Fandom Shattered Hourglass [IC] [CLOSED]

[MyrtenRose]

“Headmistress Salem.”

But there came a point where she could bite her tongue no longer, and no student present could shake the feeling that they had suddenly ended up caught in the path of an encounter between Godwyvern and King Beringel as Salem found herself the subject of the withering disciplinarian’s stare they had all grown to fear or at the very least respect so much, seemingly prompted by the even the slight notion that this absolute gibberish would be entertained any further.

“…Over the course of their nine-month period of study, I have been lied to by some combination of teams WTCH and MTEN a total of one thousand, seven hundred and forty-two times, over matters ranging from monumental to absurdly trivial. Mister Black, who has yet to grace us with his presence, once submitted a physician’s note officially signed by Nurse Tapioca claiming that an errant raccoon had broken into the dormitory and stolen his prosthetics as an excuse for cutting an entire month of classes. Miss Sustrai, also absent, once claimed to me that the reason she had failed to submit an assignment on the specified date was that mister Callows had eaten it. When confronted with this outlandish accusation, mister Callows didn’t even attempt to defend himself; merely went along with it on instinct. My point being that for these particular students, dishonesty comes disquietingly easy.”

She paused as she herself became aware of Watts’ influence over the elevator, and an even deeper scowl set in over her face as she whipped her riding crop towards the door on instinct. She held it there, furrowed her brow in concentration, and…

Lowered it, a terse sigh escaping her lips and all the makings of a migraine coming on.

“They are not this atrocious at it.”

She stood up from where she had been attempting to rouse Raven personally, stalking around her with an admittedly-judgy sneer of her own to cross her arms and set a brisk pace back and forth in front of the desk.

“Moreover, the number of occasions on which they’ve exemplified outstanding values of bravery, valour, heroism and soundness of mind and judgment is similarly high. Their capacity for these qualities exceeds many fully licensed huntsmen and huntresses operating in the field today.” She cast another pointed look over at the unconscious Branwen, lower lip curling in disappointment. “Miss Fall and mister Watts in particular, even when breaching the parameters and rules set by the academy, are typically acting with some magnanimous intention or another at heart. We can’t forget that the loss of life during the Grimm incursion from Mountain Glenn could have been catastrophic without their influence. They had no business being there, yet they were. And because of that, untold lives were saved.”

She ceased her unnervingly severe pacing to turn on heel and affix the students with a single, lingering glare, albeit one inscrutable in its intent. She held that focused look they had all grown so unpleasantly familiar with on each of their features in turn before finally resettling it on Salem.

“Outside of that, their grade-point average is impeccable. I believe… that they believe… every word of this outlandish nonsense. And I believe that alone makes it due more consideration than you appear to.” She sniffed. “I assure you, nobody recognises the importance of this day’s proceedings more than I do. And I will gladly assume the responsibility of your part in them if it means you treat your role as protector of this kingdom with a more appropriate degree of seriousness.”

Well, this was a rare occasion indeed. The infamous Goodwitch glare, not directed at any of the students but rather, swung around onto her. She couldn't recall the last time it had happened off the top of her head. Perhaps after the unfortunate mishap at the staff party years ago...but that was neither here nor there. She leaned back in her seat, all but giving the floor over to Glynda to continue, though it was not asked for. It was so very her, to keep such a meticulous count of the number of lies that didn't get past her. An impressive amount of three quarters of the way to two thousand, only in nine months. One shudders to imagine how many they could accumulate in their whole four years. Salem listened intently, not a single word spoken until it was evident that Glynda was finished speaking.

At which point she leaned back forward, her elbows coming to rest upon her desk and hands folded in front of her. "I am well aware of their positive qualities, and I have not, nor shall I ever forget the debt the city of Vale owes to them." This time her gaze lingered most on Cinder in particular, who wasn't even attempting to hide the incredulous look on her face as Professor Goodwitch was calling out even the headmistress!!!! Nor was Cinder as subtle as the young maiden likely believed she was, having started to try and secretly record it with her own scroll a couple seconds after she realized what was happening.

"And rest assured that, no matter what, I see to my role with the seriousness that it demands." She met Glynda's iron glare with a steel one of her own. "I pledged I would see to it personally, have I not?" She sighed, breaking the staredown with her chair spinning around, eyes now fixated on out the window at the city below. "I do not doubt that they believe what they are saying either, but I can not commit everything to this based on words alone. Certainly not words based off, what? Dreams? When at least one of them admitted they had experienced a psychotic break? No. One could only imagine how the city council would react to such an action. They have already expressed doubt in my ability, I remind you, following that aforementioned incursion from Mountain Glenn." Her eyes rose up from the city to one of the ships hovering in the clear blue sky.

"Doubt expressed by them transferring the responsibility of security for the Vytal Festival over to our distinguished visitor from Atlas." She stared in silent contemplation for a few moments before she turned her chair back around. "You yourself just referred to it as outlandish nonsense."​

...His shoulders slowly slackened the farther Glynda got in her speech. As angry as he'd gotten, he'd expected the sort of reaction Salem had given them. It was insanity he'd speaking. He'd come up to this office expecting to have to drag both these women kicking and screaming into at least some acceptance of what he was saying, and he'd come prepared to do it. Disbelief, anger, scorn, he'd been prepared for all of that.

Trust, he had not been.

It left him somewhat flustered, truth be told, and he cleared his throat and thanked genetics that he didn't share Roman or Cinder's paler complexion, the sort easier to pick a blush out against. "...Well... Thank you Miss Goodwitch. I promise you won't regret this."

She shifted her gaze away from Glynda to the only student team leader in the room, the expression on her face vaguely apologetic, her own mouth starting to open to speak to him directly, but the words intended towards him never came.​

Her grip on her riding crop seemed to twitch, and it may have occurred to some of those present that they were about to see the most uncanny thing any of them were ever going to see when she suddenly…

Frowned.

The elevator was moving again. And not by her hand or Arthur’s.

Moreover, it was going back down.

He squinted, and swung his hands back around to his front, the ghost long given up on what he was doing as he looked over the screen floating over his rings with a frown. "I'm not doing that."

Her attention settled on the elevator instead, which was no longer stopped or even slowed, but rather going back down entirely. Glynda seemed just as surprised, and the smart, if perhaps a little too intrusive, team leader admitted it was not his doing either. What could this possibly be now?​

However the conversation transpired from then on, Glynda’s frown only deepened as the elevator started the whole climb up towards them again.


