've quoted your words in defence of Atlas and what we do, I … I'd hate to see Atlas betray itself, and I'd hate to see it betray Penny."

Cadance looked Rainbow in the eye. "What is it you want me to do?"

"Nothing," Rainbow said. "I just want to know what … if this isn't what Penny wants, then what does that mean? What will happen to her?"

"Doctor Polendina will have an opinion on that, I'm sure, and so will General Ironwood," Cadance said. "Have you spoken to General Ironwood about this?"

"No," Rainbow admitted.

"Why not?"

"The General has a lot going on," Rainbow said. "I didn't want to bother him with it."

Cadance looked at Rainbow Dash in silence.

Rainbow shuffled uncomfortably on the shiny, reflective floor. "I … I was worried … I didn't want to hear him say that he didn't … I didn't want him to betray himself."

"Do you trust him?"

"Of course I trust him!" Rainbow cried.

"'Of course'?" Cadance asked.

Rainbow sighed. "Ciel thinks I'm a fool. She thinks it's never going to happen and I should forget about it — and probably encourage Penny to forget about it too, assuming that she's even thinking about it. She thinks that … that Atlas won't let Penny go. But every student has the right to quit the Academy at any time prior to graduation, every officer has the right to resign their commission—"

"But enlisted men don't have that option, they have to serve until their term expires," Cadance pointed out.

"Okay, but Penny isn't enlisted, and she didn't sign up for twelve years or six or even at all," Rainbow said. "So what I want to know is, 'will she have the same rights as any other student or officer?'"

"I … don't know," Cadance admitted. "As I say, General Ironwood will have a view on that, as will Doctor Polendina, and it may in the end come to the Council to decide. And I can't say for sure what that decision will be."

"I see," Rainbow muttered.

It was not the answer that she had been hoping for; perhaps it had been the answer she should have expected nonetheless, the answer that Ciel had been telling her to expect. After all, Ciel made very logical, very valid points; Rainbow had just been hoping that logic would yield in the face of the ideals of Atlas.

"But, if that is the path that Penny wishes to take, if she wishes to take off her uniform, then I give you my guarantee that the Council will hear her case, no matter who tries to stop it," Cadance vowed. "I won't let her be silenced. And, although a good arbitrator should try to reserve judgement until they've heard the arguments, on the basis of what you've said, I can also say that I am minded to take her side. Because you're right: this is a matter of liberty and civil rights. Rights to which Penny is no less entitled than anyone else in this kingdom."

"Really?" The grin spread across Rainbow's face from ear to ear. "Thanks! I mean, thank you, ma'am, I … I appreciate that. If it comes to it, then I'm sure Penny will too, but right now … I'm glad you've got my back."

"You're doing the right thing," Cadance said. "How can I not support that? How can I not support you when you're trying to keep Atlas honest and true to itself? As a Councillor, that should be one of my highest priorities, alongside the defence of the Kingdom itself and its citizens."

Rainbow nodded. "I knew that I could count on you. I hoped I could."

"I'm sure that if you speak to General Ironwood, you'll find that you can count on him too," Cadance suggested.

"I … I'll think about it," Rainbow said. She paused for a moment. "I … I actually came in here to talk about something else, if you don't mind? When I asked to see you, it … that thing that we—"

"The scar?" Cadance said.

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "The brand anyway. I know that you've probably been really busy, but I wanted to see if you'd found anything."

Cadance was still for a moment, and silent. "I have been looking into it," she assured Rainbow. "Discreetly, of course. Not that you'd expect for something like this to be written down and archived, but I can find no evidence of this kind of mistreatment of faunus — employees or otherwise — by the SDC."

"I know what I saw," Rainbow insisted.

"And I believe you," Cadance said. "Because I have found evidence of a cover-up."

"But you just said—"

"Nothing," Cadance said. "And that's suspicious, don't you think? I've looked back twenty years and can't find any evidence of an Adam Taurus ever having been employed by the SDC. Based on what information is known about the man, it doesn't seem he could have been employed before that, would you agree?"

"He didn't seem that old," Rainbow said, "Mid-twenties at most, so … yeah, that checks out. He … he spoke to Fluttershy, when she was held prisoner beneath Mountain Glenn. He told her that he started working down the mines when he was a boy."

"If he was twenty-five, then that would make him ten fifteen years ago," Cadance said. "Which, as you say, checks out. Of course, if workers were being abused by the SDC, then it would make sense that there would be no records of those employees. I thought perhaps to interview supervisors and managers from that period to see if any of them remembered Taurus or anything similar happening to other workers, but everyone I've been able to trace…"

Rainbow frowned. "What is it?"

"Everyone that I've been able to trace has died, either in one form of accident or another or by suicide," Cadance said. "I haven't been able to find anyone from that time alive."

"It sounds like someone's cleaning house," Rainbow said. "When was the last death?"

Cadance was silent for a moment. "Two weeks ago."

Rainbow's eyes widened. "'Two weeks'? That's—"

"After you asked me to look into this," Cadance said.

"So they're not just cleaning house; they're doing it now?" Rainbow gasped. "I … Cadance, I'm sorry; I didn't think that—"

"You don't have to apologise—"

"The hell I don't; I've put you in danger," Rainbow spat. She put her hands behind her head, turning away from Cadance as she began to pace up and down the room. "I didn't think that they would … what if they decide it's easier to just take you out instead of anyone you might talk to?"

"I'm a Councillor of the Kingdom of Atlas," Cadance declared. "It's not that easy to just make me disappear."

Tell that to Chrysalis. "I should never have got you into this," Rainbow whispered. "If anything happened to you because you got on the radar of the wrong people, I … how would I explain that to Twilight? Maybe … maybe you should drop it. Drop it now, and maybe … maybe they'll think that you gave up."

"You brought this to me," Cadance said. "You asked me to find out the truth."

"The truth isn't worth your life!" Rainbow insisted. "The truth isn't worth one single life spent to bring it out into the open. Shining Armor can't hold the truth at night. He can't love it."

Cadance stood up. "If what happened to Adam Taurus is just the tip of the iceberg," she said, "if there are historic abuses that the SDC is covering up — or gods forbid, present ones — then revealing that is worth more than my life." The sapphire heart around her neck, set in its gold necklace, glimmered in the northern sunlight. "People like Adam Taurus deserve liberty no less than Penny, no less than anyone else, don't you think?"

"Yes, but—"

"Atlas failed Adam Taurus," Cadance said. "And in so doing, we created a danger which we then unleashed upon the rest of Remnant, doing harm to those we claim to protect. The least we can do is not fail those who need our help and protection now, before they become more problems for the other kingdoms to deal with."

"No matter the cost?" Rainbow asked softly.

Cadance smiled. "I've no intention of dying just yet," she assured Rainbow Dash. "As I said, I'm glad that you wanted to see me about this, because I may need your help. As you say, it's clear that someone is tying up loose ends before I grab hold of them; if I come across a viable lead, I may need you to go and chase it up for me, as someone who—"

"Can handle herself in a fight?" Rainbow suggested. "That's a good idea. That's the best idea." Certainly, it was a better idea than Cadance venturing out to meet with people whom — if they were right — someone was already actively hunting.

"Something like that," Cadance said. "Although, Rainbow Dash … there are people who would be upset if you died, too. Remember that, if I do send you a name."

Rainbow grinned. "I remember it anyway, Councillor, but thank you."

"No, thank you," Cadance said. "For bringing this to my attention and for agreeing to assist me more directly while you're here. I don't have a name for you yet, but I'm hopeful. The last killing was two weeks ago, and I've been keeping on top of police reports: no suicides, no accidents. It could be that whoever is behind this feels that all of the toothpaste has been squeezed back into the tube, with no more work required."

"And if they're right?" Rainbow asked.

"If I have to, I'll send you down to Mantle and get you to talk to ordinary mine workers, see if they recall anything untoward," Cadance said. "They can't kill everyone who was employed at that time." She paused for a moment. "You said that he talked to Fluttershy; did he tell her anything?"

Rainbow thought about it for a moment. Had he? What had Fluttershy told her about their conversation? "Fern," she said. "Calli Fern. That's the name Adam gave of the person who did that to him."

"You could have mentioned that before now," Cadance pointed out.

Rainbow winced. "He wasn't sure that was actually her name."

"Even if it was only something like that, it's still more than we had to go on before now," Cadance said. "I'll see what it turns up."

"I appreciate it," Rainbow said. "I appreciate … all of this. I may not like the fact that you're putting yourself at risk at all, but at the same time, I do appreciate that you care. That you're taking this seriously."

"I don't want Atlas to betray itself either," Cadance said. "I … can I be honest with you, Rainbow Dash?"

"Of course."

"I'm terrified by the thought of how high up this might go," Cadance said. "I don't want to believe that Jacques Schnee could be a party, because then I'd also have to wonder how much some of my fellow councillors knew, and … it would be so easy to dismiss this. It would be so easy to simply tell you that there must be an explanation, that this is just a case of one bad apple, if that, if it wasn't just a tragic mistake made in the heat of the moment. It would be so easy to come up with a comforting formula that would let Atlas off the hook. But that wouldn't actually help Atlas. What happened to that man, no matter his crimes, gnaws at the very foundations of this kingdom, and there is nothing that I take more seriously than that. And so, however much the potential answers terrify me, however high up this might go, I'm going to keep following this trail." She paused. "I'm not sure that General Ironwood would agree with me on this point, but I've always believed that our highest duty is not to the Atlas that is but to the Atlas that could be, but which will never be if we accept the Atlas that is without challenging it to be better. If there is darkness in Atlas, then only by shining a light upon it can we become that which we can be."

A smile pricked at the corners of Rainbow's mouth. "You sound like Blake," she said.

"Blake Belladonna?" Cadance asked.

"Yes, that's right," Rainbow said. "We met her—"

"At Beacon, where you helped her beat the rap for her membership of the White Fang and the Valish concocted a cockamamie story about her having been an Atlesian agent undercover," Cadance said.

"I know how it sounds," Rainbow said, "and when I first found out that she'd been in the White Fang, I was as mad—"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Rainbow; that wasn't the prelude to a reprimand," Cadance said.

"Oh," Rainbow said. "It's just that, I thought that after what happened—"

"If I didn't like it, I would have let you know about it before you brought it up organically," Cadance said. She paused. "She's not a member of the White Fang anymore, is she?"

"No," Rainbow said at once. "Blake has proved where her loyalties lie."

"Then why should I have a problem with it?" inquired Cadance. "She's the daughter of Chieftain Belladonna of Menagerie, isn't she?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then what was she doing in the White Fang?" Cadance asked. "What was she doing … anywhere but Menagerie?"

"Her parents went to Menagerie," Rainbow said. "She didn't. Blake didn't agree with them on … she thought they were running away."

"From?"

"The struggle for faunus rights," Rainbow said.

"Some might say that she's done that herself," Cadance observed.

"No," Rainbow replied. "She's just learned to fight for them in a different way. A way with less actual fighting … well, okay, she's a huntress, so there's still going to be fighting, but less—"

"I get the idea," Cadance assured her. "Is she in touch with her parents at all?"

"No," Rainbow said, not mentioning the fact that she hoped that might change soon thanks to her meddling. Okay, Ciel, maybe I am a controlling person, but only when I know best.

"Hmm," Cadance murmured. "That's a little disappointing."

"Why?" Rainbow asked.

"I thought we might have an opportunity," Cadance murmured. "To open up a dialogue between Atlas and Menagerie. I've often thought that the fact that the only state that is governed by the faunus is also shut out of our system of international relations is … freighted with hopefully unintended subtext about the way that our societies view the faunus."

"I think that if we want to help the faunus, we could start by looking at problems closer to home," Rainbow murmured.

"Perhaps," Cadance conceded. "All the same … to have the Chieftain of Menagerie's daughter here in Atlas. I'm told that you want her to join us."

"Twilight has told you everything, hasn't she?" Rainbow asked.

"What did you expect?" Cadance responded. "Is it true?"

"I've decided not to encourage her any more, but, yes," Rainbow said. "I think she could do a lot here, for the faunus and for Atlas."

Cadance nodded. "Do you think that she'd meet me, if I asked her to?"

"I think she'd be delighted," Rainbow said. "Do you want me to bring it up?"

"Yes, please," Cadance said.

"Okay then," Rainbow said, "I'll—" Her scroll buzzed. "I'll get that later."

"Answer it, by all means," Cadance said. "It might be important."

"Are you sure?" Rainbow asked, and then when Cadance nodded, she said, "Thanks." She pulled out her scroll and opened it up. "I'm afraid I've got to go."

"So it was important," said Cadance.

"Very important," Rainbow agreed. "Penny's back."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Her Voice​

There were unfortunately too many 'no running' signs in the R&D lab for Rainbow to pretend that she hadn't seen any of them, and so she merely walked briskly — very briskly, the sort of brisk walk that left the slightest hints of rainbows in the air behind her — through the pristine, gleaming corridors and into the lab.

Ciel had beaten her there, hopefully because she'd been closer by when she got the word — it wasn't as though Rainbow had dawdled on the way or anything — and of course, Twilight, Moondancer, and Doctor Polendina.

And Penny, sitting up on the worksurface, her legs dangling down but not quite reaching the floor.

As the door slid open to admit Rainbow, Penny's eyes turned towards her. "Hey, Rainbow Dash!" she called, in her own voice once more.

Rainbow grinned. "Good to hear your voice again, Penny," she said, slowing down a little for her final approach.

"I'm glad to be able to hear it as well!" Penny declared. "I'm grateful for Twilight letting me talk, but it didn't really sound like me."

"I'm sorry, Penny," Twilight said softly. "If I'd expected something might have happened like, well, what actually happened, then I would have—"

"Why would you have expected something like that, Twilight?" Doctor Polendina asked. "Nobody expected that Penny would be damaged in such a way." He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. "Nobody," he repeated. "Dash, Soleil."

Ciel moved to stand by Rainbow's side. "Sir?"

"I … I may owe you both an apology," Doctor Polendina said. "In the heat of the moment, I had some very harsh words to say to the both of you, to you especially, Dash, but to both of you."

"You weren't yourself, Doctor," Twilight ventured.

"You know better than that, Twilight, in every way," Doctor Polendina said. "In the first place, you know that it is not your place to say what Dash and Soleil may or may not find offensive, and in the second place … I was in every respect myself. I was the real me. The person standing before you now, apologising, might be more accurately said to be not myself. I hope that doesn't unduly taint the apology in your eyes."

"You don't owe me an apology, sir," Rainbow replied. "Ciel, yes, if she'll have it, but not me. As team leader, it was my responsibility to bring Penny back home safe—"

"I'm not a child!" Penny said sharply. "You don't need to treat me like a baby."

"I'm not," Rainbow insisted. "I … okay, yes, I have done, and I'll probably do it again for however much time we have left together, but this isn't about you, Penny. This is about what it means to be a leader: the first duty of any leader, from me all the way up to the General himself, is to bring the boys and girls back home—"

"And you did," Penny pointed out.

"Not in one piece," Rainbow replied.

"But you did bring her back," Doctor Polendina said. "I can't deny that when I saw Penny, I was … well, I don't think I need to describe what I felt — I think I made my feelings pretty clear to you — but … it's very big of you to take responsibility like that. All's well that…" He blinked rapidly; as he spoke, he had begun to gesture with one hand in front of his face, and now, he stared at that hand as though he had the answers for the test written on his palm. "All's well that … all's well that…"

"That ends well, Doctor?" Moondancer suggested.

"Yes," Doctor Polendina said quickly. "Yes, all's well that ends well, of course. Thank you, Moondancer."

Moondancer didn't reply. In fact, nobody said anything. Silence descended upon the laboratory like … like something really heavy flattening everything underneath it. Nobody knew what to say — or at least, Rainbow didn't, and she could imagine that everyone else felt the same way. She didn't like Doctor Polendina's attitude to Penny, but … she could understand it, at least a little bit. This was a man who had built his own reputation and enhanced the greatness of Atlas both with the power of his mind, and now, that mind was failing him; it would be like if her limbs started to give out, and she had to spend the rest of her life — however short that 'rest' might be — in bed; bad enough to die, but even worse to lose the thing that made you yourself first, the thing that gave you value to Atlas and to others, the thing that made you special.

He was unlikely to want to talk about it, and so, Rainbow looked at Penny and said, "How are you feeling, Penny?"

"I'm feeling one hundred percent optimised!" Penny declared brightly.

"Glad to hear it," Rainbow said. "Ready for the Vytal Festival?"

"I cannot wait!" Penny cried. Her voice dropped as she added, "Although, I'm not sure that I'll be able to live up to the expectations that you and General Ironwood have of me, Father."

"What makes you say that, Penny?" Doctor Polendina asked.

"It is because of what happened underneath Mountain Glenn, isn't it?" Ciel suggested.

Penny nodded. "I needed you to protect me, and in the end, it was Rainbow who took out Mercury and Lightning Dust, not me. Maybe you should enter the one on one round instead of me?"

"Don't tempt me, Penny," Rainbow said, with a touch of laughter in her voice. She caught Ciel looking at her, and so she added. "I'm joking! I was obviously joking; why do you have to look at me like that?"

"Perhaps because I believe you might actually do it," Ciel murmured.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not going to deny that I want to do it, but that isn't the same thing as saying that I'm actually going to do it. I know why I'm here, I know why we're all here, and I know that this is Penny's moment."

"Why?" Penny asked.

Rainbow frowned slightly. "Why what?"

"Why is it my moment?" Penny asked. "Why can't it be your moment, to impress General Ironwood or show what a faunus is capable of?"

"Because we're all here for you, Penny," Twilight said. "This team, everything, it's for your benefit."

"For my benefit?" Penny replied. "Or for Atlas' benefit?"

"It doesn't matter," Rainbow said. "Not for this. For this, the only thing that matters is whether or not you want this. Do you want to go to the one on one rounds, do you want to stand there in the coliseum, with the crowd watching and all the folks on TV, do you want them cheering out your name, is that what you want?"

Penny looked into Rainbow's eyes. "It is, but—"

"Then you'll get your chance," Rainbow said. "I guarantee it. It's that simple."

"But you want that too," Penny pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm the team leader, and that means making sacrifices," Rainbow said. She walked closer towards her. "As the team leader, my job is to help you out. Not because of who you are or how important you are, but because you're on my team. Okay?"

Penny hesitated for a moment. "Okay," she said. "But all the same … after what happened, what makes anyone think that I'll be any good at the tournament?"

"Well, I can try and help you out with that too," Rainbow said.

"The entire resources of the Academy and Atlas are at your disposal, Penny," Doctor Polendina said. "Whatever you need. Everyone wants to see you do well in this tournament."

Penny's eyes glanced downwards. "I understand, Father," she murmured. "Thank you, Rainbow Dash."

"Penny," Doctor Polendina murmured. He let out a kind of groaning sigh. "I know that you heard … I know that I said … I know that I'm putting a lot of… gods' sake what's the word, crushing force—"

"Pressure?" Twilight suggested.

"Yes, pressure, I know that I'm putting a lot of pressure on you, but that's only because I want to see you become the best that you can be, because I know," Doctor Polendina placed a hand on Penny's shoulders, "that you have the makings of greatness in you, Penny, and I just want the rest of the world to see that as I do."

"And you know that if you don't make it all the way to the finals, Pyrrha will be very disappointed," Twilight said.

"Pyrrha?" Doctor Polendina asked. "Pyrrha Nikos?"

"That's right," Penny said. "I met her at Beacon, and now, she's one of my best friends."

A smile played across Doctor Polendina's face. "Is that so?"

Penny nodded. "She and Ruby were the first two people I met in Vale when I … when I ran away," she said, her voice dropping.

"Why don't you tell your father about what's happened to you since you've been at Beacon?" Ciel suggested. "I'm sure that he'd like to know."

"Yes," Doctor Polendina said. "Yes, I would." He stepped back, away from Penny, and sat down in a chair that Twilight pulled over for him with her telekinesis. "I'd like that very much."

Penny hesitated. "Where should I start?"

"Start at the beginning," Ciel said. "That's usually the ideal place to begin."

Penny chuckled softly. "Okay," she said. "So … it all started after I ran away. I'm sorry, Father, but I—"

"It doesn't matter now," Doctor Polendina said softly.

"'Doesn't matter'?" Penny asked, sounding incredulous at the fact that her father might not want to discuss — or rebuke — her running away. "Are you sure? Do you mean it?"

"Now is not the moment to discuss it," Doctor Polendina insisted. "Please, Penny, go on."

Is that just because he doesn't want to have the argument, and if he let Penny explain why she ran off, then he'd have to get into her reasoning with her? Rainbow wondered.

Penny hesitated for a moment, but then said, "Okay then. I ran away, I bought a ticket to Vale online — you should probably use something other than my name as your password, Father."

"You shouldn't say passwords out loud, Penny," remonstrated Ciel.

"Is that really the issue here?" Rainbow asked her.

"Doctor, your password is 'Penny'?!" Twilight gasped.

"I know, I know," Doctor Polendina groaned. "I have … lately, I've had … trouble remembering more complex passwords."

"Even so," Ciel murmured.

"I could come up with a password for you and remember it?" Moondancer suggested.

"So that I need you to be here every time I want to access my own computers?" Doctor Polendina demanded.

"It might be better than you having a password that … well, that Rainbow could guess," Twilight said. "No offence; it's just that—"

"I'm not a computer person," Rainbow said. "Don't worry, Twi, I get the point."

"That's something that we can discuss later," Doctor Polendina said irritably. "For now, Penny, go on."

"I got my ticket, and I got on the airship to Vale," Penny said. "I thought I was safe; the skyliner wasn't stopped on the way, although obviously the rest of my team had followed me. But I made it to Vale, and I thought that I was … free." Penny paused for a moment. "Then I realised that I didn't know what to do in Vale. I was just there. I didn't know anybody or have anywhere to go, and although I don't require sleep or food, I would have liked something to stop me from getting bored. So I started wandering around the city, looking for something, anything, that caught my interest. That's when I ran into Ruby and Pyrrha. Or, rather, that's when Ruby and Pyrrha ran into me. Literally. Ruby was moving at super speed, and she didn't see me as she stepped into the street."

Doctor Polendina chuckled. "She has a speed semblance, this Ruby Rose?"

"Semblance: Petal Burst," Ciel announced. "It allows Ruby to move at superhuman speeds, leaving rose petals behind her in a way which might be thought to be similar to Rainbow Dash's rainbow."

"'Might be'?" Rainbow asked.

"I believe Ruby's semblance will evolve to be more than that," Ciel said. "She does not merely give the impression of rose petals, as you give the impression of a rainbow; she actually creates rose petals. I believe that that act of creation, or transfiguration, gives a clue as to the likely direction of her semblance evolution."

"Fascinating," Doctor Polendina said. "I mean that genuinely, but for now, could we—?"

"Of course," Ciel said. "My apologies, Doctor, Penny."

"It's fine," Penny assured her. "So, Ruby and Pyrrha crashed into me, but they were both very sweet about it afterwards and wanted to make sure that I was okay, and when they found out that I was all alone and didn't know my way around Vale, they both agreed to help me out. They were even willing to fight Rainbow Dash to keep her away from me."

"Fortunately, that wasn't necessary," Rainbow said.

"Do you think you could have taken them?" Twilight asked, a touch of mischief entering her voice.

Rainbow laughed. "Ruby? Yes, I could definitely take her," she said. "Pyrrha … I'm not so sure. I'd kind of like to find out some day, but … it was for the best that we didn't find out then."

"They were willing to fight?" Doctor Polendina asked. "For someone they didn't know, a stranger?"

"They're both so kind," Penny said. "So warm and caring."

"They're what people call true huntresses," Rainbow said. "The kind who do the right thing without thinking about it."

She left unsaid that she had some issues with the idea of the true huntress as represented by Ruby, and to a lesser extent by Pyrrha; this wasn't the time to get into it.

"And even when they found out what I was, they accepted me without having to think about it!" Penny cried.

Doctor Polendina's eyebrows rose. "Really?" he said. "You told them?"

"General Ironwood gave his approval," Ciel informed him.

"Did he?" Doctor Polendina murmured. "Well, they can't be untold, I suppose. And they accepted it? They accepted you?"

Penny nodded eagerly. "They didn't care, and neither did Jaune or Sunset. They're Ruby and Pyrrha's teammates. Jaune is Pyrrha's boyfriend, and he seems like a pretty nice guy; he isn't a great fighter like Ruby or Pyrrha or Sunset, and I think that bothers him sometimes, and I can understand why, but none of them seem to mind, and he has a really useful semblance that lets him help the others when they're in trouble. Sunset … Sunset isn't a true huntress like Pyrrha or Ruby, but she takes care of everyone else, and she always knows what to say to make people feel better, no matter what. But yes, I told Ruby, and I told Pyrrha, and then I told the others, and none of them minded. None of them treated me any differently than they had done before. I was so worried about what would happen when people found out, but … it was like I told them … I don't know what it was like; it was like something that didn't matter at all, like … if I told them I was left-handed. That's how little difference it made. They didn't care. They don't care. They just … they accept me as I am."

Doctor Polendina leaned forwards. "So … you were happy there, then?"

"I was," Penny said. "I really was."

Doctor Polendina nodded absently. He sat back, straightening up. "Tell me more, please," he said. "I want … I want to know everything."

So Penny told him everything; well, almost everything. She didn't tell him about Salem or the relics or any of the classified information shared with them by the General and Professor Ozpin. She did, however, include accounts of their misadventures before the mission to Mountain Glenn; there were times when Rainbow scarcely knew where to hide her face.

"—and that's when Rainbow came storming back out of Professor Ozpin's office to tell us that we were going to hunt down Blake!" Penny declared.

Rainbow groaned.

Doctor Polendina looked at her. "It seems as though you were enjoying being out from under the eye of authority a little too much by then, Dash."

Rainbow groaned again. "I'm not proud of what I did, sir," she murmured.

"It worked out in the end," Penny pointed out.

"That does not change the wrongheadedness of it," Ciel muttered.

"Or make it any less embarrassing," Rainbow added.

Penny passed on from that soon enough, thankfully, and returned to more everyday matters; despite what Rainbow had said to Cadance before coming over here, there had been a lot of time at Beacon in which no one had been trying to kill them, and in which the threat of the White Fang had seemed as distant as it was in Atlas. It was on those moments that Penny spent most of her time, dwelling upon everyday things, the school life that seemed so commonplace to Rainbow and the others but which had been new to her — and of course, upon time spent with friends.

By the time that she reached the end, or by the time that Doctor Polendina stopped her before she could describe the mission to Mountain Glenn with which he was already well-acquainted, the doctor had a soft smile fixed upon his face.

"I'm glad," he said. "Yes, I am, I'm very glad. I'm glad that you … that they … I'm glad. You'll have those memories to treasure, for the rest of your life."

"Yes, Father," Penny murmured.

Doctor Polendina nodded slowly. "I'm glad," he repeated. He got up from his chair and patted Penny on the top of her head. "It has never been my intent to see you unhappy," he said, "only to see that you fulfil your potential."

"I understand," Penny said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

For a moment, Rainbow thought that Doctor Polendina might say something else, but he let out a sort of wince of pain and pinched his brow with one hand.

"Doctor?" Twilight asked. "Doctor, are you okay?"

"No," Doctor Polendina said bluntly. "No, I am not. But I just need … I need to rest for now. I am … I'm very tired. At least it wasn't as though I was planning to get any more work done today anyway." He managed to force a smile — and it was forced; Rainbow could see the effort he was making — as he said, "So, Twilight, Moondancer, why don't you take the rest of the day off? Penny, you should go back to the Academy for now, with Dash and Soleil. I'll let you know if I need anything more from you."

"Yes, Father," Penny said softly as she got up off the workbench.

"Do you need me to call you a cab, Doctor?" Moondancer asked.

Doctor Polendina hesitated for a moment. "A cab? A cab? Yes, yes, that would be very kind of you, Moondancer. Very kind indeed."

Moondancer lingered, and so did Twilight too, in the lab with Doctor Polendina as Rainbow and Ciel fell in on either side of Penny and, together, left the lab, the door sliding open to let them exit into the corridor beyond.

"Ciel," Rainbow murmured, "would you mind giving Penny and I a minute?"

Ciel glanced from Rainbow to Penny. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," she admitted.

"Please?" Rainbow said.

Ciel was silent for a moment, and then for a moment more, and Rainbow was afraid that she would downright refuse to give them any space, but after a few moments had passed, she said, "Very well. I will take the stairs and see you at the bottom. Penny."

"See you in a little bit," Penny said, as Ciel went the opposite direction to them — heading for the stairs instead of the elevator. To Rainbow, Penny said, "I thought you said I should be nicer to her?"

"You should," Rainbow told her. "But I'm not asking her for a minute to be rude but because … because Ciel wouldn't agree with what I'm about to tell you."

Penny blinked. "Why not?"

"Because … because Ciel is doing what she thinks is best for you, just like me," Rainbow said. "We just disagree a little bit on what that is."

They reached the elevator, and Rainbow waited for the lift to arrive — and for her and Penny to step into it — before she said anything else. As the lift began to move downwards towards the ground — or the surface level of Atlas, at least — Rainbow leaned against the elevator wall with her arms folded across her chest.

"I know that didn't go the way you hoped it would," she said.

Penny didn't meet Rainbow's eyes. "I heard what he said earlier, but … he was being so much nicer today, I thought that maybe he'd let me explain myself, that I want—"

"So much more than we've got planned," Rainbow finished for her. She smiled thinly. "I should have paid more attention when you said that the first time. I'm sorry, Penny, for not listening, for not wondering … for taking so long to think about what you wanted."

"It's okay," Penny murmured.

"No," Rainbow said, "it isn't. I … I thought that…"

I thought that of course you'd want to be a part of Atlas, just like of course only truly evil people would want to join the White Fang. Seems like I was wrong about both of those.

"It doesn't matter what I thought. What matters is … well, there are two things that matter. The first is that you shouldn't hold it against your father, no matter how frustrated he makes you."

"Why not?" Penny asked. "You heard what he said; he thinks that I'm—"

"He's still your father," Rainbow insisted. She paused for a moment. "My father, both my parents, were … absolutely ridiculous. Everything I did, they'd act like I was the very first person in the history of Remnant to ever do that. If I came placed eighth in a race, they'd act like I won; they celebrated every stupid little thing about me like it was impressive, and it just go so annoying! But, and this is the thing that it took me a while to appreciate it, they did all of that awful stuff because they loved me. You know that Pyrrha didn't speak to her mom all through last semester, right?"

Penny nodded. "Because of what her mother did … something about Jaune, wasn't it?"

"Something like that, yeah; she really didn't like the idea of them being together," Rainbow said. "But that didn't mean that she didn't love Pyrrha. If she didn't love Pyrrha at all, then she wouldn't have cared. Starlight's father babies her anytime she comes in reach; Sunburst's mother treats him like a screw-up she needs to fix and make successful. Jaune's parents didn't want him to come to Beacon, as I understand it, and Blake's parents … the point is that we've all got issues with our parents. I think just about everyone has issues with their parents — it's a part of growing up — but it doesn't mean that they don't care… in fact, it's because they care that they annoy us so much, even if it's because they care too much. So don't take it out on your father and don't turn away from him, because if you do … if you do, then you'll regret it, especially when he's not around anymore."

"So I should just give in?" Penny said. "I should just give up, accept what other people want for me?"

"I didn't say that, and no," Rainbow said firmly. "No, not at all. Not that at all." She took a deep breath. "This is the part that Ciel didn't want me to say because she thinks … she thinks that you should give in, if only because she doesn't see a way out for you, but let me ask you something Penny: what do you want?"

Penny didn't reply.

"You can say anything," Rainbow said. "It doesn't matter what I think or what Ciel thinks."

"Really?"

"You should be nice to Ciel, but she doesn't get to control your life; none of us do."

Again, Penny hesitated, before she said, "I want to stay at Beacon."

Rainbow had thought as much. She nodded. "Then I'll make that happen," she said. She wasn't sure exactly how yet, or what it would cost, but she would make it happen.

She was — for now — Penny's team leader, which meant that she could do no less.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Reunion​

Sugarcube Corner sat, appropriately enough, on the corner of a very ordinary Atlesian street, about halfway between Atlas Academy and the drop-off. It was two-storey, like all the other buildings along the street heading off in either direction, with the Cakes living on the first floor and the actual café being on the ground.

A pink and fuchsia-striped awning covered the ground floor on both visible sides of the building, reaching as far as the edges of the adjoining businesses, while wooden tables — with white parasols rising out of the middle of them — and chairs sat outside. All of them were empty as Rainbow, Ciel, and Penny approached the café.

The shutters were down behind the large windows that covered most of the north and west sides, although in one window could still be seen the 'Closed for a private party' sign.

Pinkie was waiting for them at the door. She had tied up her hair into a massive high ponytail that rose up above her head and then cascaded downwards into curling waves like the product of an out of control candyfloss machine. She wore a short blue jacket over a white t-shirt with a cupcake on the front, a lavender sash tied into a bow around her waist, and a ruffled skirt of many shades of pink. Her legs were bare, but her blue boots rose up almost as high as her knees; little pink bows topped the laces.

"Hey, guys!" she cried out, waving to them as she saw them approach.

"Hey, Pinkie!" Rainbow shouted back, waving to her with one hand.

"I feel a little overdressed," Ciel said softly. She was wearing a midnight blue dress with a halter top and a skirt that went down to her ankles; the fabric shimmered and sparkled, or at least it would have done if the sun hadn't been going down and the moon not quite up yet, so there wasn't a lot of light for it to shimmer and sparkle in. "Although perhaps I should have guessed when you didn't bother to change."

"I changed," Rainbow replied defensively.

"Into the same outfit you wore while we were at Beacon," Ciel pointed out.

"Which I haven't worn since we got back to Atlas," Rainbow replied. "Which means: I changed." She grinned. "And don't worry about it; nobody's going to say anything."

"Isn't one of the lessons in etiquette class that nobody is ever embarrassed by being too well-dressed?" Penny asked. She was also wearing a dress, a green one that matched her eyes and left her legs bare below the knee.

"Far be it from me to criticise our curriculum, Penny, but I have my doubts about that particular lesson sometimes," Ciel admitted.

"Don't worry," Rainbow insisted. "Look, I guarantee that you will not be the most overdressed person in there when we get inside. So relax. This is going to be great."

"Does everyone know that I … what I am?" Penny asked.

"No," Rainbow admitted. "But you can tell them if you want to. I didn't want to decide that for you."

"Really?" Penny said. "That's okay?"

"They've all been cleared," Rainbow told her. "You see— I'll tell you when we get inside." They had reached the edge of the road now. Sugarcube Corner — and Pinkie Pie — lay just a road away.

A truck branded with the snowflake of the SDC drove down the road, temporarily coming between them. There was no other traffic, however, so as soon as the truck had passed, Rainbow led the way across the road and jumped up onto the curb on the other side, where Pinkie was waiting.

"Pinkie!" Rainbow cried as the two of them grabbed each other simultaneously, each attempting to pull the other into the hug. Rainbow, the stronger of the two, actually succeeded, wrapping her arms around Pinkie, enfolding her, pulling her tight. She could feel the warmth of Pinkie's cheek against hers; she could feel Pinkie's fluffy hair against her temple. She could feel Pinkie making up for the fact that Rainbow had done the wrenching with the bone-crushing tightness of her embrace.

"I feel your hugs are as tight as ever," Rainbow said.

Pinkie giggled. "No, they're not."

Rainbow laughed. "I've missed you."

"I know," Pinkie said with another laugh.

Rainbow let her go. "How have you been?"

"Now why would we want to stand out here and talk when there's a perfectly good party waiting on the other side of the door?" Pinkie asked.

Rainbow chuckled. "Good point." She gestured to Penny and Ciel. "You met my teammates, didn't you, when you came to Vale?"

"Yep," Pinkie chirruped. "Ciel Soleil and Penny Polendina, right?"

Ciel curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you again, Pinkie Pie."

Pinkie smiled. "Thank you, for taking care of Dashie."

Rainbow spluttered in wordless outrage.

Penny frowned a little. "We took care of her?"

"You were on her team, right?" Pinkie asked.

"Yes, but—"

"Then you took care of her," Pinkie said. "Isn't that what teammates do? Take care of each other?"

Penny looked away.

Pinkie's face fell. "Oh. Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I only meant to say thank you; please don't be sad."

"It's fine," Penny said, then hiccupped. She let out a kind of growl of irritation. "Okay, I wish I really had protected Rainbow Dash, or somebody, but I…" She smiled. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course we can," Pinkie said, stepping lightly closer to Penny and putting an arm around her shoulders. "We're going to go in there, and we are going to have a great time."

"Are we the last ones to arrive?" asked Rainbow.

"Yep," Pinkie confirmed. "Everyone's in there waiting for you."

"Then I guess we shouldn't keep them waiting any longer, should we?" Rainbow replied. She crossed the distance to the door in a couple of quick strides and pushed it open. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Rainbow held the door open for Ciel.

"Thank you," Ciel murmured as she walked inside.

Rainbow gestured to Penny and Pinkie. "After you."

Penny didn't reply, but Pinkie nodded to Rainbow as she steered Penny in. Rainbow followed them, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft thud. Despite the heating grid that kept Atlas at a liveable temperature, it was noticeably warmer inside the café; that was one of the reasons Rainbow had changed back into an outfit meant for southern climes; it didn't matter so much when you knew you were going to be getting into the warmth of the indoors for a long time.

Sugarcube Corner was not huge, but it was big enough for the number of people who were inside; the ceiling was turquoise and decorated with swirls like air currents — or ocean currents maybe — tracing patterns across it, and in between the yellow spotlights that hung from the ceiling, and from the embedded lights that were embedded into the ceiling itself. The headboards were the same colour and had the same swirling patterns on them, alongside pink hearts that stood out a little more against the turquoise. The walls were unpainted wooden slats beneath the windows, and brown pillars in between them with leaves painted on in an unobtrusive brown. The floor was white and grey tiles, some of which looked black because of the shadows cast by the tables and chairs. Although most of the chairs were piled up on the tables, creating more open space in the middle of the floor.

And inside, waiting, were the best people she knew: Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Maud, and Blake.

And Spike, whom the jury was still out on.

"Hey, girls," Rainbow said. "We made it."

Rarity smiled. "And wonderful to see you, darling."

As Rainbow had expected, the extravagance of her attire put Ciel to shame; she was wearing … okay, Rainbow had a hard time working out exactly what she was wearing. It wasn't a dress, because it had legs like pants, but it was also a one-piece, like a jumpsuit or a onesie, except that Rarity would never wear anything like that. Except that she kind of was. Anyway, it was black, and it hugged her figure, and it had gems or crystals stitched into the legs all the way up to the knees, and her black boots were wearing crowns that glimmered under the light from the ceiling. She was also wearing a cape, black and studded with gems around the collar, clasped with the most enormous brooch that Rainbow had ever seen; it was bigger than Rainbow's hand, it was bigger than Spike's head, and it looked like a shellfish, a spiky crystal shellfish with sparkly spikes. Her arms were bare, but she had black gloves on her hands and bracelets of pearls and sapphires — or they looked like pearls and sapphires, anyway — around her wrists. She was wearing even more sapphires, or fake sapphires, in her hair, which looked a lot more windswept and wavy than normal without looking untidy.

Somehow. That was Rarity for you. Always pulling it off.

"And the two of you, of course," Rarity added as she swept forward. "Oh my goodness, Ciel, what a lovely dress; where did you get it?"

"Nice to see you too, Rarity," Rainbow said.

"Of course, dear, of course," Rarity said, planting a kiss on Rainbow's cheek. "But you mustn't begrudge me the chance to exchange notes with a fellow fashionista."

"Never," Rainbow agreed. She looked over to the wooden counter, where Mr. and Mrs. Cake were standing, putting a few things away. "Thanks for letting us have the run of the place for the night, Mrs. C."

"Not at all," replied Mrs Cake, a slightly plump older woman with pink and fuchsia hair — the same colour as the streaked awning outside — that curled up on top of her head like the icing on a, well, cake. "It's so good to have you back home. As I was saying to Twilight, this place is never so happy as when the six of you are in it. And of course, it's an honour to host a bona fide hero of Atlas home at last," she added with a glance towards Blake.

Blake tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace.

"Now, Pinkie knows how to work the drinks machines, and there's plenty to eat so you won't go hungry," Mrs. Cake said.

"And Pinkie also has the keys to lock up when you're all finished," added Mr. Cake, a square-jawed man with a mess of hair as orange as a carrot, with a very large red and white bow tie obscuring the collar of his blue shirt.

"We'll leave everything spotless, Mister Cake," Twilight promised.

"I know you will," Mr. Cake assured her. "You're all good girls." He lifted up the counter for his wife, who left first, heading towards the door. "Have fun!"

"Do you have anything planned for your night off?" Rainbow asked.

"Dinner and a show."

"It's been so long since we could have a night out like this," Mrs. Cake said. "So this party really works out for all of us."

"You have fun too!" Pinkie cried.

The Cakes smiled at them as they took their leave; the bell above the door jingled as Mr. Cake opened it for his wife, and then Ciel caught it as it closed and shut it gently after them.

"Alright!" Spike yelled, sticking one paw in the air. "Let's get this party started!"

Everyone looked at him.

"What?" Spike asked. "I held it in while the Cakes were around. I talk now; at some point, you're all going to have to get used to it."

"How are you talking?" Maud asked in her typically unruffled tone.

Spike grinned. "Classified information."

Maud stared at him for a moment. "I see," she murmured.

"Spike does have a point," Pinkie pointed out. She pointed at Twilight, arm outstretched. "Twilight! Hit the music!"

Twilight smiled and turned around to push a button on the boombox behind her. Instantly, music began to fill the café.

It was playing, of course, a Rainbooms number.

There was a time we were apart, but that's behind us now,

See how we made a brand new start, and the future's looking up!

Oh-oh oh-oh!​

Penny blinked rapidly. "That … is that you singing?"

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "Did I really not tell you that I was in a band?"

"No."

"Really?" Rainbow asked. "Not once, to impress you with how cool I am?"

Penny shook her head. "Not even once."

"Huh," Rainbow said. "Well, then, yes, that is my band—"

"Our band!" chorused Applejack, Pinkie, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Twilight.

"The Rainbooms," Rainbow continued. "Twilight is the lead singer—"

"All of us can sing, but they let me be the lead singer because I can't play any instrument," Twilight said.

"Nonsense, darling; you can play the piano beautifully," Rarity said. "And the violin, for that matter."

"I don't play the piano as well as you," Twilight said. "And whoever heard of a violin in a pop group?"

"Avant garde, darling," Rarity insisted. "I keep saying that we should try it, but nobody believes it will work."

"I think it could add some tone to proceedings," Ciel declared. "Not that there is anything wrong with your current sound, but it might lend the odd song a touch of class, if you follow me."

"Oh, I do, I do," Rarity said.

"I'm the lead guitar," Rainbow continued. "And I also do vocals on some of the numbers. Like Twilight said, everyone sings, but I'm the second lead vocalist after Twilight. Applejack plays bass guitar, Pinkie is on the drums—"

Pinkie patted her hands rapidly on the countertop.

"Rarity plays keyboard, and Fluttershy's on the tambourine," Rainbow finished.

Penny's hands were balled up over her heart. "That is so cool! Could you teach me how to play the guitar?"

Rainbow grinned. "Yeah, I could show you a few things. Maybe if we have time, we could throw a number together. That'd be cool, wouldn't it, guys?"

"Absolutely," Applejack agreed.

"We'd be happy too."

"Hey, Blake," Spike said. "Why don't you join the Rainbooms too?"

"I don't—"

"Ooh, that's a great idea!" Pinkie cried. "Now that you're part of the group, it's only natural that you should also become part of the band! What do you want to play? Triangle? Sousaphone? Seraphine?"

"I only recognise one of those, and I don't think it's for me," Blake said. "I'm not much of a musical person."

"Triangle is perfect for people who aren't musical," Pinkie replied. "You can just make a ting at the end of the song!"

"Hold on now, sugarcube," Applejack said. "Let's not push Blake into anythin' she doesn't want to do. If you don't want to join the band, then you don't have to."

"Thanks," Blake said. "I think I'll just enjoy the music."

"Oh, well," Pinkie sighed. "Suit yourself, I guess." She vaulted over the counter. "So, what does everyone want to drink? Penny, what'll you have?"

Penny hesitated for a moment. "I … I don't drink anything," she said. "I'm a robot."

Pinkie stared at her for a moment. "That," she said, "is so cool!"

XxXxX​

Rarity's pinkie finger was held out at the perfect angle as she stirred some sugar into her tea.

"You know, darling, you never did get the chance to tell me where you got the dress," she remarked.

Ciel was silent. In truth, when Rarity had asked the question before, when the party had just begun, she had been rather glad of Rainbow's interruption sparing her the need to actually answer. As a matter of fact, her dress came from a very respectable and reputable label — it was by Suri Polomare, after all — but that was not the question that Rarity had asked. Indeed, it was entirely possible that Rarity had already identified the dress as a Polomare creation. The question Rarity had asked was where Ciel had gotten it, and the answer to that was…

Well, the truthful answer to that was Ciel had gotten it at a thrift store. It hadn't been her size, but her mother had lifted up the hem and taken in the waist for her. If Ciel only brought dresses that fit her, she would have far fewer dresses than she did, and she didn't have all that many.

Nevertheless, as lucky as Ciel had felt to come by such a dress in such a place, it wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to admit, certainly not to a lady of class and refinement like Rarity. Certainly not when they were just starting to get along.

She could already see it as plainly as if she had activated her semblance: the sniff of cold contempt, the 'oh, I am sorry' delivered in that patronising tone, the turn away, the cold shoulder.

And yet, the question having been asked again, how could she avoid answering it? She could lie, but Ciel Soleil had not been brought up to lie, and she had been told she was not very good at it in any case.

She opened her mouth, still unsure of what she was going to say, but was forestalled by Rarity's hand reaching gently out to touch hers.

"Of course you don't have to answer if you don't want to," Rarity assured her, a smile illuminating her face. "Please, forgive me; it wasn't my intention to embarrass you. I was curious, but it hardly matters. What really matters is that it suits you so very well."

"Do you think so?" Ciel asked. She looked down at the gown. "I like it, but I almost think that it might suit you better; the darker blue would offset your complexion."

Rarity chuckled. "That's very sweet of you to say, but it's my experience that complexion is rather overrated when it comes to choosing complementary colours, not least because so many designers forget to consider any but, well, my complexion. I've found that what matters are hair and eyes. Now, look at those two over there, Rainbow Dash and Applejack."

She pointed to them both, directing Ciel's attention to where they were arm-wrestling standing up. Rainbow was losing, despite the amount of effort writ large upon her face.

"Blondes, as you know, can wear absolutely anything," Rarity went on. "And Rainbow, of course, has so many colours to choose from. Which makes it absolutely tragic that neither of them are interested in wearing anything at all."

"Not quite anything at all, or we might be having a rather different conversation," Ciel murmured.

Rarity laughed. "Oh, yes, indeed. But you take my meaning, don't you?" She sipped some of her tea. "Anyway, my point is that that shade of blue goes perfectly with your eyes, and that sparkle … it adds just the right touch."

Ciel smiled. "So, may I ask how Blake's outfit complements her eyes?"

"Oh, in that case, it was her hair," Rarity said. "The white offsets it, and the black complements it, although the occasional little touches of purple—"

"Contrast against the gold," Ciel finished for her.

"Precisely," Rarity said. She drank a little more of her tea. "Did no one ever tell you, darling, that I'm from Mantle myself?"

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "How … you do not sound like it. I hear no Mantle in your voice."

"Nor I in yours, darling," Rarity pointed out. "And for much the same reasons, I would guess."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I am … not ashamed," she said softly.

"Oh, no, of course not."

"But … but it is sometimes hard—"

"To be taken seriously here amongst the clouds with a voice full of soot and dirt," Rarity finished. She smiled. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Much obliged," Ciel murmured. "Do you still live in Mantle?"

"No, thank goodness," Rarity declared. "I live quite literally in Atlas, in the lower levels dug into the rock."

"I see," Ciel said. "And … how is that?" She was curious to know, as it might well be where she would end up after graduation.

"It's not ideal," Rarity admitted. "But I get to come up to the surface, and when I do, I remember that I am in Atlas, the greatest city in Remnant. And one day … one day, I shall have a house on the surface, tall enough to look out and see the whole world at my feet."

Ciel smiled. "I hope it comes true for you."

"May it come true for all of us, darling," Rarity replied.

XxXxX​

The party was in full swing by now. Rarity was comparing notes with Ciel on fashion, Pinkie was encouraging Penny as she tried to hit a piñata, and Applejack and Fluttershy were telling Blake all about Canterlot — with some help from Spike.

Rainbow had just finished getting the run down from Maud about her geology studies, which sounded like they were going pretty well, when she sank down onto the green sofa sitting against the wall.

"You okay?" Twilight asked, sitting down on the arm of the sofa, a chocolate milkshake in her hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Rainbow replied, leaning forwards to grab a coffee cake, out of which she took a bite. After she swallowed, she added. "I'll be back on my feet in a minute."

Twilight smiled. "Not like you to need a rest in the middle of a party." She sipped some of her milkshake through the straw, making a gurgling sound in the process.

Rainbow took another bite out of her cake. "It's a great party, don't get me wrong—"

"But?" Twilight asked.

Rainbow hesitated. "I don't want to talk about it here; it's not the time or the place."

"If something's making you bring down the mood, then you may as well spit it out," Twilight said.