Why Salem insisted on retaining this pointlessly difficult-to-reach office space was beyond her, vault or no.

It seemed she would soon find out.​

 

[Indolent]

"And yet."

The enigma called Lie Ren didn't rise to his quarry's enmity or denial as he stood there with hands behind back, perfectly cordial; but his smile, as tranquil as the dawn rising in his stead, widened.




And widened.

"Why else? To make sure she's sleeping soundly."

His left foot slid back in perfect time with Hazel's right sliding forward, a subtle, unnerving motion leaving the positioning of their bodies mirrored, though Valkyrie's man had yet to unclasp his arms from behind him. So practiced was the movement in nature, yet so fluid, so casual in its execution, that it called to mind both snake and snake charmer; the duality of man gently weaving, plying his art, and beast, coiling, following along, mesmerized yet poised at any moment to strike.




Dawn broke. The viper struck. And with it the grin across the executioner's face; measured and reserved, much like his bearing. Placid, untroubled; but make no mistake.

Delighted.



He moved when Hazel did, reacting to his offensive with such spontaneity it was as though he saw the storm gather over the man mountain's heart before he did, saw the rage that fueled his violence, the love that propelled his rage. The assassin saw it all, saw them bleed into one other with the clarity a painter saw watercolors bleed red and pink across his canvas. It spurred a jarringly sudden sideways motion synchronized with Hazel's forward one as he lurched for the wall, boot already planted against its surface when the goliath swung for Pyrrha, pushing off to dash across the ceiling's surface as his stomp practically took out the entire section of the floor they were standing on, sending segments of corridor crashing into the one below as a choir of startled outcries harmonized their response.

Ren pushed off the opposite wall on his descent, alighting perfectly on the furthest edge of the floor still structurally sound enough to support him, but he didn't stop moving there. As Hazel continued his charge, leaping across the chasm of his own making, Ren stayed in perpetual motion; if a throwback combatant like one James Ironwood took issue with a certain kickboxer's idea of a stance, Ren's would have given him conniptions. Where Yang Xiao Long practiced her own kind of stick-and-move approach, stayed light on her toes, switched stances as appropriate, she still kept to a certain axis of motion, followed a degree of logic that made sense.

Ren was moving almost like he was drunk. His stance never settled in one place, feet never planting the way any kind of competitive boxer or kickboxer's would; this was a different set of traditions, older, developed over generations far from the shining lights of Atlas' sports arenas or the corn-fed donnybrooks of an isle like Patch. Lie Ren's stance was so fluid it was as though his limbs moved through water, yet with all the elegance and speed of a man performing some sort of choreographed dance. Every forward step Hazel took was mirrored by a backwards one of his own, his grabs and swings yielding nothing but air as Ren arched and swerved around them, less warrior in the throes of combat and more ancient oak yielding to hurricane gales.

His final push off the front foot sent him sliding the rest of the way back across the corridor, ending with form perfectly framed by Gretchen's door, and only then did his feet finally stop moving.

And only then did his hands finally emerge from behind his back.

His hands danced and feet set in something finally resembling some form of traditional stance, and his smile never wavered as one leg's heel climbed gingerly up to rest atop the other's knee, adopting the bearing of the crane as he continued in his unbothered tones.

"Would you like to see?"​

Hazel always had the innate ability to channel his anger with purpose. Emotions played a key role for the hunter's mentality and performance; it was in concert with his indomitable will that saw him as a rarity with the frankly absurd ability to regenerate his aura even in the midst of pitched combat. Purely because of the sheer simplicity in rendering a decision and seeing it through while never flagging; anger served to bolster it further and the combination of the two manifested a variant of the homegrown Mistralian stubbornness the Rainarts were known for.

Bora Valkyrie's enforcer subverted this, his movements fluid as the river's currents shifting in response to the terrain and redirecting motion-- or energy-- with little issue. To be very much on the nose in the analogy, Hazel was the rock and the assassin the river, nonchalantly moving about the stone, inexorably smashing it in due time.

Spoiler

The reemergence of the memory resonated sharply within Hazel's core, the subconscious uncharacteristically harrying him with thoughts of his second defeat and harm falling upon others while failing to prevent it a raw pain of its own ringing at the back of his mind.

It was love which had compelled his rage that averted the poisonous frustration from overtaking Hazel and cast him into an unrelenting furor with his original objective lost from his mind, in what would have been a fruitless bid to avoid his fears. Something of a self-fulfilling prophecy there.

He stopped a few meters apart from Ren, a perturbed expression inset on his face with his square jaw set slightly slack as if he were slightly dumbfounded. Haze recalled, there had been no hesitation on the train when he'd mounted an assault just like now with Ren retaliating and battering him in short order, a clear indicator of him having had his fun and being done with it so quickly. No one possibly could have blamed Hazel for his suspicion, which he had no qualms making clear with his appendages quirked in a way that suggested he would have resumed his assault to close the distance and get inside if Ren tried anything.

And to add to his urgency, he never did receive a response-- that he might've heard amid his rampage-- when he called out earlier.

"I don't know exactly why you're here but if anything's happened..." Hazel trailed off, his grave tone more than adequate at conveying the completing portion of his statement.

Hazel started a bold stride for the entrance into his sister's dorm room, a rigidity cobbled with hesitation set in his movements as if his emotions were at odds with his decision considering the enemy right before him. Referred to as a threat and appropriately so. The aforementioned urgency acted as the wind in his sails, his mind anticipating the scenario of Ren either, for whatever reason, allowing his entry, or mounting a counter-assault of his own.

Either way, he was not to be deterred from finding Gretchen even if it meant his demise.

 

[Gus Gungus]

"I don't know exactly why you're here but if anything's happened..." Hazel trailed off, his grave tone more than adequate at conveying the completing portion of his statement.

Hazel started a bold stride for the entrance into his sister's dorm room, a rigidity cobbled with hesitation set in his movements as if his emotions were at odds with his decision considering the enemy right before him. Referred to as a threat and appropriately so. The aforementioned urgency acted as the wind in his sails, his mind anticipating the scenario of Ren either, for whatever reason, allowing his entry, or mounting a counter-assault of his own.

Either way, he was not to be deterred from finding Gretchen even if it meant his demise.​

"Nor do I," Ren answered cheerfully, an unusual amount of candor in his words that struck Hazel when coupled with his completely at-ease expression. "Yet a task I have been given, and a task I must fulfil. And so..."

The assassin continued barring the door to Gretchen's room as the behemoth student's footfall heralded his imminent arrival, and with Hazel poised for some form of retaliation it became apparent that his fears were not unfounded.

It just couldn't have been any kind of retaliation he was expecting.

Ren stood unbothered as Hazel drew ever-closer, and only when the intimidating young huntsman loomed over him, attempted to reach around and grip the door handle, did the cobra's fangs strike once more; sleeves twisting and arms suddenly lashing out from their poised guard, moving with blinding speed to...

Lightly slap the offending hand away.

Or rather, what should have been a light slap instead carried force sufficient to strike even Hazel's prodigious mitt wide of its intended course, palm thrusting down to bat it towards another one.

Then he did it again. And again. And with each belayed motion did the man mountain feel his rage grow, feel his vitriol for the figure before him stoked and encouraged like campfire embers by the softest of breezes, pink cherry blossoms stained bloodsoaked red. Only when his fury reached its apex, his patience its end, and when he finally opted to employ more forceful means of getting past the insufferable obstacle before him did Ren's hand suddenly lash forward from the mouth of his sleeve again. His movements were every bit as blindingly quick and difficult to pinpoint as they had been in Mountain Glenn, jerky and erratic for as much as they were honed and vermicular, a true contradiction.

Yet the games, seemingly, were at an end. His knuckles were rigid, two center fingers thrust forward slightly from the rest in a sort of jabbing claw that soared directly for Hazel's eyes--

Only to stop short. Pause.

"Boop."

———————————————————————————————————————————————————
​

"We surrender!"​

The earnestness in Blake's cry and the rapidity with which she threw down her weapons, the sheer lack of color in Ruby's face, the full blown panic attack her vitals suggested she was having and the reluctance of even the clearly agitated Yang to engage in any further hostilities had even Penny opting to second-guess her next actions, blades spinning and cannon halfway charged before she halted the process and shot the general a quizzical look; unsure of how this affected her orders.

If she was looking for any sign of mutual hesitance she didn't find it, though she did look over just in time to see the general shakily regain his footing and offer Blake a cordial nod.

"Thanks."

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

The sight the trio awoke to was hardly comforting. It was one Ruby harbored no strong opinions on, that Blake had spent much of her life dreading, and that made Yang start to understand her doppelganger's impulse to violently bash her own head against things more acutely than she ever had out of sheer mind-numbing repetition.

The wrong side of an Atlesian prison cell.

That their weapons were gone were a given, and indeed nothing kept them company at all within their individual confinements beyond stark, pitiless floor. A wall of hardlight kept them separated, and through the larger field facing out into the corridor three things caught their attention with some immediacy;

First, the pair of guards posted at the door.

Second, the sight of Winter standing just beyond the threshold into the next room, which from the large windows and ample view of the morning sky could only have been the command bridge of an Atlesian airship. Her back was turned, but if they craned their necks at just the right angle they could about make out the corner of the scroll she was holding, where the outline of an ID box and topmost portion of a braided ponytail indicated an attempt to raise someone that was going unanswered if the specialist's frustrated hiss was any indication.

Third, and perhaps most disquietingly, based on the readings of the clock above the two guards it had been a whole hour since they were rendered unconscious by way of high caliber bullet.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————
​

He squinted, and swung his hands back around to his front, the ghost long given up on what he was doing as he looked over the screen floating over his rings with a frown. "I'm not doing that."​

"We gathered that, mister Watts," Glynda shot back, too preoccupied with her stare at the elevator readings to send the glare she wanted his way, nor to address Salem any further. "Please, don't feel the need to state the obvious for the benefit of your intellectual lessers. Perhaps devote your energy towards hoping whoever's in that elevator can lend some validity to your claims instead—"



"I wouldn't exactly say that."

Glynda's eyes shot open in a manner that ill-fit her features as yet another piece of academy equipment that morning was remotely accessed without proper authorisation, though this particular act of technological malfeasance provoked ire on an entirely different scale than Watts' ever did. Not simply because it was a speaker in the headmistress' own private sanctum, nor even because of the implication it carried that the perpetrator had been listening in on the entire conversation; that Salem's own office had been bugged.

Because of who the perpetrator was.

"But I believe I can offer some perspective on this mess, if you'll indulge me."

Because of how familiar that voice was; not just to her, but to all of them. Some moreso than others, but one way or another, you'd be hardpressed to find a soul on campus who didn't know that voice, much less one in the office.

Perhaps that was what sparked the absolute fury in the lecturer's eyes as she turned on her heel and began a chilling march for the elevator doors, concerns she'd had from the day Salem first surrendered control of the festival to outside dignitaries having evidently been proven very much founded in that moment.

Yet when the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, what she saw had her stop in her tracks, and in a sight even more surreal than her briefly turning her ire on Salem the campus disciplinarian's jaw fell open as her eyes softened in unmitigated shock.

There were far more than six people inside that elevator.

Yet what did far more to elicit her reaction was the fact that two of them were Mercury and Neo, their hands cuffed behind their backs, two of the veritable platoon of soldiers within training guns on them as the rest immediately filed out with impressive coordination and raised their weapons at the other members of WTCH and MTEN in turn. The four flanking the elevator's centermost figure were recognisable in themselves, Atlas' Ace Operatives among the more prodigious of huntsmen to be in attendance for the tournament; and to the left stood Penny, looking significantly more unsure of this than she had her somewhat confusing orders from earlier that morning.

In the center of it all stood their commander, Atlesian military might made manifest; and though the two of them were on a first-name basis, had as long and as storied a history as anyone else over the age of thirty on this campus, in that moment it was extraordinarily difficult for her to see him as anything else.

"...Ja... Ironwood. Explain this outrage immediately."

"As I said..."

He stepped into the office, uniform neat, aura replenished, and jaw reset from where it had very nearly been punched off its hinges about an hour ago as he let his gaze drift past her and settle with surgical focus on the one he sought.