"I'm not bringing down the mood," Rainbow replied. "Am I?"

"Not yet," Twilight admitted. "But you will if people start to notice you sitting here like this."

"I'm eating," Rainbow said, unfortunately finishing off her cake with that last bite.

Twilight sipped some more milkshake out through the straw. "What's wrong, Rainbow?"

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "I might ask Pinkie for one of those," she said, pointing at the milkshake.

"Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow's brow furrowed a little. "You were right," she said.

"Hmm?" Twilight asked. "About what?"

Rainbow looked at Penny, who was still trying and failing to hit the piñata. "Do you remember when we first arrived at Beacon? You asked me if we'd made a slave. I gave you the brush off then, but the truth is … you were right."

"Was I?" Twilight asked.

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "You don't think so? You thought so back then, but after the way that her father treated her when we brought her in, now you've changed your mind?"

"Doctor Polendina is…" Twilight hesitated for a moment. "He's very sick."

"That's not an excuse."

"Isn't it?" Twilight asked. "He's a dying man who wants to secure his legacy."

"That makes him arrogant as well as mean," Rainbow replied. "Lots of people get sick, and they don't get to secure their legacies before they go. And they don't get to make other people do what they want as part of their legacies, and on top of that, what about everything else he's done? What about his whole career up until now? Isn't that enough for him? He designed the AK-130."

"Which is being phased out of service, and he wasn't involved in work on the 200," Twilight pointed out. "Doctor Polendina's contributions are immense, that's true, but they're often largely invisible, unnoticed by the public. There's nothing wrong with that, but I can't entirely blame him for wanting to make a big splash before he dies."

"Even at Penny's expense?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight was silent for a moment. "What made you change your mind about this? What made you see things differently?"

"I was encouraged to look at things more closely, and not just accept the way things are," Rainbow said. "The truth is that I didn't have a good answer for you back then; I just didn't want to think about it, so I said something that made me feel better."

"You could have been right," Twilight pointed out. "If Penny had wanted to serve, then it wouldn't have mattered that she didn't have a free choice in the matter."

"Maybe," Rainbow said. "But she doesn't."

Twilight looked down at her, eyes widening behind her spectacles. "Really?"

Rainbow shook her head slightly. "She wants to transfer to Beacon."

Twilight blinked rapidly. "I … does Ciel know?"

Rainbow licked her lips. "No. I haven't told her, and I don't think Penny has either."

"One of you should tell her," Twilight pointed out. "You know she'll be…"

"Upset?"

"Heartbroken," Twilight said.

Rainbow's brow furrowed. "You think it will be that bad?"

"You don't?" Twilight asked. "Ciel cares. She doesn't show it, but she does, a lot."

"I know, but heartbroken is a little bit much, don't you think?" Rainbow asked. "She'll be sad to see Penny go, but heartbroken … Ciel's smart enough to know that it's nothing personal."

"Being smart has nothing to do with feelings," Twilight declared confidently, and Rainbow supposed that she'd be the one to know about that.

"She can transfer to Beacon as well if it means that much to her," Rainbow said.

"You know that she won't do that," Twilight pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," Rainbow murmured. She threw back her head, resting it on the back of the settee. "Twi, you're my best friend, right?"

"Right."

"Which means that I can whine self-pityingly to you and you're not going to judge me, right?"

Twilight giggled as she flopped down off the arm of the sofa and leaned against Rainbow Dash; her long hair, unbound, fell over Rainbow's shoulder. "Don't worry, this is a safe space. So spill it."

Rainbow let out a sigh. "I did not ask for any of this," she said. "I didn't ask for secret wars or immortal people trying to take over the world or ethical…" — she searched for the word — "conundrums. Four years in the Academy in peace, to be the leader of a team that would be mine for those four years, a team that chose each other and trusted each other, and then to go out into the world and defend it against random grimm and scummy bandits. That's all I wanted."

"Aww, it's tough being the General's favourite, isn't it?" Twilight said.

Rainbow chuckled as she glanced at Twilight. "What happened to this being a safe space?"

"Turns out it wasn't that safe," Twilight said, grinning up at her. She sat up. "For what it's worth, I think you've done okay."

"Really?"

"We're all still here, aren't we?" Twilight asked. "And Blake is here. The fact that this is a party not a wake is a sign that you got something right, wouldn't you say?" She paused for a moment. "I noticed that when you talked about Penny's transfer, it was as something that was going to happen."

"What else should I have talked about it like?"

"Something that wasn't going to happen?" Twilight suggested.

"It'll happen," Rainbow said. "It's what she wants, so it'll happen."

"Yeah, it will," Twilight declared. "Because she's got you in her corner, sounds like."

Rainbow looked at Twilight and felt her cheeks starting to heat up a little from the compliment. "Twilight—"

There was a bang as Penny finally hit the piñata, showering the floor in sweets that spilled out of the broken shell.

"Yes!" Pinkie cried. "You did it!"

Penny pulled off the blindfold. "That was very frustrating, but surprisingly fun."

"You just described party games in a nutshell," Pinkie told her, before turning to look at Rainbow and Twilight. "Come on, you two! No sitting around! This is a party, remember?! Up up up up up up!"

"I'm up, I'm up," Rainbow said, getting to her feet. "Sorry, Pinkie. Are you having a good time, Penny?"

"I'm having a great time!" Penny cried. "Thank you, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow smiled. "Not a problem, Penny."

"Are you having a great time?" Pinkie asked.

"Yeah, sure I am, Pinkie."

"You don't look like it," Pinkie pointed out.

"I just needed to talk to Twilight for a second, about some business—"

"'Business,' really?"

"But that's all done with now," Rainbow assured her. "We've talked, it's out of the way, and I can enjoy the rest of the night. And I will enjoy the rest of the night because … because you're all here, and I love you guys."

"Aww!"

"We love you too, Rainbow Dash," Fluttershy murmured.

Pinkie smiled. "You want anything to drink, Rainbow?"

"Uh, sure, I'll have … what Twilight's having," Rainbow said.

"Coming right up!" Pinkie chirruped, but although she made her way to the counter, she showed no sign of actually getting Rainbow a chocolate milkshake, or anything else for that matter. She stood there, leaning against the counter, almost as if she'd forgotten why she went there in the first place.

Rainbow watched her for a moment, leaning on the counter, staring at the drinks machine but making no move to use it, and after she had watched for a moment, she walked across the floor of Sugarcube Corner to stand at Pinkie's side.

"Pinkie?" Rainbow asked, reaching out to put a hand on Pinkie's shoulder.

Pinkie started. "What? Oh, Rainbow, sorry. I'll get your—"

"Don't worry; I'm not impatient," Rainbow said.

Pinkie looked at her.

"Not for this, anyway," Rainbow clarified. "Are you okay?"

Pinkie smiled, although it seemed to Rainbow as if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm fine."

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "Come on, Pinkie, after all the work you put into this party, you ought to enjoy it. Since when do you not enjoy a party?"

Pinkie didn't reply, at least not right away. She turned around and hopped up onto the counter, her booted legs dangling above the floor, kicking back and forth.

"This is nice, isn't it?" she asked.

Rainbow turned around, in turn, although she didn't sit up on the counter, just rested her elbows on it as she looked at the others having fun. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it really is."

"That's good to hear," Pinkie said quietly. "I just … I guess I can't help feeling as if … we're going to get to do this less and less, aren't we? I mean, you and Twilight were at Beacon all year, and when you and Blake and Applejack graduate, you're both going to be going away on missions or sent to Vale or Mistral or Vacuo, and Rarity wants to open up boutiques in all three kingdoms—"

"There are four kingdoms."

"Yeah, but Rarity says only three of them count for fashion," Pinkie replied. "And who knows where Twilight's going to have to go for all of her science stuff?"

Rainbow sighed. "I get it, Pinkie, and … and you're right. You're absolutely right. We aren't all going to be around so often, and we aren't going to have time to hang out as much as we did when we were kids. But I don't know … I don't know if there's anything that any of us can do about that, or that we should. It's just … part of growing up, I guess."

Pinkie was silent for a moment. "Rainbow Dash?"

"Yeah, Pinkie?"

"Do you think there'll ever be a time when we're all so grown up that we won't be friends any more?"

"No," Rainbow said at once. "No, Pinkie, that'll never happen. Maybe … maybe we'll mostly talk on the scroll, or we can't all make meetups so they have to go ahead with just a couple of people one time, and a few other people the next, but we'll always be friends, and we'll always stay friends, and we'll always stay in touch, one way or the other. I promise."

Pinkie grinned. "Just don't forget me when you're an Atlas bigshot, okay?"

Rainbow nodded. "I won't ever forget you, Pinkie. Not even when I'm a hundred." She reached out and grabbed Pinkie by the waist, picking her up and setting her down upon the floor. "Now come on, because if times like these are going to come around less often, then we might as well make the most of them, yeah? So come on, let's dance."

And so they danced, milkshake forgotten. They made fools of themselves, throwing their arms and legs around like idiots in front of those whom they felt safe to look like idiots in front of.

They danced, they sang, they laughed. Pinkie was right, that days like these wouldn't hang around forever, that one day they'd find it harder to get together like this, that sometimes it might even be impossible.

It wasn't something that they could change or avoid. It was just the way things were; Remnant wouldn't stop moving just for them, and they couldn't stop moving either.

But for now, they had each other, and it was all they needed.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Hard Shells​

The animal shelter-cum-pet hotel — the sign above the glass doors proclaimed it to be a 'Sanctuary and Wellness Centre,' and only the picture of a cat and a dog suggested this was not somewhere to get a massage — looked clean and well-maintained but also rather small, nestling as it did between a nail salon on the one side and a sportswear shop on the other, the two establishments looking as if they were trying to squeeze the animal shelter out of existence.

The doors were glass, and most of the central strip of the outer facing wall was taken up with windows, with the red brick only appearing above and below. The windows themselves were nearly impossible to see through, taken up as they were with seemingly interminable fliers and leaflets and advertisements: a picture of an admittedly adorable-looking golden retriever suggested that you might want to consider adopting a stray animal — somehow, Ciel doubted that most strays looked so attractive — a cat asked you to consider the benefits of tracking chips; a couple of home-made notices begged for information about lost pets.

There was also a request for donations in the form of a picture of a cat sat in front of an empty bowl, looking pleadingly up at the passerby.

It was unsubtle, but undoubtedly effective: Ciel found herself reaching into her purse as she approached the door.

Her cloak flapped around her a little as she walked, buffeted slightly by the breeze that blew through the Atlesian streets. She did not feel a chill, however, despite the altitude. The temperature was kept too high for that. It might not be the case when she returned to Mantle, but that was something she would discover when she arrived.

Ciel reached the glass doors of the shelter and pushed them open with little difficulty to step inside the building. It was scarcely warmer inside than it was without, but it was brighter, the artificial light from the ceiling above banishing the gloom of night that covered the sky outside. Ciel had to squint for a moment until her eyes adjusted.

"Hey," a soft, slow, almost lazy-sounding voice greeted her. "Welcome to the Sanctuary. Blessings."

The voice belonged to a woman slightly older than Ciel — albeit not by very much — with her red hair worn in curls, wearing a shapeless lavender dress and a yellow flower-patterned headscarf. Her name was Tree Hugger, and she ran the sanctuary, even if she didn't own it.

"Good evening," Ciel said as she walked towards the front desk. She plucked a few money cards out of her purse and placed them in the donation box.

"Good karma," Tree Hugger said as the cards hit the floor of the box with a series of light tapping sounds. Her violet eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Ciel blinked. "Why should you be sorry?"

"Your vibe is … disturbed," Tree Hugger explained. She reached out for a space just in front of Ciel's forehead, as though there were a fly buzzing around her and she meant to grab it.

Ciel recoiled, taking a step back out of reach. "Whatever my vibe may or may not be, please do not try to cleanse it."

Tree Hugger rested her elbows on the front desk. "What's the matter? You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," Ciel remarked. "Is Penny here? I think Rainbow is bringing her by."

"Yeah, Dash brought her by, along with that other girl, Blake," Tree Hugger said. "She's pretty righteous, huh?"

"Penny?"

"Blake," Tree Hugger explained. "Real … radical vibe."

"It disturbs me somewhat that I can see what you mean," Ciel said.

Tree Hugger's lips twitched. "So, Penny's the problem, huh?"

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "What makes you say that?"

"I think she's on your mind," Tree Hugger said.

That didn't explain anything as far as Ciel was concerned, but nevertheless, she took a step back towards Tree Hugger and the desk. "Why would Penny be disturbing my … vibe?"

"You tell me; it's your vibe," Tree Hugger pointed out.

"I don't even know what a vibe is; how am I supposed to know what's troubled about it?" Ciel snapped.

"But you are troubled, right?" Tree Hugger asked.

Ciel sighed. "Penny and I … our relationship … is … it is not what I would wish it to be, and yet … I do not know how to get from where we are to where I would wish to be, or if the journey is even possible."

"All journeys are possible," Tree Hugger said. "You just have to start walking."

"I am not sure that is entirely the case," Ciel said.

"It is when the journey is a metaphor, dude," Tree Hugger explained.

"Right," Ciel murmured. "That … has not been as entirely unhelpful as I might have expected." She put some more lien — not much more; she wasn't made of money, by any means — in the donation box. "Thank you."

Tree Hugger nodded. "Also, if things don't work out with your friend, adopting an emotional support dog can be a great way to cleanse your vibe. Or a pig, if that's more your thing."

"I'll bear that in mind," Ciel murmured as she walked around the desk towards the grey double doors that led out of reception and into the recesses of the shelter proper.

Ciel stepped through, letting the doors close behind her as she walked into a corridor where the floor was made up of black and white tiles, the walls were white, and the lights bright overhead. A series of doors led off from either side of the corridor, and Ciel looked into them as she passed by, looking for a sight of Penny and the others.

The … enclosures, rooms, whatever you wished to call them, certainly made an attempt at comfort; although they were stacked high up the walls, so that some creatures were confined in spaces eight or ten feet off the ground, they were by no means small spaces, for all that they were bounded by a plastic door with a child safety lock that could only be opened from the outside. The animals were confined but not caged; they all had a blanket to play with, chew on, or lie beneath, a toy or two — in her visits, Ciel had observed that you could tell who had been left at the shelter temporarily by an owner and who had been abandoned by how many toys and possessions they had in their room — and space to move a little bit; she also knew there was an enclosed yard out the back to allow more free movement every now and then.

No, this was not a terrible place; certainly, it was better than any equivalent in Mantle that Ciel knew of. It was not perfect, but then, Ciel did not know how a place like this, a place that existed in no small part for the benefit of creatures who were not wanted by polite society, could become perfect.

Apart from anything else, who would pay for it?

She found the others — Penny, Rainbow, Twilight, Blake, and Fluttershy — in the indoor play area, where the floor was covered in a felt carpet as green as grass, and various balls and pyramids and podiums and tunnels littered the floor. The others were all gathered an orange-coloured podium, atop which a large tortoise stood, while a smaller creature stood on the level below, and seemed to be looking up with admiration.

Or perhaps Ciel was simply anthropomorphising to an absurd degree.

As she walked through the door, she heard Rainbow say, "Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a stereotype?"

"'A stereotype'?" Ciel asked.

Rainbow, who was sitting on the floor with one arm resting on her raised knee, turned her head to look at her. "Oh, hey Ciel. I was just—"

"Insulting me?" Blake suggested.

"I was just pointing out to Blake that, for a faunus rights activist, she can be … a bit of a cat sometimes," Rainbow said.

"I am not!" Blake insisted.

Rainbow grinned. "What's that you're playing with?"

Blake looked down. Ciel looked down as well. Blake was standing up, but crouched, to bring her down closer to the tortoises, but in her hands, it seemed that she had found somewhere a ball of orange twine and had been assiduously if unconsciously creating a cat's cradle.

Blake's cheeks reddened a little, and she tried to throw the string away, but found that more difficult than she might have hoped by the way it had gotten tangled around her fingers. "That is not—"

"You eat all that tuna."

"Tuna's nice," Blake protested. "And very healthy."

"May I ask what prompted this?" asked Ciel.

"We're trying to persuade Blake to get a pet," Twilight explained from where she knelt behind the podium.

"After all," Fluttershy added, "there are a lot of wonderful animals here looking for a good home to go to."

"That would be rather difficult, considering that I don't have a home," Blake pointed out. "And if this hypothetical pet is just going to live here because I have nowhere to keep them, then what's the point?"

"Then get a dog you can take on missions," Rainbow suggested.

"I am not getting a dog," Blake said flatly.

"Because you're a stereotype."

Blake rolled her eyes.

Penny, who was kneeling down behind the tortoises, asked, "Do you have any pets, Ciel?"

"Not at the moment," Ciel replied. "We had a dog, while we were living on the base in Vacuo. But Archie passed away, and since we moved back to Mantle, there has not really been the room."

"Oh," Penny said, "then what are you doing here?"

Regardless of how Penny meant it, the question felt like a slap across the face, considering Ciel's misgivings. Nevertheless, she tried not to let it show on her face. "I," she said, as she walked forwards, "am here to pay my respects to the Major."

She knelt down in front of him. Major Leaf was a giant amongst his species; on the floor, he probably would have come up to Ciel's knees or even a little higher, but when she knelt down — and with him on the podium — he was actually in a position to look down on her. His shell was mottled black and brown, rising in a high dome that did not completely cover his front, leaving a large amount of grey-green skin visible; scales were beginning to cover his thick, trunk-like legs.

"Good evening, Major," Ciel said. "I would present my report, but I fear it is not yet complete."

Major Leaf looked at her with one dark eye. He winked at her.

"He knows what we're saying, doesn't he?" Blake asked.

"Oh, yeah," Rainbow said. "He's really smart, aren't you, sir?"

Major Leaf said nothing, but he almost seemed to smile; certainly, he raised his head up higher as if in pride.

Tank, standing on the level below, tried to climb upwards onto the top of the podium. He was far smaller than Major Leaf, and mostly green in colour, with a lower shell that covered his whole body, leaving only his neck, head, and legs protruding. Despite his youth, he had the beginnings of wrinkles around his mouth already, and they were accentuated as he smiled up hopefully at Major Leaf.

Major Leaf looked down at Tank. For a moment, the elder tortoise and the younger locked eyes with one another. Then it seemed almost as if Major Leaf nodded, before he pitched forwards. Ciel rose to her feet to make way for him as the Major climbed down off his lofty perch and turned around to make a sharp gesture with his head.

Tank climbed up onto the top of the podium.

Major Leaf rested his foreclaws upon the lower level and raised his neck so that, despite his descent, he was still level with Tank, more or less.

And then he seemed to nod again.

"They're so cute!" Penny cried as Tank began to nuzzle Major Leaf, rubbing his snout up and down against the Major's cheek.

Ciel smiled as she was not able to resist the temptation to start stroking Major Leaf on top of his head. "Do you know that tortoises like Major Leaf here can live for hundreds of years if they are properly cared for? He will outlive us all, won't you, Major? He will see Atlas rise higher and higher, to glories undreamt of."

"And he'll remember us. Won't you, sir?" Rainbow asked, her voice soft. She grinned. "And in two hundred years, when some other students are around, you'll remember that they weren't as awesome as us, won't you?"

Once more, Major Leaf winked.

Fluttershy said, "Penny, have you ever thought about having a pet?"

Penny hesitated. "I … I don't know," Penny said. "A part of me would like one, but … like Blake said, I don't have anywhere for them to live."

"Well, when you both find yourselves a little more settled down, remember that there are lots of wonderful creatures in need of good homes and loving families," Fluttershy said. "And I'd be happy to help if you need any advice." She smiled. "And of course, that goes for you as well, Ciel, if your circumstances change."

"Thank you," Ciel murmured. "I will bear that in mind." She hesitated. "Penny, may I have a word with you? In private?"

Penny got to her feet. "Alright," she said. "But where is private here?"

"You can go up onto the roof, if you want to?" Fluttershy suggested. "It's the fire door two doors down from here, take the stairs. Just don't let the door close on you; it only opens from the inside."

That wouldn't be too much of a problem — if it was any problem at all — for people with their auras unlocked and some training, but nevertheless, as Ciel followed Penny up onto the roof, she made sure to place the doorstop she had found at the top of the stairs where it would, well, stop the door.

Then she stepped out onto the roof. Out of the bright lights of the sanctuary and into the dark of night once more, albeit a darkness as filled with artificial lights as it was with stars. The breeze ruffled Ciel's cloak.

Penny stood near the edge of the roof, by the fire escape, leaning on the safety railing. "I like your cloak," she said, turning her head to look at Ciel.

"Thank you," Ciel murmured. She rather liked it herself; it was double-layered, with one layer covering her shoulders but allowing her arms to emerge, and the other covering the rest of her as far as her ankles.

There was a moment of silence before Penny said, "What did you want to talk about?"

"I … I would like to know," Ciel said, "what it is that you plan to do."

"Why?" Penny asked. "So that you can be fiercely disapproving?"

Ciel winced. "You heard that, of course."

"Yes," Penny said. "I heard everything. Did you mean it, or were you just saying what my father wanted to hear?"

Ciel took some small comfort from the fact that Penny was giving her an out. Perhaps it was a genuine question, but she doubted it; she believed that Penny had known that Ciel had meant what she was saying in Doctor Polendina's laboratory, if only because they had talked about the same kind of thing before now. And yet, she was leaving Ciel an escape route anyway; if Ciel said that, yes, she had been soothing Doctor Polendina's ruffled feathers, then Penny would accept that and let it pass, and they could move on to … to better things, perhaps.

And all Ciel had to do was lie.

Ciel closed her eyes. "No, Penny, I meant what I said."

Penny looked away from her. "I see."

"Penny," Ciel said, her voice rising a little as she took a step towards her. "I … I am what I have been fashioned by God. I am moved by what the spirit moves in me. I cannot change that so easily, I cannot flick a switch to make myself other than who and what I am, and yet… and yet, for your approval, I almost wish I could."

Penny looked at her. Her green eyes seemed especially bright in the darkness. "That … that isn't what I want!" Penny cried. "That isn't what I've ever wanted! Is that what you think?"

"I think—"

"I don't want you to change who you are, Ciel," Penny insisted. "I want you to stop trying to change me!"

"I fear that might require me to change into someone who can let fault pass without comment," Ciel murmured apologetically.

Penny stared at her for a moment, and then a moment more. "Well," she said, "if you wanted to change that part of yourself, I guess I wouldn't complain."

Ciel raised one eyebrow.

Penny smiled slightly, with her mouth closed.

Ciel snorted.

Penny's smile remained on her face, even as she said, "Have you ever actually done it?"

"Done what?"

"Fiercely disapproved of your brothers," Penny explained. "The way you said you would if they started … doing things you disapproved of. Wasting their time."

"No," Ciel admitted. "No, I have … it has never come up. I would like to say that is because my brothers are all so very upstanding — and lest you misunderstand me, there is no true scandal attached to any of them — but the truth is … the truth is, Penny, is that I sometimes think that there are moments when they disapprove of me."

"Why would they disapprove of you?" Penny asked, disbelieving.

Both Ciel's eyebrows rose this time around.

"You just said you haven't done the thing that annoys me about you to them!" Penny pointed out, a degree of exasperation driving out the aforementioned disbelief.

"No," Ciel allowed. "But I am here … At Atlas, I mean, not at the animal sanctuary."

Penny blinked. "I don't understand."

Ciel turned away from her, moving towards the safety rail in her turn. She rested her fingertips gently upon the metal bars, feeling the cold of them. "I am the oldest of seven children," she said. "My father is a non-commissioned officer, my mother has retired to look after the other six children … money is often tight. If there were fees to pay to get into Atlas, we would not be able to afford it, but even so … school supplies, uniform, a dress for the dance … I should have gotten a job where I could contribute to the family finances instead of being a drain on them."

"Is that what they think?" Penny asked. "Is that what they told you?"

"No one has said it out loud," Ciel conceded. "My father, at least, is proud of me, but at the same time … when I go home … I sometimes ask myself why I deserve a dress or an education more than my brothers deserve a treat or a toy."

"Because … because this is everything to you," Penny said. "Because this is your whole life. And because I really can't see you working a normal job. Can you imagine yourself as a waitress or something? 'Good evening, I am Ciel Soleil, and I will be your diligent and attentive waitress tonight. I warn you that if you order the wrong meal, I shall express my stern disapproval of your taste and choices.'"

Ciel closed her eyes and shook her head. "Penny—"

"What?" Penny declared, putting her hands on her hips and raising her head as though she were looking down — as though she could look down, despite being smaller than Ciel. "You want red wine with the fish? How plebeian of you!"

"Please stop," Ciel pleaded gently, humour seeping into her voice.

"I simply couldn't allow you to have fries, so here are your sautéed potatoes."

"Stop, please, I beg of you, or you will make me weep," Ciel implored. She covered her mouth as a titter escaped it. "I should like to think," she declared, "that I would be capable of adjusting my behaviour to the setting and circumstance … but you may be more right about me than my pride is."

"You belong here, Ciel," Penny insisted. "I mean, you belong in Atlas, not in the animal sanctuary. You belong in that uniform. Because it's not just a uniform to you; it's a part of who you are. This is you, and you shouldn't let anyone tell you otherwise, not even your family. You're who you are and where you're meant to be."

Ciel looked at her. "And that is all that you want too."

Penny glanced down. "It's what I want to find out, yes."

"How?" Ciel asked. "What is it that you mean to do?"

Penny hesitated, clasping her hands together, saying nothing.

"I will not tell," Ciel insisted. "Whatever it is, whatever you're planning, I will keep your confidence."

"Will you?"

"Yes!" Ciel declared. "I know what I said to your father, and I know … I know how that must have sounded to you, but … whatever it is that you have … I suspect that you and Rainbow talked about something in the elevator without me; I would know what it was. Not because I want to judge, but because…"

"Because?" Penny prompted.

"Because I sometimes doubt that either of you have the ability to plan your way to dinner time, and I would know that you aren't doing something foolish," Ciel admitted. "And because I care about you and my care makes me curious. But you have my word, upon the holy book and on my honour, I will not reveal … whatever it is."

Penny took a moment, before she said, "I'm going to transfer to Beacon next year."

So. That was it. Of course it was. Now that Penny had said it, it seemed very obvious.

And yet it still smarted like a smack to the face.

"I … I see," Ciel murmured. "What will you do there, without a team—"

"I thought that, since it looks like Blake is going to come to Atlas, that I could take her spot on Team Iron," Penny said. "That way, it all balances out."

For Rainbow Dash perhaps. "I suppose that I can see the logic in that," Ciel conceded.

It was a tidy solution, at least on a superficial level. And Penny would be reasonably close to her friends, although Ciel would have been more comfortable if Penny had said that she had already discussed it with her friends and they had agreed that Pyrrha would take Blake's role in Team YRBN while Penny made up the new P in SAPR.

Not that there was any chance that Sunset Shimmer would have agreed to that, but Ciel would have preferred it to the idea of leaving Penny in the care of Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie.

"How will you get there?" she asked.

"Rainbow is going to help me fill in the transfer paperwork," Penny said.

Ciel stared at her flatly. "Your plan … is to fill in a transfer request?"

Penny nodded. "Isn't that how everyone does it?"

Ciel opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and then finally said, "This is why I wanted to know what you were planning. Because it appears that your planning is missing a plan."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are not an ordinary student, Penny!" Ciel reminded her, in a loud voice and a sharp tone. "You are … do you really think that it will be that easy? Do you really think that your father, or General Ironwood, or the Council, will simply allow you to walk away?"

"Rainbow Dash—"

"Means well, and means to do right by you as she perceives it," Ciel allowed. "But … Rainbow either thinks too little of the obstacles or thinks too much of her ability to navigate them on your behalf. I cannot believe it will be as easy as she thinks."

"You're just saying that because you don't want me to go," Penny said.

"No!" Ciel cried. "What I want or do not want has nothing to do with it; I simply… I would hate for you to get your hopes up only to see them dashed upon … the reality."

I never thought that it was wise to wish too much,

To dream too far would only lead to being crushed.

And yet … and yet, it was a little late for that. Penny had begun to dream already.

Which meant that there was only one way to save her from disappointment.

"I will help you," Ciel said.

Penny's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"If this is what you want, if this is your desire, then I will help you achieve it and make it real," Ciel said. "I will help you get to Beacon, though Doctor Polendina and General Ironwood and all the might of Atlas stands against us."

"Ciel!" Penny gasped. "But … but why? You could get in trouble, you could get expelled—"

"A school that would expel me for doing the honourable thing is not one that I wish to attend," Ciel declared.

"That isn't true," Penny said. "I know it isn't true. This means everything to you."

Ciel shook her head. "There is something else that means more to me, Penny," she said. "And if … if I cannot be your teammate, then I hope I can at least be your friend."

For a moment, Penny was still, Ciel's words hanging between them until the last echo of them died and only the ambient sounds of an Atlesian night remained. Then Penny flung herself upon Ciel, who barely kept her feet as Penny wrapped her arms around her.

"Thank you," Penny whispered into Ciel's ear. "Thank you so much."

Ciel embraced Penny in her turn, one hand reaching up to stroke her copper-coloured hair.

No, Penny, thank you.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Mean Streets​

The Bus soared through the night sky towards Mantle, passing through the clouds as it devoured the leagues of tundra that lay between Atlas and its mother city.

Right now, the auto-pilot was doing all of the work of actually flying the airship — not that there was a lot of work, given that the skies were empty, the ground beneath was peaceful, and they were flying a straight and level course towards their destination — so despite being in the pilot's seat, Rainbow had a chance to read some more of Tukson's book.

"Hmm," she murmured.

"You're frowning," Ciel observed from the seat next to her.

That was true, and although she hadn't noticed it before, Rainbow couldn't ignore it once it had been pointed out to her. She unknotted her brow. "Yeah," she muttered. "This bit here has me thinking."

"What about?" asked Ciel as she shifted in her seat so that she was facing Rainbow just a little more.

Rainbow lowered the book so that it was resting in her lap. "I've just gotten to the start of the revolution," she said, "when the Mistralians tried to deport all the faunus to Menagerie; now, as part of that, they tried to disarm the faunus troops whom they'd recruited during the Great War."

Ciel nodded. "Those forces mutinied and formed the nucleus of the faunus army that fought in the revolution."

"Right," Rainbow said, "but what got me thinking was this bit here." She glanced down at the book in her lap, and read aloud. "'Labienus, perhaps the only human in Mistral who truly loved the faunus, and who saw them and treated them as his equals, had once said to them, "Watch for the moment you are told 'Give up your arms,' for that will be the moment to make use of them." Labienus was dead, but Ares and the faunus troops recalled his words well and wasted no time in putting them into practice.'"

Ciel waited for a moment. "I'm afraid I don't see the relevance. It adds a flourish to the description of what happened, but it says nothing that our history lessons did not already cover."

"I know the facts haven't changed, and this particular bit isn't anything new, but … it got me thinking," Rainbow said. "I mean, it got me thinking about the way that we don't let ordinary folks have guns."

Ciel raised one curious eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that; it's not a stupid point!" Rainbow insisted. "In Atlas, or in Low Town, or in Mantle, or Canterlot, or anywhere else, you have to have a licence in order to carry a weapon around. Even if you're a regular soldier, you're supposed to check your rifle in the barracks' arms locker when you go off duty. And I can't help reading this and wondering whether, maybe, Low Town wouldn't have been allowed to get the way it was—"

"If the people living there were armed?" Ciel finished for her.

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed.

"Hmm," Ciel murmured. "The argument has been made before, by Mantle radicals raging at the supremacy of Atlas." Her voice deepened a little bit, as though she were trying to sound masculine. "'Time was when every home in Mantle had a side of bacon hanging above the fireplace and a musket resting beside it. Only bring back the musket, and the bacon will return.'"

"But you don't agree?" Rainbow asked.

"Give it a moment's thought, and you will not agree either," Ciel told her. "Even leaving aside for a moment the question of whether or not it is desirable that the common citizens should be able to overthrow the government upon whims that may have nothing to do with the general good of the commonwealth, you could let the people of Mantle have as many weapons as they liked, but unless you were willing to let them have their own cruisers — which they could not afford, even if they were allowed — they still wouldn't be a match for the military. Even ignoring our air supremacy, ordinary people with guns would be no match for the aura and training of our specialists."

"So they just have to take it," Rainbow said.

"They just have to vote for change, if they are so unhappy," Ciel said. "The Council exists for a reason." Her blue eyes narrowed. "I worry about that book sometimes."

"Why?" Rainbow asked. "It's just a book."

"A book that seems to be exercising a corrupting influence."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Ciel! This book isn't corrupting me!"

"You just suggested that the people should be armed for the purposes of insurrection," Ciel pointed out.

"It was an idea, a thought," Rainbow replied. "I wasn't saying that people should actually overthrow the Council; I just meant … if you hear the people, you'll never have to fear the people, you know? But there has to be something about the people to be afraid of, or it doesn't work."

"Whoever can muster the largest or most passionate armed mob is no basis for good government," Ciel said sharply.

"I didn't say it was," Rainbow insisted. "But … maybe it can be a check on bad government. If those faunus had laid down their arms like they were told to, their descendants would all be living in Menagerie right now. And mine too, maybe."

Ciel looked away, her head bowing a little as if she were focussing her attention on the controls before her. "That is what concerns me," she said softly.

Rainbow frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When you talk about Atlas in this way … am I not allowed to be concerned?" Ciel asked. "When I met you, whatever your other faults, you were a patriot amongst patriots, but now, there are times when you sound like a—"

"Don't say it," Rainbow said, the slightest touch of a growl entering her voice. "I do not sound like that."

"Do you really believe that this kingdom is so racist—"

"I didn't say that."

"This kingdom that has educated you and clothed you and raised you up—"

"And I am grateful," Rainbow said, raising her voice a little to cut Ciel off. "I know how lucky I am, and I will always be grateful for that: to Twilight, to the General, to my friends, to Atlas itself. This kingdom, those people, they will always have my thanks, and my loyalty. But that's the thing: I was lucky. You know who didn't get educated or clothed or raised up? Gilda. Or anyone else that I grew up with."

"Not everyone can have equally good outcomes—"

"But they should all get the opportunity to try, right?" Rainbow asked. "Ciel, answer me honestly: do you really think this kingdom is perfect? Is there really nothing you would change to make it better?"

Ciel made a harrumph sound out of the back of her throat. She clasped her hands together in her lap as she said, "I am not sure that arming people is a change I would call for the better."

Rainbow snorted. "Okay, okay, I will let you have that one, but … come on. Nothing at all?"

Ciel said nothing, but nor did she meet Rainbow's eyes. She stared out of the cockpit, at the dark of night and the expanse of tundra spread out before them.

"Look, I get it," Rainbow said. "People like us, if we say the wrong things at the wrong time … people remember. But it's just you and me in here. There's no one listening, there's no recording devices, nobody is going to know if you name one thing that is less than ideal about this otherwise great kingdom. Because it is great, and we both know it; we wouldn't be where we are without it. Believe me, I know that I wouldn't have gotten the opportunities that I've had if I'd been born in Mistral, and I'm willing to bet that you wouldn't either. But patriotism isn't pretending that Atlas doesn't have any flaws. It's working to sort out those flaws so that Atlas can be even better than it was before."

"The … the healthcare system leaves a little to be desired," Ciel murmured.

"Mmm," Rainbow murmured. That wasn't something that she'd had much trouble with herself. Twilight's parents had paid for her health insurance when she was a kid, but Rainbow was strong as a horse and had never gotten ill once when she lived with them — she still had her appendix and everything — and now, the Academy would take care of any bills from illness or injury that she sustained. That would be the case for Ciel too, but nevertheless, Rainbow felt compelled to ask, "Are you sick?"

"No," Ciel said immediately. "It is … I'd rather not discuss it."

"Okay," Rainbow agreed. If it was private, then it was private, and there wasn't much that Rainbow could do about a health problem that one of Ciel's family or friends was having. She paused for a moment, allowing silence just enough time to settle in the cockpit before she said, "Speaking of illness … has Penny spoken to you about her dad yet?"

Ciel glanced at Rainbow. "No," she murmured. "You?"

"No," Rainbow said, "and she hasn't spoken to Twilight about it either. She did hear everything, right?"

"She certainly heard me agreeing with her father," Ciel muttered.

"Right," Rainbow replied. "That's what I thought." She reached up and started scratching the back of her neck with one hand. "I'm worried that she's ignoring it."

Ciel turned her head to look at Rainbow Dash. "Perhaps she's talked about it with Ruby, or Pyrrha, or even Sunset Shimmer."

"I thought about that, and I asked Sunset about it," Rainbow said. "Discreetly. I didn't tell her anything about Doctor Polendina in case Penny hadn't spoken to her. She said they hadn't discussed her father."

"She might have been lying to protect Penny's privacy," Ciel suggested.

"Or she could be telling the truth and Penny hasn't talked about it with anyone," Rainbow countered. "I don't think Sunset would lie about that, and I think she'd know if Penny had spoken to Pyrrha or Ruby about it. I think she's ignoring it. Not talking about it to anyone? It's not healthy."

"Her father is dying," Ciel said. "No amount of words can change that."

"I know, but … how does she feel about it?" Rainbow asked. "I don't know; do you know?"

"No," Ciel muttered with a glance away from Rainbow Dash.

"At the moment, all she might see is the fact that he wants to keep her on a lead," Rainbow said. "But at some point, she'll miss him, and she'll regret that she … or maybe not; I don't know. But her father's dying, and that's not something that she should be going through by herself. She needs to open up to someone so that they can help her through it. And it doesn't have to be us — in fact, since Ruby lost her mom and Pyrrha's dad died, they might be better able to help her than we can — but it needs to be someone."

She stopped for a moment and moved from scratching the back of her neck to the side of her head just above her ear.

"Do you think I should talk to her about it or maybe ask her uncle to give her a call? Unless you want to do it yourself?"

Ciel took a moment to reply. "I think her uncle would be the best choice. After all, he has a … Doctor Polendina is his brother as well as Penny's father, so the two … I fear I do not know the words, but you take my meaning. There is a commonality there."

"Right," Rainbow said. "I was going to go and talk to him anyway after I dropped you off."

"About Penny?"

"Yep."

"Are you going to tell him that your plan to save Penny is to have her fill out transfer papers?" Ciel asked, her voice acquiring an acidic quality.

Rainbow let out a chuckle. "Is that what you and Penny talked about on the roof of the animal shelter?"

"Yes," Ciel said. "In the main. I know that you are more optimistic than I am about the chances of Penny's release, but even so—"

"For your information, I haven't just decided to help Penny fill out her transfer forms," Rainbow said. "I've also squared Councillor Cadenza so that if we have to fight this all the way to the top, there will be an ally for us … at the top."

"Penny didn't mention that," Ciel murmured.

"I haven't told her; I didn't see the point," Rainbow said.

"You should," Ciel replied. "At the moment, she seems to think that all she needs do is fill out some forms."

"That would be all a normal student needs to do."

"But Penny is not a normal student," Ciel pointed out.

"No," Rainbow admitted. "But I think that we have to act as though she is. I mean, isn't that the point, that Penny should be free to do what any other student could do, any other kid could do, with all the freedoms and the rights that come with it? If anyone else could just fill out the paperwork, then why should Penny have to sneak around or take special measures? I know that it sounds like I haven't thought this through, but I have, and I really think that doing things by the book is the way to go, at least to start with."

Ciel's expression was inscrutable, but the way that she started tapping on her knee with her fingertips indicated that she was thinking about what Rainbow had said. "You are correct; it did sound as though you hadn't given this any thought, but I can see now why you have decided on this course. However, that does not mean I believe it likely to succeed."

"You have another idea?" asked Rainbow Dash.

"No, not yet," Ciel conceded. "But I think another way is necessary."

"I never thought I'd see the day when you didn't want to trust the official channels," Rainbow said, venturing a grin.

Ciel snorted. "Yes, well … congratulations on speaking to the Councillor; perhaps it would be wise to speak to General Ironwood in advance of Penny submitting her transfer papers."

"I thought I'd deliver the paperwork myself, have the chance to talk it over then," Rainbow said.

"That is not exactly official channels," Ciel pointed out.

"It's going to land on his desk sometime," Rainbow replied. "They always do." She blinked. "So, wait a second, does this mean that you agree with me?"

"It means that I have agreed to help Penny do as she wishes," Ciel said. "It means that I have, in principle, conceded that she deserves that right. I suppose, in that sense, yes, I do agree with you. I agree with you … because you were right. Penny will never accept me as someone who cares about her while I hold power over her bestowed by some higher authority which she cannot escape. I hope that, once that power is gone, we may be able to have some sort of relationship."

Rainbow smiled. "It might not be fair, but I think that this might be the only way that you can show her just how much you really care about her. Everything else might just be following orders, doing as you were told, but this … this is for her, and Penny will realise that." She clasped her hands together behind her back of her head. "Of course, it's also possible that this could put both of our careers in the toilet, you know that, right?"

"I think you will be alright," Ciel said.

"I wouldn't leave you hanging," Rainbow insisted. "If you get busted down to janitorial work, I'll be right there, scrubbing the floors along with you. I'm just saying, this could leave a mark on our records. Are you prepared for that?"

The corners of Ciel's lips twitched upwards. "The Lady teaches us that to be humiliated for speaking the truth, or for doing what is right, demeans not us but those who would torment us; that to be harmed for speaking the truth, or for doing what is right, ennobles us and reveals the darkness in those who silence us with lies and falsehoods. Many there are throughout the history of our faith who were persecuted for their beliefs and who remained true to the Lady and her teachings even during the darkest days of Mantle's repression of expression and emotion. The authorities burned the holy scriptures, and later, they resorted to burning men for reading or for preaching said scriptures, but through it all, our ancestors held to faith and creed, though they were forced to meet in secret and pray in hushed voices. Compared to that, what will I suffer? And yet, I flatter myself that they would look more kindly upon this course than were I to turn away from injustice for the sake of my career."

The smile on Rainbow's face broadened a little. "Those are a lot of very nice words to say that you care more about Penny than you do about your career."

"That…" Ciel's face flushed. "Every word I said was true."

"I'm sure it was," Rainbow said. "And so was what I just said."

"Well, yes, but…" Ciel coughed into her hand. "Of course, that is another reason why it makes sense to have Doctor Pietro approach Penny about her father's condition: unlike us, he is not an authority figure in her life."

Rainbow nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. I'll bring it up when I see him. I wonder if he knows that his brother is sick?"

"If not, then you will tell him," Ciel said.

"I guess, but I'd rather not," Rainbow murmured. "It feels like someone who … who actually knows him, or knows Doctor Polendina, or … you know, someone other than Penny's team leader ought to break the news."

"And Penny should probably have heard the truth some other way than overhearing a conversation that her father didn't even know that she could hear," Ciel pointed out.

"Yeah," Rainbow said softly. "Maybe that's why she won't talk about it; she's waiting for someone to actually tell her?"

"Perhaps," Ciel said sceptically. She folded her arms. "May I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Did you mean what you said to Penny in the laboratory," Ciel said, "about a team leader's first duty being to keep her teammates alive?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't," Rainbow said. "You disagree?"

"A team leader's first duty is to complete the mission," Ciel declared. "That is every soldier's first duty, yours and mine."

"And yet, our mission is to make sure that Penny stays on her mission, not goes to Beacon," Rainbow pointed out.

Ciel's eyes narrowed. "Allowing law and justice their due," she qualified. "Nevertheless, the duty to preserve the lives of one's comrades, while not unimportant, is certainly not more important than completing the mission assigned to us."

"No matter what the mission is?"

"It is not for us to decide what is and is not a worthy objective."

"We already have," Rainbow pointed out.

"That is not the same thing!" Ciel insisted. "In battle, we must be prepared to give our lives, and you must be prepared to spend our lives as readily your own in pursuit of the objectives that we are tasked with completing! If not, if you hold back out of a desire to preserve our lives then … think what could be the result."

I don't need to think; I know what the result is, Rainbow thought. She and Sunset were the only ones who knew. Six dead and Vale breached.

Six dead, Vale breached, and seven lives saved.

Put like that … hmm. Yeah. Well … hmm.

"Well, you can pull me up when you think it's causing a problem in the field," Rainbow said. "Assuming that we ever return to the field as a team, that is. Without Penny…"

"Indeed," Ciel murmured. "Who knows what will happen?"

"Absolutely no one," Rainbow said. She sat up straighter in her seat as the lights of Mantle began to gleam in the distance, the bright glow of the city appearing over the horizon like a rising sun, welcoming them, guiding them in.

It looks so much more inviting from the air, doesn't it?

"Okay, we are on approach, resuming manual control," Rainbow said, disabling the autopilot and gripping the controls with both hands. As yet, there was no need to change course at all, but she kept a firm hand on them regardless, ready for when she would.

They drew closer, Mantle growing not only in size but growing more distinct as well, moving out of the haze of light and resolving into … well, there was still a lot of haze down there, but there was also a city. Three layers of walls protected it from the grimm that prowled the wastes, each wall taller than the last, with gun emplacements embedded behind the rear two walls or else protruding out of ports built into the outer wall for direct fire; missile batteries sat atop tall towers, scanning the skies for the approach of aerial grimm, while androids stood by quad-barrelled guns or rotary cannons that could fire at targets in the air or on the ground — the guns themselves targeted automatically, but the androids were there to keep them loaded with ammunition and do any simple repairs if there was a jam or something.

Beyond the walls, the city itself sat wrapped, with the tall chimneys of great factories rising up above the streets and houses, with the SDC refineries and the meat packing plants and all the other great manufactories that had made Mantle great and prosperous dominating the skyline with their huge, brutal-looking buildings that cast such long shadows over everything else. For everything else, the houses, the shops, the residential tower blocks, the streets, it was all dwarfed by those immense factories, the reason the city existed. A railway line ran out of Mantle in both directions, passing through the walls, with metal gates set in those walls that would rise up to admit a train to pass out of Mantle and into the world beyond. Mostly, as far as Rainbow knew, it was only the SDC that used trains to move their dust out of the mines in more distant parts of Solitas, but she might be wrong about that.

Rainbow pulled the microphone off the cockpit wall next to her and spoke into it, "Mantle Control this is Echo Three-Oh-Three requesting permission to land, over."

The speakers crackled. "Echo Three-Oh-Three, this is Mantle Control; you are directed to land at docking bay five-one. Welcome to Mantle."

"Roger that, Control, and thanks," Rainbow said. She put the microphone back on the wall. "Looking forward to being home?"

Ciel did not respond.

"That bad, huh?" Rainbow said.

"What? No," Ciel said quickly.

"That wasn't what you said a minute ago."

"I will be very glad to see my family again," Ciel insisted.

"Sure," Rainbow said, deciding not to press the issue. As they approached, she began to guide her airship downwards, steering well clear of the cruisers of the Mantle Squadron that hovered over the city, getting down beneath them as she turned in the direction of Mantle HQ.

The headquarters of the garrison had nothing on the immense factories that dominated Mantle, but it did manage to dominate the area immediately around it, if only because so much of what was around it had been cleared away, leaving wide streets and four stone plazas surrounding the building itself. Mantle was a city of metal and stone, without any greenery that could be seen from the air, but nevertheless, the area immediately around headquarters looked especially lifeless, because even as the airship flew lower and lower, Rainbow couldn't see any people down below. The HQ was surrounded by a metal wall, which looked kind of flimsy but was no doubt enough to deter trespassers, especially since there was barbed wire on top of it. Behind the wall, the headquarters building itself rose, black and brutalist, with thick concrete columns forming a superstructure or an exoskeleton within which the building itself, all towers and flat roofs and very small windows, nestled. The flat roofs doubled as landing platforms for airships, but pad five-one, to which Rainbow's Bus had been directed, was on the ground, identifiable by the big '51' painted on the stone. Rainbow hovered above the docking pad for a moment, moving only slightly to angle for her descent, before sending the airship straight down to land next to another Skyray which was painted in far more common — and drabber — colours.

"And here we are," Rainbow said, opening the doors on the right hand side — the opposite side to the other airship. "Enjoy your break."

"Thank you," Ciel said, rising to her feet and smoothing out the creases in her cloak with both hands.

"I'm going to head back to Atlas once I've spoken to Doctor Pietro," Rainbow said. "But just give me a call if you need anything."

Ciel nodded. "I will. Goodbye, for now."

Rainbow sat in the pilot's chair as Ciel left the cockpit; she heard her footsteps echoing on the metal for a few moments, and then they disappeared. Rainbow waited. She wanted to let Ciel get a head start, and since they weren't going the same way in any case, they might as well split up here as anywhere else.

Rainbow waited until she felt as though she'd waited long enough, at which point, she got up and left first the cockpit and then the airship itself. The side door slid closed behind her as she leapt down onto the stone of Mantle. Her eyes were drawn upwards, to where a camera mounted on the wall seemed to be looking right at her.

Rainbow suppressed a shudder; this place gave her the creeps sometimes. Nevertheless, she kept her back straight and her head up as she walked away, crossing the open courtyard that surrounded the HQ — she couldn't help but think it would offer clear fields of fire against any attackers — and approached the large but solitary gate that was the only way out past the wall. It rolled open for her on her approach, sensing the scroll in her jacket pocket. It moved with a slow, rumbling pace, the metal rollers grinding against the slide set in the concrete.

Rainbow didn't wait for it to get all the way; she walked through as soon as it had opened wide enough to accommodate her, and briskly crossed the open space cleared around the headquarters — now that she'd gotten the idea of a field of fire into her head, she couldn't get rid of it — and into the streets of Mantle that lay all around.

She walked on the edge of the road, for now staying under the lights that illuminated the streets; she was wearing Plain Awesome and Blunt Honesty on her hips, and although she wasn't wearing her Wings of Harmony, she did have Unfailing Loyalty slung across her back. Nevertheless, where the streets were lit, she kept to the light.

She wouldn't want anyone to get hurt trying to mug her, after all.

Sadly, in Mantle, that wasn't an impossibility. This town, this city … well, it was a bit of a dump, to tell you the truth. It was like Low Town, and just like Low Town, well … it was hard to say exactly who was worse off. The main thing was that there wasn't much here. Mantle had been big when the dust mines beneath the city had yielded enough dust for all of Remnant, but the mines were tapped out, and those days gone long ago, while those big factories that dominated the skyline were mostly worked by robots now instead of people. The houses in Mantle were nicer than the ones in Low Town, or at least they were better built; Rainbow wasn't sure you could call somewhere 'nice' when it looked as though it was being allowed to get absolutely filthy.

Mind, she wasn't sure what you could do to keep them clean, because it was a filthy town. Yes, you could wash the windows that were black with filth, but wouldn't they just get filthy again afterwards? This whole city was awash with the dirt of its industries, blocking out the stars above and even making it hard to see the cruisers protecting the city skies. It was in the air all around, and once or twice, Rainbow Dash found herself coughing and spluttering and yearning for the clean air and clear skies of Atlas.

Not every street had working lights; some of them were dark, and Rainbow kept her hands hovering near her SMGs as she walked down them with a brisk step.

Through these dirty streets, the people of Mantle moved; it was past working hours, or at least it was past the point at which the day shift made way for the night crew — Rainbow wasn't sure if Mantle ever really stopped working — but there were still people on the streets, clad in dull colours of grey and brown, their clothes and faces stained with dirt; they moved with shoulders slumped, their gait slow and shambling so that they seemed like zombies from a video game as much as men. Rackety vehicles rattled and rumbled down the roads, bumpers looking as though they might drop off at any moment, headlights broken, bodywork battered and stained with rust and much alike.

It wasn't just the faunus in Low Town that were … not doing so great, but at least for the faunus, Rainbow could imagine what could be done to help them: get faunus into leadership positions, move them up to live in Atlas, give them the same breaks and opportunities that humans had. These people were humans — mostly; they had the breaks, they had the opportunities, the people in the rooms where it happened looked just like them, and yet, here they were, living like this.

It seemed a lot harder to fix, as well as making Rainbow wonder if fixing the issues of the faunus would be a lot harder than it seemed like it would be.

There was a reason she didn't want Blake to come down here, but maybe she'd see something Rainbow hadn't thought of yet.

Mind you, Rarity had gotten out. Rarity had been born in Mantle, not that you'd know it from her accent, and yet she'd gotten out and made it to Atlas and never looked back.

In a way, she was just like Rainbow Dash, just without the extra ears.

In a way, she was more successful because she'd done it without patronage.

Still, she'd been lucky too, in her own way.

Maybe Rainbow ought to pin her down one of these days and ask her how she managed it. Rarity didn't like to talk about her humble origins, and Rainbow didn't want to press her, but it might be worth it.

Rainbow walked through the streets, passing late night diners and the one place that people actually looked happy to be coming in and out of: a movie theatre. Inviting lights and the smell of popcorn spilled out from within, and people were actually smiling as they walked towards it or came out at the end. Cute couples walked arm in arm, their coats and skirts and pants actually showing flashes of colour — and no dirt! Above the many doors with their semi-circular handles, a holographic screen displayed a trailer for a new … well, there was no sound, so Rainbow couldn't exactly tell what it was, but it appeared to star Ruby Roundhouse and Red Reynolds — a golden retriever faunus actor who seemed to play exactly the same quippy, sarcastic guy in every movie he was in — doing a lot of running around with explosions happening.

It might be worth seeing at some point.

Not far from the movie theatre, positioned directly amidst the pool of light from one of the working streetlights so that you couldn't miss it, there was a holographic wanted poster. A wanted poster with a reward, what was more: three million lien for the capture of Feathers Markinson. The holographic image displayed a chicken faunus, or a rooster faunus, given that he seemed to be a guy, with a bright red frill on top of an otherwise bald head, and a pair of beady black eyes that, when the hologram stopped rotating, seemed to be staring right at Rainbow Dash.

He wasn't someone that Rainbow had heard of before, and she found herself wondering idly what he'd done to get a bounty like that put on his head as she moved on down the street.

Whoever he was, she was sure that some huntsman would bring him in; three million lien wasn't something to be sneezed at.

For herself, she hadn't come here to hunt down criminals. And so she kept on walking, moving through the streets, past late-night diners and trashcans overflowing with rubbish, stepping around the discarded beer cans, the broken bottles or the half-eaten burgers and fries in their polystyrene boxes that lay on the pavement, walking past the people who ignored her as she passed by as she made her way towards her destination.

Said destination was easily recognisable by the bright neon green cross over the door. Soft green light spilled out from the windows into the street beyond, despite the ornate metal bars placed in front of said windows to protect them.

It was a free clinic, run by Doctor Polendina's brother Pietro. He was said to be every bit as brilliant as his brother — and Rainbow found him to be a good deal nicer too — but after … well, Rainbow didn't know the exact details of what had happened. She'd only met Pietro once, when Penny was very new — General Ironwood had introduced her and Ciel to the Polendina brothers quite early on — and she wasn't privy to all the developments. All she knew was that Pietro had been banished from the project, and he had gone back here, to this clinic in Mantle where he did prosthetic work for those that needed it.

Ciel thought he was wasting his talents; Rainbow thought it was as well somebody was, or a whole lot of people would be going around without limbs.

As Rainbow crossed the street to reach the clinic, the door opened, and a young woman — a rabbit faunus, with a pair of ears sticking out of her hair — stepped out, moving her prosthetic arm in windmills. "Thanks, Doc!" she called out, before looking around to see Rainbow Dash approaching.

The smile died from her face. She bowed her head as though Rainbow would take offence at her presence, and she began to walk with a quick stride — that was almost a run — away from Rainbow and the clinic.

Rainbow watched her go for a moment, wondering what that was about. It was probably because she saw the weapons and realised that Rainbow was connected to Atlas.

Atlas … was not very popular in Mantle. It was so unpopular that there was a criminal group running around dedicated to overthrowing it, and they were local heroes.

Which I guess is a pretty good reason not to let people have guns.

Anyway, Rainbow dismissed the thought and focussed on the things that she was actually here for. She pushed open the door to the clinic and stepped inside.

Inside was emptier than she'd expected, with a lot of open floor with nothing on it. There was a bed in one corner of the large room that confronted her, a desk on the other side of it, some technical instruments here and there, a bookshelf — filled with mostly books, but also a few curios and knickknacks — sitting against the back wall, but overall, there was just a lot of wooden floor, where the varnish looked as it was being worn away by repeated footfalls.

Pietro Polendina was the younger brother — if only by a little bit — but he looked older, his hair having completely turned to white, and Rainbow knew that it was mostly gone too, although the brown cap he was wearing disguised his baldness, covering the top of his head and leaving only his crown of white hair visible. He was heavyset, with thick arms and a visible paunch, and he was sat upon a four-legged robotic chair that did all of his walking for him. He was dressed in a pale yellow shirt with a dark red waistcoat, brown pants the same shade as his hat, and a very large pink bow tie. The only time Rainbow had met him, he had seemed to be trying a bit too hard to hit the eccentric professor vibe … but maybe that was unfair.

As she walked in, Pietro pushed the small, round spectacles that sat on his nose a little further up. "Rainbow Dash?" he asked, in a voice rendered a little hoarse by the years.

Rainbow let the door swing shut behind her. "I'm impressed you remember, Doctor, considering you only met me once."

"Maybe, but how could I forget Penny's team leader — or that magnificent hair of yours?" Pietro asked. He chuckled. "You know, all Japeth could think about was whether or not you were going to be competent enough for your mission, but when you walked in with General Ironwood, the only thing I could think of was 'darn, we should have given Penny rainbow hair.'"

Rainbow laughed. "That would be … something, sure," she admitted. "But I think the hair you gave her suits Penny best."

"She is a pretty girl, isn't she?" Pietro asked. "How's she doin'?"

"She … Penny … well, that's what I'm here to talk to you about, Doctor, if that's okay," Rainbow said. "I know it's sudden, me just dropping in like this, but—"

"Oh, no, it's fine, it's fine," Pietro assured her. "What am I going to do, tell you to get lost and lose my only chance to hear about my daughter?"

"Your daughter?" Rainbow repeated. "I thought … we think … I thought you were her uncle."

"'Uncle,'" Pietro said scornfully. "I suppose I should be thanking Japeth for giving me that much credit. But I put as much work into Penny as he did, so why shouldn't I be her father as much as he is? Especially when I … never mind. Why don't you come with me into the kitchen, and we can sit down and have a talk?"

"Are you sure?" Rainbow asked. "I mean, what if someone comes in?"

"Then I'll take care of it," Pietro said. "I'm sure I'll be able to hear them hollering. Come on. I want to hear everything."

No, I'm not sure you do, Rainbow thought, but Pietro had already turned away and began to walk on his four robotic legs in the direction of a door leading into the back of the building.

The front door opened behind Rainbow Dash, who turned to see a penguin faunus with bare, unshod penguin feet and legs emerging out of the bottom of his trousers. He was a short man, but broad-shouldered, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and no tie. He was bald, with beady black eyes that stared at Rainbow Dash as he came to an abrupt halt halfway through the door.

He blinked said beady eyes rapidly as his gaze fell to the guns Rainbow was wearing on her waist.

The guns for which Rainbow felt an instinctual desire to reach.

The penguin faunus tensed.

Rainbow's hands clenched into fists on instinct.

"Oh!" Pietro cried. "Welcome back! This is Rainbow Dash; she's a friend of my daughter from Atlas. She came by to tell me all about how she's doing. Rainbow, this is my lodger; I didn't catch his name. Poor fellow doesn't speak a word."

The lodger seemed to visibly relax as he smiled at Rainbow and nodded eagerly. He pointed upwards and began to walk across the floor towards the staircase leading up to the second floor. His penguin feet made a very distinctive flip flop sound as he moved.

"You'll be down for dinner later?" Pietro asked.

The lodger nodded twice, that smile still on his face, then began to pad up the stairs. Halfway up, he turned and stared at Rainbow Dash for a second, then turned back and disappeared out of sight.

"Running a free clinic doesn't exactly make money," Pietro explained. "I had to let the spare room out in order to help keep the lights on. He's not much of a talker, true, but for a paying guest, he's very obliging. Even makes me breakfast in the morning before he heads out to do … whatever it is he does."

The sound of heavy guitar riffs and loud singing began to echo down from upstairs.

This will be the day we've waited for!

This will be the day we open up the door!​

"He does like his music, though," Pietro said.

"Mm, I'm more of a soft pop girl myself," Rainbow muttered.

"Well, anyway," Pietro said. "Come along on through."

Pietro resumed his journey into the back, and Rainbow followed him into a kitchen with white tiles on the floor and walls, and a white island in the middle of the room while black cupboards at a height convenient for Pietro in his chair lined the walls on either side.

"Sit down," he urged, gesturing with one hand to the island and the stools that surrounded it. He himself opened up one of the black cupboards and began to rummage around in it. "Now, where did I … where is that … no, it's not there, maybe it's in the next one."

"You need any help?"

"No, no," Pietro assured her. "Besides, if I can't find anything in this place, I don't know how you'd be expected to after just walking in here. Ah! Here it is." He pulled a little metal coffee pot out of the cupboard, dislodging in the process a whisk and a sieve that clattered to the floor.

"I'll get them," Rainbow said, getting up and bending down to put the discarded objects away. In that way, with Rainbow clearing up after Pietro as he got things out of the cupboards with a complete lack of concern for what else came tumbling out along the way, they got to the point where Pietro had made two cups of coffee and placed them on the island between himself and Rainbow Dash.

"Thanks, Doctor," Rainbow said.

"Oh, you can drop all that 'doctor' stuff," Pietro said. "This isn't Atlas, and you're not my patient. Pietro will be fine. After all, you're one of Penny's friends."

Rainbow made an uncomfortable noise from the back of her throat. "Well … you know what, you want to see Penny's friends, look at this."

She pulled her scroll out of her jacket, opened up the photo album, and flicked through it until she found a picture from the day that they'd all come to Beacon, specifically, a photo from the arcade where Ruby and Pyrrha had taken Penny after they'd met. The picture showed the three of them stood in front of a video game, with Penny beaming as she had her arms wrapped around their waists. Ruby was beaming too, while Pyrrha's smile was softer but no less fond.

"The little girl on the right is Ruby Rose," Rainbow said. "The tall redhead on the left is Pyrrha Nikos."

"Pyrrha Nikos," Pietro murmured. "I recognise that girl."

"The Asclepius Institute?" Rainbow guessed. She didn't remember meeting Pietro there, but as a brilliant scientist with an expertise in prosthetics and an interest in helping people, it wasn't beyond the bounds of possibility that he would have been involved.

"That's right, yes!" Pietro cried. "The Mistralian girl, famous fighter, came over to help raise money. I didn't know she'd stuck around in Atlas after."

"She didn't," Rainbow said. "Ruby and Pyrrha are Beacon students, and they met Penny in Vale. We've been at Beacon for most of the last year."

"'At Beacon'?" Pietro repeated. "Well, I guess it is the Vytal Festival in Vale this year—"

"We were there a little earlier than the rest of the Atlas students," Rainbow said. "Penny … ran away."

"'Ran away'?" Pietro repeated.

Rainbow nodded. "To Vale. We tracked her down there, but she didn't want to come back to Atlas, so we persuaded General Ironwood to let us stick around at Beacon, and that's where we've been for pretty much the entire of the last two semesters."

Pietro stared at her for a moment. Then he let out a great guffaw from out of his belly. "Did you now? I bet Japeth was thrilled to hear about that!"

"I … don't know," Rainbow said. "We didn't talk to him."

"Oh, I can guess exactly how he reacted, and if I'm right, then it wasn't pretty," Pietro said. He lifted up his coffee cup, blew on the steaming liquid within, and took a sip. "But Penny made friends while she was there at Beacon? This Ruby and Pyrrha?"

Rainbow nodded.

"And what about you?" Pietro asked. "And Twilight and Ciel?"

"We…" Rainbow hesitated. "Some of us have tried harder than others," she admitted. "I was … preoccupied. That's not an excuse, but it is an explanation. There was … I met…" She closed her eyes, and bought herself a little time by drinking some of her own coffee in turn. "There was a girl at Beacon who interested me more than Penny did, and I thought … I got caught up in helping her, and I guess I kind of forgot what I was supposed to be doing. Ciel tried harder, a lot harder; she really cares about Penny, but the problem is that Penny—"

"Sees her as someone that Japeth and Ironwood put in charge of her," Pietro finished.

Rainbow was sitting hunched down, very low to the island; as a result, she was able to look up and into Pietro's eyes despite her height. "How did you guess?"

"You told me when you told me that Penny ran away," Pietro said. "She wouldn't have done it unless—"

"She was unhappy?"

"She wanted to be free," Pietro murmured. He sighed. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. I told Japeth, I told him, you can't bring a life into the world, then dictate how it lives! It isn't right!"

"Then why did you do it?" Rainbow asked. "I mean, I know why Doctor Polendina did it — he wanted to secure his legacy and create something the likes of which no one had ever created before — but you? Why did you help him, if you thought that way?"

Pietro was silent for a moment. "It was an idea that we'd had for some time," he admitted. "It wasn't even our idea, really; the concept of a robot that could love, dream, feel, that's been around as long as robots itself. Ever since we were studying robotics, we used to talk about how it might be possible. Eventually, we realised that the only way that it could ever happen was to give this hypothetical robot a soul.

"Neither of us have any flesh and blood children. We've got no family at all, except for each other; we had a sister, but she died a long time ago, and she never left any relatives either. I suppose the idea of having a child … it appealed to us, though not for the same reasons." He chuckled. "Someone to call me Dad and run around the place, making a mess — making more of a mess than I make for myself. It was Japeth who decided to go to the military for funding to make it happen. We'd worked for them before on various projects — nearly every big research project is sponsored by the military one way or another — but this felt … different than building a bigger gun or a smart weapons platform. Japeth told me not to worry about it, we were fleecing Ironwood and the Council, we were going to take their money and make our dreams come true. But, as time went by, and we started working on an in-built weapon system … that got harder to believe. Perhaps I should have quit then, but the truth is … I wanted to see Penny open her eyes. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to know her, and I wanted her to know me."

"But eventually, you couldn't swallow it any more?" Rainbow asked quietly.

Pietro shook his head. "I couldn't … we'd created a baby girl, and Japeth was willing to just stand aside while Ironwood took her away from us and sent her off to war. How was I supposed to just stay quiet about that? I couldn't! I told him that it wasn't right, what we'd done, what he was planning to do, I told him that it needed to be stopped. And he rewarded me by kicking me off the project and banning me from my own daughter's life! Calling me her uncle!" he harrumphed indignantly. "Tell me something, Rainbow Dash: do you care about Penny?"

Rainbow nodded. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I care about her. A little late, maybe, but I care about her. I want her to be happy."

"And she isn't happy now, is she?"

Rainbow straightened up. "She wants to stay at Beacon, when the Vytal Festival is over. She doesn't want to go back to Atlas, she doesn't want to stay here, she doesn't want to wear the whites. I've promised to help make that happen."

"Then you'd better keep that promise," Pietro declared. "Not for my sake, or yours, but for hers. Freedom … should be the right of all sentient beings, and Penny shouldn't be excluded from that just because she has nuts and bolts instead of guts."

Rainbow pushed the stool back. It scraped loudly on the floor as she got up. "I … I'm not sure how much the word of an Atlas student counts with you, after everything that's happened, but for what it's worth, I give you mine."

Pietro stared into Rainbow's eyes. "Well, okay then," he said. "I guess that's good enough for me."

"Thank you," Rainbow murmured. "Doc— Pietro, do you … about your brother, about Doctor Polendina, do you… do you know—?"

"That he's dying?" Pietro asked. "Yes, I know. He got the initial diagnosis before we had our … falling out. How is he?"

"Taking medication," Rainbow said. "Sometimes. Other times he's … why don't you ask him yourself?"

"We haven't spoken since we had our argument; why would he want to talk to me?" Pietro asked.

"Because he's dying?" Rainbow asked.

"He was dying when he threw me out," Pietro pointed out.

"Yeah, but … I think he's getting worse," Rainbow said. "I don't know, I'm not a doctor, and I don't really know how to … anyway, that's not the real point, the real point is that I think you should talk to Penny about it."

Pietro's expression softened. "Does she know?"

Rainbow nodded. "Yes, she does."

"Oh, gods," Pietro murmured. "And how's she taking it?"

Rainbow spread her hands. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know because she hasn't talked to me about it. Not to me or Ciel or Twilight or Ruby or Pyrrha or Sunset—"

"Who?"

"Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire; I'll tell you all the fun stuff in a little bit," Rainbow promised. "But first … I don't know how Penny is dealing with the fact that her father is dying, and I think that … I was hoping that you would talk to her about it, because I think that she should probably talk to someone, and I'm guessing that you'd like to talk to her, and because … bluntly, your brother is dying as well, so you can probably relate."

"That was pretty blunt," Pietro agreed. "But I can't say I don't understand what you're talking about. And I would love to speak to Penny, although I wish it was under happier circumstances. Japeth didn't exactly give me her number—"

Rainbow held up her scroll. "I've got it right here."

Pietro smiled. "Thank you kindly," he said. "Now, why don't you tell me about some of this 'fun stuff'?"

XxXxX​

Ciel's cloak swirled around her as she walked through the streets of Mantle towards home. Said streets were dark, the lights were broken; for that reason amongst others, she kept her purse open so that she could grab her pistol should she have need of it.

Mantle … Mantle was her home, and yet, it was not. It was where her parents had been born, both of them, but Ciel had lived in other places besides, and places which she had, in all honesty, preferred: the base in Vacuo, for one. Yes, it had been hot and sandy, but there had been plenty of open space and less … less vice, for one thing.

Still, Mantle was not without its pleasures: church, Neon, family — although the last one would have held true anywhere. But duty did not care for personal preferences, and it had brought father, and father had brought the family with him. Mantle was her home in the sense at least that it was where Ciel and her family had lived for several years, although most of those years, she had been either at combat school or at Atlas.

And she was a Mantle girl, born to Mantle parents, resident in Mantle, with no claim upon the city — rather than the kingdom — of Atlas. She was a flower of the north, but a flower nurtured in all respects in Mantle soil.

And yet, she did not like her home.

If she had not chosen to go to Atlas Academy, if she had not chosen to become a Specialist, if she had done as she told Penny she perhaps should have done and gotten a job to help support her family, then she would not have remained in Mantle; rather, she would have gone to Atlas, like Rainbow's friend Rarity. She would have gotten away from all of this, all of the dirt and the misery and the hopelessness and the…

Ciel stopped as she rounded a corner and was confronted with a sight that she scarcely knew how to describe.

In the middle of the street, there sat a bar; although the street lights were working here — Ciel almost rather they were not — the lights that were supposed to illuminate the name of the establishment were not, and although the doors were open and lights were spilling out into the street, they did not do so at the right angle to light up the sign over the door.

In any case, Ciel was more concerned with all the bodies lying in the road. They were not dead; they were moving and twitching and groaning. Not dead, no, but dead drunk for sure; they sat slumped over the outside tables, some of them, but most of them simply lay in the road, where they would have blocked the traffic if there had been any traffic to speak of, or else lying on top of the cars parked along the side of the pavement. Some of them still had the bottles in their hands or lying nearby.

It was like the aftermath of a battle, but the only battle lost here had been the battle these people had lost against their own self-control.

"Oompah-pah, oompah-pah, everyone knows," one drunken man sang softly, his slurred voice cutting through the otherwise quiet night air.

He was interrupted by the sound of a baby crying.

Ciel stopped, her eyes sweeping over the scene of ruin, passing over the drunken men and women, those passed out, those awake but in a stupor, the dogs that sat beside them or walked between them or urinated on them. She passed over all of them, searching for— there! A woman sat with her back to a battered vehicle, a vacant look and a silly grin upon her face, and in her lap, a baby sat, squalling and shivering.

The child was unwrapped, exposed to the cold — yes, Mantle had a heating grid, but there was a bit of a chill in the air — waving its hands and feet in the air, trying fruitlessly to attract the attention of its mother.

Ciel froze. She was not sure of what to do. Humanity dictated that she help the child, but where could she take it? Not to her home; to the church maybe? To the police station? But then, how would their mother get them back again? Did they deserve to have their child back?

Was it her place to decide that?

Perhaps not, but she could not pass by and simply leave the poor thing. Ciel took a step forward.

At that moment, however, a woman emerged from out of the bar, wearing a lavender headscarf and carrying a brown shawl, fringed with white lace, in her arms. She walked quickly towards the mother and baby, skipping lightly around the other drunks as she did so, and scooped the screaming child up in her arms, wrapping it up in her shawl.

She noticed Ciel looking at her and smiled, "She's always bringing her baby with her and then getting like this. Poor thing, I don't think that she's got anywhere she can leave him. Never mind, I'll look after him until she comes round. Won't I darling, eh? You and me? Coochie-coo!" she waggled her fingers in the baby's face.

"Perhaps you should think about not serving her quite so much alcohol," Ciel said coldly.

The woman sniffed. "It's a free kingdom!" she declared. "So long as she has the lien to pay for what she orders, why should I care?" She turned and stalked off, back into the bar, taking the baby with her.

Ciel was left standing outside, looking at all these people scattered around her like the last survivor of a great disaster, left to observe the detritus and weep.

She did not weep, although a part of her felt like it, though whether she would have been weeping for the baby, for these people, or for herself, she could not have said.

She hated this city. She hated this place that was her home, and out of which she sprang. She hated it. She hated how wretched it was, how downtrodden and pushed down it was, how dirty and decaying it was, she hated how degenerate and sinful it was, she hated so much about it, and yet, she struggled to think of a single thing she loved that could not be transplanted elsewhere. Even her church could be found in Atlas.

Yes, Atlas is where she would have made her home even had she not gone to Atlas Academy. Atlas was where she would make her home in between missions and assignments. Atlas was the north's future. Mantle was … an embarrassment. A dying relic, and the swifter it finally gave up the ghost, the better.

And yet, at the same time, the state of Mantle gave her pause, for … how had it been allowed to get like this? How had the greatest kingdom in Remnant allowed its second city to fall so far?

Why had nothing been done? Why was nothing being done? Why were people being allowed to languish in such a state?

What could be done? Ciel did not know; she did not have the vision of a Blake Belladonna or the optimism of a Rainbow Dash.

All things would be as God and the Lady disposed. But she sometimes wished they would hurry up and dispose of Mantle.

No, that was … that was wrong. It was not for her to think such things. All men were beloved of God, and the Lady watched over all the children of the north, no matter how far they strayed from her teachings and how much Ciel disliked them.

She had better get away from here; the sight of sin was breeding sin in her.

Ciel silently begged forgiveness as she walked on, leaving this beer alley behind and proceeding down streets lined on either side with terraced houses; despite the fact that this was a residential area, the roads were quiet; she did not encounter another living soul down any one of them; everyone was either inside or elsewhere in the city. She didn't meet anyone else as she made her way to her own family home, which sat at the very end of the terrace.

Ciel wasn't home often enough to have a key of her own, and so she knocked on the blue front door of the narrow house.

She heard a muffled sound from inside. There was a pause, in which Ciel waited on the doorstep, still and silent, her breath lightly misting up in front of her.

Then the door opened, and a column of warm golden light spilled out into the dark street beyond, light interrupted only by the form of Ciel's eldest brother — though still younger than her, as all her brothers were — Florentin. Despite being four years younger than she was, he was already an inch taller than her — and he looked taller still, since Ciel was stood below him on the doorstep — and broader in the shoulders, while the peach fuzz on his cheeks spoke loud and clear of the onset of puberty. Otherwise, they looked much alike, with the same blue eyes set in faces of the same complexion, and the same soft black hair, although Florentine wore his long in a ponytail falling down his neck and back.

Ciel smiled with her mouth closed. "Good evening, Florentin."

Florentin smiled with his teeth, his eyes brightening as he said, "'Good evening, Florentin'? Your first time back home in eight months, and you stand there and say 'good evening, Florentin'? What are you like, honestly, come here!" He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, pulling her into a bearhug that left her legs dangling off the ground.

"Florentin," Ciel said, squirming a little in his embrace, "this is—"

"This is how you say welcome home, big sister," Florentin said with a laugh, before he put her down on the floor inside the house and shut the door behind her. "Hey, everyone!" he shouted down the hallway. "Ciel is home!"

The hallway had one door to the left which led into the living room, one door further on straight ahead which led into the kitchen, and the staircase to the right. Both the doors now opened, and Tyson, Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier poured out from both the rooms; Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier all ran towards her, while Tyson, only a year younger than Florentin for all that the age gap looked much more than that, kept to a brisk walk behind them.

"Ciel!"

"How long are you back for?"

"How was Vale?"

"Did you fight in the battle? Was it glorious?"

"Is there still going to be a Vytal Festival?"

"Yes, there will be a Vytal Festival," Ciel said. "I do not know how long I will be back, and I fought in several battles, but the glory gained must be said to have varied considerably. And it is very nice to see all of you."

"Wait for me!" Alain called as he hobbled out of the kitchen, some distance behind his brothers. His wooden crutch thumped upon the hallway floor as he tried to catch up. He was her youngest brother at just five years old, but from looks alone, he seemed, if anything, as though he might be younger still, so small was he. His cheeks were soft, and his blue eyes gleamed as bright as stars within his face. As he walked forward, limping and leaning on his crutch, his breathing became more ragged and uneven. "Ciel," he gasped. "Ciel, you … you came…" he began to splutter, and then to cough with increasing violence until he seemed as though he might double over from it.

Maurice and Aurelien made way as Ciel strode forward, reaching him where he could no longer come to her.

"Oh, you've got yourself too excited," Ciel murmured as she knelt down in front of him. She reached out and cupped his cheeks with both hands. "There's no need to get worked up on my account, no need at all. Now let's get you sat down in your chair." She stood up, and picked him up, and sat him down upon her shoulder; he weighed less than a fully-laden bag of books for all that Ciel could feel the metal brace beneath his clothes, and he barely came any higher than her head. Nevertheless, Ciel ducked down a little, bending her knees as she carried him into the kitchen.

She found Mother there, stood in front of the stove; the matriarch of the Soleil family was a woman whom years and seven children had bestowed a matronly figure upon, her dark hair worn in dreadlocks cut above the shoulders. She was just tasting something from out of a pot cooking on the oven when Ciel came in. She looked up, looked at Ciel, and nodded without saying a word.

Ciel nodded back, also without a word, and carried Alain into the dining room and sat him down upon his chair, which was elevated to enable him to reach the dining table.

His breathing seemed improved already, for all that he was still taking great gulps of air; nevertheless, he managed to say, "I missed you."

Ciel smiled. "I missed you too, ma cher," she said, and kissed him on the forehead. "But I just need to go and speak to Mother for a minute."

She left him sat there, alone for now — but hopefully, his brothers would keep him company — as she returned to the kitchen.

"Mother," she said, curtsying.

Her mother did not look at her. "How's school?"

I'm about to torpedo my career for Penny's sake. "I continue to score well," Ciel said.

"I heard all about the battle in Vale, the Breach they're calling it, right?"

Ciel nodded. "Indeed."

"Were you there?"

"No," Ciel admitted. "But I was involved in the actions surrounding it."

Mother looked at her. "Can you talk about it?"

"No," Ciel replied. "It is all classified."

"But you did not disgrace yourself?"

"No," Ciel agreed. Although I do not have the right to say that I distinguished myself, either.

"Good," Mother said, and she turned to Ciel to plant a kiss upon each of her cheeks. "Welcome home."

Ciel smiled. "Thank you, Mother. Where is Father?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Out," Mother repeated. "I know no more than that, save that he will be back in time for dinner, which is not for nearly an hour yet at least, so you'll have plenty of time to tell all your stories to the boys."

"I am no great teller of stories," Ciel murmured.

"Try anyway," Mother told her. "They want to hear about your adventures, Aurelien and Alain especially."

Ciel frowned. "How is Alain?"

Mother sighed, and looked down at the floor as her hands began to play with her apron. Her voice was very quiet. "The doctor says … there is not long left."

"Lady let it not be so," Ciel murmured. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

"Nothing that we can afford," Mother replied.

Ciel hesitated for a moment. She began to unfasten her cloak. "I … I have a teammate, Twilight Sparkle; her family is not ill-endowed, and her sister-in-law is on the Council; perhaps I could ask her to lend me the money—"

"'Lend'?" Mother asked. "And how will you repay it?"

"Give, then," Ciel said. "Please do not tell me that you would put your pride over Alain's life."

"We are talking about millions of lien," Mother said. "Nearly three million for the treatments required. Does your teammate have that kind of money to give away?"

Ciel closed her eyes. "No," she admitted. "No, I do not believe she does. And there is nothing else?"

"Nothing but prayer," Mother said, "and faith."

"Prayer and faith, aye," Ciel murmured. She had been praying to the lady for Alain ever since he was diagnosed. Her prayers had not been answered yet.

But the Lady moved in her own ways, however mysterious they might seem to outsiders; who was to say that a miracle would not yet come?

And yet it had not come yet, and it seemed that there was little time left.

Yet what could they do but pray on, and hope with what little hope remained?

"Can you do something for me?" Mother said. She turned across the kitchen and picked up a vacuum flask that had been sitting opposite the oven. "Will you take this to Mrs. Peterson's apartment? Poor dear, she's been unwell the last few days; can't go shopping or even move around her own home much. I've been making her soup and broth. Take it to her, pour it into a bowl, maybe heat it up in the microwave, but you don't need to stay and watch her eat it."

"I can do that," Ciel agreed. "But I thought you wanted me to tell stories to the boys."

Mother smiled. "This won't take you very long. You still remember where her apartment is?"

"Unless she's moved, then yes," Ciel said. Mrs. Peterson was a member of their church; her husband had died of cancer a few years ago, and her son had become a soldier and unfortunately died in the field; she was all alone now, save for her fellow congregants, who took care of her.

"Thank you," Mother said. "I would ask Florentin, but he got into a fight recently, and I'm not sure I should let him out of the house."

"'A fight'?" Ciel asked. "What kind of fight?"

"I'll tell you when you get back," Mother said. "Or he can. But you should hurry; even in that flask, that stew won't stay warm forever."

"Right," Ciel murmured as she put her cloak back on and took the flask from her mother's hands. She stuck her head around the door. "I'm just going out on an errand; I'll be back soon," she promised.

"I'll be waiting," Alain said.

"We'll all be waiting," Aurelien added.

"What kind of errand?" Florentin asked.

"Mrs. Peterson's dinner," Ciel replied.

"I could do that," Florentin said. "Give it to me, and you can—"

"Mother asked me to do this," Ciel said.

Florentin's eyes darkened. "Oh. Well then you'd better go on and do it then, hadn't you?"

Ciel did not respond to that except to say, "I will be back soon."

And then she turned away, her cloak swirling around her, and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall — her footsteps tapped upon the wood beneath her — and out of the door and back into the cold night air of Mantle.

She stood outside for a moment, in the dark, her breath misting up behind her.

Lady of the North, look down upon my brother Alain with mercy. Grant him his health once more, I beg of you. Let him live. Let him live, and grow, and love, and have children who will call me Aunt Ciel and mock me for my eccentricities.

Or kill me. You may withdraw your protection from me in the field, you may strike me down, you may render me as barren as a leafless tree, but please, I beg you, let him live.

If my words have ever moved you at all, if my service has ever touched your heart, then please, hear my prayer now if never before or never since.

From Heaven, there came no response. No word, no sound, nothing but silence.

Ciel was reminded uncomfortably of Salem's words underneath Mountain Glenn; what if the reason the Lady was refusing to answer their prayers for Alain was because the Lady was no more, because she had never been anything more than a woman dead long ago, dead at the hands of one of Salem's agents?

What if she could not help Alain and never could have?

Ciel shook her head. No, no she could not believe that; she could not allow herself to believe that, words without thoughts never to Heaven went, and no prayers would be answered for one whose faith was not as certain as a rock.

Which meant that hers were doomed to go unanswered. For now, and perhaps forever. For the seed of doubt that Salem had planted in her mind had not yet perished.

Ciel shook her head. She wiped at her face with one hand. Foolishness, to stand here like this and dwell on what she could not change. She had best get this errand run; delivering a hot meal to Mrs. Peterson was something which she could do, at least.

She walked through the streets, heading towards Mrs. Peterson's apartment block — she was even less fortunate than Ciel's family and lived in a flat instead of a terrace — through streets which were, unfortunately, more often unlit than had any working streetlights. Maintenance here was not done often enough, and most often amounted to sticking plasters than to the necessary repairs.

One street, about halfway between her home and her destination, had only a single working streetlight, a single pool of light in a road otherwise succumbed to darkness. It was from out of that darkness that, as Ciel walked down the pavement, a voice spoke.

"You know, it's kind of dangerous for a good girl like you to be wandering around a rough neighbourhood like this at this time of night." Neon Katt stepped into the spotlight, dressed in a bright blue parka with a fur trimmed hood, and vibrant pink pants. Her roller skates were not in evidence, although she was still wearing her crash-pads on her arms and legs. She grinned. "Good thing I was passing, huh?"

"How did you know I'd be here?" Ciel asked.

Neon shrugged. "Your mother has been sending meals to Mrs. Peterson, bless her, and I thought that she'd send you once you came back, especially after Florentin got into that bit of trouble."

"Do you know what that was about?" asked Ciel, as she began to walk towards Neon.

"Yes," Neon admitted. "But I'll let him tell you."

"Or you could tell me," Ciel suggested.

"I could, but I won't," Neon replied. "Just take it from me: give the kid some credit when you find out the truth; he was trying to do the right thing."

"He is hardly a kid," Ciel said. "He is almost a man."

"He's fourteen; give him a break."

"There is a student at Beacon who is fifteen and risking her life to defend the realms of men," Ciel pointed out.

Neon chuckled.

"What?" Ciel demanded.

"Nothing; I'll just let him tell you," Neon said. "So, do you want some company or not?"

Ciel hesitated. Then she sighed, and as she sighed, her whole body sagged forward. "I would welcome it," she admitted. "Thank you."

"No problem," Neon said, taking Ciel's arm as they began to walk together, side by side. "Plus, I might try and slide in to your place on the way back and see if I can get an invite to dinner."

Ciel snorted. "I'm sure that Mother would be happy to have you." She paused. "No rollerstakes?"

"On these road surfaces, are you kidding?" Neon said. "I'd spend more time falling over than getting any place." She took pause in turn. "How's Alain?"

Ciel hesitated for a moment. "Not good, I'm told," she murmured.

Neon winced. "Is there anything that I can—?"

"Not unless you have millions of lien spare," Ciel muttered.

Neon placed her other hand on Ciel's shoulder. "And how are you doing?"

Ciel swallowed. "I … I am … my brother is dying; Penny wants to leave, and the only way that I can show her how much I care about her is to let her go; and I hate this city. That is how I'm doing, Neon."

Neon looked at her in silence. Then she pulled Ciel into a hug, not tight like Florentin's or Penny's embraces, a gentle clasp that Ciel could have left at any time.

Save that she did not want to.

"I wish that there was something I could do to help you," Neon murmured as she put one hand on the back of Ciel's head.

"I know," Ciel whispered.

"And if there is anything that I can do," Neon said. "Just let me know."

Ciel closed her eyes for a moment. "You're already doing it."

She would have liked to have stayed that way for quite some time: warm, held, accepted, tickled by one of Neon's twintails brushing against the tip of her nose.

But the stew would be getting cold in the flask, and so, Ciel stepped away, and the two of them resumed their journey.

"I get what's happening with Alain," Neon said. "And I'm sorry about Penny, even though I also think that you shouldn't blame yourself—"

"No?"

"It's not your fault if people don't get you," Neon insisted. "And you shouldn't have to spend your whole life running after the approval of people who don't get you. If Penny doesn't appreciate you for what you are and how great you are, then that's her problem, not yours."

"Even if I desire her … appreciation?" Ciel asked.

"Why would you, at that price?"

"It isn't like that."

"It sounds like that."

"But it isn't," Ciel insisted. "Penny is … it's wrong to hold her to the same standards as you or I; she is… I can't explain it to you, I'm sorry."

Neon shrugged. "You feel how you feel, I guess. But what's up with Mantle?"

"What isn't up with Mantle?" Ciel muttered. "I came across a beer alley on my way home. All of these people passed out or comatose outside the bar, insensibly drunk. One woman had a baby with her, who might have frozen outside if the landlord or the landlord's wife hadn't gotten them inside until the mother came round. Even then, she didn't seem to realise that she had done anything wrong in plying these people so with drink. It is … disgusting."

"It sounds like it," Neon agreed. "But … maybe you should ask why they were drinking so much in the first place?"

Ciel glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this place sucks; what else is there to do except get drunk?" Neon demanded. "By the time working hours are over, it's only bars and the movies that are still open, and a movie ticket costs a day's wages these days. So people drink, and sometimes, they drink too much, but maybe instead of blaming them, maybe blame the fact that they've got nothing else to do. Or the fact that their lives are so awful that they want to black them out."

"What about personal responsibility?" Ciel asked. "What about the responsibility a mother owes her child?"

"It's not good," Neon replied. "But it's not entirely their fault."

"No, you say it is the city's fault," Ciel said. "That does not make Mantle any less hateful."

Neon chuckled. "No, I guess it doesn't, does it? What a town, huh?"

Ciel sighed. "Indeed." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I have been terribly rude and self-absorbed; how are you, Neon?"

"No, you haven't," Neon assured her. "And I'm, well, you know me. My mom has a new job, though."

"Really?" Ciel asked. "Where?"

"You know that hotel they've been building over some of the old mining tunnels for the last five years?"

"The hotel that nobody asked for," Ciel murmured.

"I get why people are upset about it, but isn't it about time something new went up in this city?" Neon asked. "I mean, people are saying that if Mantle gets redeveloped, they won't be able to afford to live here any more, but who would want to move here from Atlas or Crystal City? Plus, it provides jobs to people like my mom. She's the new general manager."

"Good for her, and I mean that sincerely," Ciel declared. "Is she very pleased with herself?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Good," Ciel said. "She deserves to be proud. It is good to know that someone in Mantle is prospering, at least."

They walked on a little way, in comfortable silence, before Neon said, "Hey, while you're still back home, do you want to go to the museum with me? They've got some of the Mistralian crown jewels on exhibit."

Ciel looked at her. "The Mistralian crown jewels? Here, in Mantle?"

Neon nodded. "Apparently, they were lent to us, and they've been on tour of Solitas. They've been to Canterlot, Crystal City, Atlas, and now they're at the Mantle Museum of Antiquities before they go back to Mistral. Also, they've got some of the dresses worn by the last empress … I can't remember her name, and by that princess who got torn apart by the mob after they lost the war."

"The Empress' name was Alexandra," Ciel said. "And the princess was named Juturna. It is said that she foolishly ventured out into the streets, where the sight of her in her beauty and all her finery enraged all those whose kin would never return from the battlefield beyond restraint." She paused. "Jewels and dresses?"

"Yeah."

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "Since when do you have any interest in jewels or dresses?"

"I like shiny things," Neon protested.

Ciel smiled softly. "Thank you," she said. "I should be glad of the distraction. And of the company."

They made their way to Mrs. Peterson's apartment block, a grey and concrete structure that looked miserable in the daylight and positively sinister in the darkness. There was a pool of something that Ciel very much hoped was water lying at the foot of the staircase that climbed up the building to the eighth floor on which Mrs. Peterson's apartment was located.

The lights were all broken in the staircase, and Ciel found herself being guided by Neon's feline eyes, who told her 'step right; there's some vomit on the left' or 'skip that step; it has dog muck on it'.

Ciel was a student of Atlas Academy, she had been chosen by General Ironwood himself for special missions, and yet, as she climbed that dark staircase, she found herself glad that Neon was with her, and not just because she could tell her to avoid the vomit and the dog muck. In the darkness, the growl of a bull terrier could sound like a beowolf, and the shape of a drunk or a homeless man sleeping not far from the stairs could seem like something far more sinister. Her ears listened intently for the sounds of any footsteps beside their own; was there someone coming up the stairs behind them, coming to meet them? Was that shape she saw an approaching menace? Mantle was an Atlesian city, it was protected by three layers of walls and a vast panoply of defensive weapons, and yet, she scarcely felt any safer here than she had underneath Mountain Glenn.

Surely, that could not be right, and if she felt that way, then how did those who had no aura feel?

I hate this city.

They reached the eighth floor, where there were at least some working lights as they turned off the stairs and walked along the exposed walkway that led to the apartments. They walked past silent doors, the paint peeling off, the numbers gone — fallen off or stolen — walls and doors covered with graffiti, until they came to Mrs. Peterson's apartment. The door was white, and the paint looked fresher than some of the other doors; that was because Florentin had repainted it after someone had spray-painted a very rude word on it last year.

There was a welcome mat in front of the door, and that, at least, had not been taken.

Ciel knocked on the door. "Mrs. Peterson?"

There was no answer.

Ciel knocked again. "Mrs. Peterson, it's Ciel Soleil, Helda's daughter. I haven't been to church in a while, I've been at school, but I hope you remember me. My mother sent me here with your dinner." She knocked again. "Mrs. Peterson?"

"She is sick," Neon said. "Maybe she can't come to the door."

"Then what are we to do?" Ciel asked.

Neon knelt down, and lifted up the welcome mat to reveal a key lying beneath. "Eh voila!"

"Bold of her to leave a key under the mat in a place like this," Ciel muttered.

"Old folks remember when people used to be nice to one another," Neon replied, as she unlocked the door with the spare key. "After you," she said, pushing it open.

The apartment on the other side of the door was dark and quiet. Ciel stepped inside, fumbling for the light switch with her free hand. She found it, after some scraping her fingers against the wall, and the lights came on. Everything seemed to be in order, although it was still very quiet.

"Mrs. Peterson?" Ciel called out.

There was no answer. There was no sound at all.

Ciel had been here before — this wasn't the first time that Mrs. Peterson had been in need of some assistance from the members of her church — and so she knew the way, not that there was much of a way to know; these apartments were rather small, and there were not many doors to choose from. Nevertheless, she knew which door led to Mrs. Peterson's bedroom, and she made her way there with a few quick steps, rounding the open doorway to find Mrs. Peterson sitting up in bed.

There was an open book resting on her lap. A book with blood on the pages.

Mrs. Peterson's blood.

Someone had stoved her head in. Her left temple had been crushed, like an egg cracked on the side of the table. It was … it was a grotesque sight.

Ciel turned away, a little gasp escaping her lips. She did not consider herself to be a squeamish person, she did not faint or grow squeamish at the sight of blood, but this? This was not death on the battlefield; this was Mantle! Whatever its faults, however far it had fallen, however much she detested the place, it remained an Atlesian city. A city under the rule of Atlesian law. And Mrs. Peterson … no soldier, no huntress, just an old woman. A frail old woman who posed no threat and did no harm and someone had … someone had come into her home and murdered her.

It was too much. It was all, all too much. The vacuum flask dropped from Ciel's fingers. Her legs trembled beneath her and she stumbled, her shoulder colliding with the wall opposite her.

"Hey!" Neon cried. "Hey, Ciel, are you okay?"

"No," Ciel murmured. "No, I fear not."

My strength has been used up in appearing strong, and I have none left for when I need it.

Neon frowned and rubbed Ciel's back with one hand. "Do you want to sit down?"

"In a dead woman's house?" Ciel demanded.

"Good point," Neon said softly. Her face was twisted with distaste and confusion, her mouth set in a sort of permanent wince as she glanced at Mrs. Peterson. "She was a nice old lady."

Ciel nodded silently.

"Did she ever show you her father's pistol that he brought home from the Great War?"

Ciel shook her head. "No," she said. "No, she never showed me that. She showed me the watches that her husband had given her for their anniversaries, but not a pistol."

Neon managed a slight smile. "I guess she knew what would interest us," she said. "She lived through the Great War, didn't she?"

"As a young girl, I believe," Ciel said. "She never talked about it."

"No, I asked her about it once, and she clammed up."

"I can … understand why," Ciel replied. "Those years … cannot have always been pleasant, not even for a child."

"To live through that," Neon muttered. "And then … it feels like we ought to cover her up, but … the police will want everything left as it was, won't they?"

"Probably," Ciel said quietly.

Neon was silent for a moment. "We should say a prayer, at least."

Despite her doubts, Ciel nodded. "That … I am sure she would appreciate that."

There was a moment of silence.

"Go on, then," Neon prompted.

"You could do it," Ciel pointed out.

"You know more of them than I do," Neon replied. "I only know the one."

Ciel straightened up. "If it is the one that I think it is, I cannot think of any that would be more appropriate."

She would have felt like a fraud to have said the prayer now, besieged by doubt as she was. Nevertheless, she stepped away from the wall on which she had been leaning, closed her eyes, and bowed her head in prayer.

"Right," Neon muttered. "Okay." She cleared her throat. "As the Lady said in days of old, so say we now:

"God prepares a table before me,

And sets a feast amongst the famine,

My cup overflows,

He anoints my head with oil,

And washes my feet,

Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me,

All the days of my life,

And I shall dwell in the house of God

Forevermore."

Ciel opened her eyes. "It is well said," she said softly.

If only she could still wholeheartedly believe it to be true.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Personal Justice​

Neon sat on the ledge of the walkway running outside the apartment. Ciel stood straight, but with her back up against one of the columns that helped support the balcony above them.

Together, they watched as the paramedics wheeled Mrs. Peterson's body out of her home.

She was covered, wrapped in a red bodybag, strapped down to the stretcher. Neither of the two paramedics said anything to the two of them as they bore the body away.

Neither Ciel nor Neon said anything to one another. It was … difficult to know what to say under the circumstances.

As the paramedics departed, the police officer who had arrived on the scene stepped out of the apartment. Only one police officer had arrived when they had called to report that Mrs. Peterson was dead. Only one.

One police officer, two paramedics, and Ciel and Neon. The only people who seemed to care, and it was doubtful if the paramedics or the officer actually did care, although Ciel found she hoped they did, at least a little.

It was not quite true that no one else would care; her mother would care, when she found out, and her father too and Florentin and the rest; Neon's family would care; the congregation would care, but right now … a few people had wandered out when they heard the sirens of the ambulance to gawk, but they had all gone in again by now. In this whole building where she had lived, nobody cared.

Just as they hadn't cared to take care of her when she was alive.

Ciel felt her brow knotting above her. She felt angry. Because of this, but also because … because of everything else, it was forming a knot in her stomach; she could feel it like the discomfort after overeating, except that there seemed less prospect of release. She was angry, angry at Mantle, angry at Penny … angry at God.

We are your faithful! We pray to you, we worship you, we honour you! So why does it seem as though you're picking us off one by one?

She was not an idiot; she understood that the existence of God did not negate the existence of evil; she wasn't so jejune and naïve that she could be turned aside from her faith by the question 'ah, but why does God let people suffer?' but at this time, under everything that was assailing her, under all the water that was deluging her, Ciel couldn't help but wonder why the faithful seemed to be suffering more than the sinners.