"...you're just going to have to indulge me. Hello, Arthur. Care to share with the rest of them what you've done?"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"We gathered that, mister Watts," Glynda shot back, too preoccupied with her stare at the elevator readings to send the glare she wanted his way, nor to address Salem any further. "Please, don't feel the need to state the obvious for the benefit of your intellectual lessers. Perhaps devote your energy towards hoping whoever's in that elevator can lend some validity to your claims instead—"



"I wouldn't exactly say that."

Glynda's eyes shot open in a manner that ill-fit her features as yet another piece of academy equipment that morning was remotely accessed without proper authorisation, though this particular act of technological malfeasance provoked ire on an entirely different scale than Watts' ever did. Not simply because it was a speaker in the headmistress' own private sanctum, nor even because of the implication it carried that the perpetrator had been listening in on the entire conversation; that Salem's own office had been bugged.

Because of who the perpetrator was.

"But I believe I can offer some perspective on this mess, if you'll indulge me."

Because of how familiar that voice was; not just to her, but to all of them. Some moreso than others, but one way or another, you'd be hardpressed to find a soul on campus who didn't know that voice, much less one in the office.

Perhaps that was what sparked the absolute fury in the lecturer's eyes as she turned on her heel and began a chilling march for the elevator doors, concerns she'd had from the day Salem first surrendered control of the festival to outside dignitaries having evidently been proven very much founded in that moment.

Yet when the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, what she saw had her stop in her tracks, and in a sight even more surreal than her briefly turning her ire on Salem the campus disciplinarian's jaw fell open as her eyes softened in unmitigated shock.

There were far more than six people inside that elevator.

Yet what did far more to elicit her reaction was the fact that two of them were Mercury and Neo, their hands cuffed behind their backs, two of the veritable platoon of soldiers within training guns on them as the rest immediately filed out with impressive coordination and raised their weapons at the other members of WTCH and MTEN in turn. The four flanking the elevator's centermost figure were recognisable in themselves, Atlas' Ace Operatives among the more prodigious of huntsmen to be in attendance for the tournament; and to the left stood Penny, looking significantly more unsure of this than she had her somewhat confusing orders from earlier that morning.

In the center of it all stood their commander, Atlesian military might made manifest; and though the two of them were on a first-name basis, had as long and as storied a history as anyone else over the age of thirty on this campus, in that moment it was extraordinarily difficult for her to see him as anything else.

"...Ja... Ironwood. Explain this outrage immediately."

"As I said..."

He stepped into the office, uniform neat, aura replenished, and jaw reset from where it had very nearly been punched off its hinges about an hour ago as he let his gaze drift past her and settle with surgical focus on the one he sought.

"...you're just going to have to indulge me. Hello, Arthur. Care to share with the rest of them what you've done?"

When Ironwood's voice first came over the speaker, Watts heart dropped.

He'd been worried about this. Not this specifically, rather; he'd have to be a genuine lunatic instead of just looking like one to have thought James Ironwood was going to bug salem's office and intercept them mid explanation. But he was worried about something he considered far simpler;

Things were not going to be the same this go around.

Whatever shitty cosmic chess game the Brothers were playing, it felt apparent that both sides had a stake in it. Whatever deck stacking the God of Light had been doing, it would have been foolish to assume his brother wasn't doing his own bit of housework. What had changed though? Was there someone in Ozpin's circlejerk that remembered the last time? Did all of them? Or was it none of them, and was it just as simple as changing who in Atlas was on who's side from the word go?

Whatever it was, he gave Salem a level stare before he turned back towards the elevator doors in parade rest. His eyes roved over the veritable goonsquad that poured out from the elevator, pausing the longest on Penny, his expression inscrutable, then on Mercury and Neo, the smallest member of MTEN struggling against her cuffs with a look of distress towards Torchwick and a black eye that showcased how well she had responded to the threat of violence down below.

Finally, he let his eyes snap up to Ironwood, and he gave a him a smile that came nowhere near his eyes.

"James. Nice to see you again. Tell me, did you just jump ship six months early this time, or does someone have you on a leash you don't even notice is being pulled past your big, fat, Atlas shaped blinders? I've no idea what I've done, but I'm sure you're about to tell us all."

It registered that this was going to be their first actual conversation ever since the last time he stood in a headmaster's office with James Ironwood, all the way back in Atlas Academy.

He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this meeting even less.

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

The sight the trio awoke to was hardly comforting. It was one Ruby harbored no strong opinions on, that Blake had spent much of her life dreading, and that made Yang start to understand her doppelganger's impulse to violently bash her own head against things more acutely than she ever had out of sheer mind-numbing repetition.

The wrong side of an Atlesian prison cell.

That their weapons were gone were a given, and indeed nothing kept them company at all within their individual confinements beyond stark, pitiless floor. A wall of hardlight kept them separated, and through the larger field facing out into the corridor three things caught their attention with some immediacy;

First, the pair of guards posted at the door.

Second, the sight of Winter standing just beyond the threshold into the next room, which from the large windows and ample view of the morning sky could only have been the command bridge of an Atlesian airship. Her back was turned, but if they craned their necks at just the right angle they could about make out the corner of the scroll she was holding, where the outline of an ID box and topmost portion of a braided ponytail indicated an attempt to raise someone that was going unanswered if the specialist's frustrated hiss was any indication.

Third, and perhaps most disquietingly, based on the readings of the clock above the two guards it had been a whole hour since they were rendered unconscious by way of high caliber bullet.

Ow. Again.

Blake's head swam as she slowly pushed herself upwards, everything in her body feeling like it was lead; she hadn't even been awake five minutes before she'd been knocked out again. Her eyes fluttered open, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the cold sheen of the cell's hardlight against the floor.

"Hey, hey, its okay. We're okay."

Her eyes snapped to the voice, and saw yang seated against the layer of hardlight that separated them, leaning against it, her gaze already apparently locked onto Blake, relief intermingling with frustration as she huffed and glanced back towards the front of the ship.

"I mean. Relatively anyways. You know, I'm starting to think you had Ironwood clocked better than the rest of us back home. Also, dude-" she said with a sour glare at one of the guards in particular. "You are like, the worst kind of universal constant I could be getting through all of this. You're not already primed to explode, are you?"

She got a sideways glare in response, and she snorted before she glanced back over to Blake.

"...I know I said we're okay, but are you okay?"

Blake let out a grunt and dragged herself to be against the same wall as Yang. "Not... really. None of this makes any sense Yang."

"Don't worry; once you're here a few months, everything will still not make sense!" Yang replied with a rueful smirk, and Blake got a chance to really look at her partner;

Yang was exhausted.

Not just physically, like anyone would be after three rounds with the tin man and his perky green war machine as the closer. Her words had an edge to them, and her smile wasn't as bright as Blake remembered it being in a hallway ten minutes of consciousness ago. She looked like... well, she looked exactly like how Yang had described herself, a few months after Beacon fell, that pain shared in a quiet night in an Atlesian dorm room a few weeks ago, their promise of no more secrets being kept.

The smile that she gave Blake next was more genuine, and far more fragile.

"But at least you're here this time."

The look was a punch to the gut, and also a spark to Blake's determination to do whatever she could to make it better, as she put her hand up to press against the hardlight with a wan smile of her own.

"As if another dimension was enough to keep me away."

Yang almost seemed startled by the statement, but she gently pressed her remaining hand against the light as well.

After a few moments, Yang glanced up towards the front. Right. Time to see if there was anything they could do about this. She knew the perfect way to test at least one theory.

"Hey. HEY WINTER!-

"....Hey, you got a spoon-"

If there was anything that was gonna trigger a latent memory about how annoying she could be, that felt like as good a lead in as any : D

 

[MyrtenRose]

"I wouldn't exactly say that."

Glynda's eyes shot open in a manner that ill-fit her features as yet another piece of academy equipment that morning was remotely accessed without proper authorisation, though this particular act of technological malfeasance provoked ire on an entirely different scale than Watts' ever did. Not simply because it was a speaker in the headmistress' own private sanctum, nor even because of the implication it carried that the perpetrator had been listening in on the entire conversation; that Salem's own office had been bugged.

Because of who the perpetrator was.

"But I believe I can offer some perspective on this mess, if you'll indulge me."

Because of how familiar that voice was; not just to her, but to all of them. Some moreso than others, but one way or another, you'd be hardpressed to find a soul on campus who didn't know that voice, much less one in the office.

Salem's eyes widened as she recognized the voice nigh instantly, not that it was that difficult to do so. What was more difficult to swallow, was that he would even have the audacity to plant a listening device inside this room. How else to know the right response to deliver through a commandered speaker? James had never lacked for boldness, but that...that was a new low, even for him, as Tock would have likely put it were she present. Or Raven would have, were she conscious. For a moment, Salem's expression was just as livid as Glynda's was, if not even more so. Not an expression one would relish seeing on her face. The sheer nerve of James to so casually access her system, to be listening in on what was meant to be a private conversation...she was angry, there was no doubt of that, but by the time the elevator actually opened, she'd managed to compose her expression. The still present anger was hidden behind a neutral face.​

Yet what did far more to elicit her reaction was the fact that two of them were Mercury and Neo, their hands cuffed behind their backs, two of the veritable platoon of soldiers within training guns on them as the rest immediately filed out with impressive coordination and raised their weapons at the other members of WTCH and MTEN in turn. The four flanking the elevator's centermost figure were recognisable in themselves, Atlas' Ace Operatives among the more prodigious of huntsmen to be in attendance for the tournament; and to the left stood Penny, looking significantly more unsure of this than she had her somewhat confusing orders from earlier that morning.

In the center of it all stood their commander, Atlesian military might made manifest; and though the two of them were on a first-name basis, had as long and as storied a history as anyone else over the age of thirty on this campus, in that moment it was extraordinarily difficult for her to see him as anything else.

Cinder's scroll hit the floor with impressive speed, landing and bouncing off before ceasing to move, her attempts at subtle(or not so subtle) recording of that surprising lecturing abandoned immediately once who was inside the elevator became apparent. There was a lot of them, guns drawn even but she just didn't care. It wasn't even clear if she noticed that Penny was among their number. A dark bow and three arrows all crackled into existence before she had even fully raised up her hands for lack of options, having left her Midnight behind in the dorms. They had Mercury and Neo in cuffs.

They had Mercury and Neo in cuffs!

More than that, she had a black eye!​

"As I said..."

He stepped into the office, uniform neat, aura replenished, and jaw reset from where it had very nearly been punched off its hinges about an hour ago as he let his gaze drift past her and settle with surgical focus on the one he sought.

"...you're just going to have to indulge me. Hello, Arthur. Care to share with the rest of them what you've done?"

Finally, he let his eyes snap up to Ironwood, and he gave a him a smile that came nowhere near his eyes.

"James. Nice to see you again. Tell me, did you just jump ship six months early this time, or does someone have you on a leash you don't even notice is being pulled past your big, fat, Atlas shaped blinders? I've no idea what I've done, but I'm sure you're about to tell us all."

She didn't wait even a split second after Arthur finished speaking before she piped up herself. "Yeah? Well how about you indulge this? Either you let them out of your stupid cuffs, and you tell your guys to lower those guns, right now, or there's gonna be problems!" Cinder all but growled as she glared fiercely right at the general in the middle of all his soldiers, regardless of whether or not she could actually make good on that given how many there were. Not to mention the Ace Ops.

"They...we...we haven't done anything wrong! You jerks gave her a black eye!" Her grip tightened around the obsidian bow in her hands.

Salem took the time to loudly clear her throat, to draw all attention back to her for a moment. "Everyone, deep breaths please. We don't want to do anything rash." Cinder didn't make any moves to lower the bow, but neither did she say anything else. The young maiden simply stood still, locked in her stance. Salem let out a nearly imperceptible sigh, but continued on nevertheless, trusting that Cinder wouldn't actually act on her fiery temper. She hoped so at any rate.

"Yes, James, an explanation is due. A swift one." She remarked.​

 

[Gus Gungus]

Ow. Again.

Blake's head swam as she slowly pushed herself upwards, everything in her body feeling like it was lead; she hadn't even been awake five minutes before she'd been knocked out again. Her eyes fluttered open, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the cold sheen of the cell's hardlight against the floor.

"Hey, hey, its okay. We're okay."

Her eyes snapped to the voice, and saw yang seated against the layer of hardlight that separated them, leaning against it, her gaze already apparently locked onto Blake, relief intermingling with frustration as she huffed and glanced back towards the front of the ship.