Ciel closed her eyes. That was … that was not right, that was not… not the right thing to think; it was… her mind was clouded, her thoughts were unclear, but she knew that she should not be thinking this way.

But the anger in her stomach remained nonetheless.

Of course, there was one more person she was angry at: whoever had done this.

"You're the two kids who called it in?" the police officer asked.

Ciel opened her eyes and looked up at the officer. He was dressed in plain clothes, in a suit that looked better cared for than the man who wore it; his age was difficult to determine, as old as Ciel's father, perhaps a little older. His hair had almost completely disappeared, and the lines on his face seemed almost to resemble scars. His eyes were a cold blue, and the sharpness of his nose gave the impression of an eagle, or some such bird of prey.

"That's right," Neon said. "We called you. We hoped a couple more of you might show up."

The police officer didn't rise to Neon's barb. He just said, "So, how did you get into the apartment?"

"With a key," Neon said.

"You have a key to the old woman—"

"Mrs. Peterson," Ciel said softly.

"Excuse me?"

"Her name was Esmeralda Peterson," Ciel said softly. "Not 'the old woman.'"

The police officer said, "Do either of you have a key to her apartment?"

"We found it under the welcome mat," Neon said.

"And how many people knew that there was a key under the mat?" asked the officer.

"We don't know," Ciel admitted.

"Did you know it was there?"

"No," Ciel said.

Neon shook her head. "I thought it might be, but I didn't know."

"Hmm," the police officer murmured. "So why did you go into the apartment?"

"Mrs. Peterson is … has been … was sick," Ciel said. "My mother asked me to bring her some stew."

"In the flask inside."

"Yes," Ciel said. "I dropped it when I saw … her."

The police officer looked from Ciel to Neon. "Does it always take two people to deliver a flask full of stew?"

"Why does that matter?" Ciel asked.

"Because he thinks we did it," Neon growled.

"I don't think anything," the police officer insisted, "but there's no sign of forced entry, which means that whoever did this probably got into the apartment the same way that you did, using the key. And maybe that means that they got in at exactly the same time that you did, because they are you."

"We did not do this," Ciel growled. "We are—"

"Atlas students," Neon said.

"Honourable women," Ciel declared.

The police officer looked at them, his cold blue eyes flickering from one to the other. "Well, I don't think we'll ever find out exactly what happened. Lucky you, maybe."

"What do you mean, we'll never find out what happened?" Neon said, leaping down off the ledge she'd been sat on. "Isn't it your job to find out what happened? Can't you get, like, forensics in to look for evidence of who was in the apartment or something?"

"They're busy," the police officer said.

"'Busy'?" Ciel repeated. "A woman is dead!"

"Yeah, she is," the police officer said, his voice harsh. "So is the sixteen-year-old girl who overdosed two nights ago after some scumbag sold her a bad batch of Purple Magic, so is the guy who got hit by a car the day before that as he was crossing the street. And the week before that, a woman was raped walking home. And before that, someone was held up at knifepoint and robbed. I got a backlog of cases six months old sitting on my desk, and this one doesn't get to jump to the top of the line just because it's the one that you two care about. I'm sorry, but … that's the way it is."

He, too, walked away, following in the footsteps of the paramedics as he headed towards the stairs that wound their way down the building to street level.

Neon folded her arms as she watched him go. "Well, this sucks," she said.

"Indeed," Ciel muttered.

"Someone walks into an old woman's apartment, bashes her head in, walks out, and now they're going to get away with it because the police are backed up," Neon said. "This … this isn't right."

"You're wrong," Ciel said softly.

"Huh?"

"They aren't going to get away with this," Ciel declared. "If the police won't find out who killed Mrs. Peterson then we will."

Neon was silent for a moment, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs. "Look … you know I've got your back, C, but … how?"

"Ciel!" Rainbow Dash shouted as she emerged from the staircase and ran down the balcony towards them, leaving a rainbow trail in her wake that seemed — for all that Ciel was glad of her haste — inappropriate in the current circumstances, before she came to a halt beside them. "I got your text," she said. "Are you guys okay?"

Neon let her hands drop to her sides. "Not really," she said.

"Yeah, right, of course not," Rainbow murmured. She glanced at the open door to Mrs. Peterson's apartment; nobody had bothered to close it yet. "Is this … this the place?"

Ciel nodded mutely.

Rainbow paused for a moment. "She was a friend of yours?"

"We knew her," Neon said. "She was a nice old lady."

"We need your help," Ciel said.

Rainbow looked at her. "Help with what?"

"With finding who this," Ciel replied. "The police have no resources to do anything to catch her killer; who will bring justice if not us?"

Rainbow frowned. "We're not cops."

"But we are the defenders of the world," Ciel insisted. "Defenders of the weak, protectors of the helpless. Who is more weak and helpless than a sick old woman, frail and unable to leave her bed? Who is more in need of a protector?"

"Protection?" Rainbow asked. "Or revenge?"

"Does it matter?" Ciel demanded. "A wrong has been done; it must be righted. You told me I could call on you for help. Or was that more empty bluster devoid of substance?"

"Ciel," Neon murmured, but Rainbow held up a hand to stay anything else she might have said.

"You're right," Rainbow said. "I did say that I would help you. And I will. So how do you want to start?"

Ciel hesitated, having insisted upon doing this, and insisted with such vehemence in the teeth of the objections of the others, she felt a little foolish to admit that she had no idea how to begin. And yet, that was the truth; as Rainbow said, they were not trained investigators, they had no knowledge of the criminal mind, they had no forensic equipment, they had not even any access to resources that the police had at their disposal — nor would they until they graduate.

They were the only ones with the drive to do anything to solve Mrs. Peterson's murder, and yet, their drive alone did not give them the capacity to do so.

"I … I do not know."

Rainbow nodded. "Okay then," she said. "Mind if I go in and take a look around?"

"Sure," Neon said. "But what do you expect to see in there?"

"My life wasn't always Pinkie Parties and hanging out with Twilight," Rainbow said as she walked through the open door into the apartment.

Neon and Ciel glanced at one another for a moment, before Ciel followed her in, and Neon trailed after them.

Rainbow did not know her way around the apartment as they did, but it was not a very big apartment, and it didn't take her very long to find her way to the bedroom. Mrs. Peterson was gone, and the book that she had been reading — the Epistles of the Lady — had been thrown to the floor and trampled on by the paramedics, the sheets had been thrown back, but at the same time, you could still see some stains of blood on the pillow, the red turning to brown.

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. "So, this is where … where you found her?"

"Yeah," Neon said. "This is it."

Rainbow nodded. "Did she have anything valuable?"

"Why does that matter?" Ciel asked.

Rainbow turned to face her. "It matters because we'll never work out who did it if we can't work out why, so did she have anything worth taking?"

"She had an antique gun," Neon said. "A pistol from the Great War; she kept it in the drawer in her nightstand. I don't think she had any bullets for it, unfortunately."

"And she had some watches," Ciel added. "Expensive watches, I think; somewhat expensive, anyway; expensive for Mantle, at least. Small, but rather pretty. Anniversary gifts from her late husband. And some silverware, knives and forks, that sort of thing."

"Real silver?" Rainbow asked.

Ciel nodded. "And quite old, I think."

"Right," Rainbow murmured. "Do you know where she kept them, and are they still there?"

Neon approached the bedroom doorway. Rainbow made way for her, and Neon walked in and around the bed, her tail hanging limp behind her as she approached the nightstand. She pulled open the top door, looked down, and rummaged around inside for a moment.

"Not there?" Rainbow asked.

"Hang on; she might have put it back in the wrong place," Neon said, opening up the middle drawer, and then the bottom. "No. It's not here."

"What about the watches and the silver?"

"She kept her watches in a box under the bed," Ciel said. "And the silver underneath the kitchen sink."

Neon got down on the floor, resting her head upon the grey carpet as she peered beneath the bed. "There's nothing here."

Ciel felt a scowl settling upon her face as she strode into the kitchen. She grabbed the plastic handles of the cupboards under the sink and flung them open with excessive force. She knelt down, confronted by the sight of bottles of bleach, washing up liquid, kitchen towel, plastic bin liners. But no box of silverware.

Ciel rose silently, slammed the cupboard doors shut, and stalked back into the bedroom.

"That's gone too?" Rainbow asked.

Ciel inhaled through her nose. "Robbery. Of all the … of all the reasons to … murdered for what? For an antique pistol, some watches, and a set of silver forks? Is that what this city has come to? Is that what we have come to?"

Rainbow took a moment to reply. "You knew about this," she said softly. "I mean you knew that she had this stuff and where it was. Does that mean that other people knew about it too?"

"She wasn't shy about talking about it," Neon admitted.

"She liked having someone to talk to," Ciel declared. "Her husband was dead, her son … she wanted to talk. So she would tell you stories or show you things that she thought might interest you. Tell you their history. She just…" She turned away. "She just wanted to talk to someone."

"Which means that whoever did this knew her," Rainbow said.

"Why so sure?" Neon asked. "Yeah, it looks like burglary, but it could have been just random."

Rainbow shook her head. "If someone had broken in here just looking for anything that they could take, they would have torn the place up looking for stuff. But if you didn't know where the stuff was, you wouldn't know that it had been touched at all. There's no damage; there's no vandalism. Whoever did this knew what they were after, and they knew where it was; they got in, they took it—"

"And they killed her," Neon said sharply. "But why? She was old, she was sick, she was in bed; it wasn't as though she could have stopped anybody."

Rainbow held out her hands. "I don't know. Maybe … maybe she cried out, and they were afraid somebody would hear."

"In this town, who'd do anything if they did hear?" Neon asked.

"I don't know," Rainbow admitted. "But I'm pretty sure I'm right about this: whoever did this wanted the stuff they knew was in here."

"Murdered for an antique pistol and some silver forks," Ciel murmured.

I hate this city.

"So what does this tell us?" Ciel demanded. "It was not a small number of people who knew where Mrs. Peterson kept her valuables."

"No," Rainbow allowed. "But whoever stole it probably didn't steal the stuff because they have a gun collection or a watch collection; they're going to want to sell it on as quickly as they can. So let's check out the pawnshops and see if they have it or if they remember anyone coming in trying to sell them. Do you two know any in the area?"

XxXxX​

"This is the third pawnshop we've checked," Neon said, as they approached the store. "What if this one turns up empty as well?"

"Then we will check others," Ciel said sharply.

"And if they turn up empty too?" Neon asked.

"Then we'll ask Twilight to have Midnight monitor the online selling sites in case they get advertised there," Rainbow replied. "And if that doesn't turn up anything either, then … I don't know. I don't do this for a living; I don't have all the answers. Maybe there are other places you can go to sell this kind of thing, maybe they had a buyer lined up already, I don't know. I just know that this is the best I can come up with, but if either of you have any better ideas, then I'm open to them."

Neon looked away. "No," she said quietly. "No, I don't."

"Nor I," Ciel murmured. "I think … I think that this is our best course. Your logic is sound, and we have little alternative, short of bursting into people's apartments and searching them for Mrs. Peterson's possessions. Because the option you have not mentioned is that whoever did this is keeping their ill-gotten gains for now, until it may be safer to dispose of. But if they did that…"

"We'll never find them," Neon added glumly.

"We will find them," Rainbow insisted. "There'll be a way. There's always a way. We just haven't thought of it yet." She smiled. "And besides, let's not worry about that yet, just because the closest two places we checked were busts; we might still get lucky here."

The place where Rainbow hoped they might get lucky looked every bit as seedy as everywhere else in Mantle — certainly in this part of Mantle. The cartoon prawn on the sign above the door was faded and half-obscured by grime and soot, while the name of the establishment was barely legible. There was an electronic sign in the window, but only some of the letters were working, although enough of them to make out that they were offering sale or pawn. There was a metal grill set up in the window, presumably to protect it from being smashed, while the only sign that was still fully readable was the warning sign in the door advising that security cameras were in operation.

That might be good for them, if they got lucky.

At this particular moment, Ciel would very much have liked to pray. But would prayers without faith of sufficient strength be heard?

Rainbow reached the pawn shop ahead of them, pushing open the door and walking in. Neon followed after, and this time, it was left to Ciel to trail in after them, letting the door close behind her.

The glass cases that stood before the interior walls were laden with the kind of things that you found in places like these: watches, jewellery, scrolls, antiques — or at least, things that looked as though they might be antiques. There were guitars on the walls and drum kits set up behind the glass display cases. But as Ciel looked, bending down to get a better look at what was on display, she couldn't see any of Mrs. Peterson's watches, or her silverware.

A quick glance suggested that Neon hadn't spotted the pistol yet, either.

"Can I help you three with anything?" a man emerged from the back of the store and came to stand behind the counter. He was heavy set, with a visible belly expanding out beneath his red shirt, and although his head was bald, his arms were hairy and thick. He wore yellow-tinted glasses that hid the colour of his eyes somewhat. He leaned his meaty hands upon the glass as he regarded them.

He focussed upon Rainbow Dash in particular. "You've got a license for those guns, I hope? I don't deal in black market weapons. I don't do black market anything; this is a respectable business, not a laundry for stolen goods."

"Respectable," Neon muttered.

The man bristled. "You got a problem with what I do?"

Neon straightened up. "Desperate people give up some of their most valuable possessions, and you loan them less money than the stuff is worth and then screw them in interest afterwards. I'm not sure I'd call that respectable."

"You can't live on valuables," the pawnbroker said. "You need lien to live, not treasured possessions. And I have to live too, you know. Are you here to do business or just insult me?"

"We want to ask a few questions," Rainbow said. She fished a green lien card out of her pocket and placed it on the counter. "Does this buy us a few minutes of your time?"

The pawnbroker regarded the card. "Depends on what you want to do with it," he grunted.

"You said that you didn't deal in black market guns," Rainbow said. "Anyone come in trying to sell you one lately? A Great War pistol, maybe?"

The pawnbroker snorted. "So it was stolen."

"You've seen it?" Ciel demanded. "When?"

"Depends," the pawnbroker said. "What's it to you?"

Rainbow rolled her eyes and put another lien card down on the table.

The pawnbroker grabbed both the lien cards before Rainbow could take them back. "This kid came in here a couple of hours ago, opened his backpack, practically dumps a load of stuff out on the counter: silver spoons, some nice watches, and an old pistol just like you said. Wanted to sell them, said they belonged to his granny, she needed the money."

"But you didn't buy them?" Ciel said.

The pawnbroker gave her a slightly pitying look. "I've been doing this a long time. I know the difference between someone selling their grandma's stuff because the old bird needs the lien and someone who's knocked over someone else's grandma's house. He was nervous, in a hurry. I told him to come back with his mom or dad, then maybe I'd believe him."

"But he didn't come back?" Neon asked.

"Not yet."

"And did you recognise him?" Ciel demanded.

"Never seen him before," the pawnbroker said. "Just some kid in a hoodie. Red hoodie. Or pink. Something like that." He paused. "So he did steal all that stuff."

"And killed the woman he stole it from," Ciel growled.

The pawnbroker paled a little. He swallowed, his throat quivering. "Really? 'Killed'?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said softly. "I know that we're not the police, but we are Atlas students, if that means anything down here," — she got out her scroll and showed him her ID to prove it — "and we're trying to catch the person who did this."

"Atlas," the pawnbroker muttered. "It's Atlas's fault that this place is the way it is. If we've got people killing each other over watches and the like, that's Atlas's fault too." He hesitated. "But it isn't going to help. It's just going to make everything worse." His face twitched. "I didn't recognise the guy, but he'll be on my cameras. Come on in the back, and I'll show you the footage."

Ciel let out a breath she didn't know that she'd been holding in. "Thank you, sir."

"I'm not doing it for you," the pawnbroker replied tersely.

Nevertheless, he led them into the back of the store, where a computer sat upon a flat-pack desk. The pawnbroker sat down behind it, his meaty fingers skipping over the keyboard, typing too swiftly for Ciel's eyes to track what he was actually typing. After a few moments, he pushed his chair back from the computer. "Here. That's him."

The three of them gathered around the computer to be treated to a still image of a young man with a long nose and lank, greasy looking dark hair, dressed in a fuchsia hoodie and a black cap, emptying a black backpack out onto the counter.

"Either of you recognise him?" Rainbow asked. "Seen him around? Know him from church?"

"No one from our church would do such a thing," Ciel said sharply.

Rainbow didn't reply to that except to say, "Do you recognise him?"

"No," Neon said.

Ciel leaned closer, squinting a little as she tried to take in every detail of his face. "No," she said, sighing as she spoke. "No, I have not seen him."

"Right," Rainbow muttered. To the pawnbroker, she asked, "Can we take a copy of this photo?"

The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment. "Sure," he said, after a moment. "Take it. Do what you gotta do."

Rainbow downloaded the image onto her scroll, and the three of them took their leave of the pawnbroker and his shop.

As they stood in the street outside, Rainbow still holding her scroll with the picture available to view, she said, "What did I say? We did get lucky in there. Now we know who we're looking for."

"But we do not yet know who he is," Ciel pointed out.

"No," Rainbow admitted. "But it's more than we knew before we went in, and now that we know what he looks like, there has to be a way that we can…" She trailed off, her gaze falling upon the security drone that was hovering just a few inches off the ground, staring at them.

It was little more than a flying camera, the square camera proper resting upon a light metal frame with a little gravity dust built in. It, and many others like it, were tasked with patrolling Mantle for any signs of crime or unrest.

Obviously, it hadn't saved Mrs. Peterson, but they provided a valuable supplement to the static cameras mounted to various buildings.

"Do you think if we show it our student IDs, it will go away?" Neon whispered as the drone continued to stare at them.

The drone made a kind of buzzing sound, then turned and flew away.

"I hate those things; they give me the creeps," Neon muttered. "Why do we have so many tiny robots? Like those mouse droids rolling around the academy bleeping at you, what are they up to?"

Rainbow frowned slightly. "Aren't they cleaning the floor?"

"That's what they want you to think," Neon said.

Rainbow didn't reply to that, although for a moment, Ciel thought she might. She looked in the direction of the departing drone. "You know," she said. "I think I know what we can do next."

"What?" Ciel demanded.

Rainbow didn't answer; she was too busy with her scroll, flicking the photo of the suspect aside for a moment as she placed a voice-only call.

"Hello?" Twilight's voice emerged from out of the device.

"Hey, Twi, it's Rainbow Dash," Rainbow said. "I know it's getting late, and I'm sorry, but I'm down in Mantle with Ciel and Neon, and I need some help."

"Good evening, Twilight," Ciel said. "I apologise for the disturbance."

"Hi, Twilight," Neon called.

"Hey, girls, um," Twilight murmured. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

"You could say that," Rainbow said softly. "Listen, I don't want to get into the details right now. I'm going to send you a picture of somebody." She flicked away from the call screen to bring back the photo, then tapped a few times into her scroll to send it as an email. "I need you to access the Mantle security cameras and see if you can locate this guy."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "You want me to hack into the Mantle security system?" Twilight asked.

Rainbow winced. "Basically, yes."

"And run facial recognition software looking for this person?"

"Yes."

There was another pause. "You do realise that's illegal, right?"

"We wouldn't ask if it were not important, Twilight," Ciel insisted, taking a step closer to Rainbow and her scroll. "Not in the grand scheme of things perhaps, but to us — to me — it is … it is of vital importance. Please, Twilight, we must find this man."

Once more, Twilight paused, before she said, "Okay. If it means that much to you then … okay. But I'm going to want to know why it was so important eventually."

"And we'll tell you," Rainbow assured her. "I'll tell you. I promise."

"I know you will," Twilight replied. "Now give me a second, I'll get Midnight on it."

"We'll be here," Rainbow said, before she put the call on mute.

"I don't know if I like this," Neon muttered.

"It'll work," Rainbow said. "Trust me, it will work."

"I'm sure it'll work; that's part of why I don't like it," Neon replied.

"Explain?" Ciel asked.

"There are too many cameras in this city," Neon declared. "It isn't right that the man is watching our every move like this, and it isn't right to use it as though it is right. You can't use evil means to achieve good ends; isn't that in the scripture somewhere?"

It was, as a matter of fact, and more than once — it turned up in several of the epistles: not only could good not achieve its ends through evil means, and any attempt to do so would only lead to their undoing, but evil could not achieve its ends through evil means and would invariably sabotage itself in the process.

Of course, that assessment depended upon accepting Neon's moral premise.

"The innocent have nothing to fear from the surveillance of the state," Ciel said stiffly.

Neon raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

"Good evening, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, her voice issuing from out of the scroll. "Ciel."

"I'm here too," Neon muttered.

Rainbow took her scroll off mute. "Hey, Midnight, what have you got for us?"

"You should ask nicely, considering that we're doing you such a big favour," Midnight said.

Rainbow sighed. "What have you got for us, please?"

"The man you're looking for is named Peter Butterworth, seventeen years old, resides at apartment one-sixty Falwell Tower."

Falwell Tower was where Mrs. Peterson had lived; so he had known her, after all.

"Where is he now?" Rainbow asked. "Do you know?"

"Peter Butterworth was last spotted by a camera three minutes ago entering Deep Wells Market."

"Thanks, Twilight—"

"I am Midnight."

"Thank you both," Rainbow said. "I'll tell you why we needed this when I get back to Atlas."

She closed up her scroll, and the three of them made their way to the market as fast as they could, dodging the cars on the roads, pushing through the shambling crowds, taking shortcuts through dark alleys that Ciel would have avoided in less urgent circumstances. It took them less than fifteen minutes to reach Deep Wells Market, a covered space with lights of blue and red that lent it a much greater vibrancy than the rest of Mantle at this time of night. It was not a mall; it was not subdivided into stores and food courts. Rather, it was a more traditional kind of market, relocated into an indoor setting: a lot of stalls, temporary in appearance if not in setup, with only a single or perhaps two employees, all set cheek by jowl without much in the way of space between them. This stall sold freshly made cakes, this one sold home-made pins; here was a butcher, there was a candle maker. The last time Ciel had been here there had been a rather nice woman selling stuffed animals that she had made herself; she had bought a cute frog for Alain.

In other circumstances, she might have seen if the woman was still there.

Now, however, they spread out, each of them searching for Mister Butterworth.

It occurred to Ciel, as she walked alone past stalls selling this and that, that their quarry might be armed. He had killed Mrs. Peterson somehow, after all, and probably not with his bare hands.

But she was not a frail old woman confined to her bed. He would not find her so easy to dispose of.

She hoped that she found him first. She very much hoped that she found him first.

Seventeen years old. Only a year younger than she was. Perhaps she ought to have pitied him, but she did not. She did not pity him, she did not see herself in him, she was not forced to reckon with the ways in which her life might have proceeded differently.

She had nothing but contempt for him. She, too, was of Mantle stock, and so was Neon, and yet, they had made something of themselves, were poised to escape the hateful grasp of this dying city. They had worked, they had struggled, they yet worked and yet struggled, but they had not given up, they had not sunk into sin and barbarism. They had not turned their back on their humanity.

Seventeen years old. There was no excuse for failing to try.

And then she saw him. She was standing by a stall selling soft drinks in cans — one of the few stalls selling a commercial product — and she saw him perhaps thirty feet away, or a little more, standing in front of a stall selling gold jewellery, brandishing a gold watch in his hand.

Mrs. Peterson's watch.

Ciel's face tightened into a snarl as she produced her pistol from out of her purse. "Peter Butterworth!" she roared, her voice cutting through the sound of the market. "Put your hands where I can see them!"

Peter stared at her. His eyes were hooded by the cap he was wearing, but she could feel him staring nonetheless.

For a moment, for two moments, for moments that turned into seconds, one, two, three, he froze, still as stone.

Then he turned to run.

Ciel's finger tightened on the trigger. One shot. She was a sharpshooter; at this range, she could hardly miss without trying; people had moved out of the way when they saw her gun, scattering this way and that to avoid her line of fire.

Nevertheless, she could not be certain that someone would not step into it.

Just as she could not be certain that…

Ciel let out a growl of frustration as she lowered her pistol. With one hand, she grabbed a metal can from off the stall beside her. "Excuse me," she murmured.

Precognition On!

Ciel activated her semblance, and her eyes glowed a brighter blue than normal as she saw not where Peter Butterworth was but where he would be, where he would run to, what direction he would turn.

She threw the can. It soared through the air of the high-domed market to strike her target squarely on the head, just as he was about to turn a corner.

He went down in a heap.

"Keep the change," Ciel muttered, tossing a lien card that she hoped would cover the cost of the drink to the stallholder as she strode across the market — people still made way for her — to where Peter Butterworth lay, moaning, on the ground.

He wore a black backpack on his back, a backpack that looked heavily-laden. In his hand was the gold watch, the last watch that Mrs. Peterson had gotten from her husband on their golden anniversary. It was a slight thing, the golden strap was narrower than Ciel's thumb, and the face itself was only slightly larger than a thumbnail, but it had been made with old fashioned craftsmanship by one of the few people who still made mechanical watches — and of course, it had possessed enormous value to her to whom it had belonged, far beyond the value of the gold from which it had been made.

Ciel snatched up the watch, putting it in her purse until it could be reunited with the rest of the collection, and then grabbed Peter by the neck and dragged him out of the market and into a secluded alleyway beyond.

It was dark, lit only by the lights emerging from out of the market, and secluded. There was no one there but them.

Ciel tore the backpack off his shoulders and set it on the ground, before she shoved him up against the dull stone wall.

"Why?" she demanded.

"They said it was worth a fortune!" he said. "Everyone knew about the stuff she had in there, silver, gold; she'd show it to anyone! She bragged about it!"

She was lonely, and she wanted to talk to people. "Why did you have to kill her?!" Ciel shrieked, her voice cracking. "Why? She couldn't have stopped you; she was harmless!"

"She wouldn't stop shouting!" Peter cried. "I just … I just wanted her to stop shouting."

Ciel stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, mouth open, mind … uncomprehending.

For a moment, her grip upon the scruff of his neck loosened.

Then the anger coiled in the pit of her stomach flared like a fire exposed to oxygen, and a wordless shout escaped her mouth as she hit him across the face. He cried out in pain, turning his face away from the blow, cringing against the wall.

"Stop shouting," Ciel snarled as she hit him again. He crouched down before her blow, his knees buckling, bringing his hands up to shield himself.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I didn't mean—"

"Quiet," Ciel growled as she hit him again, and with him cowering on the ground, she kicked him in the stomach too to make him double over. She hit him again, knocking him to the ground where he curled up in a ball, trying to shield his gut and chest.

Ciel kicked him. She kicked him again, and each kick produced a whimpering mewl of pain.

"Stop shouting," Ciel snarled out from between gritted teeth as she grabbed him by the hood and hauled him up so that he could hit him again. She broke his nose, producing a howl of pain from out of his lips.

"I only want you to stop shouting!" Ciel bellowed into his face. She adjusted her grip on his neck as she hit him across the jaw hard enough to send some of his teeth flying out to scatter across the ground.

Tears were falling from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Tears for Mrs. Peterson; tears for Alain; tears for her faith, the armour that had been stripped away from her.

She cried, and as she cried, she kept on hitting him while his eye swelled up and his ribs cracked and his nose bled and he would not stop shouting.

She was going to kill him. She knew that, with the part of her mind that remained cold and rational. She was going to kill him, and she didn't care. She didn't care. She was tired. She was tired and sad and angry, and if she wanted to take that out on someone, then so what? What was his wretched, miserable life worth anyway?

And he wouldn't stop shouting.

A pair of hands seized Ciel's arms and dragged her forcibly away from him.

"That's enough, Ciel!" Rainbow cried. Her voice softened. "That's enough."

Neon's eyes were fearful as she moved to stand between Peter and Ciel, as though she were the murderer and he were some innocent victim. Yes, she grabbed him by his hood so he couldn't escape, but all the same … she was protecting him. She was protecting him, after what he'd done?

"No," Ciel murmured, the tears flowing down her face, the phlegm filling her throat. "No, it's not enough. Not yet, not until—"

"Until what?" Rainbow demanded. "Until he dies? Is that what you want, you want to kill him?"

"Why not?" Ciel demanded. "Why not; doesn't he deserve it?"

Rainbow released Ciel from her grasp, and Ciel found herself slumping forwards, her arms hanging limp down in front of her like some ungainly creature.

Rainbow moved to stand in front of Ciel, one hand upon her shoulder. "Maybe he does," she said. "Probably he does. And if you want to … I'm your team leader, not your judge, or your conscience. If you want to kill him, that's fine. I won't turn you in. I won't snitch on you to the General or anybody else. I'll even help you make sure that it doesn't come out, because that's my job. That's my duty, as your team leader. But it's also my duty to remind you that whatever you do, you'll have to live with afterwards. Are you ready for that? Is that what you want?"

Ciel looked up into Rainbow's eyes. Into her face that was completely free of judgement.

She looked down at her hands. Her aura had protected her from any bruising, but she had a little of his blood on her nonetheless.

Ciel bowed her head and said nothing.

"Neon," Rainbow said. "Take Ciel home, will you? I'll take out the trash."

"What are you gonna do?" Neon asked.

"Never mind what I'm gonna do," Rainbow said softly.

Ciel didn't see what Neon did next, but she felt a pair of hands upon her shoulders, lifting her slightly, pulling her into an embrace.

"Let's go home, Ciel," Neon said.

Ciel nodded a little. "That … that sounds like a very good idea."

"What the—?!" Rainbow yelled.

Ciel felt herself shoved aside; she stumbled, falling to the ground, entangled with Neon. Her aura took the impact of the fall, and she raised her head to look beyond Neon to see Rainbow Dash, her shotgun out, and behind her, Peter Butterworth, with an arrow in his neck.

"There's four of us to three of you, and only one of you is armed," the voice that spoke was female and mature-sounding, the voice of a woman, not a girl. It belonged, Ciel could only suppose, to the woman who stepped out of the shadows behind the late and unlamented thief. She was tall, with a long face framed by her pale hair, the rest of which she wore bound up behind her head. She was dressed in a long, dark coat, and in various shades of grey and green, all save for the red waistcoat which stood out upon her chest. Upon her wrist, she wore a crossbow, designed like the wings of a bird.

Behind her, less visible and distinct, three more figures lurked in the shadows, vague forms that could not be so easily identified.

The one who showed herself, Ciel could easily identify: Robyn Hill, the hero of Mantle and one of Atlas' most wanted.

She smiled. "I know that they don't teach you to take odds like that in Atlas."

Rainbow bared her teeth. "You say that like we have a choice."

"You do have a choice," Robyn said. "I didn't come here to fight. If you want to turn around and walk away, it's no skin off my nose. In fact, I'd prefer it if you did. I've no quarrel with you. In fact, I should congratulate you. This was good work."

Ciel and Neon got to their feet and moved to stand on either side of Rainbow Dash.

"You killed him?" Neon asked.

"He was a murderer," Robyn said. "Isn't that right?"

"How did you know that?" Ciel demanded.

"The Mantle police are backed up; they don't have the bandwidth to tackle every case," Robyn explained. "But I have friends in the police department, and they let me know if anything comes up. They told me about that poor old woman. A bad business. Something like that can't be allowed to stand. This city survives, despite all efforts to crush it and to break its spirit, because we stand together. And only together will we rise again; actions like that," — she gestured at the dead body in front of her — "are a crime not only against his victim, but against the entire community. And I am the protector of this community."

"Self-proclaimed," Rainbow muttered, although she slung her shotgun across her back once more.

Robyn smiled. "The people don't seem to have much of an objection. Quite the contrary."

"What about the law?" Neon demanded.

"Atlas law, imposed upon us from above, handed down from the heavens like holy scripture which we may neither question nor amend," Robyn spat. "And besides, the courts are as backed up as the police; he would have been released until his trial, and that could have taken months, years, years in which he would have been free to roam, to harm others. It's simpler this way, don't you think? Kick the altar, pay the price?"

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "You're right," she admitted. "These aren't good odds. And this," she gestured at the body, "isn't a worthy cause. So we're not going to fight you over it."

"Smart kid," Robyn said. "Turn around, walk away. You don't even have to keep this a secret. Tell everyone that you witnessed Robyn Hill commit a murder, and none will call you coward."

Rainbow slung her shotgun across her back. "But you will be seeing us again," she promised. "Sooner or later."

Robyn smiled. "I look forward to it."

 

[ScipioSmith]

A Sense of Chivalry​

Once more, Ciel stood upon the doorstep of her family home. She lingered there, hesitating, unable to raise her hand and knock upon the door.

"Hey," Neon said, placing a hand upon Ciel's shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

Of course, this time, she did not stand here alone.

Ciel glanced at her. "I don't feel okay," she murmured.

Neon's eyebrows rose. "Clearly not; you used a contraction."

"I use contractions," Ciel replied. "Sometimes."

"Not often," Neon pointed out.

"No," Ciel admitted. "Not often."

Neon gave her shoulder a squeeze. "It's going to be okay."

Ciel hesitated for a moment. "You do not have to be here, you know."

Neon grinned. "My mom's been working night and day getting that new hotel ready for the big opening; if I don't stick with you, it'll be cheap takeout or the greasy spoon round the corner for me tonight."

Ciel's lips twitched upwards. "Unfortunately, I think you'll find we have both missed dinner tonight."

"Ah well," Neon said. "That's a pity." She smiled. "That being the case, I don't suppose you want to go and grab some crappy overpriced hamburgers?"

Ciel snorted. "No, although the offer is far more tempting than it has any right to be. But no. I should go inside."

"If you say so," Neon said, making no move to go anywhere.

"Thank you," Ciel said softly.

"Stop thanking me all the time; it's weird," Neon said. "Let's … let's just take it as read that you're grateful, huh. No need to mention it again. You've made me aware. You've made me well aware."

"Okay," Ciel whispered. She looked at the door. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her cloak. "What are we going to say?"

"That Mrs. Peterson died?" Neon suggested. "That we … assisted in the arrest of her murderer?"

"That," Ciel said, "is putting it rather mildly, don't you think?"

"It's not a lie," Neon said.

"The part about the arrest is," Ciel pointed out.

"Do you want to tell your family that we saw the Happy Huntresses—"

"Murder someone, and then we walked away?" Ciel asked. Her voice dropped. "No. No, the prospect does not excite me."

"I was going to say kill, not murder," Neon murmured.

"Is there a difference?"

"Murder is a little more judgemental," said Neon.

Ciel looked at her. "Do you not think that the act of taking a life deserves a little judgement?"

"The guy bashed an old woman's head in so that he could steal her stuff," Neon said. "Forgive if I don't cry for him."

"The Lady teaches us that—"

"That vengeance belongs to God, not to man," Neon finished for her. "I know. But still … forgive me if I'm not hung up on it. Or if I didn't want to get into a fight with the Happy Huntresses over it."

"No one wanted to get into a fight with the Happy Huntresses over it," Ciel murmured, "but that does not mean I want to admit that we did not. We will say that … we will say that he died before he could be taken into custody. I doubt that Mother will ask any further questions on the matter. She will be more concerned with Mrs. Peterson."

"Right," Neon murmured. She lowered her hand from Ciel's shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

"I hope so," Ciel said, though she had little enough hope regarding the matter. Nevertheless, she had procrastinated long enough. She raised her hand and rapped smartly upon the door.

Once again, the front door was opened by Florentin, who looked rather less happy to see her than he had done the last time he had opened the door for her.

"You took your time, didn't you?" he said.

"Don't start, Florentin," Neon said, quietly but firmly at the same time. "Ciel is not in the mood."

"Neon?" Florentin asked. "What are you—?"

"Nice to see you too," Neon said, smiling up at him. "Now can we come in or what?"

"Uh, yes, of course, come in," Florentin stammered, taking a few steps back so that Ciel could step over the threshold and into the family home. Neon followed, closing the door behind her. The latch clicked shut.

"Is that Ciel?" Mother called from the living room.

"And Neon too," Florentin called back, before Ciel could announce herself.

Ciel stepped around her brother and took the door on the left into the living room. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places, although fortunately only at the top; it was not yet truly noticeable, nor truly desperate; what was a little worse was the patch on the ceiling where water had leaked down from the bathroom above and caused the paint to bubble and brown; they had fixed the leak, but not in time to prevent that damage, and they lived in constant fear that it would recur again.

The floral pattern cover on the settee was getting a little faded by now, and there were stains on the carpet from age and the occasional spill. They had become so commonplace that nobody really noticed them now, and Ciel suspected that she only noticed them because she had been away for so long in places that were much fresher and better maintained.

And better endowed besides.

None of her family seemed to take any notice. Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier were playing Monopoly, kneeling on the floor around the board as they rolled the dice across it. The television was off, but Tyson was reading that week's TV guide, a pen in one hand as he circled the programs he was interested in. Mother was sat upon the sofa, and Alain sat on her lap, his eyes hooded as though he might drop off to sleep at any moment.

As Ciel stepped through the door, and Neon followed her, his blue eyes opened a little wider. "Ciel! And Neon!"

Neon waved with one hand. "Hey, Alain. Hey, Mrs. S."

"You came back," Alain went on. "I thought you might have been called away on a mission or something."

"I am sorry," Ciel said, to Alain, but also to her mother, and to the whole room, really. "For not returning sooner."

"What kept you?" Mother asked. "You missed dinner."

"I thought I might have," Ciel replied.

"So how's Mrs. Peterson doing?"

Ciel closed her eyes for a moment. "Mrs. Peterson … is dead," she said.

Maurice dropped the dice. It hit the board with a thump that, for all it was not loud, sounded as loud as the ringing of a bell in the silence that otherwise descended on the room.

"'Dead'?" Mother repeated. "I … no, it can't be. She wasn't that sick; the doctor said that she'd get better as long as she was taken care of. Did we not do enough? Should we have done more?"

"There was nothing that you could have done, Mrs. Soleil," Neon said earnestly. "It … it maybe isn't the kind of thing a five-year-old should be hearing."

"Why not?" Alain asked. "What happened? Is that why you were so late?" His breathing started to quicken. "I liked Mrs. Peterson," he said. "She always used to give me sweets and tell me that it … that it did her good to see me in church, because it reminded her that … that—"

"That our Lady helped lame men to walk and blind men to see," Neon said, darting quickly across the living room floor, stepping over Maurice and Aurelien and kneeling down in front of Alain, where he sat on Mother's lap.

"Just you remember that," she said. "And don't worry about the rest. Don't upset yourself."

She reached out and took Alain in her hands, lifting him up — Mother did not protest — and holding him as she would a babe, one hand supporting him and the other resting upon his head.

"Now, come on; it must be past your bedtime by now!" She stepped over Maurice and Aurelien again as she headed back towards the door. "Come with me, and I'll tell you a cool story about Vivid, the hero cat, and her latest amazing adventure." She winked at Ciel as she passed by.

Ciel smiled as Neon carried Alain out of the room. Ciel didn't watch as Neon bore the youngest Soleil up the stairs, but she did hear Neon's footsteps, and she waited until those footsteps no longer sounded on the staircase but on the landing up above.

She stepped into the living room. She heard Florentin close the door.

She clasped her hands together. Ciel took a deep breath. "Mrs. Peterson was murdered," she said softly.

Mother gasped, one hand flying to her heart. "Lady's grace! Why? Why would anyone want to harm dear old Mrs. Peterson?"

"For her possessions," Ciel explained, her voice soft and a little slow. "For the things that were precious to her and that she loved to show and talk about."

"Her pistol," Tyson murmured.

"And her watches," Ciel added. "Someone came into her home, they took them … and they … and they killed her."

"Bastard!" Florentin snarled.

"Florentin!" Mother cried. "Language!"

"'Language'?" Florentin repeated. "'Language,' after…" His hands clenched into fists. "I wish I'd been there."

Ciel looked at him. "And what would you have done?" she asked softly.

"I'd have torn him to pieces," Florentin growled.

That, more than anything else, gave Ciel pause. She did not like the anger in her brother's voice, she did not like the look in his eyes, and she liked it all the less for the way that it reminded her of herself, of what she had done and what she had almost done.

And yet, at the same time, she was less worried about her own actions — she would pray forgiveness for them when next she felt strong enough in her faith to pray — than about her younger brother. He had gotten into a fight, Mother said, and Neon had confirmed the fact. He had gotten into a fight, and now he talked of tearing people to pieces. What had happened to him while she had been away? What kind of crowd had he fallen in with?

"Don't look at me like that," Florentin snapped.

"I was not—"

"Yes," Florentin said. "You were. You've been gone for eight months in Vale. You were barely home before that. You don't get to come back here and judge me."

"Florentin—" Ciel began, but it was too late; Florentin had already turned away, flinging open the door and striding through it, only to slam it behind him.

"Florentin!" Ciel's voice was half a cry and half an admonition as she started after him.

"Wait," Mother said.

Ciel halted. "If … if he upsets Alain—"

"He won't," Mother said. "It isn't Alain that he's upset with."

That, at least, was quite clearly true. "Very well, Mother."

"Shall I go and check on him?" Tyson offered.

"Yes, please, Tyson, if you wouldn't mind," Mother said.

Tyson got up from his seat and left; he closed the door more quietly after him than Florentin had done.

"You … found her?" Mother asked.

"Neon and I," Ciel replied. "She joined me on the way over. I dropped the flask when I saw … I'm sorry, I left it there, I should—"

"The flask, never mind about the flask," Mother said quickly. "Do they know who is responsible for this terrible thing?"

"A young man," Ciel said. "He died before the police could apprehend him. But Mrs. Peterson's valuables were recovered." Ciel and Neon had dropped them off with Father Gregory, whose clerical privilege would protect him from revealing how he had come by them to the authorities when he handed them in.

"Then the Lady is just," Mother murmured, bowing her head slightly. "Are you alright, Ciel?"

I fear not. "I am … better," Ciel said quietly. "It was shocking to see, but … I am better."

"I am glad to hear it," Mother said. She paused a moment. "Poor Mrs. Peterson; we must pray for her when next in church."

"Father Gregory has already said he will do so," Ciel said. "I … we made him aware."

"Good girl," Mother said softly. "I put some soup aside for you, if you want to reheat it."

"Is there some for Neon as well?" Ciel asked.

Mother smiled. "I have some portions I was going to freeze; she can have one of those."

Ciel nodded. "Thank you, Mother."

"She is always welcome here," Mother said. She sighed. "I forgot to ask how her mother was."

"Working hard, I think," Ciel replied. "In preparation for the opening of the Marigold hotel."

"Yes, she's very fortunate, isn't she?"

"Very much so," Ciel said. "I will go and tell her about the soup. What soup is it?"

"Chicken noodle."

"She will like that," Ciel said. She rather liked it as well.

She left the living room, and only once she was back in the hall did she notice that she was still wearing her cloak. In everything that had gone on, she had not taken it off yet. She did so now and hung it on the coatstand by the door, then made her way softly up the stairs.

With only four bedrooms, the sleeping arrangements in the Soleil house were a little crowded. Mother and Father had their own room, of course, the largest bedroom with the en suite bathroom; and since Alain was the youngest by some years and thus had to go to bed before anyone else, he too had his own room. Florentin and Tyson shared one of the remaining rooms between them, and Maurice, Aurelien, and Gauthier shared the other. Ciel had slept — and would be sleeping again, for so long as she was here — in a cot in the attic; she needed space to study and work, and it was easier to get a desk in there than to try and squeeze it into one of the bedrooms.

Alain's room was the first on the right coming up the stairs. As she stepped onto the upstairs landing, Ciel could hear Neon's voice issuing out of the open doorway.

"The leviathan stomped towards the city, making the waves surge and the ground shake with its tread. 'Grrrrr! Aaaargh!' But Vivid was not deterred!"

"She wasn't scared then?" Alain asked.

"Oh, she was scared," Neon said. "You can only ever be brave when you're scared, but she didn't let her fear control her, she didn't give up just because she was afraid. The hero cat thought about all her little brothers waiting for her back home; so long as they were counting on her, she could never give up! With both hands, she drew her magic sword and let the power of love flow through her as she thought about all her friends and all the good times they'd shared and everything that she was fighting to protect, and with a mighty swing of her mighty blade, she cleaved that leviathan clean in two! And so the day was saved, once again."

"Bravo," Ciel murmured, coming to stand in the doorway. "Bravo."

Neon smiled and rose where she had been kneeling by Alain's bedside to bow theatrically. "I do my best," she said, her tail flicking back and forth behind her head.

Alain was sitting in bed, already changed into his pyjamas, his legs concealed beneath the blue duvet with golden stars upon it. The room was dark, with only a reddish-pink nightlight providing any illumination.

Neon backed away towards the window as Ciel approached Alain's bedside. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yes, Ciel."

"And said your prayers?"

"Yes, Ciel."

Ciel knelt down by his bedside. "How do you feel?"

"I'm alright," Alain said softly.

"I'm glad," Ciel said, a smile appearing on her face. "I'm so very glad." She reached out and took his small hand in her own and squeezed it.

"What was it like, in Vale?" Alain asked.

"Vale," Ciel said. "Vale was … more pleasant than I expected. Warm, and clean, and the people kind."

"I'd love to see it myself," Alain said.

"You will," Ciel told him. "You will. You will see … anything that you wish to see."

Alain smiled. "Will you tell me all about what happened to you there? Will you tell me everything?"

"I will," Ciel promised. "But not tonight. Tomorrow. Tonight, it is time to sleep."

Alain sighed. "Alright."

Ciel leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead. "Bon nuit, mon petit frere."

Alain smiled, as she laid down. "Bon nuit, ma soeur."

Ciel pulled the duvet up over him as he rolled to face the wall, turning his back on her.

She left the nightlight on as she walked towards the door — Neon had already left — and took one last look at him, illuminated by the red glow of the light, before she gently closed the door.

To Neon, she said, "Mother said there is some leftover soup, if you want it; chicken noodle."

Neon nodded and kept her own voice quiet as she said, "That'd be great."

"I'll heat it up for you," Ciel said. "But first, I need to speak with Florentin."

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," Neon said.

Ciel didn't watch her head for the stairs, or head down them; she turned towards the next room on the right, next to Alain's: Florentin's room, which he shared with Tyson.

She found them both in there, although it was even darker in there than it was in Alain's room, since there was not even a nightlight in here, and the only light that got in was the light of the city itself, since the curtains were drawn back.

As Ciel stood in the doorway, just about able to make out the shapes of the two oldest boys, she felt compelled to ask, "Is there a reason you're both in here in the dark?"

"It saves dust," Florentin said. "Have you forgotten what it's like to not have an academy paying your power bill?"

"I understand the need for economy," Ciel said, ignoring the jibe. "But this borders upon absurd."

"Give it a moment," Tyson said. "Your eyes will get used to the city lights."

Ciel found that her eyes were getting used to it. She could make out her brothers more clearly now: Tyson was sat on his bed, while Florentin was stood by the window, his back to Ciel and the doorway, silhouetted against the lights coming in from without.

"I, uh, I'll leave you to it," Tyson said, getting up off the bed. Ciel got out of the way for him as he followed Neon downstairs — although presumably back to the living room, not the kitchen.

Ciel took another step into the bedroom. Florentin did not turn around to look at her.

"Alain is trying to sleep in the next room," Ciel reminded him, "so please do not shout."

Florentin gave no reply but a harrumph which Ciel could not help but find rather disdainful.

She winced. "It … it has been suggested to me," she murmured. "That I may not have been the best big sister to you all."

Florentin looked at her over his shoulder. "I meant what I said," he declared, although he kept his voice soft and quiet as he did so for Alain's sake. "I love you, Ciel, but you don't get to come back and judge me. Not when you're never here."

"Not even for the things that deserve judgement?" Ciel asked. "What was the fight about?"

Florentin scoffed. "The fight. Mother did tell you, then?"

"It's why she didn't want you to go to Mrs. Peterson's," Ciel said. "As you guessed, I think."

Florentin nodded. He scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "Mother's overreacting."

"To what?" Ciel asked gently. "What was the fight about?"

Florentin let out a soft chuckle as he finally turned to face her. "I was … I was walking home from the shop, and I … I saw this girl at the bus stop, and this boy … he was yelling at her, berating her; she was trying to defend herself, she sounded so upset—"

"Was he hurting her?" Ciel asked.

"No, at least not like that," Florentin said. "But he wouldn't let her get on the bus when it pulled up at the stop, said that they weren't finished. I went up to them, I told him to leave her alone … and he beat me up. And she laughed."

Ciel stared at him for a moment. "I … I see," she murmured. "That was … not what I expected." She paused for a moment. "Neon knows that, doesn't she?"

"Neon … rescued me," Florentin admitted. "She twisted the guy's arm so much, I thought something would snap, told the girl she could do better, chased them off, and helped me home."

Something else to thank her for, if she was accepting more thanks at the moment.

"That was … brave of you," Ciel said quietly. "Chivalrous, even, but at the same time, spectacularly ill-advised. What if he had had a knife?"

"Someone had to do something," Florentin insisted.

"Apparently not, judging by the girl's reaction," Ciel replied.

"How was I to know that?" Florentin demanded.

"That … that I will grant you."

Florentin snorted. "Did you think that I'd joined a gang or something?"

"You were talking about ripping a man apart, what should I have thought?" asked Ciel. "Although why you would have expected a different result in that instance, I don't know."

Florentin rolled his eyes.

"Starting tomorrow, I will do what I probably should have done sooner and teach you how to fight," Ciel declared. "I would rather you did not start fights, but you should at least know how to finish one."

Florentin nodded, but said, "Just because I'm angry, it doesn't make me a bad person. I have things to be angry about."

"Such as?"

Florentin hesitated. "How was Beacon?" he asked. "How was Vale? Did you have a nice time?"

Ciel took a moment to answer. "There were times that were rather pleasant. There were times when I almost died."