"I mean. Relatively anyways. You know, I'm starting to think you had Ironwood clocked better than the rest of us back home. Also, dude-" she said with a sour glare at one of the guards in particular. "You are like, the worst kind of universal constant I could be getting through all of this. You're not already primed to explode, are you?"

She got a sideways glare in response, and she snorted before she glanced back over to Blake.

"...I know I said we're okay, but are you okay?"

Blake let out a grunt and dragged herself to be against the same wall as Yang. "Not... really. None of this makes any sense Yang."

"Don't worry; once you're here a few months, everything will still not make sense!" Yang replied with a rueful smirk, and Blake got a chance to really look at her partner;

Yang was exhausted.

Not just physically, like anyone would be after three rounds with the tin man and his perky green war machine as the closer. Her words had an edge to them, and her smile wasn't as bright as Blake remembered it being in a hallway ten minutes of consciousness ago. She looked like... well, she looked exactly like how Yang had described herself, a few months after Beacon fell, that pain shared in a quiet night in an Atlesian dorm room a few weeks ago, their promise of no more secrets being kept.

The smile that she gave Blake next was more genuine, and far more fragile.

"But at least you're here this time."

The look was a punch to the gut, and also a spark to Blake's determination to do whatever she could to make it better, as she put her hand up to press against the hardlight with a wan smile of her own.

"As if another dimension was enough to keep me away."

She just didn't think it was natural... at a time like this.

"Everything's peachy over here too, guys."
​

"Hey. HEY WINTER!-
If there was anything that was gonna trigger a latent memory about how annoying she could be, that felt like as good a lead in as any : D

There was a very typical Schnee annoyance driving her initial response to Yang's interruption as she started to whip around, hands instantly making their way behind her back and shoulders squaring in the prim and dutiful stance of a soldier who wasn't about to give an inch.

Except then, with practically no preamble, she did.

Something about Yang's stupid, nonsensical, and quite frankly borderline impaired follow-on had the specialist freeze mid-posture; it wasn't too long, not for someone of her level of motivated discipline, but any interruption to a Schnee in mid-stride had to be considered a noteworthy one as her face clouded and her eyes trailed down to the floor, pensive.
​

View attachment 758812

"Well it's a relief to see she finally came to her senses about something." ​

It was faint, barely there to such a degree it nigh ruled out the possibility that Winter remembered.

But it would've been wrong to say there was nothing, too. A slight ring of familiarity, or a pang of... something lancing through her form, a certain tightness her chest hadn't had the company of in quite some time. One she thought she had rid herself of entirely.

No, she didn't remember. There was no way she could. The human mind couldn't remember something that had never happened.
​

"...whatever happens between now and then... happens. I'm through running from my family name."​

But for the soul, certain things were hard to forget.

Her eyes were carefully concealed behind a dense layer of inscrutability by the time she turned fully, and if Yang expected them to linger on her overlong she found herself disappointed.

Instead they drifted straight to the next cell over, and she couldn't afford to give anything away in her gaze as they locked on Belladonna's once again, her jaw tightening and throat doing a fine job of concealing the lump it swallowed as she jabbed the access panel to the bridge and let the doors slide unceremoniously shut.

Yang, with all her awkwardly intimate knowledge of the Schnee women's inner workings by this point, gave it all of five seconds before—

Her clock was actually a little slow as Winter came striding back through the door with the sort of icy death glare only capable of being mustered by a Schnee who had given herself precisely three seconds, and a single flick of the wrist dismissed the two somewhat perplexed guards without so much as a glance in their direction. Her course cut a straight line down the hall for their cell's position, and the firmness with which she stood right before the hardlight barrier was like a form of self-prescribed exposure therapy as she sent a severe glance over each of them with a scowl.

"Let's save each other some time. If you think a telepathic semblance is anything new to us, it isn't. If you think bad dreams and superstitious nonsense are an effective means of leading a soldier astray from her duty, you're wrong. And if you think there's anything you can do or say that will make me lower these barriers—"

She scoffed, a more muted, inward flavor than her sister would ever be given to as she finally took a step back.

"—Then the three of you are stupider than you look. As is whatever this pathetic attempt at sabotage was supposed to be." Her eyes narrowed, rife with judgment. "I mean, really. I was led to believe the Shadow Fang were known for some semblance of strategic cunning. All of this is just… random.”​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

She just didn't think it was natural... at a time like this.

"Everything's peachy over here too, guys."​

Yang KNEW she wasn't getting sassed by her dearest most loved most baby little sister who she was still super genuinely worried about after her freakout in the arena and she'd definitely checked on first while Blake was still out ! She just gave her sister a level, entirely neutral stare for a few seconds and hoped she got over this weird rebellious stage of inventing Homophobia in remnant

Blake at least looked abashed, glancing away and pushing away her bangs with her other hand. "Sorry Ruby, just getting my bearings. Are you sure you're ok-"

There was a very typical Schnee annoyance driving her initial response to Yang's interruption as she started to whip around, hands instantly making their way behind her back and shoulders squaring in the prim and dutiful stance of a soldier who wasn't about to give an inch.

Except then, with practically no preamble, she did.

Something about Yang's stupid, nonsensical, and quite frankly borderline impaired follow-on had the specialist freeze mid-posture; it wasn't too long, not for someone of her level of motivated discipline, but any interruption to a Schnee in mid-stride had to be considered a noteworthy one as her face clouded and her eyes trailed down to the floor, pensive.

It was faint, barely there to such a degree it nigh ruled out the possibility that Winter remembered.

But it would've been wrong to say there was nothing, too. A slight ring of familiarity, or a pang of... something lancing through her form, a certain tightness her chest hadn't had the company of in quite some time. One she thought she had rid herself of entirely.

No, she didn't remember. There was no way she could. The human mind couldn't remember something that had never happened.

But for the soul, certain things were hard to forget.

Her eyes were carefully concealed behind a dense layer of inscrutability by the time she turned fully, and if Yang expected them to linger on her overlong she found herself disappointed.

Instead they drifted straight to the next cell over, and she couldn't afford to give anything away in her gaze as they locked on Belladonna's once again, her jaw tightening and throat doing a fine job of concealing the lump it swallowed as she jabbed the access panel to the bridge and let the doors slide unceremoniously shut.

Yang, with all her awkwardly intimate knowledge of the Schnee women's inner workings by this point, gave it all of five seconds before—​

On one hand, Yang was genuinely surprised that worked.

On the other hand, absolutely none of that showed on her face, as she glanced over to give Ruby a knowing look as she held up five fingers and started counting down.

Her clock was actually a little slow as Winter came striding back through the door with the sort of icy death glare only capable of being mustered by a Schnee who had given herself precisely three seconds, and a single flick of the wrist dismissed the two somewhat perplexed guards without so much as a glance in their direction. Her course cut a straight line down the hall for their cell's position, and the firmness with which she stood right before the hardlight barrier was like a form of self-prescribed exposure therapy as she sent a severe glance over each of them with a scowl.

"Let's save each other some time. If you think a telepathic semblance is anything new to us, it isn't. If you think bad dreams and superstitious nonsense are an effective means of leading a soldier astray from her duty, you're wrong. And if you think there's anything you can do or say that will make me lower these barriers—"

She scoffed, a more muted, inward flavor than her sister would ever be given to as she finally took a step back.

"—Then the three of you are stupider than you look. As is whatever this pathetic attempt at sabotage was supposed to be." Her eyes narrowed, rife with judgment. "I mean, really. I was led to believe the Shadow Fang were known for some semblance of strategic cunning. All of this is just… random.”

She lowered her hand as Winter started striding in, a grin on her face as Winter started talking. It was Blake that spoke up first though, unable to keep from interjecting in shock as her face scrunched up.

"-Wait, the Shadow Fang? What?" She knew Yang had said that this world was some sort of dark reflection (it wasn't at all what Yang said but she'd extrapolated), but that felt... on the nose.

"Its a whole thing." Yang said with a wave of her remaining arm in lieu of moving her actual hand. "Splinter groups, cults, all that. We can get into it later, we're talking to the Specialist here, who I thought could count. Unless you've been holding out on me Blake. Your shadow clones let you have telepathy?"

"...No." Blake said, starting to frown. She could already see where this was going, and wasn't sure it was the best approach. "But-"

"Gee Ruby, how come dad let you have two semblances?" Yang continued unabated, rolling her eyes and glancing over to her sister.

 

[Indolent]

"Nor do I," Ren answered cheerfully, an unusual amount of candor in his words that struck Hazel when coupled with his completely at-ease expression. "Yet a task I have been given, and a task I must fulfil. And so..."

The assassin continued barring the door to Gretchen's room as the behemoth student's footfall heralded his imminent arrival, and with Hazel poised for some form of retaliation it became apparent that his fears were not unfounded.

It just couldn't have been any kind of retaliation he was expecting.

Ren stood unbothered as Hazel drew ever-closer, and only when the intimidating young huntsman loomed over him, attempted to reach around and grip the door handle, did the cobra's fangs strike once more; sleeves twisting and arms suddenly lashing out from their poised guard, moving with blinding speed to...

Lightly slap the offending hand away.

Or rather, what should have been a light slap instead carried force sufficient to strike even Hazel's prodigious mitt wide of its intended course, palm thrusting down to bat it towards another one.

Then he did it again. And again. And with each belayed motion did the man mountain feel his rage grow, feel his vitriol for the figure before him stoked and encouraged like campfire embers by the softest of breezes, pink cherry blossoms stained bloodsoaked red. Only when his fury reached its apex, his patience its end, and when he finally opted to employ more forceful means of getting past the insufferable obstacle before him did Ren's hand suddenly lash forward from the mouth of his sleeve again. His movements were every bit as blindingly quick and difficult to pinpoint as they had been in Mountain Glenn, jerky and erratic for as much as they were honed and vermicular, a true contradiction.

Yet the games, seemingly, were at an end. His knuckles were rigid, two center fingers thrust forward slightly from the rest in a sort of jabbing claw that soared directly for Hazel's eyes--

Only to stop short. Pause.

"Boop."

"What--"

The burly huntsman was flabbergasted in an instant following the slap. Unexpected wasn't entirely apropos here, though suitable on a basic level yes but it felt at odds with the figure before him. He had been wont to demonstrate the sheer breadth in their abilities and had no qualms taking it as far as possible, that was usually the end result when Ren shifted to his pragmatic mentality in the final stages of it. He was still toying with him, prompting a montage of disconsolate grunts and frustrated growls accentuating each and every one of his attempts.

Up to the moment where it seemed like that wasn't the case anymore, the final strike seeming to come for the eyes. Whether or not his aura would've averted disaster or if the assassin had a technique that would have mitigated its effectiveness, the singular thought in Hazel's mind amounted to the one negative thought's surety brimming to the surface, that he'd lost in the end.

Only for his nose to be tweaked, as if he were a clown. Or as Mercury would put it, he'd been clowned on. There was no denying the look of shock in his face and the confusion dancing on the surface of his hazel-colored eyes as Ren did just that. There might've been a beat in that moment as a result of it. But Hazel was anything but an idiot. In that moment was something of an opportunity, one he was going to relish. Their proximity to one another was a dangerous thing, for both.

The enforcer's shirt was gripped by Hazel's hand, fingers pinched and clawing into flesh with pressure that would bend iron as he was pulled toward Hazel who smashed his forehead into the assassin's own nose before finding himself hoisted in a near three-sixty degree motion a la the turn of a windmill and smashed into the flooring. Then with surprising alacrity in Hazel's footwork as he stepped over with his hand still lodged into Ren's shirt, turned and twisted to build momentum and power in the motion to fling Ren down the corridor's length in a makeshift fashion that could really only be likened to a spinning top.

Brothers know, he would have loved to exact something more of retribution for their previous altercation but there was something else far more pressing than satisfying his wounded ego.

And that was him gripping the door handle into his sister's room and violently ripping the door from its hinges before he swung his head low and entered, decorum completely abandoned and replaced with an urgent desperation.

"Gretchen??" Came his cry as he entered.

 

[MidwayLives]

As must everything, Roman and Tyrian's fun spin around came to an abrupt end.

Roman couldn't have been more grateful. "I feel like I'm gonna be sick twice over." Reaching over to grab his hat from where it'd been unceremoniously chucked off his head, Roman let out a soft chuckle. "Sorry Miss Goodwitch, Tyrian and I just felt maybe a little bit of levity was needed. Things were getting pretty serious, heh. Right, Tyrian?"

The faunus didn't respond.