Florentin winced. "Were you in that battle? The one that was all over the news, when Vale almost fell?"

"Vale did not almost fall," Ciel informed him. "General Ironwood's forces had the situation too well in hand for that."

"But there was a battle inside Vale, wasn't there?" Florentin pressed.

"Yes," Ciel admitted. "There was."

Florentin shook his head. "I can't imagine that happening here. I mean, this place is terrible, but I still can't imagine it."

I doubt the people of Vale could imagine it either, until it happened, Ciel thought.

"Were you there?" Florentin asked. "Were you involved?"

"Yes," Ciel answered.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you," Ciel murmured.

"But you like it, don't you?"

"It is … my vocation," Ciel replied, remembering her conversation with Penny on the roof of the animal shelter.

"Good for you," Florentin said. "You got to go to combat school, and then to Atlas, because you're Mom's favourite and because Dad likes to think of you doing the things he never got the opportunity to do. Meanwhile, I work shifts at the supermarket after school and weekends to bring in money; do you think they'll let me go to university?"

"Do you wish to?"

"I don't know yet," Florentin admitted. "But I'd like to have the chance, and I'd like for you to … you don't know what it's like here, you're not around enough."

"No," Ciel admitted. "I am not. I am … sorry, for placing this burden on you. I am sorry. I should—"

"No," Florentin said, "you shouldn't. It's not your fault that we're … that we don't have enough chances to go around. The problem isn't that you got to get out; the problem is that we can't. But I'm allowed to be a little upset about that, don't you think?"

A sigh escaped from Ciel's lips. "Yes," she conceded. "Yes, I suppose you are."

Florentin stepped closer to her, and a touch of humour entered his voice as he said, "Just don't forget about us when you're an Atlas bigshot, okay?"

Ciel snorted. "Indeed, I will not. You have my word."

"'You have my word,'" Florentin repeated. "You're so weird, sis. Now, go on, get down to the kitchen before Neon starves."

Ciel descended the stairs and made her way into the kitchen, where at least the lights were on. On the table by the door were various clear plastic tubs filled with soup, most destined for the freezer but two, at least, for Ciel and Neon.

Neon had the lid of one of them and was holding it up.

"Why is this called a soup?" she asked. "It's got chicken, peppers, carrot, sweetcorn—"

"And sweet potato," Ciel said.

"Right," Neon said. "So shouldn't it be called a stew?"

"I believe a stew would be thicker in consistency," Ciel replied as she walked around Neon to the edge of the worksurface, opposite the microwave, where there were some ciabatta loaves wrapped in plastic sitting on top of the rolls and the crumpets. "Do you want one of these?" Ciel asked, holding up a ciabatta.

"Yeah, thanks," Neon said, putting the plastic tub of soup down.

Ciel retrieved the cutting board from its resting place beside the microwave, on the other side of the kitchen, set it down, and pulled the right sized knife from its resting place on the wall.

"You could have told me why Florentin got into a fight," she said, slightly reproachfully, as she started to slice the two ciabattas in half.

"It wasn't my story to tell," Neon replied. "But you see why I told you not to be too hard on him. He was trying to do the right thing." She leaned against the wall. "Personally, I think it's kind of romantic."

Ciel finished slicing the two loaves. "I thought you said he was doing the right thing."

"Can't it be both?"

Ciel put the knife down beside the sink and bent down to open up the fridge. As she pulled out a tub of margarine, she said, "If Florentin sought to rescue that girl in hopes that she would date him instead, that is hardly doing the right thing."

"That's not what I meant by romantic, and you know it," Neon replied. "You probably know more meanings for the word than I do."

Ciel stood up, holding the margarine in one hand. "Florentin tells me that you rescued him."

"What are family friends for?" Neon asked.

"I'm going to start teaching him how to defend himself," Ciel said as she pulled out a drawer and grabbed a butter knife.

"That's probably a good idea," Neon said. She paused for a moment, letting Ciel get on with buttering the bread. "It isn't your fault, you know."

Ciel's buttering slowed a little. "What isn't?"

"Any of this?" Neon suggested. "But the fact that Florentin is…"

"Unhappy?" Ciel suggested.

"Yeah, let's go with that," Neon said. "It's not your fault for going to Atlas or combat school."

"So I have been told," Ciel murmured, as she plated up the sliced ciabatta.

"And it's true," Neon insisted. "You're whip smart, committed, brave. You'd be wasted at some ordinary job. You belong among the clouds, more than most."

Ciel smiled a little, and not without a little sadness. "Penny said much the same thing."

"She's not completely blind to your quality, then," Neon remarked.

Ciel didn't reply to that. She opened up the microwave, then walked towards the table to retrieve a couple of the tubs of soup.

Neon grabbed her wrists as she reached out for them. "Hey," she said. "It's going to be okay. Things will work out, you'll see."

Ciel wished she could believe that, but was not at all sure that she could. "What makes you so certain?"

"Because all your little brothers are counting on you," Neon reminded her, gently touching her fist against Ciel's cheek. "Which means you can never give up. So chin up, hero."

Ciel smiled. "I'm not sure that thoughts of love and friendship are going to get us through this."

"Maybe not," Neon admitted. "But there are worse places to start, right?"

 

[ScipioSmith]

In Her Heart​

"And we're all done now, right?" Penny asked as she walked through the door into RSPT's room in Atlas Academy.

"All done," Twilight confirmed. "The rest of the day is your own."

"There isn't much of the day left," Penny grumbled.

Twilight didn't deny it. "I know … okay, I don't know, but … I'm sorry that this is frustrating, Penny, but your father just wants to make sure that everything is working as it should be after your refit."

"I know," Penny muttered, not bothering to add that everything was working fine and she didn't need a battery of tests that seemed to be nearly incessant to tell her that. There was no point in saying so. Twilight wouldn't have understood, after all.

Just like she wouldn't have understood what Penny meant when she said that she suspected her father was deliberately dragging her into the lab for more and more tests just so that he could keep an eye on her.

Or perhaps Twilight would understand, but she would pretend not to.

Twilight's mouth opened, and then closed again very quickly, but then opened again as she said, "Is there anything that you need?"

Penny looked around the room. Aside from Twilight and herself, it was empty, with neither Ciel nor Rainbow Dash in evidence. "Where are the others?" she asked.

"Ciel went back to Mantle to spend some time with her family, and Rainbow is flying Applejack to Canterlot," Twilight said. "I think she's planning to stay the weekend, but she'll be back on Monday."

"I see," Penny said.

"Do you want me to stick around?" Twilight asked. "We could—"

"No," Penny replied quickly. "It's fine. I'm sure you've got stuff to do."

Twilight frowned ever so slightly above her spectacles. "I have time for you, Penny."

Penny turned to her and smiled. "Twilight, I'm not a little kid; you don't need to watch me in case I get into trouble. You go on, I'll be fine. You had plans, didn't you?" Twilight was the kind of person who seemed as though she always had plans.

"Well, I was going to take Blake to the Observatory," Twilight admitted. "But—"

"Go," Penny insisted. "I don't want to spoil your fun. I'll be fine."

Nevertheless, Twilight hesitated. "You won't get into any trouble, will you?"

Penny pouted a little. "Twilight!"

Twilight chuckled. "Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. You're not a little kid, and you can be left alone by yourself. And I guess I'll do just that. Goodnight, Penny."

"Goodnight, Twilight!" Penny cried, waving to her with one hand. "Have fun."

Twilight smiled, and was still smiling as she turned away and walked out of the dorm room. The door slid closed behind her.

Penny waited for a few moments, mentally counting to herself so that she was waiting for Twilight to get down the corridor, away from the room.

Then she said a rude word, because there was nobody around to scold her for it.

This was going to be fantastic! Nobody to be in charge of her, nobody to watch over her, nobody to tell her what she could or couldn't do, nobody to say that it was improper or undignified, nobody, in short, to tell her 'no.'

It was going to be great! She could do anything she wanted!

She had no idea what to do.

Penny flopped down onto the nearest bottom bunk, sitting down heavily upon it as the mattress gave way beneath her.

She bounced slightly up and down upon it, tapping her hands upon the dark quilt that sat on top of the bed.

What could she do? What could she do?

What couldn't she do? She was all alone; she could do anything she wanted to! Ciel was gone, and Rainbow wasn't coming back tonight. Penny could stay up all night; she could stay up all night playing video games! She could watch all the movies that Ciel said were inappropriate for her. She could break cur— okay, no, she couldn't break curfew; just because Rainbow and Ciel weren't here didn't mean she'd be allowed out of the Academy. Even though the semester had ended, the Academy and its students were still subject to military discipline while they were rooming on Academy grounds — Twilight wasn't rooming on Academy grounds, neither was Ciel for now, and Rainbow had probably been given a pass.

Penny was not so lucky.

That rather put a crimp in what she could do, given that it wasn't as if she could go into Atlas.

Still, there were things that she could do in the Academy, right?

Right?

Penny lay down on her back, looking up at the top of the pod-like bunk in which she was partially enclosed.

What could she do? What should she do?

What did she want to do?

Penny rolled over onto her front, kicking her legs up and down.

What was this feeling? Was she … was she bored? How could she be bored? This was her chance to do whatever she wanted!

Except that she couldn't think of anything she wanted to do!

Penny pouted. Where was Ciel when you needed her?

She was almost certain that she was being childish about this, but everyone kept treating her like a child, so why shouldn't she behave childishly sometimes?

She sat up once more, the pout still set upon her face. She couldn't just sit here all night until Rainbow Dash came back!

Well, perhaps she could, but she didn't want to. Apart from anything else, it would be embarrassing, even if no one ever found out about it; Penny would know, and she would feel embarrassed regardless.

Penny got up, pacing up and down the dorm room, causing the door to slide open a couple of times as she got close enough to it to trigger the motion sensor, even though she didn't actually leave the room.

Perhaps she ought to leave the room. Perhaps she ought to go and … and do what? She didn't really know any of the other students.

Perhaps she should try and make some new friends?

How? Well, obviously by…

By…

Huh. It hadn't occurred to Penny until this point just how incredibly lucky she'd been to run into Ruby and Pyrrha and have everything work out the way it had. Faced with the task of meeting new people without a fortuitous set of circumstances to bring them together, she found herself in a little bit of a quandary.

Penny was not unaware that she could come across as … a little odd. And in the back of her mind, she could still remember what Blake had said during their mission to Cold Harbour, about how people didn't like things — or people — that were different from them. The idea of having to approach others by herself, unaided … well, it caused no small amount of trepidation on her part.

Perhaps she should give up on that idea and just call Ruby or Pyrrha and see if they were around for her to talk to.

That would be easier. And it would give her something to do. For a while, anyway.

And at some point, she should maybe apologise to Ciel for not realising all the things she did for Penny.

Penny's thoughts were interrupted as her scroll went off. The buzzing sound seemed louder than normal in the hitherto silent dorm room, and the sudden noise made Penny jump just a little bit before she realised what it was. She got out her scroll. She didn't recognise the number that was calling; it wasn't anyone in her contact list.

She wondered if she ought to answer. Ciel had been quite clear on answering calls from strangers; Rainbow had told her that if you didn't recognise a number, it was probably somebody trying to sell you something, but Ciel had hinted at much darker possibilities besides. Either way, they had both agreed that the best thing to do was not to answer.

But then, they weren't here, were they?

But that didn't mean that it was bad advice.

But their advice was so suffocating sometimes.

But look at what a state she'd gotten herself into without either of them around!

But she was really bored and wanted something to do, and maybe she could practice trying to talk to new people on whoever was trying to sell her … whatever.

And if it was anything bad, then she could always hang up, right?

Penny pressed the green icon to take the call.

She didn't recognise the number, but she recognised the face that instantly filled up her screen, from his soft brown eyes to his grey beard to the olive green cap that he wore on top of his head.

Her eyes widened. "Uncle Pietro?"

Pietro smiled. "Please, Penny, don't you think that you could call me 'Dad'?"

Penny smiled back. "I … I'd like that, Dad."

Pietro laughed softly. "It … I know this might sound selfish, but it's good to hear that word in your voice. It sounds … beautiful."

"How did you get my number?" Penny asked.

"Rainbow Dash gave it to me," Pietro said.

"'Rainbow Dash'?" Penny repeated. "You've seen Rainbow Dash?"

"She came down to Mantle to talk to me," Pietro explained. "She gave me your number so that I could give you a call, so that we could talk, from time to time. If you don't mind, that is."

"No, I don't mind," Penny said quickly. She hadn't been allowed to have any contact with her un— with her dad since … since just after she'd been … awakened or born or finished or whatever. He was in her very earliest memories, and she had called him Dad, then, while calling Father … Father. She called them by what they had asked to be called.

And then, one day, Dad was gone. Dad was gone and Father wouldn't explain why, except to say that 'Uncle Pietro' — he wouldn't hear of him being called Dad in his presence — wasn't going to be coming around anymore.

It was Twilight who had explained to her why her Dad, or her uncle, wouldn't be around any more: that he and Father had had a disagreement about Penny, and about Penny's going to the Academy and entering the Vytal Festival. At the time, Penny had heard the words without really understanding them, but she felt she had a much better understanding now.

"You … you didn't want this for me, did you, Dad?" she asked.

Pietro was quiet for a moment. "No, sweetheart, no, I didn't," he said. "I wanted … I suppose I wanted a little girl to love, and to love me back, and maybe that was selfish of me in its own way, but … well, it doesn't really matter now? All water under the bridge. At least, it's not what I called you to talk about. How are you doing, Penny?"

"I'm a little bored right now," Penny said. "I thought it would be nice being all on my own without anyone to tell me what to do, but after spending so much time with other people telling me what to do, I don't know what to do without them around."

Pietro laughed. "That's a hazard of growing up, one that we all have to deal with sooner or later. I remember the first time that Japeth and I were old enough for our mom to leave us home by ourselves. She was very glad of it; it saved her a fortune in childcare arrangements … or that's what she thought before we nearly blew up the house with one of our experiments."

Penny let out a laugh. "What were you doing?"

"We had an idea for something we called a 'Ground Bridge,'" Pietro explained. "The gist of it was that if the CCT can transmit information across continents nearly instantaneously, then we thought it might be possible to transmit people and objects in the same way. Just imagine it: no more need for lengthy, dust-consuming airship trips between kingdoms; you just step onto a bridge in Atlas or Mantle and are transported to Vale or Mistral in moments."

"That sounds amazing," Penny agreed; she could just go back to Beacon to see Ruby tonight and be back before Rainbow Dash returned.

"As a theory, it definitely had a lot of appeal," Pietro said. "But we never could get it to work, even though we went back to it a couple of times when we were grown up. I guess it's one of those ideas that's meant to stay confined to realms of theory. Suffice to say that, after the first time, Mom laid down some ground rules on what we were and weren't allowed to do when we were home alone." He paused. "But I wasn't just asking about how you were doing right now. I mean, more generally, how are you?"

"More generally, I'm fine," Penny said. "I'm looking forward to the Vytal Festival; I don't know if I can win the tournament, because my friend Pyrrha is—"

"Penny," Pietro said, gently but firmly, cutting her off. "Come on, now, you can be honest with me."

Penny blinked. "Honest about what, Dad?"

"I know," Pietro said, putting emphasis upon the word 'know'. "I know that you know about Japeth, that he … that he's…"

"Dying," Penny murmured. It was the first time that she had said the word out loud, at least when talking about her father. It was the first time since hearing it that she had really thought about it, and she hadn't thought about it much at the time. "Yes, I know. I heard him telling Rainbow and Ciel. You know, as well?"

"I've known for a long time," Pietro said. "I've known … I've always known it was a possibility, same as Japeth. It's a genetic condition; our mother had it. In a way, Japeth is lucky that it took so long to manifest in him … although not as lucky as I am, I admit. It can't have been easy, finding out that way."

"I couldn't talk," Penny said softly. "I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything except listen."

Pietro sighed. "I … Japeth and I don't agree upon a lot of things, but I know that isn't how he would have liked for you to find that out."

"Would he have wanted me to find out at all?" Penny asked.

"I … don't know," Pietro admitted. "Maybe not until after he was gone, maybe not even then; maybe he would have liked for everyone to have kept it a secret from you why he died. There's a reason it isn't publicised—"

"He said it was because he would be sent on leave, to rest," Penny said.

"Maybe that's a part of it," Pietro replied. "But I think the more important reason is that he's a proud man, and he doesn't want anyone to see him as being less than what he was, what he's seen to be. He doesn't want anyone to look at him with pity. I suppose I can understand that. I don't have much of a choice, with how visible this chair of mine is. I get plenty of pitying looks whether I want them or not, but that doesn't mean I like it."

He shook his head.

"But here I am, talking about myself again, when I called you to talk about you." He paused. "Rainbow Dash came to see me because you haven't talked to anyone about this. Not to her, not to Ciel Soleil or Twilight, not to your friends at Beacon that she told me about."

"Maybe Rainbow Dash should mind her own business," Penny muttered.

"Penny," Pietro said, in a tone of gentle reproach. "She's just worried about you. She's worried that … well, let's just say that she's worried. And she asked me to call you to see … how are you doing, Penny? How are you feeling?"

"About this?" Penny asked in return. "About Father?"

Pietro nodded. "Exactly."

Penny was silent for a moment. "I … I don't know," she admitted. There was a reason — there were several reasons — why she hadn't spoken to Ciel or Rainbow or even to Ruby or Pyrrha about this, and the fact that she wasn't sure how she was feeling was one of them. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think about this."

"'Supposed to think'?" Pietro repeated. "Penny, you're not supposed to think anything or feel anything. It only matters what you do think, what you do feel?"

"Do you mean that?" Penny asked. "Do you really, truly mean it?"

Pietro frowned a little. "Penny, what's this about?"

Again, Penny took a few moments of pause before she replied, "Rainbow told you about my friends I met at Beacon, about Ruby Rose and Pyrrha Nikos?"

Pietro nodded. "She did, yes. They seem like very nice people."

"They are, they're the best," Penny assured him. "Did Rainbow Dash tell you that Ruby's mother was a huntress, and that she died?"

"No," Pietro said softly. "No, it didn't come up. I guess Rainbow didn't think it was relevant."

"Ruby was only very young when she lost her mother," Penny continued. "And I don't think that she remembers her very well, but … but she misses her. I think she misses her a whole lot. I think … it's like she's standing in her mother's shadow, trying to grow into it. I … I believe that Pyrrha was older when she lost her father, and that she remembers him better, although she doesn't talk about it, so I could be wrong."

"Penny," Pietro murmured. "I'm afraid that I don't see—"

"I daren't talk to them about this because they wouldn't understand why I'm not sad!" Penny cried, her voice rising, her eyes widening as she bent over a little bit. "I know that I'm supposed to be sad," she repeated. "I'm supposed to be sad, like … I'm supposed to feel so bad about what's happening to Father, and it's supposed to drown out all my other feelings, and nothing else should matter to me except how little time he has left, but … but that's not how I feel."

Now, it was Pietro's turn to fall temporarily silent. At last, in a voice that was, for the moment, free from the judgement that Penny feared, he said, "And how do you feel, Penny?"

"I feel…" Penny hesitated.

"You can be honest," Pietro assured her. "Whatever you have to say, I won't judge. I'm listening. That's all I'm here to do, is listen."

Penny closed her eyes for a moment. "Father … he had … he had no right to create me just for himself, to make himself stand taller, to make himself look better! I'm not his legacy; I'm myself! I'm me, I'm a person, and he doesn't see it at all! And I can't … I can't just forgive him for that because he … because he's dying."

Penny bowed her head. "I'm a terrible person, aren't I?"

"No," Pietro said, quietly but fiercely. "No, Penny, you're not a terrible person. You're just a person, like all the rest of us. A person a lot like Japeth, in point of fact."

Penny looked up. "Like Father, really?"

Pietro sighed. "Japeth always said that I was a momma's boy," he said wistfully, looking away from Penny and into some distantly remembered past that existed only now in memory and recollection. "And I suppose that was true enough. We both had our mother's brains, but … in most other ways, Japeth took after our father. Pair of snapping turtles, both of them, incapable of suffering fools, always quick with a cutting rebuke or an impatient word. Naturally, they could barely stand one another. Oh, the fights they used to have."

He chuckled, although Penny couldn't see what was so funny about it.

She didn't ask. Not right now. It didn't seem particularly important.

"It's ironic, in some ways," Pietro went on. "Japeth took after our father, but he inherited Mom's condition. I was more like our mother, but I got Dad's bad back. Teach me to spend so much time sitting around laboratories, I suppose.

"Technology wasn't quite so advanced back then; chairs like mine didn't exist, so when things got really bad for Dad, he … he ended up just sitting around in the living room, enthroned in that huge armchair of his, barking orders, waiting for the gods to take him away.

"He sat there when Mom got sick. By the end, she was upstairs in her room, lying in bed, not able to do much of anything, and he was downstairs, in that big armchair, complaining that she wouldn't come down to him."

"Didn't he understand?" Penny asked. "Didn't he care?"

"I don't know," Pietro admitted. "I couldn't see into his heart, or tell you what he was thinking. I'm not sure if he was thinking much of anything, to tell you the truth. He loved our mother, I'm sure of that — the way he acted when she was gone was proof of that — but … Japeth couldn't ever forgive him for the way that he acted in those last few months. Even when Dad was dying himself, that anger … it never went away."

"And … and when he was gone?" Penny asked softly. "How did Father feel then?"

"You'd have to ask him about that," Pietro said. "My point is that I can't tell you how to feel, and no one can, no one has the right, least of all Japeth. You don't have to forgive him just because he won't be around forever, or even for very long; I'm not sure if I can forgive him myself. But the fact is that he won't be around forever, and when he isn't, you're the one who'll have to reckon with the way that you acted towards him."

He paused. "Rainbow tells me you're going to Beacon next year."

Penny nodded. "That's right. I want to be somewhere I can decide who I want to be for myself, not have it decided for me by Father or General Ironwood or anyone else."

"Does Japeth know?" Pietro asked.

"No," Penny answered, as though that should have been obvious. "If he knew, he wouldn't let me go."

"I don't think that he can stop you, not all by himself," Pietro replied. "And anyway, he might be more likely to try and stop you if you don't tell him until it's done or happening. Maybe it'll be too late by then, maybe there'll be nothing he can do, but … even after Mom passed, even though Japeth couldn't forgive our father, he still came around. Not as often as Dad might have liked, sure, and he certainly didn't drop everything to help take care of the old man, but he was there, sometimes. There with a cutting remark as often as not, but he was there. And I hope that gave him some comfort, after the end. I hope it still does. You might want that too, some day."

"I … I see," Penny murmured. "Thank you, Dad."

Pietro smiled. "Any time, sweetheart."

Penny smiled back at him. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now call me again sometime, okay?"

"Okay," Penny said. "Really soon, I promise, but right now, I need to ask Twilight for a favour."

"Well, all right, then," Pietro said. "I'll let you get to it. So long, now."

"Goodbye," Penny said before she hung up the call.

She stared down at the scroll in her hands for a moment, the screen now turned black, the call terminated.

She knew what she had to do next, and not just because her Dad had pushed her to do it, but because … because it felt … because Dad was right: it was something that she ought to do.

And yet, at the same time, she was afraid to do it.

What if Father wouldn't accept it, what if he yelled, what if he wouldn't let her go? What if he locked her up to stop her going anywhere, like the Girl in the Tower in that book of fairytales that Blake had given her?

What if she upset him so much that it made his condition worse?

He wasn't likely to be much less upset if he found out from someone other than her.

No. No, Dad was right, she had to tell him, and she had to tell him that there was nothing he could do to stop her. She had to tell him that they could call, or see each other sometimes, for however long … however long he had left, but she wasn't going to … she wasn't going to put off living her own life for his sake.

He couldn't ask that of her. Not even, or especially, because he already had.

She had to tell him. She had to tell him the truth, and she had to tell him that there was nothing he could do about it.

And she had to hope that he would understand.

She called Twilight.

Twilight answered very quickly, her face filling the screen on Penny's scroll. "Penny!" she cried. "Is everything okay, do you need me to come back?"

"No, I'm fine," Penny said quickly. "I mean, I'm not … I don't need you to come back right away," Penny assured her. "But I do need to ask you a favour?"

"Of course, Penny," Twilight replied. "What is it?"

"Tomorrow morning, can you come with me to speak to my father?" Penny asked. "There's something I need to tell him."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Scootaloo​

Having a home outside of town was a bit of a risk when there were grimm around, but when it came to farming, there just wasn't much for it.

Not to mention that there were never many grimm in Canterlot; this place was just lucky that way, for some reason.

Sweet Apple Acres was not so far from the rest of Canterlot — you could see the town pretty clearly, even at night, and the house was probably the closest thing to the town on the whole property, but even so, it was on the edge.

But what could you do, other than not have a farm at all? And Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna did cover the place on their patrols, so they were pretty much as safe as anyone else in Canterlot.

And that was pretty safe, considering that they didn't get much trouble here.

Rainbow Dash set The Bus down outside the gate; a white picket fence surrounded the whole property, even the apple orchards stretching away into the distance, only dimly visible in the darkness, and the way through was marked by an archway overgrown with honeysuckle and decorated with big red fake apples — unlike the real ones, they'd never go bad.

As the airship landed, she flipped the switch to open the doors on the right hand side, the side facing Sweet Apple Acres.

"When you fly Rainbow Air, you get door to door service," she said, looking back out of the cockpit and into the main section of the airship, where Applejack, Rarity, and Winona were waiting.

Winona barked eagerly.

Applejack touched the brim of her hat. "Thank you kindly." She looked from Rainbow Dash to Rarity and then back again. "Either of you want to come inside? You're welcome to come in and say howdy to Apple Bloom and Granny Smith."

"Nah, I won't get in the way of the reunion," Rainbow said, waving her off with one hand. "You say 'hi' to them for me, okay?"

Applejack smiled. "Will do. Rarity?"

"Likewise, darling," Rarity said. "We wouldn't want to step on your moment. Now go on! Shoo! I'm sure they're anxious to see you, so don't prolong their misery one moment longer!"

Applejack chuckled. "Okay, okay. And we're still on for campin' tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't miss it, and I bet Scootaloo wouldn't either," Rainbow said.

"Then Ah'll see you both then," Applejack said.

Rarity reached out and took Applejack by the hands as she planted a pair of kisses on her cheeks. "Until tomorrow."

Applejack nodded and turned away, leaping down out of the airship with Winona by her side. The dog barked happily.

Rainbow unstrapped herself from the pilot's seat momentarily and left the cockpit so that she could see out of the door.

Even in the dark of the night, the lights coming from inside the airship illuminated Applejack a little bit as she walked underneath the arch and across the open ground of bare and unplanted earth towards the farmhouse. The lights coming out of the windows seemed almost like signals, like the red and green lights on a carrier to welcome the airships home.

Winona kept on barking, and more lights streamed out of the house as Rainbow guessed that a door was thrown open.

Apple Bloom's voice carried across the night air. "Is that Winona?"

Winona barked in answer.

"Then that must mean— Applejack!"

"Ah'm right here, sugarcube!" Applejack called out, joy and amusement mingling in her voice.

Apple Bloom whooped with glee. "Hey, Granny, Big Mac, get out here! Applejack's back!"

Rainbow caught a glimpse of a small form momentarily blocking out the light, and then lost sight of the younger girl.

But she could still hear her shouting. "She's back, she's back, Applejack's back! Mah sister's home!"

In the space where the lights from the airship and the home alike both faded, it was difficult to see what was going on; Applejack had become lost in the shade between the two, and Apple Bloom as well, their forms indistinct, but nevertheless, it looked a lot like Applejack had grabbed her sister and was twirling her around in the air.

Rainbow smiled. "There are a few things that make this really worthwhile," she declared. "And this right here is one of them."

Rarity chuckled softly. "Yes, I imagine it must be quite fulfilling, saving people."

"Saving people, hunting things—"

"Sounds like the tagline for a TV show," Rarity murmured.

Rainbow snorted. "Huh. Yeah, maybe. You're right, it is fulfilling. More than that, it's the best feeling in the world. When you get to see something like this … there's no better feeling, not in the whole of Remnant."

"And this is the second time where Applejack's confirmed," Rarity said. "You'll have to let her even the score sometime."

"Yeah, right," Rainbow said. "Like that'll happen."

She returned to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's seat once more.

She glanced back at Rarity, lingering behind. "Everything okay back there?"

"I'm waiting for my door to door service, darling," Rarity said dryly.

Rainbow coughed. "Yeah, right. Sorry, I'll drop you off in Main—"

Rarity laughed. "I'm teasing you, Rainbow, honestly." She walked into the cockpit, her high heels tapping on the metal floor. She placed a gentle hand on Rainbow's shoulder and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. "Thank you for bringing me, for bringing us, out here, but I can find my own way back from here."

"If you're sure," Rainbow said.

"Ordinarily, I might take you up on your offer, but this is Canterlot," Rarity replied. "And we've both walked out here and back plenty of times with no trouble at all."

Rainbow nodded. "Okay then. Tell Sweetie Belle I said 'hello.'"

"And give my love to Scootaloo, won't you?" Rarity said as she walked away and to the door. "Until tonight, darling!"

"Later," Rainbow said, waving to her as Rarity got down, disappearing from her view as she exited the airship.

Rainbow gave her a few seconds to step away, then closed the door.

All alone in the airship now, silence reigned, with no sound but the click of the clasp as Rainbow strapped herself in, and what whine of the engines managed to penetrate the interior as Rainbow eased her airship back up into the air once again.

It wasn't as though she could just leave it sat outside Sweet Apple Acres all weekend, after all.

Fortunately, there was a small skydock at the back of Canterlot Combat School, where airships could land when needed for training and instructional purposes — mostly 'this is what it's like to fly in a Skyray, this where to sit, this is where to stand,' with an occasional side of landing strategy practice and flying instruction for those students who show an aptitude for it — and so, Rainbow guided her own airship over the sleepy town, where the lights gleamed like candles beneath her, until she arrived at the combat school and set The Bus down on the otherwise empty docking bay.

Rainbow leapt down from out of the airship, landing on the tarmac with a soft thud.

The door slid shut behind her, and Rainbow got out her scroll for a moment to lock the airship up.

"Welcome back, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow looked around to see Principal Celestia standing at the edge of the docking bay, dressed in gilded armour that gleamed in the moonlight, a spear held in one hand.

Rainbow came to attention. "Principal Celestia," she said. "Have you been on patrol, or is this for my benefit?"

Principal Celestia laughed softly. "I've just returned from checking the perimeter," she said. "Believe me, if I was not, you wouldn't see me dressed like this — or even up so late. Unlike the Vice Principal, I'm not much of a night owl."

"Me neither," Rainbow replied. "It is okay if I leave my airship here, isn't it? I have a weekend pass, and then I'll be back to Atlas."

"Of course, it's not as if it's being used for much else at the moment," Principal Celestia pointed out. "So how was Beacon?"

Rainbow thought about it for a second. "Sprawling," she said.

Principal Celestia smiled. "Yes, I remember that very well. I suppose a large campus like Beacon is quite different from the tight verticality of Atlas. Still, I hope you enjoyed yourself there."

"It was fine," Rainbow said. "Better than fine, at times, not so much at others. It was school." And a little more than that, at the end. "Met some good people there, so that's something."

"Indeed," agreed Principal Celestia. "And of course you'll be returning for the Vytal Festival in the fall, when the leaves are golden and the air is crisp. You know that Vice Principal Luna and I attended Beacon Academy. Team Cello."

"Can I ask why?" Rainbow asked. "I mean, why you went to Beacon instead of Atlas? You don't have to tell me; I'm just a little curious."

"I'm afraid you may be disappointed by how simple the answer is," Principal Celestia said. "It was because we didn't want to become Specialists in the Atlesian military. Luna and I wished to carve our own path, as huntresses, not soldiers."

"You're not the only one," Rainbow said, remembering her shared classwork with Ruby when they had discussed what it meant to give up your autonomy and subordinate yourself to something larger than yourself. "But what changed? I mean, you did join the military, and you still have rank, so … again, you don't have to answer."

"In this case, I'm afraid I may not," Principal Celestia murmured. "Suffice to say … to each of us falls a task, but the task that eventually falls to us may be quite different than the one we envisage for ourselves when we set out on our journey."

"I hear that," Rainbow muttered. And so does Blake, for that matter.

Principal Celestia stared at her for a moment, her pale magenta eyes seeming strangely knowing. "Something on your mind, Rainbow Dash?"

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. "I … I'm not sure how much I can say," she admitted.

"Then I will not inquire further," Principal Celestia declared. "Just know that, if you do need to talk while you're here, or at any other time, my door is always open and my scroll is always on."

Rainbow smiled. "Thank you, ma'am; I'll remember that."

Principal Celestia was silent for a moment. "You have, as the expression goes, seen the goliath now, haven't you?"

Rainbow nodded. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I reckon I have."

"Glory may mean less to you now than it did when you were here," Principal Celestia said softly. "But I promise you that there is still much to fight for, and much to take courage from. Brave heart, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow clenched her fist and placed it above her heart. "Always, ma'am," she said. "I … I just dropped Applejack off at Sweet Apple Acres, and the way her sister reacted to seeing her again … that's worth fighting for."

"Indeed," Principal Celestia said. "Now, I won't keep you any further. I'm sure that you're anxious to see Scootaloo, and if you don't hurry, you may be too late for her bedtime."

A little laughter escaped from Rainbow's mouth. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, and with that, she began to walk briskly around the outside of the school building, leaving Principal Celestia and her gleaming armour behind as she followed the walls of the tall, square school, passing through the gardens and around to the front, where the Wondercolt Statue sat on its high pedestal, the moonlight falling upon the marble steed as it reared up into the sky.

"Rainbow Dash?" Vice Principal Luna stepped around the statue, emerging into view from behind the plinth. "'Scaped safe from your adventures in Vale, I see."

Rainbow scratched the back of her head. "'Escaped' seems the right word for some of them, ma'am."

Vice Principal Luna smiled. Unlike her sister and principal, she was not armoured; rather, she was dressed in a dark pink short-sleeved sweater, with the collar of a white blouse showing over the top of it, and midnight blue pants. There was a book tucked under her arm, though it was positioned in such a way that Rainbow couldn't see what book or even what type of book it was.

"It is good to see you again, Rainbow Dash," she said. "I won't ask you how Beacon was or anything else, because I'm sure my sister has already asked you that, and I don't want to bore you by making you repeat your answers a second time — or to delay you unnecessarily, for that matter — I simply wished to give you a gift." She walked towards Rainbow, holding out the book that she'd had under her arm. "Consider it a welcome home present."

"That's very kind of you, ma'am, but I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to read it," Rainbow admitted. "I'm still working through the last book someone got me as a gift just before I came back."

"Oh?" Vice Principal Luna asked. "What is the subject?"

"Ares Claudandus and the Faunus Rights Revolution," Rainbow replied.

"Interesting," Vice Principal Luna said. "Nevertheless, I would recommend taking at least a look at this. Please, to humour your old vice principal, at the least."

Rainbow reached out and took the book from Vice Principal Luna's unprotesting hands. It was a hardback, with a dark blue cover, and if she held it up to the moonlight at the right angle, she could see the gold letters on the cover spelling out In Search of the Lady.

Rainbow blinked. "How … how?" she began, when she looked back at Vice Principal Luna.

The Vice Principal's smile was rather coy. "We must have some secrets, mustn't we Rainbow Dash? At least, for the time being. Now off you go, or you'll—"

"Miss bedtime?" Rainbow asked.

Vice Principal Luna chuckled. "I was going to say 'you'll be late for dinner.' Now go."

Rainbow went, tucking the book beneath her arm just as Vice Principal Luna had done before passing it on, and so she left the grounds of the Combat School and headed at a brisk walk through the streets of Canterlot. The town was quiet, as it almost always was — it was a nice place to be, with some real nice people, but no one was going to call it a centre for nightlife in the Kingdom of Atlas. The stores had shut, and while the diner was open it didn't look to be doing a roaring trade. In a place like Canterlot, people had dinner at home, with their families. A little light spilled out from the houses that Rainbow passed along the way, but not much, although more because folks had their curtains drawn than because they were in bed already. Most of the light came from the pale holographic streetlights that were projected along the sides of the road, illuminating Rainbow's way as she went along.

Scootaloo's house was a pretty cottage, or at least it looked like one for all that it was sat in the middle of a town, with a pair of columns holding up the first floor where it jutted out in front of the ground floor, and a tall thatched roof that rose at a sharp angle. It was narrow, with only a single window beside the front door and no room for any others — the first floor also had only the one window in front of it, which was in Scootaloo's room — but very long to compensate. It looked very old-fashioned and traditional — a lot of Canterlot looked quite retro compared to Atlas, and in a good way, the way that had people like Rarity using words like 'charming' and 'bijou,' rather than Mantle where everyone used words like 'unbearable' and 'dump' — but it wasn't, at least not completely. Scootaloo's parents might never be around, but they weren't such deadbeats that they didn't send money back, and some of that money had paid for a state of the art security system controlling the front door. Rainbow didn't need a key, or to disturb anyone by knocking on the door; all she had to do was pull off her glove and press her palm against the green scanner.

The scanner whirred as it scanned her palm print, then the retinal scanner above it flashed once in a sign for Rainbow to bend down a little — quite a bit, actually, as these scanners were at a height for Scootaloo and her friends to use — to let it take a scan of her eyes.

The system satisfied that she was, in fact, Rainbow Dash, the door clicked open.

She stepped inside the hallway, where the floor was chequered in squares of brown and green.

"Who is it?" Ms. Holiday called from inside.

"Rainbow Dash," Rainbow replied. "I'm sorry I took so long." In every sense.

"Rainbow Dash!" Scootaloo cried.

"Sit down, Scootaloo; you haven't finished your dinner yet," Ms. Holiday said in a tone of mild reproach.

"Aunt Holiday!"

"We're in the dining room, kid," Ms. Lofty called out.

Rainbow walked down the hall and into the dining room, where she found Scootaloo and her aunts, just as Ms. Lofty had said she would. They were all sat at the table, with half-cleared plates in front of them that looked to Rainbow like they held, or had held, spaghetti and meatballs — Scootaloo looked to have eaten all of her meatballs already, while Ms. Lofty seemed to be saving them all for last, and Ms. Holiday looked to have taken a balanced approach. A shaker of cheese sat in the middle of the table, flanked by a pair of candles — unnecessary and unlit in view of the light directly above the kitchen table.

"Ms. Lofty, Ms. Holiday," she said respectfully, nodding to the two aunts before turning her attention to Scootaloo. "Hey, kiddo, how's it going?"

"Rainbow Dash!" Scootaloo cried. "You're here!"

"I told you I'd make it eventually," Rainbow said, only slightly reproachfully. "But I'm sorry it took so long."

Scootaloo beamed up at her. "How long can you stay?"

"Only over this weekend," Rainbow admitted. "But after the Vytal Festival is over, I'll be able to spend the whole break here, and we can do whatever you want."

"Unless something else comes up," Scootaloo muttered.

"If I have to beg General Ironwood to give me a break and let someone else handle it, I will," Rainbow declared. "After all, what's the point of being part of a big military if you can't let other people take up the slack from time to time, huh?"

And anyway, Rainbow couldn't help but think that after everything this year, she was kind of owed a break. Besides which, she really did expect things to quiet down after the Vytal Festival was over. It was like she'd told Sunset: Cinder was done, she'd thrown away her shot, and she'd have to go away for a while and lick her wounds before she came back for another go at … whatever it was she wanted out of all this.

No, once the tournament was over, things were going to get a lot quieter in Remnant for a while.

"Why don't you sit down?" Ms. Holiday suggested. "You look awkward standing there looking down on us. Grab a chair, there's plenty of room."

Ms. Holiday was a slightly short human woman, a little on the plump side, with a round face and scarlet eyes. Her hair was a deeper shade of scarlet, streaked with tangelo, worn long and curly, descending in waves that curled up at the tips down to around her waist, as well as curving around her cheeks too. She wore little blue flower earrings and a turquoise scarf around her neck, as well as a one-piece blue dress with elbow length sleeves. Her voice had a slight twang to it, an accent that Rainbow couldn't quite place.

"Thanks, Ms. Holiday," Rainbow said, drawing out the chair next to Scootaloo's and sitting down beside her. She put her book down on the table next to her. To Scootaloo, she said, "Things have been kind of hectic this year, and it's kept me away, but it's over now—"

"Is it?" asked Ms. Lofty.

A bird faunus, with a pair of pale yellow wings sprouting from her back, she was taller than Ms. Holiday — something that was obvious even when the two were sitting down — and leaner too, something that was not disguised by the light purple sweater she was wearing. She looked older, with bags underneath her opal eyes, but that might just have been because she didn't get enough sleep. Her hair was cyan streaked with blue, and worn short, barely reaching the nape of her neck. Her voice was sharp and had a little bit of gravel in it.

Scootaloo sighed. "Auntie Lofty—"

"We have a right to be worried about you, Scootaloo," Ms. Lofty replied before Scootaloo could finish.

Rainbow's eyes flickered between Ms. Lofty and Ms. Holiday. "What's this about?" she asked quietly.

"It's about the Vytal Festival," Ms. Holiday said. "We know that ticket has been paid for and all the arrangements made with your friends and Scootaloo's friends, and we didn't have an issue with it—"

"We were happy for her to go," Ms. Lofty declared.

"But it was bad enough with the White Fang running around in Vale, but then this grimm attack!" Ms. Holiday exclaimed. "Surely you can understand that we're having second thoughts about letting Scootaloo go to Vale after that."

"But I've been looking forward to this all year!" Scootaloo moaned. "You just don't want me to have any fun!"

"Relax, Scootaloo; they're just worried about you," Rainbow said.

"You agree with them?!" Scootaloo asked, in an outraged tone.

"No," Rainbow said. "But I get it." She paused for a moment. "You saw it on the news?" she asked.

Ms. Holiday nodded. "It was on all the channels. Those poor people in Vale."

"Yeah, poor people for having such a lousy government," Ms. Lofty said. "It looked terrible, and I'm sure it was terrible, and I don't even want to imagine what it must have been like to be living there when that happened, but you have to ask some questions about what the Council down in Vale has been doing all this time that something like that could happen, and there was nothing they could do about it when it did."

"You might be right, Lofty, but I think Rainbow Dash is trying to tell us something," Ms. Holiday said.

"Just that there are a few things that the news didn't talk about," Rainbow said. "The Breach didn't just come out of nowhere. The earth didn't shake and then suddenly there was a hole in the ground and the grimm were coming through. It was the end of a plan, by … by the White Fang. It was the culmination of everything they'd been doing, or trying to do, for the whole year. And it didn't work. Vale is still there, our forces stopped the Breach, and now the White Fang are done. They won't be able to pull another stunt like that again, or anything else either. All the dust they've stolen got used up, and so did…" Rainbow stopped short of saying 'so did all their men.' "Plus, reinforcements are on their way from Atlas to Vale, and General Ironwood has been placed in charge of security, so he'll be able to respond even faster to any more trouble this time. In a way, Vale is probably the safest place in the whole of Remnant right now, other than Atlas itself."

Rainbow wondered if that might have been laying it on a bit thick, but where else could boast three Atlesian cruiser squadrons and attached supporting units, plus General Ironwood's direct command?

"And it's not just a trip to Vale; it's the Vytal Festival," Rainbow went on. "Watching it on TV is no substitute for being in the stadium, watching it live, in the crowd, with her friends. This is going to be something that Scootaloo will never forget."

Ms. Lofty and Ms. Holiday were silent for a moment. They looked at one another.

"Do you really think it's safe?" Ms. Holiday asked. "I want your honest, solemn word, Rainbow Dash: do you really believe it's safe?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't want Scootaloo or any of my friends to go anywhere near it," Rainbow said. "Yes, I think it's safe." I think that the strength of Atlas and Cinder's stupidity have made it safe.

Ms. Lofty sighed. "Then it sounds like you're in luck, kiddo."

"You mean I can go after all!" Scootaloo cried. "Thanks, Auntie Lofty, thanks, Aunt Holiday!"

"We never wanted to spoil your fun," Ms. Holiday said. "But you have to forgive us for being concerned, after everything."

"I can't believe I'm going to get to watch you compete live in the Vytal Festival," Scootaloo squealed in delight.

Rainbow grinned and ruffled her hair with one hand. "I'll make sure to put on an epic show for you in the first two rounds."

"The first two rounds?" Scootaloo repeated. "You're not going to put yourself forward for the one on one?"

"Nah, I don't need a laurel crown to tell me how awesome I am," Rainbow said, resting one arm on the back of her chair. "One of my teammates is really eager for this. Like really, really eager. She's a massive Pyrrha Nikos fangirl and a tournament enthusiast, and it would mean more than pretty much anything in Remnant to go to the one on one rounds and maybe get the chance to fight her idol. And who am I to say no to that, just because I'd kind of like to do it myself?"

Rainbow felt rather proud of herself for managing to concoct a plausible-sounding story like that without even hinting at the fact that she'd been pretty much ordered to put Penny through into the final round.

"Is she any good?" Scootaloo asked.

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, she's going to be great."

"I bet she won't be as good as you would have been."

"Probably not, but that's a really high bar to clear, right?" Rainbow replied, making Ms. Holiday and Ms. Lofty roll their eyes a bit.

Ms. Lofty nodded to the book that Rainbow had put down on the table. "What's that, Dash?"

"Oh, this?" Rainbow replied, holding up the book. "This is something that Vice Principal Luna gave me when I saw her just now on my way here. I haven't looked at it yet, but I think it must be about the Lady of the North."

"Who?" Scootaloo asked.

Rainbow hesitated. "I almost don't want to say because I'm probably going to get it wrong, but she's … a religious thing. Like, the way I understand it is that there's God, and then there's the Lady of the North who is like … she's not a god, but you pray to the Lady instead of to God because God doesn't listen to anybody except to the Lady. I think. I've probably not got that quite right."

"I'd say that I didn't take you for religious, Rainbow Dash, except that if you were religious, you'd be able to give a better explanation of what it's all about," Ms. Holiday said.

"I don't really know why Vice Principal Luna gave me this book," Rainbow admitted. "But one of my teammates is religious, so maybe it's really for her." Maybe it has some information that we can use to find out the truth about the Lady, and whether or not what Salem said is wholly true or just partly or just a great big lie.

But then, how would Vice Principal Luna know anything about that?

"Either way, I'll take a look at it," she said. "It would be rude not to."

Scootaloo put the last of her spaghetti into her mouth, chewed for a little while, and swallowed it. "So, Rainbow Dash, do you have any cool stories from Beacon?"

"I've got a couple of cool stories," Rainbow replied, in a faux-casual tone that suggested she was trying to keep it casual while not at all actually keeping it casual. She noticed the way that Ms. Holiday and Ms. Lofty tensed up a bit, but she smiled reassuringly to let them know that she was going to keep it age-appropriate. "Now, there was this one time, when all of the students were doing a practical exercise in the Everfree Forest — that's the forest that sits right next door to Beacon Academy; it's full of grimm—"

"Beacon has a forest full of grimm right on their doorstep!" Scootaloo cried. "That is so cool. Does Atlas have one of those?"

"Atlas has a city all around it," Rainbow reminded her. "So no. If we want to do practical exercises, we have to go out into the tundra, or the Snowbound Forest, or other places, depending on if there's a need. We don't have a ready-made training ground right on our doorstep the way that Beacon does."

"Personally, I'm not sure that's a bad thing," Ms. Lofty murmured.

"Anyway," Rainbow went on, "the terms of the exercise were that students would be paired off in random pairs with people who were not on the same team as them. So Twilight got paired up with some random kid from Haven Academy—"

"Who did you get paired with?" Scootaloo asked.

"I didn't get paired with anyone; I wasn't part of the first wave of the exercise, although a lot of my friends were," Rainbow explained. "Twilight, Flash, Blake, Ruby, Jaune, Sunset—"

"'Sunset'?" Ms. Holiday asked. "Not Sunset Shimmer."

"She's mellowed since I knew her at combat school," Rainbow said. "She's actually kind of cool."

"I thought this was going to be a story about how you were cool," Scootaloo protested.

"I'm going to be really cool really soon, just give me a second," Rainbow assured her. "So, all of my friends, and a couple of other people, went down into the forest. The professors had set bait to draw grimm to the students for the exercise—"

"That doesn't sound very safe," said Ms. Lofty.

"It's a huntsman academy, Ms. Lofty," Rainbow pointed out. "But … you might have a point on this one, because … things didn't go entirely according to plan. We still don't know exactly what happened, but too much bait had been set maybe, or something, or maybe everything was done properly but we had bad luck, because this whole giant load of grimm showed up, a lot more than were expected to. We're talking about nevermores filling the sky and beowolves and ursai on the ground, a lot more than the professors thought, a lot more than a small group of students in the forest would be able to handle. Now, they couldn't just get out of the forest because, even though it is next door to the school, there's a cliff between the two so the grimm can't get into Beacon itself; that's why you need an airship to pick you up, but with so many flying grimm, it was too dangerous for airships." She grinned. "Unless, of course, you happen to be a super awesome pilot like yours truly."

Scootaloo's eyes widened. "You got them out?"

"I got them out," Rainbow confirmed. "Nobody else would dare to fly into the nest of nevermores, but I stepped up. With my friends in danger, I volunteered to fly The Bus into the forest and pick everyone up and get them out safely."

"Where was the Atlesian fleet?" Ms. Lofty asked.

"Hamstrung by politics," Rainbow said. "The Valish Council didn't want to cause a scene by letting our ships start shooting."

Ms. Lofty snorted. "I can see how Vale ended up in the state that it's in."

"And you did it, right?" Scootaloo asked eagerly. "You got them all out."

"Of course I got them all out," Rainbow declared. "I dived straight for the ground with a giant nevermore in hot pursuit. It look like we were going to crash for sure, everyone in the airship — Starlight was my co-pilot, with the rest of Trixie's team on the guns — was certain that we were going to crash, but I pulled up at just the right moment, and it was the nevermore that crashed headfirst into the ground!"

"So cool!"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool," Rainbow agreed. It was probably the coolest thing to happen in the entire year, not least because it wasn't at all tainted by any kind of moral ambiguity: just her, a rescue mission, and a whole lot of grimm between her and the objective. It was as simple as it got, and simplicity always made for cool stories.

"But what about you?" she asked. "What have you been up to while I've been away?"

Scootaloo looked away. "Oh. Nothing."

"Now, I know that isn't true," Rainbow said. "Come on, what's been happening? How's the scooter?"

"I can jump twice as far as I could before," Scootaloo said.

"Twice as far, huh? And you say that's nothing?" Rainbow asked. "Why would you keep that to yourself?"

"It's just a scooter."

"You can say that about anything," Rainbow told her. "The cookies that your Auntie Lofty bakes are just cookies, the weapons I carry are just guns, The Bus is just an airship. But it's my airship and my guns and your Auntie Lofty's cookies, and it's your scooter. It's yours. It's part of what makes you special. So don't let anyone take it away from you, and especially don't take it away from yourself. You're Scootaloo, and you can ride a scooter like no one else in the whole of Atlas."

Scootaloo looked up into Rainbow's eyes. "Really? Do you mean it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't," Rainbow told her.

"So, do you think…?" Scootaloo trailed off.

"What?" Rainbow asked.

"No, it's stupid."

"Come on, I want to hear it."

Scootaloo hesitated for a moment. "Do you think I could use my scooter as my weapon?"

Rainbow's smile widened. "Well, maybe not your current scooter, considering it doesn't exactly transform into anything, but a scooter? Sure, I don't see why not."

"Really?" Ms. Lofty asked. "I thought you might talk her out of that idea."

"It's not a bad idea," Rainbow told her.

"It's a scooter!" Ms. Lofty declared.

"And there's a guy in the Academy who plays a trumpet as his weapon," Rainbow pointed out. "And it doesn't even turn into a gun. Besides, I'm betting a scooter would hurt if it ran into you hard enough. Now, I admit that I'm not a weapons expert, and we'd really need Twilight to actually make this dream come true, but what about … does anyone have a napkin and a pencil?"

"Would you girls like some pie while you work?" Ms. Holiday asked, getting up and starting to clear away the dishes.

Rainbow looked at her. "Ms. Holiday, you don't have to—"

"Oh, like I could serve up dessert and leave you sitting there with nothing," Ms. Holiday said. "It's Lofty's cookie dough pie, and there's whipped cream."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?" Rainbow asked. "Thanks Ms. Holiday, and thank you for making it, Ms. Lofty."

"Scootaloo?"

"Yes please, Aunt Holiday."

"Here's a napkin and a pencil," Aunt Lofty said, pushing both across the dining room table. "But are you sure you wouldn't rather have a real sheet of paper?"

"Maybe later," Rainbow said. "But Twilight says that all her best ideas start with a napkin. She told me once that she got the idea for Wings of Harmony from a ketchup stain."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I don't get it either, but it seems to work for her," Rainbow said. "Anyway, thanks for both of these. Now, Scootaloo, where do you want to start?"

"An awesome name?"

Rainbow chuckled. "The awesome name comes at the end, once you have the thing that you're naming," she said. "The first thing you want to do is decide what it is that you want. Well, we've kind of got there already; you want a scooter, right?"

"Right!"

"Okay, a scooter. Let's start with a pretty basic thing," Rainbow murmured, as she started to sketch out a standard scooter, not too different from the kind that Scootaloo rode at the moment. "But, let's put an engine on there."

"Why?" Scootaloo asked.

"First, because you can go faster that way," Rainbow said. "Second, you won't tire yourself from pushing it along. Say you couldn't get picked up by air, and you had to go a long distance by scooter, you'd want the motor to make it easier. Speaking of which, say we lengthened the board so that your partner can ride on it as well—"

"What if," Scootaloo said, "we didn't do that but we had something that I could pull along behind the scooter, like that wagon that I used to use to drag Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle around in?"

"Now that is a cool idea," Rainbow said. "What if that had wheels, but it also had some gravity dust, so that it could float over rough terrain?"

"What if the scooter did too?"

"Oh, yeah, this is going to be the greatest weapon ever."

They talked, and they drew, running out of space on the napkin and moved on to regular sheets of paper, and as they talked and drew, they ate delicious cookie dough pie and whipped cream — Ms. Lofty really knew how to bake; she might even be better than Pinkie, for now at least.

They discussed how many different weapons the scooter should be transform into, starting with two — a gun and a close combat weapon — but moving up to three, four, five, before deciding that might be a bit much and going down to three again, but they could make up for it by having the wagon transform into a support weapon! Or more than one even!

When they showed this to Twilight, she was probably going to say it was wildly impractical, and they needed to scale back their ambitions, but for tonight, they were not just designing a super awesome weapon; they were having fun doing it.

And if that wasn't exactly the most important thing, then it was, at least, a very important thing.

 

[ScipioSmith]

A Blessing Sought​

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Twilight asked.

Penny tilted her head a little to one side. "Are you asking if I want to transfer to Beacon, or tell my father?"

"Well, I suppose I was thinking more about the second than the first one," Twilight replied. "But if you're having second thoughts about the first one, you can tell me that too."

Penny smiled. The two of them were sitting in the lobby of the Office of Research and Development, seated upon a soft blue sofa that was one of the only spots of colour in the otherwise white, sterile environment. An NCO in the white non-combat uniform of the Atlesian forces sat behind a desk and a protective screen on the other side of the room, flanked by a pair of armed guards, their faces concealed beneath their helmets. White AK-200 androids stood at the security booths that scanned the passes of those coming in and out of the building. As it was morning, far more people were going in than coming out, a river of people in lab coats and suits, scanning their authorisation passes with little beeps as they passed through the scanners.

Twilight was wearing her own pass around her neck; Penny didn't have one, but the NCO on the desk had given her a guest pass which would enable her to get through the scanners for today only.

But they had not yet gone in. Instead, they sat on the sofa in the lobby, waiting as the people streamed in past them, occasionally pausing to say hello to Twilight.

"I'm not having second thoughts about it," Penny said gently, with a smile on her face. "That, to go to Beacon, is what I want."

"Is it?" Twilight asked. "Or do you just want to be where your friends are?"

Penny frowned in confusion. "I … don't understand the difference?"

"If you want to be a huntress, you just don't want to be at the beck and call of the Atlesian military, then transfer to Beacon," Twilight told her. "I think that's probably why every Atlesian at Beacon, like Flash or Weiss Schnee, chooses Beacon Academy over Atlas. But only if you want to be a huntress. If not, if all that you want is to be by your friends, then by all means, live in Vale, but you don't have to go to Beacon to do that. Do you want to be a huntress? Or is there something else that you would rather be?"

Penny did not reply immediately, her mind whirring as she considered the question. "I don't know," Penny admitted. "I don't know if there is anything I would rather be than a huntress, because I haven't been given the chance to find out." She could not prevent her tone from sharpening into something accusative at those words, and she was not altogether sure that she wanted to. "I was created to be a huntress, to fight, not to do anything else."

Twilight winced. "Yes, yes, I know. But if you want to assert your freedom and be more than … than you were created to be, then … then you can be something else, if you want."

"Like what?" Penny asked.

"I … I think that's up to you, Penny."

"But I have no idea," Penny pointed out. "Maybe I will have some idea later, and if I do, then I can do what you suggest: drop out of Beacon but stay in Vale to pursue … whatever it is that I decide to do, but until then, isn't Beacon as good a place as any to figure that out?"

Twilight smiled. "Well, I suppose you make a pretty good point there," she accepted.

"And besides," Penny added, "just because I don't want to do exactly what my father created me for, doesn't mean that…?"

Twilight waited for her to continue. "Penny?" she prompted.

"Ruby makes it seem very noble, doesn't she?" Penny asked. "To be a huntress?"

Twilight covered her mouth with one hand as she let out a little chuckle. "Yes. Yes, I suppose she does," she said. "In part because it is noble, inherently so, and so Ruby isn't required to conjure virtue where none exists. But, yes, I grant you, she makes it sound very grand."

"Even if the reason I can fight is because I was created to, that doesn't change the fact that I can fight," Penny declared. "And so I don't know if I could just walk away especially with…" She paused for a moment, looking around to see if anyone was listening. "Especially not with what we know about … you know."

Twilight nodded, freeing Penny from the need to actually say it. "I can understand that, Penny, that … that speaks well of you, not that you need my approval on your character."

"I was made to fight the battles that they never could," Penny declared. "Just because I don't want to fight those battles under the colours of Atlas doesn't mean that I don't want to fight them at all."

Twilight smiled. "You sounded pretty noble yourself there." She hesitated, looking down at her hands where they lay in her lap. "I feel as though I owe you an apology, Penny."

Penny blinked. "For what?"

"For the fact that I'm a coward, for one," Twilight admitted. "I … I saw the issues with you — no, not with you, the issues with what we were doing to you, with what we planned to do with you — earlier than Rainbow Dash, certainly earlier than Ciel. I should have talked to General Ironwood, I should have talked to your father, but I didn't. I let Rainbow put my fears at ease, and then I didn't really think much about it afterwards, because … because I suppose I didn't really want to think about it. I didn't want to look things in the eye or sully my idea of Atlas with the fact of what we had done."

"I suppose, if you hadn't done it, then I wouldn't be here, would I?" Penny asked.

"No," Twilight acknowledged. "No, I guess not. All the same, I still feel as though I owe you an apology for not acting sooner, not fighting for you, for not pushing Rainbow Dash to see what was really going on with you. And most of all, for not reaching out to you." She reached out now, even as the words passed her lips, and took Penny's hands in her own. Her hands were soft, and her grip was gentle. "The fact that you want to go to Beacon is … proof of our failure, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Penny replied. A hiccup escaped her lips.

Twilight laughed. "You're a very kind girl, Penny, but a very bad liar." She paused a moment. "All right, you definitely want to go to Beacon. But are you certain that you want to tell your father about it? Doctor Polendina—"

"Might try to stop me?" Penny asked. "That isn't his decision, is it?"

"Technically, no," Twilight replied. "But power is not simply a matter of what the rules say or who has the defined authority; it exists in influence and who knows who and words spoken in the right ear. Jacques Schnee has no formal power outside of the Schnee Dust Company, but he remains one of the most powerful men in the kingdom regardless, because his wealth and status accord him a great deal of influence. Your father is not of that order, but he has influence all the same. Influence that he may use against you. I probably shouldn't be encouraging you to lie, but…"

"I have to tell him," Penny said. "I think I have to tell him. I have to tell him because … because he's dying, and I'd rather that … I suppose I'd rather that we could be father and daughter before that happens, rather than me running away and not speaking to him again before … before. Dad says that I'll have to live with that if I do."

"'Dad'? Twilight asked.

"Pietro," Penny explained.

Twilight's eyebrows rose. "You've spoken to Doctor Pietro?"

"He called me last night," Penny explained. "Rainbow Dash gave him my number."

"Huh," Twilight said. "That … huh. Good for her, so she really did go and see him."

"Regardless of how my father has treated me," Penny said, "I'll have to live with how I treat my father."

"That … that's very wise, Penny," Twilight said. "And very kind."

Penny leaned forward a little. "I could still use some moral support, though."

Twilight chuckled. "Of course. Are you ready?"

"Yes. I think so," Penny said. "I mean, yes. I mean … yes. Yes, I'm ready."

"Okay then," Twilight said, in a calm voice that helped Penny to feel calm as well. "Let's get to it."

Twilight allowed Penny to go through the scanners first, her guest pass making a different sort of sound to the regular passes that everyone else was using — or the pass that Twilight used to follow her through. Penny's pass had a sort of whine about it, something which — once noticed — she could not unnotice.

She didn't like coming here. It seemed like the whole building was conspiring to make her feel different.

They managed to get an elevator all by themselves, just Penny and Twilight riding the lift up to her father's office on the fifth floor. That was good, because it meant that there was nobody else in the elevator with them, but it was also bad because it meant that Penny was left alone with her thoughts, since Twilight wasn't saying very much.

Twilight seemed a little nervous, playing with the hem of her skirt with both hands, and Penny honestly couldn't blame her. She felt pretty nervous herself. This was the right thing to do, as Dad had pointed out to her, but that didn't make it easy. Especially since her father was not always an easy person to deal with, a fact made worse by the fact that she couldn't be sure which version of her father she was going to get: the one who had asserted his power over her, or the one who had listened with interest to her stories about her friends and her time at Beacon. Which one was in the lab today, which would she find when she walked through that door?

"Do you know what he's going to be like today?" Penny asked quietly.

Twilight looked at her, frowning a little behind her glasses. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I asked Moondancer to make sure that Doctor Polendina took his medication this morning, but whether or not he actually did … I don't know. I'm sorry, Penny, I just can't say for sure."

"I … I see," Penny murmured. "I suppose we'll just have to see then, won't we?"

The elevator door opened, and Penny stepped tentatively out into the grey metallic corridor. She looked around, half expecting to see her father waiting for her, but of course, it was not so: her father was in his lab, and the corridor was empty.

Penny found that she had clasped her hands together as she walked down the corridor towards her father's lab.

She had been here before, many times. She'd been here as recently as yesterday, as part of the battery of tests that her father had put her through. But this time … this time felt different. This time, her steps felt heavier; this time, she felt an urge to turn around and walk the other way, to get back into the elevator, to go somewhere else.

But she'd have to live with it if she did, just like Dad said.

And so, her hands clasped together, rubbing them together as though she were washing them, Penny made her way towards the door.

She stopped in front of it. She was very still, completely and utterly still, as still as if she'd been powered down. She stood in front of the door and froze.

She felt Twilight's hand upon her shoulder. "Penny?" she whispered.

Penny blinked. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Twilight was silent for a moment, her mouth hanging open. "He … your father, he … I'm sorry, Penny." She embraced her by both shoulders, pulling her in, so that Penny's shoulder was resting upon her chest. "You don't have to do this. Nobody will fault you if you don't."

"I will," Penny replied. "I … I have to do this."

Twilight hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Penny whispered. She hiccupped.

"Penny," Twilight murmured reproachfully.

"I have to do this," Penny insisted. "I want to do this."

"Okay," Twilight said gently, as she released Penny. "I'm right here. I know that that doesn't mean that much to you, but I'm right here."

"Thank you," Penny said quietly.

She looked at the door and wished that she needed to breathe so that she could take a deep breath.

She had to be brave. She had to be brave like … brave like Sunset. All of her friends were brave, but Sunset had the particular kind of bravery that Penny felt she needed right now, the kind of bravery that acted like it wasn't afraid of anything, the kind that could walk into a room like it owned it, the kind that could face down those who were much more powerful than you.

Penny remembered under Mountain Glenn, when Salem had appeared before them. Salem had ignored her; she hadn't said anything to her, not specifically, not the way that she'd gone after Pyrrha or Ruby or Rainbow or Ciel. She hadn't said anything to Penny, but Penny had been paralysed nonetheless. She hadn't been able to move, able to fight, not even able to say anything. In her head … in her head, she'd seen herself being ripped apart, unable to cry out as her systems failed and her limbs were torn from her body.

Unable to help her friends as they cried out for her.

She'd seen herself a failure.

Penny hadn't been able to respond to Salem, but Sunset had; even though it was Salem, Sunset hadn't put up with it.

Penny felt that she could do with being that kind of brave right now.

But she didn't know how to be brave like Sunset, so she would have to just try and be brave like herself and hope it was enough.

After all, wasn't she doing this so that she could be herself?

Penny took a step forward, and the door slid open for her, revealing her father's lab. Penny walked inside, with Twilight following quickly behind her.

Her father was standing at the table, gesticulating with one hand as he said something to Moondancer that Penny couldn't make out.

"Father?" Penny said.

Doctor Polendina turned to look at her, his eyes widening with surprise. "Penny," he said. "I wasn't expecting you today. You're not due in for any more tests." He frowned. "Moondancer… is Penny—?"

"No, Doctor, she isn't," Moondancer said softly. She smiled. "Good morning, Penny."

"Good morning, Moondancer," Penny said. To her father, she said. "I actually came here to talk to you, Father."

"Really?" Doctor Polendina asked. "Of course. Of course! Um, why don't you, uh, why don't you sit down over there? You too, Twilight, how are you? I wasn't expecting you today either; I thought you had the day off."

"I do, Doctor," Twilight said, "but Penny asked me if I'd come with her."

"Why?" Doctor Polendina asked. "Penny, you don't need an escort to come and see your father."

Don't I? Penny thought. "Father … there's something important that I need to talk to you about."

"Sit down first, Penny," Doctor Polendina said.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Penny said.

"Sit down, Penny," Doctor Polendina commanded.

"No, Father," Penny replied, more forcefully this time.

Doctor Polendina blinked rapidly. He breathed deeply in and out. One hand clenched into a fist. He looked down at it, and his fist unclenched again. He leaned back against the table, resting both hands upon it, fingers curling around it.

"Very well," he said, his voice sounding brittle. "What's this about? What did you want to say to me?"

Penny hesitated for a moment. "I … I want you to know," she said, her voice faltering a little, "that I'm transferring to Beacon next year, after the Vytal Festival is over."

Doctor Polendina stared at her. "'Transferring,'" he whispered. "Transferring to Beacon?"

"Yes," Penny said, "that's right."

"You'll leave Atlas?"

"Yes," Penny replied. "At least, most of the time. I can come back for the holidays."

"'Back for the holidays,'" Doctor Polendina repeated. He looked away, then looked back at Penny. "Why?" he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

"Because I don't belong to Atlas, or to you, or General Ironwood," Penny said. "I'm myself, and I belong to myself, and I want to go to Beacon. I want to spend the next three years with my friends. I want … I want to go to the school that I want to go to. I want to be able to transfer like any other girl could. I want to be free."

"Like any other girl could," Doctor Polendina echoed her words. "Penny … Penny you're not any other girl—"

"I'm not a machine," Penny insisted.

"No, of course not, never that, but … you require maintenance—"

"Not all the time; I could come back to Atlas for that in between semesters?"

"And why would Atlas bother to maintain a unit from which they obtain no benefit?" Doctor Polendina demanded.

Penny gasped, and so did Twilight behind her. Even Moondancer looked a little shocked.

"Doctor," Moondancer murmured.

"What?" Doctor Polendina snapped. "Moondancer, Twilight, don't look at me that way! You know that I'm speaking the truth. You know that this isn't a charity; we don't do things out of the goodness of our hearts, and if you don't know that already, then it's high time you learned. Why would Atlas be content to spend large sums of lien on maintaining Penny when Penny isn't working for Atlas?"

"Is that what you think, Father?" Penny asked, her voice trembling.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"It does to me," Penny replied. "Would you still want to work on me if I left?"

"That's not the point—"

"Answer me, Father, please."

"Of course I would!" Doctor Polendina shouted, so loud that Penny flinched from the volume in his voice. "Of course I would; do you think that I'd want to see you abandoned just because you've changed uniform? You … you are my…"

He approached her, kneeling down before her, reaching out towards her face, although he didn't quite lay them on her. They remained a few inches away, squirming and wriggling, as though he wished to touch her but did not dare.

"You are my daughter, and my greatest creation. As a father and a scientist both, I could never turn my back on you. I want to see you become all that you can be, I want to see you fulfil the utmost limits of your potential; if it comes to a choice between you and Atlas, then Atlas can drop out of the sky for all I care, but Penny … it isn't up to me. I don't get to make these decisions; the men who hold the purse strings do, and those men don't care about your potential or your choices. All they see is profit and loss, and your work, maintenance, repair if you need it, all of that will cost money, money in the loss column, money for which there is no return. Penny, if you walk away from Atlas, they'll leave you to rot until you end up on a scrapheap."

Penny looked into her father's eyes. "I … I hadn't thought about that," she admitted. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Penny, for God's sake, don't be childish about this!" Doctor Polendina cried.

"What's childish about wanting to walk my own path?" Penny asked.

"It's childish to do something stupid out of nothing more than stubbornness and pride!" Doctor Polendina snapped.

"I'll find a way," Penny declared. "Maybe Ruby can help me with my maintenance, and if not, then we'll find someone else who can, and if not that, then … then maybe I will end up on that scrapheap, but at least it will have been my choice, and no one else's."

"Penny," Doctor Polendina murmured. "This won't be allowed to happen."

"Will … will you … will you stop it?" Penny asked, the question that, of all questions, she most dreaded to ask and yet, at the same time, the question of all questions to which she needed to hear the answer.

Doctor Polendina did not respond. He turned his back on her, his white labcoat swirling about him a little as he turned, before he walked to the table in the centre of the lab and leaned heavily upon it, his arms spread out from his body, his back hunched, his head bowed.

"You want to go to Beacon?" he murmured.

"Yes," Penny replied. "Yes, I do."

"Why?" he asked. "Because of your friends? You could call them."

"That's not the same as being around them all the time," Penny argued.

"You won't be alone, your teammates—"

"They're not the same either," Penny said.

Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment, although his breathing was heavy. Penny could hear it even though there were a few feet of distance between them.

"Father?" she asked, taking a step closer to him, and another.

"You want to go to Beacon?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Then you still want to be…" Doctor Polendina trailed off. "You still want to be a … you still want to be a…" He clicked his fingers. "Fighting, weapons, guns, swords, monsters, killer, what's the word, damnit, why can't I remember the word?"

"Huntress, Doctor?" Twilight suggested.

"Huntress, yes, huntress! Thank you, Twilight, huntress. You still mean to be a huntress, then?"

Penny nodded, even though her father couldn't see that. "Yes. I still want to be a huntress. I still want to protect others and the world. I just don't want to do it at Atlas."

"And do you think that I am so enamoured of Atlesian white that it would make too much difference to me whether you fulfil your destiny in white and grey or in that ugly maroon with that cheque pattern?" Doctor Polendina asked. He paused, his voice becoming quieter. "I don't want you to go."

"Because … because you're dying?" Penny whispered.

Doctor Polendina turned to look at her once again. "Yes," he confessed. "Yes, because I'm dying. You heard that?"

Penny nodded slowly. "I heard."

"When you didn't mention it, I hoped that maybe…" Doctor Polendina said. "I hoped that … I hoped … stupid of me. Foolish. Of course you heard. You heard everything else; why wouldn't you have heard that? But you didn't say anything."

"I wasn't sure what to say," Penny admitted. "Do you … do you know how long you have left?" she asked.

"Not exactly," Doctor Polendina replied. "But not too long."

Penny raised her hands, clasping them together over her heart. "I … I'll be sure to call you."

Doctor Polendina laughed. "It's alright, Penny, you don't have to pretend to … to … you don't have to pretend to … sentiment. Sentimentality, yes, that's the word; you don't have to pretend to sentimentality that you don't possess, don't have to pretend to emotions that you don't feel. I didn't create you because I wanted a daughter to hold my hand and comfort me when I was sick, any more than I wanted one I could walk down the aisle on her wedding day. What I wanted…"

"What you wanted was a legacy," Penny murmured.

Doctor Polendina turned to look at her. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged. He frowned. "Twilight, Moondancer, you're both well educated, and your faculties are still your own. There's a … speech, recitation, what's the word, speaking someone else's words—"

"Quote, Doctor?" Moondancer guessed.

"Quote, yes, there's a quote," Doctor Polendina said, nodding quickly. "A quote, from an old Mistralian story, what is it, what I am thinking of, striving for perfection, a father's advice, what is it—?"

"'Always be the best, the bravest,'" Penny said, "'and hold your head up high amongst the others.' It's from the Mistraliad. Pyrrha told it to me."

"Yes, I suppose Pyrrha Nikos would know it off by heart," Doctor Polendina murmured. "That was … that is all that I want from you, Penny, to … to be the best. To be acclaimed and acknowledged and as the best. To have your greatness recognised, and through your greatness…" He did not say that, and through her greatness, his own would also be recognised, even in death, but Penny could guess that was the part he was not saying. "And you can do that as well in Beacon as you can in Atlas. You can be as well regarded at Beacon as you can in Atlas. All I ask is that you continue to strive for perfection, in the field and in the Vytal Festival."

"I still want to be a huntress," Penny said. "I'd just rather be one with my friends."

"Then I have no objection," Doctor Polendina said. "Although it was still very brave of you to come to me like this. You must have been worried that I would refuse, that I would set my face against it, that I would do all I could to prevent it."

Penny glanced down. "Yes," she admitted. "But I spoke to … to Pietro—"

"Pietro!" Doctor Polendina shouted. "You spoke to Pietro!" He sounded far more upset about that than he seemed to be about her plans to go to Beacon. "How d— how?"

"He called me," Penny said.

"How does he have your number?"

"I … don't know," Penny said, but although she rushed to cover her mouth, she could not stop the hiccup.

Maybe Twilight can reprogram me so that I don't do this any more. I should be allowed to lie if I want to.

Doctor Polendina scowled. "Penny."

"Rainbow Dash gave it to him," Penny admitted.

"Rainbow Dash needs to learn to mind her own business," Doctor Polendina growled. "If you weren't going to leave her next year, I'd demand she be tossed off your team — and out of Atlas too, maybe."

"Why is that such a bad thing?" Penny asked. "Why is this what's upsetting you?"

"Because my brother is weak and short-sighted and childishly naïve, and he doesn't understand!" Doctor Polendina cried. "If you wish to pursue greatness at Beacon instead of Atlas, then I have no objection, one is as good as the other to my mind, but Pietro … I will not have you corrupted by his … his sentiment!"

"He loves you, Father."

"Love? He betrayed me!"

"He was trying to—"

"Now is not the moment to discuss it, Penny," Doctor Polendina declared firmly, his tone as heavy as a door slamming shut. "You have my consent to go, or seek to go, to Beacon; I suggest you content yourself with that."

Penny wasn't sure if he was actually saying that he would prevent her departure if she pressed him on the subject of his brother, but equally, she wasn't sure that she wanted to find out either, and so, she bowed her head and murmured, "Yes, Father."

Doctor Polendina closed his eyes. "Do you … do you really think that they will let you go? General Ironwood, the Council … do you think they'll allow it?"

"Let me worry about that," Penny told him. "I told you because … because I don't want you to think that I just ran away, like last time. I want you to know where I went and why."

Doctor Polendina was quiet for a moment. "I … I have no idea if this will happen, if it will be allowed, if … I have no idea if … I have no idea. But … I know that I haven't been much of a father, nor do I think I have it in me to be, but … but for what it's worth, you have my blessing. Just promise me that you'll never stop trying to … to excel. Don't settle for mediocrity, Penny, never that. That is the only thing that would destroy me, so please, promise me that you will not."

"I … I promise, Father," Penny replied, her voice soft and quiet but nevertheless seeming to echo in the laboratory. "I'll do my best, always."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Requesting Help​

The scroll buzzed as she was getting back aboard the airship.

Rainbow ignored it until the doors to The Bus had closed behind her. She didn't have to even get the device out to know that it wasn't anybody she knew trying to reach her; she'd customised her ringtones — although obviously, she had to put them all on vibrate when she was out in the field — so that if any of her friends had been trying to get hold of her, it would have been playing a unique piece of music for each of them; if they'd been trying to get her as part of a group call, it would have been playing 'Better Than Ever'; if the military had been trying to reach her in an emergency, a klaxon would have started to sound by now; and a call from Penny or Ciel would have been heralded by recordings of their voices.

Although it could be Blake on the other end of the line; Rainbow hadn't set anything up for her yet.

But it was more likely that it was just someone she didn't know trying to get hold of her.

Rainbow yawned as the scroll kept buzzing. She had spent the last night with Scootaloo, Applejack, Apple Bloom, Rarity, and Sweetie Belle doing the Annual Big Sister/Little Sister Camping Trip, because if they didn't take this opportunity, they were going to miss a year — unless anyone fancied a camping trip in winter — and while it had been a ton of fun, nobody went camping to get a lot of sleep.

Don't get her wrong, it had been great sitting out there in the woods, just chilling out with her honorary little sister and her friends, toasting marshmallows and eating hotdogs and telling stories … but it did leave her yawning now as she prepared to fly back to Atlas.

Rainbow got out her scroll. As she'd expected, it was an unknown number. She answered it anyway, tapping the green 'accept call' icon on the off-chance that it might be important.

If it was someone trying to sell her something, she could always hang up.

"Hey, Dash; long time no see."

Rainbow's eyes widened as she looked at the face that appeared on the screen before her: close-cropped white hair and golden eyes set in a sharp, angular face. "Gilda?"

"Surprised to see me, Dashie?" Gilda asked from out of the screen of Rainbow's scroll. "I guess so, seeing as how you didn't tell any of your human friends about me. I have to say: that hurt. I told everybody about you."

"How did you get this number?" Rainbow demanded.

"I got it off your friend Fluttershy when she was…" Gilda hesitated.

"When you were holding her prisoner?" Rainbow suggested in a low growl.

"Don't say it like that; it's not like I hurt her," Gilda replied. "Didn't she tell you that I looked out for her and Applejack when they were down in Mountain Glenn?"

Fluttershy had mentioned that, as it happened, but that didn't mean that Rainbow was particularly eager to give Gilda a lot of credit; after all, she'd only needed to protect Fluttershy and Applejack because the White Fang were holding them prisoner.

"You could have just let them go," she muttered.

"We did," Gilda reminded her.

"Fluttershy, maybe, but not Applejack," Rainbow countered. "And from what Fluttershy said, that was more Adam's doing than yours."

"You think that I could release a high-value prisoner without Adam's say so?" Gilda replied. "Come on, Dash, I'm a soldier, just like you, and just like you, I have a chain of command to follow. I did my best, and they were both safe in the end — they are both okay, aren't they? I mean, I saw Applejack getting on that train with you, but—"

"Applejack is fine," Rainbow told her. "And so is Fluttershy."

"Then what are you complaining to me about?"

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Did you just call me to take credit for not being a complete jackass? Or to complain that I don't talk about you enough? Or are you just upset that I never call you any more?"

"If I was mad about that, I'd have a right to be," Gilda muttered. She paused for a moment. "But no, actually, I called you because … because I need your help."

Rainbow couldn't suppress the scoff, nor keep the incredulity out of her voice. "You want me to help you? After you … you're in the White Fang, and you want me to do you a favour?"

"It isn't for me," Gilda said. "Listen, I know that we're on the opposite sides … and maybe you don't even like me anymore, I don't know, but just hear me out, okay? For old times' sake."

Rainbow scowled as she walked into the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's chair. I guess I don't have to say yes once I've heard her out. "What is it?"

"I know that you're back in Atlas—"

"How do you know that?" Rainbow demanded.

"Because I know you," Gilda said. "Talking to Fluttershy made it clear that you haven't changed since we were kids. You went through some stuff down in Mountain Glenn, but now that the semester is over, you went home to Atlas where you could hang out with your friends before the Vytal Festival and make yourself feel better."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to spend time with my friends," Rainbow said defensively.

"I didn't say there was," Gilda said. "I'm glad that you're in Atlas; you wouldn't be any good to me in Vale."

"Why not? What's this about, G?" Rainbow demanded.

"People are disappearing in Low Town," Gilda said. "No, before you ask, I'm not in Atlas, but unlike you, I kept in touch with a few people back in Low Town, and they called me because they couldn't think of who else to turn to. People are disappearing; they're being taken in the night."

"'Taken'?" Rainbow frowned. "Taken by who?"

"Nobody knows," Gilda said. "Nobody sees it happening."

"Then how do they know these people are being taken?" Rainbow asked. "Maybe they're just—"

"Running?" Gilda suggested. "Running where, Dashie? It's a frozen tundra out there; don't tell me you've been up in the clouds so long that you've forgotten what the ground is like."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Come on, you're being ridiculous; we both know that you wouldn't even have to leave Low Town to disappear; maybe they're just … maybe they're not happy with their parents or their wives or whatever, so they're hiding out with friends or something."

"Come on, Rainbow Dash, if it was that simple, people wouldn't be calling me for help," Gilda said. "And besides, it isn't just people with reason to disappear; it's people who were happy, who had good lives, or as good lives as you can get down in Low Town."

"Other people thought they had good lives."

"The local White Fang tried to do something about the disappearances," Gilda said. "They organised a neighbourhood watch, lookouts on the streets, but the lookouts disappeared too; now does that sound like unhappy people running away from home?"

No, no it honestly didn't. None of what Gilda had said was proof of foul play, but that last part came very close. "So you come to me," Rainbow said. "Is this your way of trying to get me killed?"

Gilda rubbed her eyes, as though Rainbow wasn't the only one who hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night. "I'm gonna level with you, Rainbow: the White Fang in Atlas is … not the strongest. All the good fighters leave for places where it's more of a fair fight. All that's left are recruiters and punk kids and a few old-timers. It's enough to scare off dealers or small time crooks, but if something bad is going down … it isn't enough."

That made sense. Even if the White Fang brought all of its strength to Atlas, there was no way that they could win a fight against the Atlesian military in its own home and the heart of its strength; that being the case, it made sense that all the tough guys left Atlas to go places where they might actually win an engagement.

"Has anybody called the police?" Rainbow asked.

Gilda rolled her eyes. "When were the police last interested in helping out the faunus?"

"That's not fair."

"You say it isn't fair, I say it's the truth, and the fact is that, even if the cops really wanted to help, nobody wants to talk to them," Gilda said. "You remember what it was like: All Cops Are—"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Rainbow muttered. "So even if I talked to the cops, nobody would talk to them, is that it?"

"Nobody's sure the cops aren't the ones behind the disappearances," Gilda said. She sighed. "Dash, you're the only person I know who can take care of herself and… and who won't ask me to give up intel in exchange for getting off your butt to do something about this."

"How do you know I won't?"

Gilda hesitated. "I guess I'm just hoping you won't," she said. "These used to be your people too, Dash. You may hang out with a bunch of fancy humans now, but you're still one of us. This is your chance to give something back. To prove that you're still one of the good guys."

"I am one of the good guys!" Rainbow said indignantly. But there was no point in debating this with Gilda, especially not when people's lives were at stake.

Like Gilda had said, these had been her people once.

Like Blake had told her, they were still her people.

"Is there anything else?" she asked.

"Not that I know of," Gilda replied.

"Okay," Rainbow said. "I'll go down there myself and see what I can do."

"You mean you'll help?"

"People are getting kidnapped; of course I'll help," Rainbow said sharply.

Gilda nodded. A grin spread across her face. "Good to see the old Rainbow Dash is still in there."

"Will you get off that high horse and stop talking to me like I'm some kind of … forget it," Dash said. She made to end the call, but something stopped her, held her thumb in place. "Hey, Gilda, can I ask you something?"

"What about?"

Rainbow hesitated, wondering how embarrassing this would be to ask. "Do your parents know that you're in the White Fang?"

Gilda's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?"

"Because I wrote to my parents—"

"Really?" Gilda asked. "You wrote to your parents?"

"Shut up," Rainbow snapped. "The point is that I told them you were in management, and I'm going to look pretty stupid if my folks have already found out from your folks what you really do."

Gilda paused for a moment. "'Management,' huh?" she said, smiling as she mimed adjusting a non-existent collar and tie with one hand. "That … that's pretty cool, Rainbow Dash, thanks."

"So that's a no, then?"

"I told my parents I work construction in Vale," Gilda said. "I'll have to tell them that I got a big promotion the next time I write. How come?"

"How come you got a promotion?" Rainbow asked. "I don't know; it's your fake career, you figure it out."

"How come you didn't tell your parents the truth?" Gilda demanded.

"Why would I?" asked Rainbow. "I'll kill you if I have to, but there's no reason I have to embarrass you first."

Gilda chuckled. "I appreciate that, Dash, and I appreciate you looking into this stuff in Low Town even more."

"I'm not doing it for you," Rainbow told her.

"You keep telling yourself that," Gilda said. "Good hunting." She hung up.

Rainbow stared at the blank screen for a moment before she folded up her scroll.

Well, I guess I know what I'm doing today.

I wonder how Blake's feeling?

Rainbow probably shouldn't approach Blake with this; she'd come to Atlas for a rest, after all, not a busman's holiday. Fluttershy would undoubtedly have words when Rainbow showed up at her house, asking to take Blake out on a sort-of mission. But Rainbow could use the help, and it wasn't as though there were any better choices; Ciel was in Mantle, and the arguments against disturbing Blake applied to her and to Applejack as well — they'd all been through a lot, and they all deserved a break; Rainbow really didn't want to drag Applejack away from her family after she'd only just returned to them. Penny would jump at the chance if Rainbow asked, but if Doctor Polendina found out, then he'd kill Rainbow's career — or just kill Rainbow, depending on how he was feeling — and, to be honest, Low Town wasn't exactly the kind of place for a nice girl like Penny.

Not to mention that all of the above had the disadvantage of being human — or looking human, in Penny's case — while a faunus, especially a faunus of Blake's background, would be a lot more help in finding out what was going on beneath the shadow of Atlas.

She doesn't have to fight. She can just help me ask questions, talk to people, and I'll break any heads we have to when we find out who's responsible.

She doesn't even have to come if she doesn't want to.

But she'll absolutely want to. With her sense of justice, she'd want to pitch in even if she was bleeding from a half-dozen bullet holes.

Rainbow put her scroll away and started her pre-flight checks.

XxXxX​

"Sir," Winter's voice came in loud and clear over the comms. "We have Rainbow Dash on the line; she's requesting to speak with you."

Glad of the break, Ironwood minimised the report he'd been looking at — Captain Ebi was an exceptional huntsman, but he went through airships at a rate that was approaching ridiculous — and said, "Put her through to my office, Schnee; thank you."

"Aye aye, sir," Winter replied.

Ironwood was a little surprised when Rainbow's face didn't appear on the screen, projected up from his desk. However, he still heard her voice as clearly as if she were in the room with him.

"Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, sir."

"Not at all, Dash; it's good to hear your voice," Ironwood said. "How are things up there?"

Dash was quiet for a moment. "It's … been a bit of a mixed bag, I'm afraid, sir. I'm not sure Ciel's doing too good."

Ironwood frowned. He had always thought Soleil was the least likely member of Team RSPT to allow anything to get to her. "Cause?"

"Family trouble, sir; I'm not sure it's my place to say more," Dash replied. "Not to mention, we had a run in with the Happy Huntresses."

"Was anyone hurt?" Ironwood said.

"No, sir," Dash said. "Well, the guy they shot was more than hurt, but he wasn't one of us, and he had it coming."

Ironwood's eyes narrowed, for all that he knew Dash couldn't see it. "Do you want to tell me what you were doing at the scene of a murder committed by the Happy Huntresses, Dash?"

"We were trying to apprehend a murderer, sir — not the Happy Huntresses, the guy they shot — but it, well, it's fair to say things didn't quite work out."

"I think you owe me a report on this, Dash," Ironwood said.

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

"Penny's back on her feet if you want some better news, sir," Dash said, her tone brightening. "I've got something to talk to you about regarding Penny, but I'd rather discuss it in person."

"Speaking of which, is there a reason I can't see your face right now?"

"I'm flying, sir," Dash answered. "Just had a weekend pass in Canterlot."

"I see. How's Scootaloo?"

"Very well, sir; thank you for asking."

"Don't mention it," Ironwood said. "And Belladonna?"

"Settling in nicely, sir; I think we've got her hooked," Dash declared. "Not that she's a fish. Or that I'm scamming her. I just meant—"

"I know what you meant, Dash, and that's good news," Ironwood replied. "Atlas can use all the good men it can get, and huntresses like Belladonna are hard to come by. Now, did you call me just to catch up, or is there something I should know?"

"I'd like your permission to investigate some disappearances in Low Town, sir," Dash said. "Faunus have been going missing, and I'd like to look into it."

Ironwood frowned. "I haven't heard anything about that."

"Probably because it's happening in Low Town, sir."

"Then how did you hear about it, Dash?"

Dash hesitated. "Anonymous tip, sir?"

"Dash."

"I'd really rather not say, sir," Dash said. "But I trust the source."

"And I trust you, Dash," Ironwood murmured. "But if this is happening, why hasn't it come to notice through any official channels; why hasn't it been reported?"

"Because I'm sad to say that nobody trusts the authorities down there, sir," Dash said. "Even if the police tried to investigate, people wouldn't talk to them."

"But they'll talk to you," Ironwood said. "Because you used to live there?"

"If they talk to me, sir, it won't be because I used to live there," Dash replied. "But I'm hoping they'll look past that and talk to me because I'm a faunus. And I know the area, or at least I used to, which is more than anyone else who could look into this could say. And I was asked to handle this personally, and I gave my word that I would; I can't just hand this off to someone else, especially when that someone might be busy, or not care, or have other things to pay attention to." Dash paused. "And … may I speak freely, sir?"

"Go ahead, Dash."

"If you trust me to fight Salem, I don't see why you can't trust me to investigate some disappearances," Dash said.

Ironwood let out a small chuckle. "How can I argue with that? Okay, Dash, you can take the lead on this; anyone gives you any trouble, tell them to contact me. However, if your investigation turns up anything, I expect you to pass it back up to me before you act on your intel, understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"And I hope you're not thinking of taking this on by yourself," Ironwood added.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Rainbow said. "I'm on my way to get my backup right now."

XxXxX​

Weiss stood in her room with Myrtenaster drawn.

She had pushed the four-poster bed aside, and the dressing table and the little bench that sat in front of the bed, creating an open space on the pristine floor with its reflective blue tiles where she could practice her blade work.

She would not conjure glyphs, not right now. It might come later, but for now, she would only practice with the blade, practicing her stances.

She stood nearly against the wall, her rapier raised in a high guard, her free hand held out before her, pointing at a target she could see only in her mind's eye.

She stepped forward, lunging with Myrtenaster, the tip of her blade gleaming in the light that streamed in from the window.

Weiss turned, spinning on her toe with the elegance and grace of a ballerina, slashing swiftly before raising her blade in another guard, her sword arm raised across her neck, Myrtenaster held at eye-level.

She lunged again, spun again, and was about to turn to face another imaginary opponent coming in on her flank when she saw that her door had been opened.

Whitley stood in the doorway, lounging against the door frame.

"Whitley!" Weiss squawked in surprise as she came to a stop. "What are you doing in here?"

"The door wasn't locked," Whitley observed.

"That doesn't mean I don't have some expectation of privacy!" Weiss declared.

Whitley raised one eyebrow. "Were you doing something that required privacy?"

Weiss lowered Myrtenaster. "I'm not sure what Father would say about me practicing inside the house."

"If you think that Father will respect your privacy, then you've been away for too long," Whitley observed. "And you do need to learn to lock the door." He paused for a moment. "But your secret's safe with me."

Weiss took a deep breath. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Was there something that you wanted?"

"Klein would like to see you downstairs, in the kitchen," Whitley said.

Weiss frowned. "Klein would like to see me?"

"Yes. Isn't that what I just said?"

"Since when do you deliver messages for Klein?"

Whitley rolled his eyes. "Just come down to the kitchen, won't you? It might be important."

"'Might be'?"

"Will you just come and see for yourself?" Whitley asked. "It will be easier than me trying to explain … well, I'm not sure that I could explain. I promise, you'll be able to get back to flicking your sword around very soon. Probably."

Weiss hesitated, but she was … somewhat intrigued by what had brought about this turn of events. It wasn't usual for Whitley to run errands for the butler — the butler was supposed to serve them, not the other way around — and it wasn't usual for Klein to summon her down to the kitchen either. She might visit him there, from time to time, but if Klein desperately wanted to talk to her, then there was no reason he couldn't have come to find her in her room.

What was it that was down there, that Whitley couldn't explain?

The only way to sate her curiosity was to actually go down to the kitchen to find out, so Weiss put Myrtenaster back in its wooden case with the glass lid and walked towards the door.

Whitley led the way, although Weiss could have found the way well enough without his assistance.

The Schnee Manor was spacious, absurdly so, with corridors that had been built for people on average ten to twelve feet tall — or so it seemed from the scale of the building — while the halls seemed made for people even larger still. Weiss was … not the tallest of girls, and Whitley was more or less of a height with her, so they were both dwarfed by the grand scale of the house in which they lived. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a cool, almost icy blue, which gave the house a cold and almost sterile air. There was very little in way of decoration on the walls, no family portraits, no old masters, no paintings expensively acquired from the great artists of the day; only some giant suits of armour — nearing twenty feet in height, she thought, far too large for any living man to wear — standing on either side of the grand staircase, and a sculpture of a king taijitu, carved out of white marble, sitting in the centre of the hall.

It was a large house, and a quiet one too; in all this entire mansion, in all these hundreds of rooms, in this place that was as large as a small town, only Weiss, Whitley, her parents, and Klein lived — there were some other staff who worked occasionally, but none of them dwelt here, and there were certainly not enough of them to fill out this house.

This enormous space was largely empty, and being empty, it was largely silent; the footsteps of Weiss and Whitley echoed in the vast corridors, reverberating back at them in the absence of all other sounds.

Weiss remembered Laberna telling her that this house had rung with laughter and good cheer in her grandfather's day … but that was a long time ago now, and just as long passed. Silence ruled here now.

The House of Schnee resembled more a tomb than the home of a living family.

But then, we never were much of a family, were we?

Below stairs, things felt slightly warmer, not least because the décor was different; white, such as tiled the kitchen walls, was not necessarily warmer than royal blue, but it felt warmer, although perhaps that was nothing more than Weiss' imagination supplying things that were not strictly there, but which felt true.

It was warmer below stairs, not least for Klein's presence.

Klein was in the kitchen as Weiss and Whitley entered, and so too, sitting at the white table which sat in the centre of the kitchen, was a young girl, a faunus with reddish-brown hair and raccoon ears, dressed in ragged homespun clothes, eating a cookie.

Eating it messily, with crumbs accumulating on both sides of her mouth.

Eating it ravenously, cramming it into her mouth as though she were afraid it would be snatched away from her at any moment.

She swallowed the last of the cookie and then grabbed the cup of some hot drink — it was steaming, but Weiss couldn't make out what was inside — and swallowed a great draught of it.

"Careful," Klein admonished her, although the reproach was undercut by the amusement in his voice. "We don't want you to choke now, do we?"

The little girl put down the cup, and was about to grab for another cookie — a plate of them sat on the table — when she saw Weiss, and Whitley behind her.

She gasped. "M-Miss Winter?"

"No," Weiss said. "I'm her younger sister, Weiss."

"As I told you, child, Miss Winter doesn't live here any more," Klein said.

"Do you know how to reach her?" the little girl asked.

"We do," Weiss allowed. "But she's in Vale at the moment."

"But I hope that Miss Weiss may be able to help you," Klein added, turning away from the girl to look at Weiss.

Weiss raised one curious eyebrow.

"This young lady," Klein said, "has come a very long way at great difficulty to be here, Miss Weiss. I would take it as a personal favour to me if you would hear her out."

Weiss was silent for a moment, looking down at the girl in front of her. The way that she ate, the speed with which she ate … this was someone poor and hungry. The way she dressed, and unfortunately her race, they combined to make her stick out as someone who did not belong in the Schnee Manor.

But then, considering the state of the Schnee Manor, that might be something of a compliment.

She smiled; even if it was rather a public smile that didn't reach her eyes, she hoped it would put the girl at ease. "Hello," she said. "I'm Weiss Schnee. You wanted to see my sister, Winter?"

The girl nodded silently.

"I'm sorry that isn't possible," Weiss said. "But if you'd like to tell me your business, perhaps there is something that I or Klein or my brother can do to help instead."

"I hate to say it, but I think you're the only one who can likely do anything in this situation," Whitley murmured.

Weiss ignored that, even as she wondered at it. To the girl, she said, "Would you like to tell me why you're here?"

The girl hesitated for a moment, before words began to pour out of her in a great flood. "My older sister's missing," she said. "She disappeared the night before last, the same way that all the people are disappearing lately. Nobody knows where she is, nobody knows where any of them are, and the police aren't interested, but my grandma said that Miss Winter would be able to help us. She said Miss Winter was a good person, who'd listen to me. Are you sure that she isn't here?"

"Your grandmother," Weiss murmured. "What's her name?"

"Uh, Laberna Seacole."

Weiss leaned back in her seat. Of course that's who it is. Laberna Seacole had been their nanny when Weiss was a girl; with Mother and Father both busy with the work of the company and their position in Atlas society, the task of raising the children had often fallen on Klein and Laberna. She'd been dismissed when Weiss was nine — when Whitley was six years old, Father had decided that the children were too old to need a nanny to look after them — but Weiss still had many pleasant memories of the old woman: her patience, her encouragement, her wisdom.

In more recent years, she had found herself wondering — as she sometimes found herself wondering about Klein — how much of the affection she had received from Laberna had been because the old woman had been paid to bestow it upon her. There was no way to find out for sure, and to be honest, Weiss had come to the conclusion that it didn't really matter: even if Laberna had only said what Weiss wanted to hear, it didn't change the fact that she had given Weiss what she needed, when she needed it. Even if she'd just been doing her job, that didn't change the fact that she had been a great help to Weiss in some rather troubled times.

And now her granddaughter was missing, and she was asking them for help. Well, technically, she was asking Winter for help, but Winter wasn't here, and she wasn't exactly able to leave her post in Vale and return to Atlas.

Now she understood what Whitley meant when he said that she was the only one who could do anything about this. It wasn't as if her brother, untrained, bereft of the Schnee semblance, without even his aura unlocked, was going to be able to investigate disappearances in … whatever poor part of Atlas this girl had come from.

And Klein … Klein was a first rate butler, but he was not a warrior.

No, there was only Weiss.

The possibility that this was all some kind of elaborate trap did not escape Weiss' mind; after all, she had no way of knowing that this girl really was the granddaughter of her old nanny, or that the old woman really had sent for her. This might have been a way to lure her out to grab her, although that would require them to know that she was here and Winter wasn't. It was a possibility but somehow … somehow, she didn't think it was a likely one.

From the way that he was looking at her, his eyes shining with hope, it seemed that Klein didn't think it a likely possibility either. He had been close with Laberna, Weiss remembered; the two of them had understood each other, shared similar burdens, shared — she hoped — an affection for their Schnee charges.

He, it seemed, believed the girl, even if only because he wished to.

"It's rather an absurd story to invent if it were not the truth, don't you think?" Whitley said softly.

"It is true!" the Seacole girl insisted.

"I believe you," Whitley assured her. "As I just said to my sister."

He had a point, to be sure. What were the odds that some faunus girl, wholly unconnected with Laberna Seacole, would know that she had been employed by the Schnees, and would make their way to Schnee Manor, sneak inside and spin a yarn about needing assistance without it being true? What were the odds that any faunus girl unconnected with Laberna Seacole would expect any assistance from a Schnee? It was not as though their name was in good odour with the faunus at the moment.

It had to be true, because it was too improbable to be anything else.

"If you'd told me," Weiss said, "I would have brought Myrtenaster down with me." She looked down at herself, dressed in a gown of royal blue that reached all the way down to the floor. "Although perhaps I should change into something more suitable," she added dryly.

To the Seacole girl, Weiss said, "I'm sorry that my sister Winter isn't here at the moment, but I am a huntress of Beacon Academy, and I am going to assist you in my sister's stead."

It was the only thing she could do for Laberna Seacole.

Alright, it wasn't the only thing she could do; she could — perhaps — have waved the Schnee name like a banner and forced the police to take notice of this disappearance. But she didn't want to. She wanted to get out of this house, she wanted to do something useful and helpful, she wanted to be a huntress. She wanted to be a huntress, and there were people in need of her assistance, so why should she not — how could she not — leave the house and provide the help that they required and had requested of her?

"Klein," she said, "will you keep our guest comfortable until I'm ready to leave?"

Klein smiled. "Of course, Miss Schnee."

Weiss smiled back and turned around to see Whitley standing behind her with a bit of a smirk on his face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"It's funny," Whitley said. "You're undoubtedly being incredibly foolish, and yet, at the same time, I find I rather admire you for it. Try not to die, won't you?"

It occurred to her that Whitley's words to her upon arriving at the house might not have been as hostile as they had seemed; that he might, in a very poorly worded way, have been trying to express concern for her.

"I'll do my best," she said in reply.

"I don't suppose there's anyone who could go with you?" Whitley asked. "Someone suitable for this sort of thing, some durable barbarian who can, what's the phrase, 'watch your back'?"

"I'm afraid I don't know any durable barbarians," Weiss said. "But as for company, I think I know just the person."

She walked out of the kitchen — Whitley made way for her — and as she walked up the stairs towards the ground floor, Weiss got out her scroll.

It took only a moment for her to find the number that she was looking for, and only a moment more for him to answer.

"Hey Weiss, what's up?"

"Flash, good morning," Weiss said. "I'm afraid … this might sound sudden, but are you free at the moment? There's something that I need your help with."

XxXxX​

"The First Councillor of Vale, Aspen Emerald, and the Mistralian Ambassador to Vale jointly announced that Vale and Mistral had agreed the purchase of two Mistralian battleships. However, sources in the Atlesian military cast down on the air-worthiness of the two ships and whether they could be made ready for service in more than a matter of months."

"Turn that off, won't you dear?" Mrs. Breeze said, looking up from watering one of her houseplants.

Mr. Breeze got up from his armchair and walked across the living room towards the radio. He paused, one hand hovering over the off-switch, before he turned to Blake. "Unless you're listening to it, Blake?"

Blake shook her head. "No," she assured him. "It's fine." She might have been content to listen to it further, but she was a guest in their home and had no desire to throw her weight around.

Mr. Breeze smiled at her and switched off the radio.

"It's nothing but grim news at the moment, it seems," Mrs. Breeze said. She was a middle-aged woman, a little taller than her daughter but more or less of a height with Blake herself, with maroon hair worn in a wide bun that emerged out past either side of her head. Square green spectacles surrounded her cerise eyes, and she wore a summer dress of daffodil yellow with a daisy print and a pearl necklace clasped tight around her throat. "Ever since that terrible business in Vale."

"I don't know," Fluttershy said, from where she sat on the sofa next to Blake, her legs tucked up underneath her, cradling a fussy white bunny rabbit in her hands, seeming oblivious to all its attempts to escape her grasp. "I thought the news about the Vytal Festival was pretty good. Or at least, it could have been a lot worse."

"I suppose," Mrs. Breeze acknowledged. "Although the fact that they had to assure everyone that the festival would go ahead and be safe … well, it's hardly ideal, is it?"

"That sort of thing used to be a given, after all," Mr. Breeze added. He was taller than his wife, or indeed Blake, and seemed to cultivate a resemblance to Jacques Schnee, with his white hair and his thin, pencil moustache; it had honestly been a little disconcerting when Blake had seen him first, but thankfully, his dress made it easy to remember that he was not, in fact, Jacques Schnee.

She doubted Jacques Schnee wore ill-fitting jumpers that seemed to be on the cusp of shedding on the floor.

"True," Blake admitted. "But I'm sure General Ironwood will keep everything under control."

"Mmm," Mister Breeze said, with less enthusiasm than Blake had expected.

Mrs. Breeze shook her head as she moved on to another of the many plants that filled the living room. "I just feel like Remnant is going backwards; Vale is buying new weapons, and Mistral is going to re-arm? Is everywhere going to become just like Atlas?"

"'Just like Atlas'?" Blake repeated. "Forgive me, but you make that sound like a bad thing."

"Mom and Dad are Vytalists," Fluttershy murmured. "They believe that Atlas should have disarmed after the Great War, like every other kingdom."

Blake blinked. She kept her voice soft as she said, "That's a thing?"

"That was the intent of the Vytal Treaty," Mr. Breeze declared. "That every country would step down their militaries and disarm. Instead, Atlas has allowed every other kingdom to disarm while increasing its own military power. And then we wonder why people don't trust us."

Blake frowned. The argument made logical sense, she supposed, but she wasn't so convinced that it made practical sense. "But … the threat of the grimm—"

"Is why the huntsman academies were founded," Mr. Breeze pointed out. "We're not naïve, and being sheltered safe in Atlas hasn't made us blind; we just believe that if every other kingdom can manage, why can't Atlas?"

"Every other kingdom manages because they can call on the assistance of Atlas, perhaps," Blake said softly. "I have to say, this isn't an attitude that I expected to find in Atlas, especially not from the parents of one of Rainbow's friends."

"I don't entirely agree," Fluttershy admitted, while the bunny squirmed and wriggled under her hand. Fluttershy continued to stroke and pet it regardless. "I think … well, I don't know if I could express it myself, but Rainbow makes a good point about why Atlas does what it does."

"And we would never suggest that Rainbow or the others have anything but the best intentions," Mrs. Breeze added. "Or you for that matter."

"Your courage must be tremendous, however wrongheaded the system you're a part of," Mr. Breeze said.

"I … see," Blake murmured. Rather than argue their attitudes — she was, after all, a guest in their home — she asked, "Are there many of you? Vytalists?"

"Not too many," Mr. Breeze admitted. "Not none, but not many. It's not a club, you understand; we don't all get together on weekends," he chuckled, "But we do tend to vote for Vytalist candidates. Not that they win. It's not a terribly popular attitude around here."

"Not that it causes us any trouble," Mrs. Breeze hastened to add.

"I'm glad to hear it," Blake replied.

While she was not inherently opposed to persecuting people for their views — some views, after all, were vile and deserved to be stamped out of society by any means necessary — she didn't believe that the Vytalism of Fluttershy's parents fell into category. One kooky idea didn't change the fact that they had been, throughout Fluttershy's stay so far, perfectly nice people.

"Anyway," Mr. Breeze said. "Who wants lunch? Fluttershy? Blake?"

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Mr. Breeze said as he left the living room and walked into the hall. Blake couldn't see him, and didn't try to see him there; rather, she looked at the bunny in Fluttershy's arms, which was presently giving her the evil eye.

Or at least, that's what it seemed like; it probably wasn't actually that, because it was a rabbit at the end of the day, but it certainly seemed to be glaring at her as though she had caused grave personal offence.

Blake heard the front door open.

"Oh, hello, Rainbow Dash," Mr. Breeze said.

"Good morning, sir," Rainbow said. "Sorry to drop by unannounced like this, but can I come in? I need to talk to Blake."

"Of course," Mister Breeze said. "Come right in."

Blake looked around as Rainbow walked into the living room. It didn't escape her notice that Rainbow was armed.

"Rainbow? Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Morning, ma'am," Rainbow said. "Hey Fluttershy."

"Morning, Rainbow Dash," Mrs. Breeze said. "How was Canterlot?"

Rainbow grinned. "The same as always; I had a great time with Scootaloo and the girls, thanks for asking." At last, she looked at Blake. "Hey, Blake."

"Hey," Blake replied. "Is everything okay?"

Rainbow squirmed a little bit. "I … ma'am, can I talk to Blake in private for a second? I'm sorry, but—"

"It's fine, dear; I needed some more water anyway," Mrs. Breeze said, as she got up and carried her watering can out into the kitchen.

Fluttershy, on the other hand, did not get up.

"What's going on, Rainbow?" she asked softly.

Rainbow kept her eyes on Blake. "I need your help with something," she said.

"Rainbow Dash," Fluttershy said, her voice sharp with reproach. "You know that Blake is here to rest, not to fight."

"How do you even know that this has anything to do with fighting?" Rainbow asked.

"Because you wouldn't be asking for Blake's help specifically if it weren't," Fluttershy pointed out.

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. "Okay, you've got me there; it may have something to do with some action," she admitted. "But this is all your fault anyway, because you gave Gilda my number."

"I am sitting right here, you know," Blake pointed out. "There's no need to talk over me like I'm a child."

Rainbow winced. "Sorry."

"Gilda called you?" Fluttershy said. She smiled. "Oh, I'm so glad. Did you two manage to work things out?"

"Not really?" Rainbow said uncertainly. "I mean we don't hate each other, but I wouldn't call us friends. Anyway, the point is that she didn't call to make up; she called to ask for my help. Faunus are disappearing down in Low Town — that's underneath Atlas in the crater — and it sounds as though it could be abduction. Some friends of Gilda asked her to do something about it, and since she's in Vale, she asked me to do something about it."

"How does Gilda know that you're not in Vale?" asked Blake.

"Because I'm really predictable, apparently," Rainbow muttered. "The point is that I said I'd look into it and…" She sighed. "I know that you're not here to fight, and I know that I shouldn't be asking you, and if you say no that's fine, but … there's no one who it would be okay for me to ask. Applejack and Ciel are here for a break as well, and they aren't even here in Atlas, and anyway, this is faunus business so … I'd appreciate your help with this."

A slight smile crossed Blake's face. "How long have you known me, and you really think that I need a sales pitch when there are people in need?"

"No, I didn't," Rainbow admitted. "But I didn't want you to think that I was taking you for granted."

"Blake," Fluttershy murmured. "Are you sure about this?"

Blake got to her feet. "It isn't why I came to Atlas," she admitted. "But if there are faunus in trouble, faunus who need help and protection, then I can't just stand by and do nothing." She paused for a moment. "Do you think … might it have anything to do with—?"

"Adam's face?" Rainbow finished for her. "It crossed my mind, but this sounds like something new. If the SDC had been abducting faunus from under Low Town for years now, I would have heard something about it. But I grew up there, and I never knew anything like this when I was a kid. But I guess we'll find out when we get down there."

"Right," Blake agreed. "So, when do we leave?"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Black and White​

Low Town was not the nicest place in Atlas.

That almost felt like an overstatement to Rainbow Dash as she stood in the crater underneath Atlas for the first time in years. She hadn't been back here for a while, but now that she was back, having parked The Bus on the flat ground just beyond the crater and walked with Blake the rest of the way, she found that her old home was coming back to her like a song.

A song that, while it didn't compare to the sweeping grandeur of the number that was Atlas, was nevertheless not so bad as she remembered it.

Don't get her wrong, Low Town was still not the nicest place in all of Atlas; in fact, it was definitely amongst the worst places in Atlas, and she only had to come back here to remember why. Atlas sat directly overhead, and not even that high either, kind of … not low exactly, maybe, but low enough that, combined with the crater walls that rose around Low Town on every side, it did a pretty good job of blocking out the sun. Low Town dwelt in perpetual twilight, an endless gloom blanketing these streets and houses, interrupted only by the true and absolute darkness of night. Atlas and the crater did combine to protect Low Town from the worst of the weather, no rain or snow fell directly down upon them, and they were protected from the worst blasts of tundra wind, but at the same time, it did rain in Low Town because water from Atlas drained down off the edges of the city to fall on the faunus settlement below.

The houses were cold, she remembered that from growing up; Low Town had a heating grid, which was the reason people could live here instead of freezing to death, but that didn't change the fact that it was a cold and draughty place to live. The houses were … not very well-built; the ones around her now, the ones that lined the street down which Rainbow and Blake walked, they were put together out of breeze block and brick, with corrugated iron roofs and plywood fronts; a lot of them had been put together by the same people who lived in them, or by their parents or grandparents, and to say that they weren't well-insulated was a bit of an understatement. Rainbow remembered having to run on the spot before bed so that she could warm herself up before leaping under the covers, curling up beneath the blanket, and hoping that she fell asleep before she cooled down again.

As they walked down the street, Rainbow could see that many of the windows had frost on the inside of the glass, a sign of the extent to which the cold crept in through doors and windows and inadequate walls.

The streets were plain dirt, earth flattened enough to be walked across without stumbling, although in the centre of the road, more corrugated iron and wooden boards had been laid out to ensure a surface that you wouldn't sink into if a lot of water fell from Atlas.

Fires burned in metal drums upon the street corners, burning dust to keep the gloom at bay, casting flickering shadows upon the walls of the nearby houses, reflecting dimly upon the metal of the external taps — external taps! Some of these places didn't even have indoor plumbing.

Yeah, it was not the best place in all of Atlas. Rainbow didn't regret leaving here for a second. There wasn't really anything about Low Town that she could say she missed. She didn't miss how cold it got at nights, she didn't miss the fact that it was never really warm, she didn't miss the fact that the pipes were always freezing up or bursting, she didn't miss the fact that the boiler didn't work half the time, she didn't miss the fact that their power was always getting cut off. She didn't miss a thing, and she didn't regret leaving.

Although she was starting to regret having left and not looked back, without a care for all the other people for whom living here hadn't been a barrel of laughs either.

And as she walked down the street, Rainbow had to admit that there were a few things about Low Town that she had forgotten.

Mostly how clean it was. After just coming back from Mantle, which was filthy and only getting filthier, it was kind of a shock to Rainbow to rediscover that Low Town was so well taken care of. Those plywood fronts that folks had put up to cover the breeze block and brick frontages of their houses and stores, they were all painted in vibrant colours of red, yellow, blue, or green; some of them, and Rainbow guessed that these were the homes of families with children, didn't have fronts painted in a single colour but collages, or patterns, works of art where kids had clearly been told to go nuts and decorate their home however they liked. They weren't always good, but they always seemed to show a great deal of enthusiasm. And they were clean too; someone — many someones — had clearly worked hard keeping the dirt and the grime at bay. And Rainbow didn't think it was a coincidence that while some of the bare walls, the sides or the rears, had graffiti on them, none of the painted fronts had been vandalised, and even the graffiti, while it might have been regarded as an eyesore in Atlas, had, in Low Town, a certain charm about it.

Possibly because the paint was luminous, and so, it gave off a kind of eerie glow in the darkness that was honestly pretty cool.

And while the insides of the windows were iced up, people had scratched patterns in the ice: snowflakes — although not the Schnee snowflake, obviously — stick figures, animals, grimm faces. Rainbow remembered doing that when she woke up, the same way that she remembered cleaning the sign above the shop door or helping Dad sweep up out front each morning.

It wasn't a good life here, but people had tried to make the best of it, and it seemed like they were still trying now.

Judging by the thunderous look on Blake's face, the way her ears were drooped down into her hair, the way her golden eyes were blazing especially bright in the permanent twilight, Rainbow thought it was safe to say she wasn't feeling the same way.

"How?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the quiet. "How … how can people be left to live like this? With so much wealth so close by, how can this … how can it be justified?"

Rainbow didn't have a good answer to that, and so she didn't bother to give a bad one. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her dark blue sports jacket and said nothing.

Blake's brow furrowed. "This … this is where you grew up?"

Rainbow shrugged, as best she could while wearing the Wings of Harmony strapped across her back and chest. "Born and raised," she said.

"Then how…?" Blake trailed off for a moment. "Doesn't this bother you?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, it bothers me, though … only really since I met you. Before that, and even after I met you, until more recently … I got out. I got out, and I didn't look back, and I guess I told myself that that meant that anyone could get out if they wanted to. If they were willing to work hard and make the effort. Kind of insulting to everyone stuck down here, huh?"

"A little bit," Blake murmured. "And now?"

"Now…" Rainbow said. "Now … I know it isn't right, and I know that something has to be done, I just… I don't know what yet. Maybe…"

"'Maybe'?"

"I don't know, but we don't really need the farmland up in Atlas," Rainbow said. "Most of what we eat is grown in the domes on the ground or in the west, or shipped up from Mistral; we could build on the Atlas farmland, put more houses in, homes for the people who live here, and it's not like Atlas would starve. I'm not sure people would even notice."

"There's some bad history around forcing faunus to leave their homes and move somewhere else," Blake pointed out.

"I'm not talking about forcing anyone," Rainbow replied. "They'd be given a choice. I just can't imagine why anyone would choose not to move. Why would you want to live here when you could live in Atlas?"

"That's a fair point," Blake said. "But how would you make sure that those new homes went to the people down here in Low Town and didn't get bought up by the people already living in Atlas?"

Rainbow opened her mouth, but no words came out. Blake made a good point: it wasn't just about there being room in Atlas; it was about the people in Low Town being able to afford to move up there. "I guess … I guess the kingdom itself would have to build the homes and price them affordably."

"Or not sell them at all, but give them to those who need them," Blake suggested.

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "That sounds kind of radical."

"Giving homes to those who have nowhere decent to live is radical?"

"It is if they aren't paying for it."

"Don't you think they're already paying for it with every day they have to live down here, like this?" Blake demanded. "The fact is, I don't believe that the faunus who live here are stuck down here because of a lack of space up in Atlas, and I don't think that you believe it either. If that was all there was to it, then why is this a faunus community?"

Again, Rainbow had no good answer to that, although this time, she did venture to say, "Atlas isn't perfect."

"But it can be improved, I know. I'm not saying this to condemn it, I just…" Blake paused for a moment. "Just so long as you don't accept this as something immutable, a status quo that can't be upset."

"Like I said: not since I met you," Rainbow replied. "You … you've made me better on this stuff. I thought that I was going to change the way that you saw the world, but the truth is that you've changed the way I see things just as much. And together, I hope we can change places like this too."

"By change, you mean—"

"Get rid of it, yeah," Rainbow declared. "Move the people somewhere else. Because you're right, it is … when Atlas is right up there … it's wrong. I shouldn't have had to sneak up to Atlas aboard a shuttle and happen to run into Twilight in order to get the chances that I did."

"I'm a little surprised there was a way for you to get up to Atlas," Blake observed.

"Where do you think any of the money comes from for this place?" Rainbow asked. "It's the people who have jobs up in Atlas."

"But they're not allowed to live there."

"No," Rainbow agreed. "I've already talked to Councillor Cadence about it, but maybe after we're done, we can think about some ways to get people out of here." She paused for a moment. "But first, well, whoever is taking people is going to clear out Low Town all by themselves unless we stop them."

"Right," Blake agreed. "Any ideas?"

"I think I know where to start finding answers," Rainbow said. "There's a guy around here who knows everything. If he's still alive."

"'If'?"

"He was old when I was a kid," Rainbow admitted. "But if he's still around, he'll know what's up."

She led Blake through the streets of Low Town, past the burning drums and the painted frontages, rattling over the corrugated iron or thumping on the boards that made up the roads.

They walked past signs asking people to please pick up their litter or dog muck, signs that seemed to be obeyed, judging by how empty of either the streets were. It was kind of weird; people here probably had less than the people who lived in Mantle, but they took much more care of it.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that weird.

They passed the place that Rainbow's parents used to own, but it was a takeaway now, judging by the new sign above the door. Rainbow glanced at it as they went past, but she didn't stop, and she didn't say anything to Blake. What would have been the point? She was here to do a job, not get sentimental.

There wasn't even anything to get sentimental about. So the store wasn't there anymore, big whoop. Of course it wasn't there anymore; who would have run it?

Rainbow brought Blake to Grampa's, a bodega sitting at the back of a cul-de-sac on the far side of town from where they had landed. The name, Grampa's Deli & Grocery, was painted in white upon a dark green background on a wooden board hung above the door, along with proclamations of the availability of sandwiches, breakfasts, cold cuts, and fresh meat.

On the outside of the shop window, someone had painted, in white, the words 'HELP! I'M BEING HELD PRISONER AGAINST MY WILL!'

Blake frowned. "Should we—?"

"Don't worry about it," Rainbow assured her. "It isn't serious."

"How—?" Blake began, but was interrupted as the door opened and Grampa Gruff emerged.

Grampa Gruff was old, and Rainbow meant old. He'd been old when she was a kid, and he hadn't gotten any younger since. His skin was wrinkled and spotted with age, around his eyes were dark circles, and his cheeks drooped down in sagging jowls beneath his jawline. His hair remained dark, somehow, but while his eyebrows were thick and bushy, his hair was almost all gone, reduced to a tufty crown encircling his head, although most of his baldness was covered by the red fez he was wearing. One eye was dark, the other blind and milky; a scar descended towards that eye from his wrinkled forehead, then continued on beneath it down his sagging cheek. He was dressed in a long brown coat, with yellow bird claws emerging out of the sleeves instead of hands.

He walked out of the shop — a bell above the door announced his departure — and stared at the sign painted in the window.

"GALLUS!" he squawked. "Fetch a cloth!" He turned around and, for the first time, noticed Rainbow Dash and Blake.

"No!" he snapped, and then strode inside without another word.

Blake glanced at Rainbow, her eyebrows rising.

"Okay, so maybe I should have mentioned that I'm not very popular around here," Rainbow conceded.

The door to the bodega opened again, and a young faunus, with blue wings emerging from out of the back of his outfit, emerged with a stained rag held in one hand. His hair was, for the most part, as blue as his wings, although it turned to yellow at the tips, and worn in spikes rising up above the forehead, while his eyes were a deeper ocean shade of blue. He was dressed in a chequered jacket over a puffer jacket over a white t-shirt — Rainbow didn't blame him for layering up — and a pair of pants that looked warm but which, unfortunately, also looked as if they'd seen better days.

"Rainbow Dash, right?" he said, tossing the cloth between his hands.

"That's right," Rainbow said. "Gallus, right?"

"That's me," Gallus said. "Still here. I mean, who else would do this job?"

"Are you in any trouble?" Blake asked.

"Do I look like I'm in trouble?" Gallus asked. He paused. "Oh, wait, you're serious! I mean yes, yes, I am in trouble; I'm in terrible trouble, and I really need a cute, quirky girl to—"

"No, he's not in any trouble," Rainbow said. "And how old are you, anyway?"

"I'm fifteen!" Gallus protested. "And I am in trouble! Life is passing me by, and I'm stuck here stacking shelves. So what are you doing back here, anyway? Did they kick you out of that fancy school?"

"I'm here about disappearances," Rainbow said. "Do you know anything about that?"

Gallus' face fell. "I … a little. Grampa won't admit it, but he's worried. Since people started going missing, he's been closing up earlier, and he doesn't have me out making deliveries at night any more. Which would be great, because I hate that bike he has me ride, but … well, you know."

"Hear anything?" Rainbow asked. "See anything?"

"Seen? No," Gallus said. "I might have heard something though."

"What?" demanded Blake.

"I don't know exactly," Gallus admitted. "But a couple of nights ago, I thought I heard someone stomping around outside. They must have been pretty big; they were making a heck of a noise."

"Thanks," Rainbow murmured. "Blake and I are going to take care of this, whatever it is, but until we do, take care of yourself, okay?"

Gallus nodded. "Are you going to go talk to Grampa?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck," Gallus replied as he started wiping away the paint on the window.

Rainbow led the way inside, pushing open the door that led into the bodega. Low Town wasn't exactly full of shops, and so Grampa's provided pretty much everything that you could need down here, from food to kitchen utensils, toiletries, cigarettes, sweets, and he made some mean sandwiches too. The store was laid out in the old-fashioned way, with a counter running along three sides of the store and almost everything either on it or behind it so that Grampa Gruff had to get you everything himself — or, conversely, it was harder for you to steal from him. Near the door, stacked up on the counter, was a pyramid of tin cans without labels on them, and a sign sticking up above the pyramid encouraging shoppers to take a chance on an item full of mysterious promise. At the back of the store sat a coffee maker, a sandwich maker, and various fillings under a hot lamp, while above them on the wall were the options and prices available.

Rainbow could smell the meatballs from here, and if she hadn't been on the job, she would have relished one of Grampa Gruff's meatball subs.

Unfortunately, he'd probably have spat in it.

Drawn by the sound of the bell, Grampa Gruff emerged from the back of his home.

"No," he repeated, when he saw Rainbow Dash.

"Oh, come on, Grampa," Rainbow said, as she walked across the open space in the middle of the shop.

"I have the right to refuse service to anyone for any reason I choose," Grampa Gruff declared.

"Actually, you don't; according to the Equality Act, you're not allowed to discriminate on grounds of race, gender, sex, or sexuality," Rainbow informed him.

"But I can still discriminate against sell-outs who leave their homes and never come back, right?" Grampa Gruff demanded. "Okay then, that's you, get out!"

Rainbow sighed heavily. To Blake, she said, "If I was kind of cranky when you met me, stuff like this is why."

"Oh boo hoo," Grampa Gruff said mockingly. "Did you tell your friend how absolutely insufferable you were when you deigned to come around before you left for good? She spent some time in Atlas, and suddenly, she was too good for all of us peasants down here in Low Town, weren't you?"

"Is this actually your grandfather?" Blake whispered.

"No, everyone just calls him Grampa," Rainbow replied.

"Right," Blake said softly. She walked forward, raising her voice. "Sir, regardless of what happened with Rainbow Dash in the past, we're here to help, and we're hoping that you can help us to—"

"Here to help? When is anyone from Atlas ever here to help us, huh?" Grampa Gruff demanded. "And who are you, another traitor?"

"Show some respect, Grampa," Rainbow snapped. "This is Blake Belladonna, Ghira Belladonna's daughter."

Blake's ears drooped a little, and she bowed her head as though she was embarrassed.

Grampa Gruff was quiet for a moment. "Is that true?" he asked. "You're the Belladonna kid?"

Blake nodded silently.

"Well, your old man was a sellout too," Grampa Gruff said. "Leaving us all behind to swan off to Menagerie."

"Ugh, listen," Rainbow said, striding forwards and putting her hands down heavily on the counter. "You can think what you like about me, Grampa; you can hate me if you want. I'll even admit that I kind of deserve it for the way that I acted, and that's on me. But if you want to hold onto that and not talk to me because I was a dumb kid when there are people disappearing out there on the streets and Gallus could be next … that's on you."

Grampa Gruff's one good eye widened. "You know about the disappearances?"

"I didn't come down here for the meatball sub, as good as it is," Rainbow said. "I don't know who's doing this, but whoever they are, I think that me and Blake can stop them. But only if people will talk to us." She grinned. "You still got the Saturday night special underneath the counter?"

Grampa Gruff reached beneath the counter and produced a double-barrelled sawn-off shotgun. "I've been keeping it loaded since all of this started."

"That might do you some good," Rainbow acknowledged. "But we'll do you more. So come on, not for me, not for the Belladonnas, but for Low Town and for Gallus and yourself: Do you know anything that might help us stop this?"

XxXxX​

Flash looked this way and that, his gaze emerging nervously out from beneath his crested helmet as he followed Weiss down the streets of the Low Town. "Everyone's staring at us."

Weiss rolled her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him. "I wonder why that could be?" she asked. She was glad that Flash had agreed to come and back her up on this business, and she understood why he was wearing his gilded, gleaming armour — here in the shadow of Atlas, where the great floating metropolis blocked out most of the sunlight and cast the world in a perpetual twilight, his armour gleamed a little less than usual, but nevertheless, it caught what little light still reached them here — with his gilded hoplon shield slung across his back and the blue crest in his helmet; it was his huntsman gear, after all, and she wouldn't have wanted him to do without. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to waste time pretending that he didn't stick out like a blister.

"And I'm sure the fact that you're walking around with the Schnee Dust Company logo on your back has nothing whatsoever to do with it," Flash said, matching her tone in its masterful infusion of sarcasm.

Weiss scowled as she stopped and turned around to face him in the middle of the street. She was not dressed in precisely the same outfit that she had worn for action at Beacon; rather, she was wearing a crisp white double-breasted jacket, with black buttons running down it like the coals on a snowman, and a skirt which, while only thigh length, had a number of layers of black petticoat for extra warmth. A pair of black tights embraced her legs, while white boots rose up higher than her knees.

And, yes, the jacket had the Schnee snowflake on its back, and, yes, that probably had as much to do with the way that every faunus in the street or in the doorways of the ramshackle shanties that lined either side of the same was staring at them with amazement and not a little bit of hostility, but that didn't mean that she was going to let his comment pass uncontested.

"I am not wearing any company logo," she declared proudly. "This is my family crest."

He didn't look as though he understood the distinction — incomprehension shone in those blue eyes — but he must have understood that it was important to her, because he said, "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Weiss said stiffly. "Everyone does it." And that, of course, was the really upsetting thing, but she wasn't about to explain that to him.

I shouldn't have gotten mad. It wasn't his fault.

But if I don't correct him, then he'll never learn. He's a good person; he won't take offence. And he won't forget it either.

He won't refer to the Schnee snowflake as the corporate logo again.

Although he might not understand why he shouldn't. Perhaps I should explain a little.

"It's just … there's more to being a Schnee than the company," Weiss said. "I don't wear this because I'm some corporate stooge. I wear it because it's my birthright."

"I get it," Flash said, although Weiss wasn't sure that he actually understood or just thought he did. It was, admittedly, a difficult thing to understand … unless, perhaps, you were a Mistralian aristocrat.

"Um," the Seacole girl, who had given her name as Lavender, murmured from just up ahead of them. "Is everything okay?"

Weiss looked back at her. "Everything's fine," she said primly. "I'm sorry for the delay. Please, continue."

The girl led them through the crowded, cramped, and warren-like streets of the undercity that dwelt beneath Atlas, in the literal shadow of the wealthiest, mightiest, and most advanced city in the world. Atlas dwelt amongst the clouds, yet here on the ground, all of its bright and shining brilliance was wholly absent. Down here, the best that could be managed was a kind of suburban townhouse that would have been thought a little small and cramped in Vale, while a great many people seemed to make do in lean-to huts, in crude apartment blocks thrown together with bricks and wood and corrugated iron. Weiss had never been down here amongst these sprawling favelas before, and to be perfectly honest, there was something nerve-inducing about them. She didn't let it show, of course — she kept her chin up and her head held high throughout, although she also she kept one hand close to the hilt of Myrtenaster — but she felt it in her bones as the combination of the low light, the many eyes watching her in the street and out of the shadows, the fact that everyone around her was a faunus and Flash the only human in sight, perhaps for miles, all of it contrived to give her a chill feeling.

She couldn't help but wonder if this had been a good idea.

I can't turn back. I refuse to turn back. She was not her father. She was not the sort of person who would turn a blind eye to the problems of others simply because she could. And she wouldn't run away just because she was being made to feel a little uncomfortable. She had to be brave, like her sister and grandfather.

She was not her father; she recognised her debts and repaid them.

Lavender led them through streets that were simple tracks carved into the earth, layered over at times by wooden boards or iron sheets. There were no robots here to pick up the litter, but somebody was clearly cleaning up, because there wasn't nearly the amount of litter that Weiss would have expected to see in a neighbourhood like this one. In fact, there was hardly any at all that she could see, and now that she took a second look, the buildings, ramshackle though they often were, didn't look so dirty either.

So, followed by the eyes of the faunus who dwelt beneath, Weiss and Flash followed their guide until she led them to what, in Vale, would have passed for a modest bungalow but seemed a kind of palace in this place, not least for the fact that it appeared to have been put up by a professional.

Did my father pay her so well before he fired her? Weiss wondered, before she remembered that Laberna Seacole had also been her mother's nanny when she was very young. She found it much easier to believe that her grandfather had been generous with the woman who was almost raising his daughter. That made a lot more sense.

Weiss remembered that Laberna had used to laugh and say often that she could tell them stories about their mother, with the implication that they were stories that their mother might not want to be told. But she had never told them, out of respect for the mistress, out of fear that it would cause her to be dismissed, or perhaps simply out of affection for a woman whom she had once bathed as she had gone on to bathe her daughters in turn. Regardless, she had kept Willow Schnee's childhood secrets; Weiss had never found out exactly what her mother had been like as a girl. Now, when she considered it, Weiss found that a great pity. Her mother couldn't have always been the lonely, fading ghost who haunted the Schnee mansion like a phantom, who drank in the morning and went to bed in the afternoon, who was rarely seen — who was rarely allowed to be seen — amongst high society. The more she thought about it, the more Weiss regretted that she didn't know anything about what her mother had been like when she was … when she was happy.

Lavender turned to them. "This is my grandma's house. You should come in and say hello. I know that she'll be happy to see you."

"Would you like me to wait out here?" Flash asked softly.

"No," Weiss said. Apart from anything, she wasn't altogether sure that it would be safe to leave Flash all alone out here, nor — though she would never say so out loud — did she wish to go alone into an unfamiliar house like this. "I'm sure that Mrs. Seacole won't mind you coming in."

Lavender shook her head. "Of course not. The more the merrier, right? Come on in." She seemed a little less nervous now as she opened the front door — it wasn't locked, which seemed a little dangerous in a place like this — and disappeared into the darkened house. There were no lights on inside, and though the windows were open, the shadow of Atlas lay so heavily upon them that there was little illumination to be had. From what Weiss could make out, mostly shadows and shapes without much definition, the front room was a sparsely decorated place. A little light, candle light if she was any judge, peaked out from behind the curtain that acted as the barrier between one room and the next. Lavender pushed the curtain aside. "I'm back, Grandma, and I didn't come back by myself."

Laberna Seacole sat in a rocking chair, her legs and hands alike covered by a blanket. She had been an old woman when she had tended to Weiss, changed her diapers and given her baths, but now, by the light of the single candle burning in the room, she looked truly ancient. Her skin was wrinkled everywhere, her hair was not only white but thin too, gone in places revealing a spotty scalp to the world, even as hair sprouted out of her raccoon ears in tufts. When she opened her eyes, they were rheumy and pale; Weiss wondered if she could even see anymore.

How swiftly had she declined. Had living here been so bad for her health? How had she become thus so quickly?

"Miss Winter?" she croaked in a thin, hoarse voice; her gums were toothless, and her crinkled lips curled around them. "Is that you?"

"No," Weiss said softly, as though she were confessing something. "It's me, Weiss."

"Miss Weiss?" Mrs. Seacole asked, sounding confused and a little disbelieving. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a huntress," Weiss said. She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, a huntress-in-training, at least, at—"

"Beacon," Mrs. Seacole said. "I remember now. You going off all the way to Vale over the ocean, that made it into the news."

"It did?"

"Sure it did. I always look out for anything about my girls," Mrs. Seacole said. "I don't see you no more, but I want to know how things are going. I'm so proud of both of you."

Weiss frowned and looked away. "There's not so much to be proud of."

"Sure there is," Mrs. Seacole said. "Your sister, Miss Winter, is a fine woman and an officer, and you, you've still got that voice like an angel; I should have recognised it the moment you opened your mouth, and you've got into Beacon, and you fought in that big battle in Vale not too long ago, and they say you even worked with the police to take down a terrorist. I'll bet you're the best student in that whole place."

Hardly, Weiss thought, with a little chagrin. "I… have done my best," she muttered.

"If they were here, your grandma and grandpa would be so proud of both of you," Mrs. Seacole said. "But since they ain't, I guess I have to be proud for them. Miss Weiss?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to bring my granddaughter back home to me?"

Weiss stood up a little straighter, as much for her benefit as for that of Mrs. Seacole. "I will," she said. "You have my word, upon my sacred honour."

Mrs. Seacole nodded. "You hear that, Lavender? She gave her word. The word of a Schnee, just the way old Mister Nicholas would have said it. Prim's as good as back with us already."

"Is there anything that you can tell us?" Flash asked. "Where was she going when she … disappeared?"

"Who is this? Who are you, boy?"

"This is Flash Sentry," Weiss explained. "He's my partner at Beacon, and he's agreed to help me, help us with this."

Mrs. Seacole nodded. "Primrose … Primrose was on her way to Grampa Gruff's. She came home from work, made dinner, and then went out to pick up a few things we were short of."

"Where?" Weiss asked.

"It's a little way from here," Lavender said. "I can show you."

"Thank you," Weiss said softly. She hesitated for a moment. Apologies did not come naturally to her, especially when the apology was not for an offence committed by her. But in this case, it was necessary. "I'm sorry for the way my father treated you. It was uncalled for. It was … it was more than uncalled for, it was downright cruel, and it has … Laberna, how did you get like this? It hasn't been so long, or are my memories so poor?"

Laberna let out a long sigh, or at least what sounded like a sigh. "I … I don't rightly know, Miss Weiss. Sometimes, it feels like Time was just waiting in the shadows, lurking out of sight until I lost my job when he jumped out and loaded down all the surprises that he'd been holding for me. Like I'd been holding old age at bay for years, and then one day, it hit me like a truck. But that doesn't really matter now. Primrose is what matters, my granddaughter; she's the important one."

Weiss nodded. "I, we, will bring your granddaughter back. I promise."

"Thank you, Miss Weiss," Mrs. Seacole said. "And you … you take care of my Lavender too, won't you?"

"Of course," Weiss said softly.

"I'd go with you myself, but I…" She sighed. "I'm so tired now."

"You should get some rest; your family will be home soon," Weiss said. "And … thank you."

"For what, child?"

"For … for everything," Weiss said. "For being there, when my parents weren't. For being… for helping me to become who I am today." I only hope that who I am today can help repay the debt I owe to you. To Lavender she added, "Please, lead the way."

"Right," Lavender said. "Goodbye, grandma. I'll … we'll both be home soon, me and Prim."

"I hope so," Laberna said. "I'll be waiting … for you both."

The old woman closed her eyes and leaned back in her rocking chair as one spotted hand emerged from underneath the blanket to pull it a little higher up above her waist.

"How is she?" Weiss whispered.

Lavender glanced at her grandmother across the shadowy room. "Tired all the time. She doesn't get up much; she can't."

"And your parents?" Flash asked.

"It's just me, my grandma, and Prim," Lavender said. "We have to find her. We will find her, won't we? You meant what you said to Grandma?"

"I never say things that I don't mean," Weiss declared. "Come on, show us the way that your sister would have taken to this store."

Lavender led them back outside the house the way that they had come. Immediately after they had exited, however, they found themselves confronted by a small mob.

It seemed that the faunus — some of them, at least — who had watched them with sharp and wary eyes as they made their way here had found their courage after Weiss and Flash had gone into the house. They were gathered outside of the Seacole's front door, and though Weiss saw very few weapons in evidence — she could see only two guns, and a few more knives and sticks — they looked angry, upset, and ready for trouble.

Weiss was not afraid. She was wary, but she was not afraid. She had faced the White Fang and the creatures of grimm, and a few angry faunus didn't frighten her. But she was conscious of the fact that she couldn't just tackle them head on like she could have the White Fang — there were probably a few White Fang members, or at least sympathisers, amongst this crowd, but that was almost beside the point in this situation — or the grimm. She had promised to help find Primrose Seacole and get to the bottom of these disappearances, and she couldn't do that if she managed to rouse the entire district to a rage against her.

The mob was led by a young dog faunus with terrier ears, someone about her age or maybe a couple of years older, who was one of the couple of people in the crowd who had a gun, specifically a pistol similar to the sort used as sidearms by the military. As he talked, he waved said pistol in their faces with such wild abandon that Weiss felt rather glad he still had the safety catch on, even as she wondered if he realised that it was on.

"What have we here?" he demanded. "You people are getting real cocky, aren't you? You think you can just kidnap people in broad daylight now?"

Lavender waved her hands in front of her. "It's not like that, this is—"

"Lav, this ain't your business," the young man growled. "Why don't you get back inside the house, and we'll take care of this."

"I don't know what you think is going on here," Weiss said, "but we're here to help find this girl's sister and—"

"Oh, I'm sure that you already know exactly where Prim is, seeing as how you're the ones who took her!" the young man shouted, to mutters of agreement and encouragement from the crowd behind him. "Everyone knows that the humans and the SDC are behind all these folks going missing."

"Really? How do you figure that?" Flash asked.

"Because it's always the humans and the SDC!" the young man replied. "You've got a lot of nerve coming around here wearing that snowflake."

"Why thank you," Weiss said. "It's always good to know that my courage is recognised and appreciated."

Silence descended on the crowd. Lavender looked as though she couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Flash looked as though he didn't know whether to boggle or laugh. The face of the young faunus turned a shade of purple.

"What?" he snapped. "What did you say to me?"

"You praised my nerve; I thanked you for the compliment," Weiss said.

"I never gave you no compliment!"

"I disagree," Weiss replied. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have work to do."

"You ain't going nowhere!" he yelled. "Not until you tell me what you're doing with all the people you've snatched!"

"We didn't do it," Flash said. "Listen, buddy, if we were kidnapping people, then why would we come down here to try and find them?"

"So you can lord it over us, probably," he said. "So that you can laugh at us for being so stupid as to trust you."

"That's not why we're here," Flash said. "We're just trying to help."

"We don't need your help; we take care of our problems around here."

"Because you're doing such a good job, clearly," Weiss snapped. She affixed him with a look full of patrician hauteur, tilting her chin up to give the impression that she was looking down on him even as he remained noticeably taller than she was. "I don't know who you are, and I don't care, but you and your gun don't frighten me, and you won't stop me from doing what I came here to do. So stand aside."

The young man swallowed, and looked as though he was stiffening up his courage, or trying to. "Or what?" he demanded.

"Let's not get into 'or what' if we don't have to, yeah?"

The voice was coming from on top of the Seacoles' roof and belonged to Rainbow Dash, the leader of Team RSPT. She was not someone whom Weiss had expected to see here, and yet here she was, perched on top of the roof, looking down upon the scene. She was wearing those wings of hers strapped across her shoulders and chest, and she was wearing a dark blue sports jacket with a light blue streak down the middle, covering the zipper, and another streak of red, yellow, and green across her midriff and her sleeves around the elbow. Her trousers were indigo, with light blue stripes running up the seams.

With her was none other than Blake Belladonna, once of the White Fang, now a friend of Atlas, if not quite the hero of the north kingdom the public believed.

The eyes of the mob turned upwards towards them.

"Rainbow Dash!" someone exclaimed from out of the crowd.

"That's right," Rainbow Dash said. "You remember me, huh?"

"We remember how you ditched the neighbourhood," the young man said. "What are you doing back here?"

"I heard you were having some trouble," Rainbow replied. "We're here to help."

"We don't need it! Not from these two, not from you, not from anyone who's causing people to go missing!"

"Atlas isn't doing this," Rainbow replied. "Atlas … Atlas doesn't do stuff like this."

"And why should I believe that? Why should any of us believe that? Because you say so?"

"Because it doesn't make any sense," Blake said, as she leapt down off the roof to land not far away from Weiss. "Why would Atlas, or the military, or the SDC suddenly start kidnapping people in the middle of the night? What does it get them that they don't already have?"

"Who are you?" someone demanded from out of the crowd.

"I'm…" Blake hesitated for a moment. "My name is Blake Belladonna. And my father is Ghira Belladonna, former High Leader of the White Fang. How many people have heard of him?"

Some, mostly the older members of the crowd, nodded or murmured that they had, or even that they remembered him.

"I understand that you're angry," Blake said. "I understand that you're upset, and I understand that you're worried about all your friends and relatives and neighbours who have gone missing. But taking that anger out on those who only want to help isn't going to bring those people back—"

"We can handle this on our own—"

"No, you can't!" Blake snapped so fiercely that the young man stumbled backwards away from her with a startled yelp. "You may want that to be true, but it isn't, and you know it isn't, because you know that you're not strong enough. That's not a bad thing. You shouldn't be ashamed of not having power … but there's nothing wrong with asking for help either, with admitting that you can't do this on your own. I'm here to help you. We're here to help you, and we're not going to stop until we find these missing people. I promise that Atlas did not do this but that we are going to find out who actually did."

The young man picked himself up off the ground. "Belladonna, huh? So your dad, he's the big guy down on Menagerie?"

Blake nodded sharply. "That's right," she said.

The young dog faunus nodded his head. "My folks live down there. They say he's a good guy. But they say you're some kind of Atlesian hero, special ops or somethin', so how do we know you haven't sold out like Rainbow Dash here?"

"Rainbow hasn't sold out, and neither have I," Blake declared. "As for my reputation … sometimes, a lie makes people more comfortable than the truth, but the truth is, I have always fought for justice, and I have always fought for our people, and that is something that will never change."

The young faunus half nodded. "From the Belladonna kid … I guess I can believe that. You really think that you can rescue everybody?"

Blake's mouth tightened. "I can't promise you that they're all still okay," she admitted. "But I can guarantee that I'll get to the bottom of what happened to them."

That, and the magic of the Belladonna name — and Blake's parents had not only led the White Fang, but were now ruling over the faunus on Menagerie? How did that happen? — seemed to be enough for the faunus, who began to disperse until, besides Weiss, Flash, Rainbow, and Blake, only Lavender Seacole remained, looking a little confused about what had just happened.

As Rainbow dropped down into the street, Blake turned to face Weiss and Flash. "So," she said, "what brings you two down here?"

"I asked for their help, sort of," Lavender murmured.

"Her grandmother was…" Weiss paused; for some reason, the idea of telling Blake Belladonna that she had had a faunus nanny made her feel rather self-conscious. But, since she couldn't actually explain why she felt that way, she pushed past the feeling and told her anyway. "She was my nanny."

"Of course she was," Blake murmured.

Weiss exhaled forcibly through her nostrils. "I could just as easily ask what brings you here?"

"I was asked to take a look at this too," Rainbow said. "A friend got in touch with me, and because the police … let's just say that General Ironwood appreciated that the police might not be the best people to take care of this and agreed to let me run point, for now anyway. I asked Blake to help me out." She paused for a moment. "Miss… Weiss, I hate to ask you this, but are you sure that the SDC isn't behind these disappearances?"

"Yes!" Weiss cried, taking a step backwards in surprise. "How … how can you say something like that, just because the company has a certain reputation—"

"It isn't the reputation of the SDC that concerns me," Rainbow murmured. "We've seen things that aren't part of the SDC's reputation."

Weiss glanced between Rainbow and Blake. They must know about the brand on that terrorist's face. It was the only thing that she could think of, although there was always the possibility that they knew other things that she was as yet ignorant of.

She rather hoped that that was not the case.

"Rainbow?" Flash said. "What are you talking about?"

"There are things that the SDC has done of which it would prefer to keep the public ignorant," Weiss admitted, her voice quiet and brittle, like glass. "Physical … mistreatment of workers."

"They brand their faces like cattle," Rainbow said sharply.

"Not all of them," Weiss replied.

"You knew?" Blake demanded.

Weiss took a deep breath. "Sunset told me about her encounter with the White Fang leader. I presume that's when Rainbow Dash found out about it as well."

"Gods," Flash murmured.

"You knew?" Blake repeated. "You knew, and what, you didn't do anything about it?"

"What was I supposed to do about it?" Weiss responded. "It's my family company, but I have no power within it; I can't stop it from happening; I can't even investigate how or why."

"You…" Blake trailed off. She was silent for a few moments. "I … I don't believe the SDC is involved with these disappearances."

"No?" Rainbow asked.

"You don't?" said Weiss.

"No," Blake agreed. "Because why start now? What would suddenly force the SDC to use this method to acquire labour, when they've never needed to do this before? These disappearances are novel — that's why people reached out to us for help — now what would force the SDC to suddenly take this tack? Nothing, as far as I can tell."

"Nor I," Weiss agreed, hoping that that would draw a line beneath the matter.

Instead, it seemed to lead to an uncomfortable silence between them that stretched out for longer than Weiss would have liked … and yet, she could not think of any way to end it.

"Since we both want the same thing," Blake said, finally ending the silence herself, "it makes sense for us to combine our forces."

"I'm sure you're right," Flash said. "People around here don't seem to like us very much. They might be more willing to speak to a faunus."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Blake said. "They might be wrong about Atlas being behind these disappearances, but people in places like this have good reasons to be mistrustful of outsiders."

Rainbow nodded. "We'll cover more ground if we split up, so let's mix up the groups? Flash, Blake, you've worked together before—"

"Actually," Weiss said, "why don't you take Flash, and I'll go with Blake, and we'll meet back up later and compare notes on what we've found out?" Rainbow seemed just as upset with the SDC as Blake was, but at least Blake had given her the benefit of the doubt and suggested that the SDC was not responsible for these disappearances. Besides, when Flash and Blake had worked together before, they'd ended up getting captured, and Flash had almost been shot.

Rainbow blinked. "Um … Blake, is that-?"

"I'm okay with that," Blake said, in a voice that was calm and quiet. "Whatever helps these people the most, I'll do it."

Rainbow nodded, before looking down at Lavender Seacole who had been listening to all of this with an open mouth and wide eyes. "Hey, kid, where were you about to take these two?"

"Uh, to Grampa's; it's where my sister was going when… when…"

"She made it there," Rainbow said. "So they must have picked her up on the way back."

"You've been to the store already?" Flash asked.

"That's right; I hoped that Grampa might know something," Rainbow replied. "He told us that Primrose Seacole made it to the store just as he was shutting up, but he let her in and served her anyway. She left … but she didn't make it back home. We were just about to speak to the family when we ran into you."

"I see," Weiss murmured. She turned to Lavender Seacole, getting down on her knees in front of her. "I think that you've helped us as much as you can, young lady. You should go back inside and take care of your grandmother. Now that I know where to find you, I'll bring your sister back as soon as you can."

"Are … are you sure?"

"Very sure," Weiss said. "It will be safer that way. I promise that my friends and I can handle this. After all, this is what we train for."

Lavender nodded. "G-good luck," she stammered, before heading back inside the house.

She closed the door behind her, although Weiss would have been more reassured to have heard the click of a lock.

"Why don't you and Flash go north, while we head south?" Weiss suggested. "We should meet back here in a few hours to share what we've found out."

"Fine," Rainbow said.

"Don't be late," Flash murmured.

"I regard punctuality as a virtue," she replied. To Blake, she asked, "Are you ready?"

"Of course." Blake said. "Let's go."

And she walked away, leveraging her longer legs to move at a pace Weiss would have to run in order to match. It felt, to be honest, just a little ungrateful. Weiss had done nothing but be courteous and considerate to Blake, and yet, here she was, not only taking the lead — of the two of them, Weiss was the one who was still a team leader — but also acting as though she had some reason to take a proud and haughty line with Weiss.

Weiss hurried after her — without trying to make it seem as though she was hurrying — until she drew level with the other, unfortunately taller girl and, through determined effort, kept pace with her as they walked southwards away from the Seacole house. Even if it meant having to take one and a half steps for every step of Blake's, Weiss was not going to be led by her.

She didn't dislike Blake, but one had to have some standards. She was a Schnee, and a Schnee did not walk behind.

If Blake noticed what Weiss was doing, she didn't comment on it; she simply kept on walking, and together, they moved through Low Town and began to get to work.

Said work mostly consisted of knocking on doors — or else approaching those who were hanging around outside of their homes or in the street — and asking them if they had seen anything, if they had heard anything, if they knew anything at all that might help explain these disappearances that had been terrorising the neighbourhood.

These faunus might have been too proud or too stupid — or both — to go the authorities, but they knew quite a bit. Although no one had been lucky, or unlucky, to actually catch sight of the kidnapper or kidnappers at work, plenty of them had heard something or seen something or knew something, even if it wasn't entirely clear what it all added up to.

One ageing goat faunus, with horns on either side of his head and a knife at his belt, who looked at Weiss as though he couldn't decide if she were predator or prey, informed them that his dog — a ferocious-looking black pitbull chained up outside the front door — had woken him up with barking on the night that a young man had disappeared.

"I get up to tell that damn dog to shut up, and I hear these clanking noises outside."

"'Clanking'? You mean like a robot?" Blake asked.

"Yeah, just like a robot," the goat faunus said. "Like the robots that they use." He gestured at Weiss with one hand. "I bet it's them that have been taking all those kids."

Weiss snorted. "That's utterly ridiculous."

"What, you think I'm too stupid to know what a robot sounds like?"

"I think you're jumping to conclusions," Weiss said.

"You said kids," Blake said hastily. "Are all the victims children?"

"Maybe not children," he said. "Although they all look like it to me, you know what I mean? They're all … kind of your age. Some a few years younger, some a few years older. Nobody as old as me has been taken, I'll tell you that. I think it's disgusting."

If he meant what she thought he meant, then Weiss couldn't help but agree with him.

"Are they … all girls?" Blake asked, in a tone that suggested that she didn't really want to know the answer but felt obliged to ask.

The goat shook his head. "Nah. Boys too. But that don't mean nothing. Those Schnees … and they call us the animals."

Weiss sputtered with incoherent outrage, but before she could get her tongue around the anger that was stopping up her throat like a jawbreaker, Blake had already thanked the man and ushered him back into his home.

"What … what are you doing?" Weiss demanded, as Blake leapt away from the dog in a manner that suggested that being so near to it for so long had been a sore trial for her. "I can't just let him say things like that!"

"It doesn't matter," Blake said.

"It matters to me!" Weiss replied.

"What matters to me is finding these people," Blake retorted. "I'm not here to salve your pride or your ego. If you don't want to help, then go home, but if you're going to stay, then come with me. We've got work to do." She led the way, leaving Weiss to hurry to catch up once again.

"If they were saying such things about the Belladonnas, would you still say that?" Weiss demanded to know, her tone as hot … as a branding iron. No, she didn't want to think about that.

Or about how little she had done about it.

Blake paused for just a moment, allowing Weiss to catch up. "I would hope that I would," she said. "My pride doesn't matter here either. All that matters is saving people."

She continued on, voluminous black hair bouncing slightly, but this time, Weiss managed to keep pace. It still took a bit of effort on her part.

A woman described how her son always stayed late at the pawnshop where he worked, but he always came straight home after locking up — until one night, he hadn't. Another — younger, but outside of the age range given by the goat faunus — woman described seeing a pair of green eyes staring at her from out of the dark as she was on her way home; the eyes had watched her, but she had otherwise been unmolested as she ran the rest of the way back to her house. Several others described hearing the same robotic noises in the night as the goat had heard, and he wasn't the only one to attribute them to either military or SDC androids.

"This is ridiculous!" Weiss declared as the door closed on yet another person who believed that the military-industrial complex was abducting Atlesian citizens for nefarious purposes. "Do people really believe that Atlas would do something like that? To its own people?"

"Look around," Blake said. "Do you think that these people really feel like citizens of Atlas?"

Weiss bit her lip as she cast her eyes around the favela in which she and Blake stood: the corrugated iron roofs, the walls made of cracked and crumbling breeze blocks stacked haphazardly one on top of the other; the wooden shanties and the unstable-looking lean-tos; the exposed wires and cables trailing down the walls like creepers or strung across the street for the pigeons to sit on; the way the buildings rose unsteadily upwards, teetering inwards until they almost enclosed the street at times, blocking off even more of the light than the looming city up above; the rats darting across the unpaved street. It seemed as remote from the glittering spires of Atlas up above as the moon; she couldn't understand how anyone could live like this, or why they would.

Because they are forced to, I suppose. Forced to by … by people like my father.

"Atlas is two nations, not one," Blake said. She turned away, bowing her head even as she brushed her hair back over her shoulder so that it didn't fall across her face. "Two nations that have no sympathy for one another; that don't care to learn anything about one another; who barely imagine how the other thinks, feels, lives; who live by different laws and customs. To these people, Atlas might as well be on another planet."

Weiss' brow furrowed. "You're being rather bleak."

"Am I?" Blake said. "This place has been right below your feet all this time, and yet you had no idea until today, did you?"

Weiss hesitated for a moment. "No," she admitted.

"No," Blake repeated. "Because you live in the clouds, in a place where these faunus can only dream of living."

"Now you're definitely exaggerating," Weiss said. "What about Rainbow Dash? She's made it to Atlas."

Blake rolled her eyes. "Yes, Rainbow Dash got out, but even she would admit by now that pointing to one faunus who managed to claw her way up the ladder doesn't invalidate the discrimination that the rest have to deal with. The discrimination that your family plays a big part in maintaining."

Weiss was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as eyes and as sharp as the point on Myrtenaster. "Don't say 'my family' when what you really mean is my father."

The name of Schnee did not begin with my father, it will not end with my father, so why is my father the first and only thing that anyone seems to think about when it comes to the family or the company?

Blake curled up the fingers on her right hand one by one. "I … I didn't mean to upset you," she said, although her tone made it clear that she didn't understand what it was that she had actually said to upset Weiss.

"I told you once that I knew what my father is," Weiss said, even as she turned away from Blake. "I know my father better than most people, I think, and that familiarity has not … it does not breed sympathy in me, take that as you will. I am not blind, I am no fool, I am aware of all the shameful things he does and of those things I … I am ashamed. But you have no idea at all how it feels to have people talk about my father as though he is the quintessential Schnee, the exemplar of everything that this family — that my family — means or is or stands for. As though he's the only Schnee that matters and every other Schnee must either have been or will be just like him.

"Did you even know that it was my grandfather who founded the Schnee Dust Company?"

"No," Blake admitted. "I can't say I did."

"He was a miner, a huntsman, an engineer, a surveyor, a prospector, and a leader of men," Weiss said. "He personally discovered the dust deposits that made my family what it is today. The greatness of Atlas was built upon my grandfather's back, and yet, today, almost no one remembers his name.

"My grandmother was a huntress; grandfather met her when she accepted a mission to protect his first prospecting expedition. They fell in love on the journey; without her, he would have died half a dozen times, and yet, no one outside the family remembers her at all."

Blake was silent for a moment. "Your grandfather … he sounds as though he was an accomplished man," she said, in a neutral tone. "And your grandmother must have been brave."

"And my father was not even born a Schnee," Weiss said, rounding on the other girl. "He took the name when he married my mother."

Blake said nothing. She didn't seem to see the relevance.

"The point is," Weiss began. "The point is that the Schnee name did not begin with my father, and he does not get to define a name that wasn't even his to begin with! Or at least … he shouldn't, even though he has."

"He has," Blake agreed. "But he won't be around forever, and in time … he'll be forgotten, just like—"

"Like my grandparents?"

Blake cringed a little. "I just meant … you can write your own story, and in time, that will be what it means to be a Schnee, not your father. For as long as you're alive, at least.

"The White Fang was founded as a peaceful movement, to achieve equality through protest and debate. But does anyone remember that now? Do you? You think the White Fang is just a terrorist group — everyone thinks that — because … because we're defined by our present, not our past. We're judged by what we do, not remembered for where we came from." Blake paused. "And, honestly … I think that's a good thing."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?"

"Because our present is always changing," Blake explained. "And so we always have the chance to change too, unburdened by our pasts. You said that my description was bleak, but if I thought that was the end of it, why would I even be here? I'm here because I believe that things can be different, be better, for Atlas, for the faunus … why not for the SDC as well?

"I'm here, as arrogant as it might seem to say so, because I want to change the world, and I believe it can be done. I believe that we can leave the bloodshed of the past behind and not be defined by it. Because we are defined by our present, not our past—"

"Then all that matters is what we do next," Weiss murmured.

Blake smiled slightly. "Something like that."

"That's a very Atlesian attitude to have," Weiss noted, a faint smile coming to her lips.

Blake seemed taken aback for a moment, but then smiled herself. "Thank you."

"'Thank you,'" Weiss quoted with clear amusement. "As I recall, the last time we had a serious conversation, you claimed that you didn't hate Atlas, just what it stood for and the institutions it upheld."

"Yes, well … we are defined by our present," Blake repeated somewhat sheepishly. "I suppose I have flipped my position a bit. Can you blame me, though? Until I got here, I would have been hard-pressed to find a single Atlesian who didn't espouse great ideals and at least try to live up to them, even if they didn't always succeed. Maybe that's why this whole town is so offensive. The idea that the greatest kingdom on Remnant would—"

"Forget that this place even exists?" Weiss interrupted, finishing Blake's thoughts with a bit of her own.

She really should have come down here earlier. She should have visited Mrs. Seacole earlier. She should have done a lot of things that she should have but didn't because she just hadn't known that this place existed. She could have known though, she should have known.

"Yes," Blake said, confirming what Weiss had said. "So, I think it's time that someone… reminded them. I'm sure that… even if I can't say that that the right thing will be done, I'm sure that good people will do all they can, always provided they can work out what the best thing to do is."

"You've got a lot of faith in this kingdom," Weiss murmured.

"How can I not?" Blake asked. "After all, where else on Remnant could a poor faunus girl from Menagerie talk to one of the future ruling elite? Someone who's basically a princess?"

"Didn't I just say that my family are supposed to be miners and huntsmen?" Weiss demanded lightly. "Your family rules Menagerie; you're more of a princess than I am."

"Even if you assume that logic you'd have to accept that I've effectively abdicated my privileges along with my responsibilities," Blake said somewhat defensively. "Can I really be considered a princess when I go to the literal other side of the planet instead of taking up the throne?"

"So you intend … what?" Weiss asked. "To lead Atlas and transform it from within?"

Blake hesitated for a moment. "I … I keep telling people that I haven't made up my mind yet but the truth is … yes. Yes, that is what I intend. Or, if not me, then at least someone who shares my goals. Someone in whose ear I can whisper, and who I can keep honest."

Weiss chuckled. "That is what I intend also, with the SDC, although I must say, you're pursuing it more methodically than I am. But, if our ambitions do come true, then I think it will be a pleasure to work with you."

Blake bowed her head. "Likewise."

The heir to Menagerie held out her hand, and the heir to the Schnee Dust Company took it, her small, pale hand enfolded in Blake's grasp.

Blake's scroll went off, and Blake withdrew her hand to produce the device from out of her long white jacket.

It was Rainbow Dash. "Hey," she said. "You two might want to get up here; we think we've found something."

Blake and Weiss hastened north, where they found Rainbow and Flash just beyond the edge of Low Town, where the buildings ceased and there was nothing but barren earth, grey and dark, rolling — gently at first, and then with increasing steepness — up to form the crater that surrounded the settlement.

Where Rainbow and Flash were, where Weiss and Blake found them, was still basically flat ground, ground that could have been built on except that, presumably, there was no one to live here.

However, the absence of anything here — Low Town was behind them now, if not very far behind — made Weiss wonder why they had been called here.

"Forgive me," she murmured, "but … what are we supposed to be looking at?"

"Blake," Rainbow said, "did anyone mention robots to you?"

"You heard that too?" Blake asked.

"And people in those houses nearby said that they've heard airships in the night," Flash added.

"Airships don't make that much noise," Weiss murmured. "So they wouldn't hear them unless—"

"Unless they were coming in very low," Blake said softly. "Low enough to land, perhaps."

"And we think we know where they're landing," Rainbow declared.

Weiss blinked. "I … I'm sorry, I still don't see what makes this any different than anywhere else around here. Yes, the sound is a factor, but—"

"The ground is flat," Rainbow pointed out.

"So?"

"No, I mean it's really flat," Rainbow said, reaching out and brushing her fingers against the earth in front of her. "Ground isn't that flat naturally, even what we call flat ground; it's been packed flat, like by something heavy landing on it, a lot."

Now that her attention had been drawn to it, Weiss could see what she meant: a rectangle of earth, levelled and flattened, while all around it, the ground was, while not sloping, possessed of the usual unevenness of ground, slight rises and falls, barely noticeable, but there all the same.

Except within this rectangle.

"A pilot would not land in the same place twice," Rainbow went on. "I mean, they might land in almost the same place, but they wouldn't set an airship down in the exact same place every time; there'd be variations. But if an android was programmed to land in a certain place, then it will hit that exact mark every single time."

"But an airship wouldn't leave a mark like that," Weiss pointed out.

"It would if it was carrying a container, or something like that," Flash suggested. "And … if you were kidnapping people, you might not want them in the airship where they could try and seize the controls."

"So … you think that an airship, flown by an android or a computer program, is landing here with a container, sending out at least one android to kidnap people, then putting those people inside the container before the airship flies away?" Weiss said.

"It's a working theory," Rainbow replied.

"It sounds plausible," Blake murmured.

"I suppose," Weiss acknowledged. "But even if it is androids, this is not the SDC's doing."

"We know," Rainbow assured her, rising to her feet. "And it isn't the military either, but anyone can buy androids, and for whatever reason, provided they've got the lien."

"True," Weiss agreed. She paused for a moment. "Who would have thought this case would be solved so easily?"

"This case didn't need a genius to solve it," Blake growled. "It just needed someone to show up and give a damn."

Weiss couldn't argue with that. Imagine how many lives could have been saved if anyone had cared to try?

"This isn't solved yet; we still need to find those people," Rainbow said. She grinned. "But I think I might have an idea how we can do that."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Robots Undisguised​

Blake shivered. "Rainbow Dash?"

"Yeah?" Rainbow's voice came over her earpiece. She was somewhere nearby, hidden, watching her, but Blake couldn't see her, just like she couldn't see Weiss or Flash either. She could only hear Rainbow's voice, speaking to her from out of Rainbow's hiding place.

Blake shivered again. "Is it me, or is it much colder down here than it was in Atlas?"

Rainbow's laughter had an edge of nervousness to it. "It's not just you, Blake, sorry. There is a heating grid — that's why you won't, you know, die — but it's not enough to really warm the place up like Atlas."

Blake huffed. "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised," she muttered.

"It's another reason why it would be great if everyone could move out of here and come to live in Atlas," Rainbow said. "There's just … there's too much work to be done to make this a decent place to live."

"I know what you mean," Blake said quietly.

Night had fallen over Atlas and Low Town alike, and Blake was waiting in a narrow alley between two rising ramshackle apartment blocks at the very edge of Low Town, not far from the flattened patch of earth that they theorised was being used as the landing site for airships abducting faunus.

The plan that Dash had come up with was a simple one, but no less good to Blake's mind for being simple. It was a variation on the tactics they had already used to beat Torchwick and the White Fang, and it had worked perfectly well then against opponents who could think for themselves: they would stake out the landing site, and when — if — an airship landed, then Blake would pretend to be an innocent faunus girl walking home at night. The hope was that such a target in such proximity would entice the kidnappers, who would then be set upon by the combined strength of their party with the aim of disabling one of the androids and getting Twilight to examine it for more information.

To be honest, if it hadn't been for the uncommonly cold weather, Blake wouldn't have minded either the plan or her part in it, but it was cold, so she minded a little.

She heard someone coming, footsteps from behind her; Blake spun around, reaching for Gambol Shroud — it was concealed beneath her coat and worn a little lower on her back than normal, but she could still reach it over her shoulder — before she saw that it was Weiss.

"In some ways, I think I should be the one who's afraid of you," Weiss observed.

Blake lowered her hand. "You startled me."

"Sorry," Weiss said, as she walked closer. She had a flask in her hand, which she held out towards Blake as she approached. "I thought I could help with the cold."

"Coffee?"

"Tea," Weiss corrected. "Is that a problem?"

"No, it's better," Blake said. "When did you get that?"

"I've been carrying it all day," Weiss said, as she unscrewed the top of the metal flask and poured some steaming liquid into it. "It has a dust-powered heater that keeps it warm; you could say it's a portable kettle. Here."

Blake took the lid-turned-cup out of Weiss' hands. It was warm to her touch, warm verging upon hot, and that was such a satisfying feeling to her fingers and her palms that had become to ache and throb from the cold. She stood, shivering, feeling the heat on her skin for a moment or two before she started to sip. The tea was a little sweeter than she personally preferred, but she wasn't about to quibble with Weiss at a time like this. "It's great, thank you."

Weiss unscrewed the bottom of the flask, which turned out to be a second cup which she poured for herself. "You're welcome. My butler does make an excellent cup of tea."

Blake's eyebrows rose.

"Don't look at me like that," Weiss said, with a touch of good-natured irritation. "I refuse to believe that the daughter of the ruler of Menagerie has never been waited on in her life before."

"It's not as grand as you might think," Blake replied, because it was easier to just say that than to try and explain that she'd run away from her parents before her father became ruler of Menagerie. Besides, as it happened, Weiss was right: she had been waited on, when she had sat at the left hand of Sienna Khan as her honoured guest — Sienna had made much of Blake in the early days, had played the mother to her in Blake's own mother's absence; now, Blake was inclined to believe that she had wanted to rub it in the faces of her parents — and at the warlord's table, she had been treated as a princess of the White Fang in ways that she had never been when her father was leader; and in Vale, when she had been with Adam … it sometimes struck her as strange some of the ways that the White Fang had, by accident or through deliberate imitation, ended up mimicking the Atlesian military to which it was implacably opposed: Adam didn't dine with the common rabble, but only with his trusted lieutenants and Blake, and the lowly task of preparing his own meals had been beneath the great liberator's dignity; he had had Strongheart or one of the other young faunus take care of it. So …Weiss had a point. "But … you're not wrong about the servants thing." I still knew how to make my own tea.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, I might tell you," Weiss declared. "Take … take Missus Seacole, my old nanny; is she happier living … living down here, trying to raise her granddaughters on … I don't even know what? Meagre savings, a small pension maybe, or was she better off getting a wage as an employee of my grandfather? If you are fortunate enough to have wealth, it strikes me that there are much worse ways to use it than to give employment to those who are not so fortunate. Yes, androids can do the dusting and the ironing and make the beds, and maybe they can even be programmed to cook, but … I don't see that being unemployed is an improvement on being a servant."

That assumes that some people should have so much more money than others, Blake thought. Not everyone would agree … but then who would expect the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company to find the concept of monstrous wealth to be abhorrent.

If the limits of her imagination were using her wealth for good, then who could honestly blame her?

"In my case, it's a little different," Blake said. "But I take your point." She paused for a moment. "Why would you be afraid of me?"

"You are a former member of the White Fang, after all," Weiss pointed out. "I'm not sure that my father would approve of this, if he knew."

"The fact that he doesn't know suggests you don't really care whether he approves or not," Blake pointed out.

"True," Weiss said with a slight chuckle. "It was … a bad joke, I suppose."

"Heads up, everybody," Rainbow's voice came over the com device in Blake's ear. "I just got word from air traffic control; there's a Bullhead incoming, looks like it's on approach to this location."

"Do they know whose Bullhead it is?" Flash asked.

"Nah, they just told me it's a registered civilian ID," Rainbow said. "I can ask for the details, but the airship will probably get here before they respond. Blake, are you ready?"

"Almost," Blake murmured, taking a healthy gulp from her cup of tea.

Weiss sipped thoughtfully from hers. "You know what's bothering me about this?"

"No."

"That woman who saw green eyes … she said they were looming over her, but no robot is that big. Combat androids are the size of people."

"Military models are, but this could be a private design," Blake suggested.

"Have you ever heard of a private design that much taller than a person?"

"No," Blake admitted. "But I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

"Eyes up; here it comes," Rainbow said, as the whine of a Bullhead's engines disturbed the quiet of the night. "Blake, you set?"

Blake drained the last of her cup of tea in one gulp. "I am now."

"Then you're on."

Blake handed Weiss her cup back. "Thanks for the tea."

"Don't mention it," Weiss said, screwing the lid back on her flask. "Good luck. I'm right behind you."

Blake nodded as she slouched out of the alleyway and just beyond the informal boundaries of Low Town. Once outside, with her feline night vision, she could see the Bullhead descending as plain as day.

It was unpainted and unmarked, much like the ones that White Fang occasionally used — when they could get their hands on them — in an attempt at stealth through lack of identifiers. The White Fang would never prey upon their own people in this way, but the similarity didn't reassure Blake that whoever was landing here didn't have a nefarious purpose in mind. A container unit, as grey and unmarked as the Bullhead itself, was attached to the bottom of the airship.

There were no lights on the airship, either inside the cockpit — it was completely dark, from what Blake could see — or outside in terms of landing lights or the like. It looked like Rainbow was right: everything was entirely automated.

That might be a good thing: a human — or faunus — might have recognised that she didn't exactly look like the sort of person who belonged in Low Town.

She continued to watch the airship as it descended vertically upon the empty plot of land; if anyone was watching her in turn, she hoped they wouldn't think it strange that the landing of an airship in the middle of the night in a place like this was attracting attention from a lonely girl walking home at night. It was only when the Bullhead had completed its landing and cut its engines that Blake turned away and began to walk — more like a slouch — slowly around the edge of town, playing the part of a tired girl making her way home after an exhausting day at work.

"You should have been in drama club," Rainbow said.

"Where I grew up we didn't have drama club," Blake replied.

"Can everybody see Blake?"

"Yes," said Weiss.

"I see her," Flash added.

Blake didn't look at the airship as she heard the central compartment open up, the door opening with a whine. She heard a heavy thump upon the ground, and she glanced out of the corner of her eye and then had to stop and look as one of the biggest robots that she'd ever seen, having dropped out of the Bullhead and onto the ground, rose up to its full height.

"What the … what is that thing?" she heard Rainbow ask in her ear.

Blake didn't answer. Nobody answered because nobody knew.

The best that could be said for the android that now stomped its way towards her was that it wasn't the size of an Atlesian paladin, but that didn't matter too much because it still dwarfed any humanoid battle droid that Blake had ever encountered. It put Blake herself — or anyone else she knew apart from her father — in the shade. Although it was modelled after a man, it was the size of an ursa; Blake doubted she'd come past its waist, if that. The android's body was as red as blood, with broad shoulders and a heavy torso, although its legs looked a little thin by comparison; it carried a double-bladed polearm in one hand, and the blades of the weapon glowed blue even as its green eyes, fixed on Blake, burned brightly in the darkness; she could see a large white M upon its belly.

The android made its way straight towards Blake, unflinching and unhesitating, the green eyes and green lines glowing in the dark.

Blake didn't move as it bore down upon her. She felt it wasn't unnatural that anyone in this position would be frozen in fear at the sight.

She could understand why someone might freeze at this sight — and she didn't mind admitting in the privacy of her head that she wished Pyrrha were here to take care of it with her semblance — but anger and the accompanying fire stoked in her prevented Blake from freezing.

So they had been right: someone was sending out their androids to snatch faunus off the streets of Low Town. Why? What gave them the right? Did they think that, because these people were faunus, that meant they didn't matter? That they could do what they liked and nobody would notice, or care if they did notice?

It only needed someone to show up and care.

Well she was here now, and she cared, and Rainbow cared, and she thought that even Weiss cared — probably Flash cared too, although she didn't know him well enough to comment for sure. They were all here, and they all had Blake's back, and they were going to show whoever was behind this that they had made a big mistake.

The robot continued to advance.

"Do we go now?" Flash asked.

"Not yet," Rainbow said.

The android bore down on Blake; soon, it would be close enough to touch her.

"Now?" demanded Weiss.

"Not yet," Rainbow said.

The now-closer droid raised its free hand and reached for Blake's head.

"We have to move," urged Weiss.

"Not yet," Rainbow said insistently.

Blake stood still, seeming paralysed with fear, as the red hand of the droid, the hand that was as large as her face, closed with her head, metallic fingers closing around it.

Or rather, around the swiftly-dissolving shadow where Blake had been a moment ago.

Blake leapt up into the air, drawing Gambol Shroud across her shoulder. She seemed to hang in the air for a moment as her weapon arranged itself into pistol configuration; she snapped off a trio of shots that struck the green-eyed android in the face.

The shots ricocheted off the crimson android's head, and as a string of unintelligible robotic sounds emanated from the creation, Blake could swear that it looked at her with greater malice than before.

"Now!" Rainbow yelled. "Save the head, okay; we need to preserve the head so Twi can hack it!"

The android slashed at Blake as she descended from her leap, its glaive leaving a blue trail in the air so swiftly did it move; too swiftly for Blake, and she was in the wrong place to leave another clone to take the hit in her place; the halberd caught her in the waist, sending her flying backwards down the nearest Low Town street to land on her back. She could feel her aura dropping from the blow and the subsequent impact, and she could feel her back and stomach aching as she leapt to her feet.

The android advanced towards her, slow but implacable.

Rainbow's jetpack left a trail as she streaked through the air, kicking the android in the face as she flew past. It didn't seem to faze the robot much — as far as she could tell with an android, anyway — but it seemed to get its attention.

Or perhaps that was just the way that Rainbow landed on top of the android's polearm, balancing precariously on the pole like a gymnast as she unloaded her shotgun into the android's chest.

Unfailing Loyalty roared once, twice, three times, four times as the buckshot hit the armour plating of the android with a clatter and a rattle like pebbles bouncing off a window. The crimson armour of the robot's chest suffered microscopic little dents, but the robot itself stood stoic and enduring of these blows until it flicked its glaive upwards to send Rainbow flying off. The robot turned, tracking Rainbow's movements as she soared through the night sky, before it was interrupted by a blue shot striking it from behind.

Weiss erupted out of the alleyway where Blake had left her, gliding across a line of speed glyphs with all the grace of a figure skater, her rapier drawn back and her free hand outstretched before her in some kind of formal fencing posture. She darted around the android, dodging the wide swing of its blade, and as she glided around the robot — it seemed so cumbersome in comparison to her lithe agility — she flicked her Myrtenaster outwards, and both the robot's feet were encased in the ice that arose spikily out of the ground at Weiss' command.

Blake dashed forward, Gambol Shroud reforming into a sword at her impulse as she charged right for the immobilised robot. It glared at her, or seemed to glare, as it wound up its halberd for a thrust into her chest.

Blake smirked and wondered if the robot understood what that meant.

The android thrust its polearm forward in a series of long, powerful blows that struck the ice clone Blake had left behind her. The real Blake rolled out of the way, getting to her feet in time to see the robot's glowing weapon encased in ice and as trapped as its feet.

Flash, who lacked the speed of either Weiss or Rainbow, joined them as the android tugged impotently upon its imprisoned weapon.

"Nice going, Blake," Rainbow said as she landed on top of the android's shoulders.

"Ahem," Weiss coughed into her hand.

Rainbow ignored her as she crouched down and placed her hands on either side of the android's head.

"Okay," she said. "Let's get this—"

She was interrupted by a flurry of fire from the direction of the Bullhead, which struck her on the back and tore her away, off the android's shoulders, sending her flying headfirst to the ground.

Another android unfolded itself as it jumped down from the Bullhead. This one was white, as tall as the first but even broader in the body; the M upon its chest was crimson, and its eyes glowed red and seemingly full of wrath as it aimed the giant weapon it was holding in both hands at the young huntsmen.

Bullets sprayed from the heavy machine gun in its hands, erupting from the single barrel as the android loosed its fire upon them. Blake took cover behind an earth clone, hearing the rock chip and crack under the onslaught. Flash threw himself in front of Weiss and held his shield in front of himself; his semblance, Stalwart, enabled him to absorb the force of blows that would have knocked another man aside, and he used it now to absorb the hail of fire that rattled off his shield, weathering it like a great oak standing before the storm.

And then the red android tore its halberd out of the ice and began to use it to hack away at the ice restraining its feet. Blake shot at it, but it hardly seemed to notice or, if it noticed, didn't care.

The white android ceased to fire and seemed to study the group for a moment. A green pebble, or something that looked like one, flew out of the cannon's mouth to bounce along the ground before landing at Flash's feet.

"Gren—" Rainbow's shout was cut off as the grenade exploded under and in front of Flash Sentry, knocking him up and backwards with an anguished cry of pain.

"Flash!" Weiss cried as Flash's aura shattered visibly in front of them, a golden light rippling over his body as his inner light faded.

Weiss conjured a white glyph to catch him gently before he hit the ground, while another glyph formed in front of him to shield him from fire.

"Get the head off the red one," Rainbow yelled, a rainbow streaking behind her as she charged towards the white android with the gun. "I'll take care of the other."

The red android had succeeded in freeing its legs from the ice, but Weiss faced it now with eyes like ice, betokening a fury as chill as the Atlesian winter

Red dust, as red as the robot itself, cycled into Myrtenaster's chamber as a line of flame ran across the ground between Weiss and the android, erupting into an explosion at its feet which staggered the robot even as it did not immobilise it. The android rounded on her, but Weiss attacked first, her rapier shining as she thrust it forward in a flurry of blows that made the android cower behind its arms, shielding itself as Myrtenaster glanced off its armour plates again and again.

The android swept both its arms outwards, knocking Weiss backward a pace, before hitting her with its own flurry of thrusting strokes that sent her flying through the air. For a moment, Weiss seemed to hang suspended, her rapier glowing yellow, and in that moment of suspension, she fired something, a yellow blast, from the tip of her blade at Blake, and then the moment passed, and the glaive struck her and knocked her backwards to the ground.

The glowing yellow shot which Weiss had fired hit the ground at Blake's feet, forming into a glyph in the shape of many grinding gears, turning like the inner workings of a clock.

The world around Blake seemed to slow. She could see the red android advancing on Weiss, she could see Rainbow charging the white android, fist cocked back, but they were all moving so, so slowly. Rainbow Dash was the only one who seemed to be running at anything like normal speed, but she should have been moving so fast that Blake couldn't make her out. And the red android was moving so slowly it was barely moving at all.

Blake attacked. She charged the robot, hitting it from all sides and all directions. Gambol Shroud struck from everywhere as Blake hacked at her target's legs, its arms, its weapons. She rained down blows upon it from all sides, breaking the glaive in two and slashing through one of its legs at the knee. The effect of whatever exactly it was that Weiss had done to Blake wore off, but it hardly seemed to matter as the android fell forwards to hit the ground with a thud.

It tried to rise, onto its knees at least, but Weiss was already standing over it, and at her feet glowed a white glyph, and around her rapier, an enormous broadsword made of ice had formed. And as the red android raised its head and began to push itself up, she swung that sword and lopped off its head in a single stroke.

The decapitated robot hit the ground with a final thump.

A booming sound from the direction of the Bullhead drew the attention of Blake and Weiss in time to see Rainbow punch the head clean off the white android using that aura-boom of hers. Personally, Blake thought that draining your own aura to such an extent was incredibly rash in a fight, but it seemed to have worked in this case as the head flew into the bullhead and the white android crumpled to the ground.

And then the Bullhead itself exploded. Rainbow Dash was framed against the explosion as the dark aircraft erupted into light, before both she and the body of the white android — minus the head — were thrown backwards, skidding along the derelict plot that served as a landing pad before the android's body landed on top of Rainbow Dash, who groaned.

"Rainbow!" Blake cried, as she dashed through the still-open wire gate and across the barren ground towards her. "Are you okay?"

Rainbow groaned as she pushed the android off her. "I think my aura just broke, but so long as there aren't any more robots around, I'll be fine." She rubbed at her right shoulder with her left hand as she got to her feet. "Did you get the head?"

Weiss picked up the head of the red android. "Present and accounted for."

"And Flash?" Rainbow asked.

Weiss walked quickly across the ground to where Flash still lay upon the white glyph. "Unconscious, but I can't see any injuries."

"I'll call in a medevac for him," Rainbow said. "Was it just me, or did those androids seem tougher than ours?"

"It wasn't just you," Blake said. She frowned. "And we're still no closer to finding the missing."

"I wouldn't say that," Rainbow replied. "Once we get the head to Twilight, I've got a feeling it's going to give us everything we need."

XxXxX​

The door into the lab slid open, admitting Weiss and a slightly bruised and battered-looking Flash Sentry. He was out of his armour now and wearing a jacket over a T-shirt and jeans. He smiled sheepishly at all those who were already in the room.

"Hey, guys," he said. "I hope I didn't keep everyone waiting."

"It's cool," Rainbow said. "You deserve to be here when we find out what it's all about. How do you feel?"

"My aura broke, but it stopped me taking any real injuries first," Flash said. "That, or my armour took the worst of it. I'll be okay."

"I still don't think that a single grenade should have been able to break your aura like that," Weiss said. "That seems far too powerful."

Rainbow nodded. "Your aura's never seemed that weak before."

Flash looked even more embarrassed. "What can I say? It happened."

He and Weiss joined the others. The bodies of the two androids that they had fought down at the landing sight had been dismantled into their component parts — torso, arms, legs — and most of said parts had, with the exception of the head of the red android, been placed under some kind of scanner. Twilight had explained what the scanner was called — something to do with determining the component elements and analysing the design — but Blake couldn't remember the exact words.

Twilight sat at a desk, her back to the scanners, with the other huntsmen gathered around her. The head of the red android sat on the desk not far away, as did a pair of computers, of which Twilight was only using one at the moment. She turned her chair around and ran her bespectacled eyes across the gathering.

"Well, I'm afraid it's not the best news," she said, sounding a trifle nervous.

Rainbow placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's up, Twi?"

Twilight winced. "These androids don't match anything on the database when it comes to commercial models; not only are they not military, they're not even on sale."

Rainbow frowned. "You're saying that somebody built these in their garage? Come on, Twilight, the only person I know who could do that is, well, you."

"I wouldn't count Moondancer out either," Twilight said. She paused. "I'm not suggesting that Moondancer's a suspect, by the way."

"Don't worry, I got that," Rainbow reassured her.

"Are all customised androids so tough?" Blake asked.

"Quite the opposite," Twilight said. "Most hand-built androids are inferior to the mass-produced models — as you'd hope, really. But I didn't say that these were hand-built; on the contrary, they show no evidence of hand-crafting and appear to be production line models."

"But you said—" Rainbow began.

"I said they weren't on sale, at the moment," Twilight said. "But they do bear some resemblance to the Merlot Industries Guardian and Suppressor Androids that were briefly on sale about twenty years ago." She tapped some of the keys on the left-hand computer, and a pair of photographs appeared on the large monitor that took up most of the wall in front of them. At first, the photographs appeared to Blake to be the androids that they had fought that night. After a moment's more careful study, she realised that they were not actually the same androids, though they were clearly related, but the two androids in the pictures were less heavily armoured, with more of their inner workings exposed to the world; they were also slightly smaller, and overall less sophisticated-looking, with the so-called Suppressor having a simpler-looking rotary cannon and the Guardian having only a single-bladed spear; it was like comparing the AK-130 to the AK-200: they were the same but also different.

Or like comparing someone to a picture of when they were a child.

"They're more advanced now," Blake said.

Twilight nodded. "What you've brought me are a pair of true next-generation androids compared to anything in use at the moment: stronger, more resilient, better armed; I won't know about intelligence until I hook this one up." She indicated the severed head on her desk. "But overall, it isn't looking too good for the Atlesian Knight."

Rainbow folded her arms. "That's … not good. We spend millions on R&D, so how did some random guy manage to come up with androids that are so much better than ours?"

"That's why I don't think it's likely that this is just some random guy," Twilight said. "If it is, they're a genius. Although…"

"What?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight shrugged. "One of the reasons why the AK-200 represents such an incremental advancement over the 130 is that we don't need our androids to be that much better. The replacement of on-board weapon systems with hands is the biggest upgrade, and everything else is just slight tweaking for better performance; that's because our existing androids work for what they're designed to do: replace low-level infantry on the ground, and with that goal accomplished, we've been able to focus our research on other areas, like the Paladin or, well, you know."

"Know what?" Flash asked.

"You don't know," Rainbow informed him.

Flash frowned a little. "Are we allowed to know?"

"No," Rainbow said flatly.

"Good to know," Flash remarked with a perfectly straight face.

"It's classified," Twilight added apologetically. "Suffice to say … we have been busy, just not on making leaps in combat android capabilities. But these androids … it's almost as if they were designed to replace huntsmen."

"Or kill them," Blake muttered.

"Who'd want to replace huntsmen with robots?" Flash asked.

"As much to the point, why aren't they on sale anymore?" Weiss added.

"And why have we never bought them?" inquired Rainbow. "I mean, I know that they could never actually replace huntsmen, even if the guy who built them wanted them to, but they're still better — and look like they were better — than what we're working with."

"Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that they were built in Vale, the home of Merlot Industries," Twilight said. "Not Atlas."

Blake frowned. "That sounds … I mean, obviously, I understand what you just said, but I don't understand the rationale behind it."

"It's council policy," Twilight explained. "Military contracts are only given to Atlesian providers, to boost the economy and ensure that we have our own defence industries in the event of … in the event of…."

"War with the other kingdoms?" Blake suggested.

"It's mostly the economy thing," Twilight assured her.

Rainbow folded her arms. "Hard to believe that the Valish were coming up with tech that was so much better than ours."

Twilight tapped something on her keyboard, and the photographs on the large monitor were replaced by an encyclopaedia entry for Merlot Industries. Blake started to read it, but it seemed that she didn't have to because Twilight started to summarise the details for them. "Merlot Industries, founded by Doctor Victor Merlot, whose expulsion from Beacon didn't stop him from getting doctorates in genetics and cybernetic engineering or from setting up a company which he named after himself. He was believed to have great promise and attracted a lot of early investment, but he wasted most of it on a lavish corporate headquarters in Mountain Glenn and on various scientific projects of little commercial value. The mainstay of the company was a line of highly-advanced combat androids, but they struggled to find any buyers. Some said that they were too advanced for the kind of security work that most private androids are employed in, but Doctor Merlot…" Twilight trailed off, with a glance at Weiss.

Weiss pursed her lips together. "If it's about my father, you can say it. I won't be offended."

Twilight cleared her throat. "Doctor Merlot alleged that the Schnee Dust Company was engaging in predatory pricing in order to shut him out of the market, but the Remnant Trade Organisation dismissed his accusations and refused to impose any sanctions on the SDC. The finances of Merlot Industries continued to worsen, but none of that mattered once Mountain Glenn was overrun by the grimm. Doctor Merlot was amongst those declared missing after the disaster along with many of his staff; the remnants of the company ended up sold shortly afterwards.

Blake said, "So this is a company based in Vale, that was going bankrupt even before everyone involved was eaten by the creatures of grimm, and yet somehow, improved versions of their androids — the androids that nobody was buying even when they were available — have shown up in Atlas being used to kidnap faunus?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but that's what the evidence suggests," Twilight said. She rolled her chair sideways to the left a little and picked up the head of the red android. "This guy might be able to tell us a little more." She reached for a cable connected to the computer on her right.

"This isn't going to be one of those things where you plug that in, and two seconds later, we've lost control of Atlas' air defences, is it?" Rainbow asked.

"That's why I'm using this computer and not that one," Twilight, gesturing to the machine she'd been using before. "This one is completely disconnected from any networks."

"Good, because that would have been an awkward conversation with General Ironwood," Rainbow said.

Twilight smiled.

The holoprojector sitting beside her other, network-connected, computer, illuminated, projecting a hologram of Midnight — which was to say, Twilight without glasses and her hair down — less than a foot tall.

Nevertheless, she was tall enough that Rainbow could tell that she was pouting, in addition to having folded her arms. She let out a little harrumph.

Twilight rolled her eyes behind her spectacles. "Leaving aside the fact that I am perfectly capable—"

"What is the point of having me around if I don't get to do stuff like this?" Midnight asked. "I was going to click my fingers and have all the data appear on the screen."

"That would be very dramatic, I'm sure," Twilight said dryly. "But the risks—"

"I can do it!"

"Completely disconnecting you from the network is not something that I ever envisaged when I designed you," Twilight insisted. "I'm not sure that it's even possible, the way that I coded you—"

"I don't need to be disconnected; I won't let anything get past me!"

"I can't take that risk," Twilight said. "Not with you and certainly not with the Atlas mainframe."

"You mean you don't trust me?"

Twilight hesitated for a moment. "Not with this city."

Midnight let out another harrumph and ostentatiously turned her back on Twilight. She did not, however, disappear; Rainbow could only interpret that as being because she wanted Twilight to know just how upset she, Midnight, was with her.

"Excuse me," Weiss murmured. "But who is that?"

"This is Midnight," Twilight said. "My Virtual Intelligence assistant."

"When I'm allowed to assist," Midnight grumbled.

Weiss frowned. "Should a VI be sulking? Or arguing back?"

"I'm very advanced, Miss Schnee," Midnight declared, turning to face her. "With a range of capabilities which I would gladly demonstrate if I was given the opportunity."

"That's enough, Midnight," Twilight declared, as she hooked up the android's head to her — safely disconnected — computer.

The green eyes of the android began to faintly glow as Twilight's monitor — the small one on the desk, not the big one on the wall — began to fill up with green letters running across the screen.

Twilight, the green letters reflecting on her spectacles, leaned forward. "Okay, let's see what we've got here. Merlot Operating System version three-point-five."

"Could someone have acquired all the Merlot assets after the company went under?" Weiss asked.

"Probably," Twilight said. "But someone would have to do some digging around to find out who that—" She stopped, her voice turning to a frightened squawk as the green text turned to red upon her screen. "No no no no no!" She began to type furiously, her fingers pounding on the keyboard.

"Twi, what's going on?" Rainbow asked nervously.

"Let's just say that if this was a networked computer, the cruisers would be starting to self-destruct right about now," Twilight said without breaking step in her furious typing. "But it's okay. It's …it's really okay. I can fix this."

"I would love to assist you, but you've made that impossible," Midnight said with an almost malicious glee in her voice.

"Midnight, you're not helping," Rainbow growled. "Twi, is there anything we can do?"

Twilight didn't look at her. "No, I don't think so, but that's fine. It's all fine. Don't worry. Nobody panic."

"Twilight—" Rainbow began.

"Nobody panic."

"Twi—"

"Nobody—"

"Twi, you're the only one panicking!" Rainbow said.

"Sorry!" Twilight yelped as she continued to type. "It's just that I — no, come back here you little — I know that this is important to you and — no, you did not just try to stick me in a dead end, mister — I don't want to disappoint you because this — I don't know who you think you are, but after all the trouble my friends went to, there's no way I'm going to let you win — this might be your only lead, and I did it!" She sagged in her chair as a sigh of relief escaped her. "I got it," she said as the red text on the screen returned to its earlier and more benevolent green.

Rainbow crouched down by her side as she wrapped an arm round Twilight's neck and shoulders. "Sure you did; you're Twilight Sparkle."

Twilight blushed. "You don't need to flatter me after I've already started helping you out."

"What does it say?" Blake asked.

Twilight started typing again. "Let's see … directives … it looks like the same android was used to do all the kidnappings: there are orders here, pre-programmed orders specifying the dates on which it was to board the Bullhead, search parameters, commands to obtain … ugh, they're referred to as specimens, with specified visual markers to identify what it calls 'acceptable targets.'"

Blake gritted her teeth. 'Specimens'? 'Acceptable targets'? We're not animals! We're people, with families and lives and loved ones!

Why does the world find it so hard to understand that? Why does it find it so hard to look past our ears?

"Let me guess," Weiss said. "Young people?"

"I'm afraid so," Twilight said. "As best as that can be conveyed visually, anyway."

"Does it say why?" Blake demanded. "Does it say who's doing this?"

Twilight typed silently for a moment. "I'm afraid not. It just specifies that, once the android had acquired a victim, they were to place them in the container and then return to the Bullhead which would then return to base and…"

Blake scowled. "Go on."

"Convey them to the holding pens pending transportation."

"'Holding pens'?!" Blake cried. "Does it say where?"

"I'm just looking," Twilight murmured. "Got it! Location tracking data, here it is!"

The heads of all four young huntsmen pressed close around Twilight's monitor as a primitive map of Solitas came up on it: there were only two locations marked out: the outskirts of Low Town and a position Blake didn't recognise on the coast, east of Atlas.

"Where is that?" Rainbow asked.

"That's … I think that's Long Isthmus Bay," Flash said.

All eyes turned to him. "Where?" Weiss asked.

"It's a natural harbour," Flash explained. "The navy — the actual ocean navy — used it during the Great War; my mom took me diving out there a few times; there are some old dreadnoughts down there from when they scuttled the fleet; all the crews evacuated so they're aren't grave sites, no bodies, nothing to stop you from diving down there to take a look at them. It's pretty cool."

"Is there anything there apart from old wrecks?" Blake asked.

"There shouldn't be," Flash said. "But if you wanted somewhere to moor a boat, then I guess you could do worse than a natural bay with derelict port facilities where almost nobody ever goes anymore."

"It seems that's where this robot came from," Twilight said.

"Then that's where we need to go," Rainbow said. "Thanks, Twi."

"Can I come too?" Midnight asked.

Weiss blinked rapidly. "When you say 'come too'—"

"I have already downloaded into an android body and accompanied Team Rosepetal on a field mission!" Midnight declared excitedly. "I can be very useful. I could pilot the airship, since Rainbow Dash is going to have to get out and fight!"

Rainbow cupped her chin with one hand. "You know, that's not actually a bad idea. We could use a spare pilot. If it's okay with you, Twilight."

"Please!" Midnight begged. "Just because you won't let me help in here doesn't mean that I won't be able to help out there."

"Midnight, just because I … never mind," Twilight sighed. "Of course. That's why I gave you the ability to upload into that body in the first place, so that you could go out into the field and support Rainbow and others."

"Yes!" Midnight cried enthusiastically. "So, when do we leave?"

"Right away," Blake said.

"As soon as I've appraised General Ironwood of our progress," Rainbow corrected her.

Blake looked — almost glared — at Rainbow Dash. "There are faunus being held in cages right now—"

"And we've just found out about that, and confirmed that someone is kidnapping them," Rainbow said. "I have to pass this up. Not to mention, with no idea what kind of security we're going to find out at that bay, we could maybe use some assistance."

She reached out and put a hand on Blake's shoulder. "We're going to get them back," she promised. "We're going to get them all out of there. But we're going to do it the right way." She grinned. "Trust me, these robots aren't going to know what hit them."