"Tyrian...?"

Placing his hat atop his messy mop of orange hair, Roman glanced up and was horrified by what he saw.

Yet what did far more to elicit her reaction was the fact that two of them were Mercury and Neo, their hands cuffed behind their backs, two of the veritable platoon of soldiers within training guns on them as the rest immediately filed out with impressive coordination and raised their weapons at the other members of WTCH and MTEN in turn. The four flanking the elevator's centermost figure were recognisable in themselves, Atlas' Ace Operatives among the more prodigious of huntsmen to be in attendance for the tournament; and to the left stood Penny, looking significantly more unsure of this than she had her somewhat confusing orders from earlier that morning.

In the center of it all stood their commander, Atlesian military might made manifest; and though the two of them were on a first-name basis, had as long and as storied a history as anyone else over the age of thirty on this campus, in that moment it was extraordinarily difficult for her to see him as anything else.

"...Ja... Ironwood. Explain this outrage immediately."

"As I said..."

He stepped into the office, uniform neat, aura replenished, and jaw reset from where it had very nearly been punched off its hinges about an hour ago as he let his gaze drift past her and settle with surgical focus on the one he sought.

"...you're just going to have to indulge me. Hello, Arthur. Care to share with the rest of them what you've done?"

"Neo...?? Mercury...???"

Roman quickly scrambled back up to his feet, his hat falling off once more as he did.

"W-What the hell are you doing?? Those are my...My friends! You son of a bitch!"

Whatever it was, he gave Salem a level stare before he turned back towards the elevator doors in parade rest. His eyes roved over the veritable goonsquad that poured out from the elevator, pausing the longest on Penny, his expression inscrutable, then on Mercury and Neo, the smallest member of MTEN struggling against her cuffs with a look of distress towards Torchwick and a black eye that showcased how well she had responded to the threat of violence down below.

Upon meeting Neo's eyes with his own and seeing the shiner adorning his best friend, Roman balled his hands up.

An orange flicker of light ran across his aura for the briefest of seconds.

He felt himself striding towards Ironwood, the Ace Ops, all the soliders. It didn't matter who or what.

He wasn't going to let this stand. He could have been the weakest man in the room, hell, if you looked at it realistically? He had a 50/50 of BEING that guy.

It was only the constriction of Tyrian's tail around his waist that caught him dead in his tracks. "Roman! Stop!"

"Tyrian, let me go!"

"Stop man!"

"Let me go-" Roman was cut of as Tyrian recalled his tail and pulled his friend over to his side. Uncoiling his tail and grabbing tightly onto Roman's shoulder, the faunus leaned in and ran his index finger across the side of the room that Ironwood and his men occupied. "You're not thinking straight, Roman. You know that I'd LOVE a chance to fight but this isn't it and this isn't the time. You make a move and we'll get lit up before we even cross halfway through the room. I know it's hard but let it rest for now...Just for now..." The faunus pleaded only for Roman to roughly shove his friend away and clutch at his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Roman knew that Tyrian was right. They may have had somebody like Cinder on their side and even Salem but the numbers just weren't in their favor and if anyone, especially him, got hurt trying to make a half-hearted rescue attempt...

"damn it.." Gripping onto Salem's desk with his right hand, Roman turned his gaze away from Neo. He couldn't stand looking at her and not being able to DO a damned thing about it.

 

[Gus Gungus]

Yang KNEW she wasn't getting sassed by her dearest most loved most baby little sister who she was still super genuinely worried about after her freakout in the arena and she'd definitely checked on first while Blake was still out ! She just gave her sister a level, entirely neutral stare for a few seconds and hoped she got over this weird rebellious stage of inventing Homophobia in remnant​

“I know what went down in Atlas Yang. It was a weird time and I was being pretty quiet so maybe you think I don’t know, but I know more than you can ever know. I know eeeeevvvvvverythiiiiiiing..”

She was gonna let Blake interpret that as delirious rambling because this really, truly wasn’t the time (almost like that was her WHOLE POINT), but she was just kinda gonna float that one up the river there since it had never really been addressed before. :|

​

"Its a whole thing." Yang said with a wave of her remaining arm in lieu of moving her actual hand. "Splinter groups, cults, all that. We can get into it later, we're talking to the Specialist here, who I thought could count. Unless you've been holding out on me Blake. Your shadow clones let you have telepathy?"

"...No." Blake said, starting to frown. She could already see where this was going, and wasn't sure it was the best approach. "But-"

"Gee Ruby, how come dad let you have two semblances?" Yang continued unabated, rolling her eyes and glancing over to her sister.​

“Ooh, ouuugh, um, it’s like, uhh, ‘cause of how… Is this like the one where there are two guardians, and one can only tell the truth and the other one can only tell lies, and then you have to yea I have no idea where you’re going with this. Real talk guys, I think I might actually be concussed.”

And she was. Winter just sort of watched, mystified, as that attempted baton pass failed spectacularly in its opening motions; polite enough not to say anything about it, but not patient enough that she didn’t rise to the bait regardless.

“Dreams typically occur when one is asleep, you gormless idiot. Why would I be referring to you three? Do you actually sound clever in your own head?” Considering that a savage and pointed enough evisceration of whatever this random blonde was trying to do to resume more or less just ignoring her, she refocused her attention on Belladonna, who in lieu of any remote kind of intel at all on the other two she sort of just assumed was the one with the most transmissible information.

The irony.

Still, there was a faintly annoyed curl to her lower lip that hadn’t been there previously when she pressed on, trying to remain undaunted.

“I’ve been troubled by these nightmares for weeks, as have a number of the rank and file. But fine, let’s pretend you’re not already aware of that,” she sniffed, a terse expression of dismissal.

“I just hope whatever new tool Sienna’s acquired for herself is aware they’re throwing their lives away to help an autocrat rise to power. Poorly, if this venture is anything to go by.”

Then, for whatever reason, she turned, apparently having decided there was nothing more to be gained here.

Or simply that she’d had enough of looking into those eyes.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

“Ooh, ouuugh, um, it’s like, uhh, ‘cause of how… Is this like the one where there are two guardians, and one can only tell the truth and the other one can only tell lies, and then you have to yea I have no idea where you’re going with this. Real talk guys, I think I might actually be concussed.”

And she was. Winter just sort of watched, mystified, as that attempted baton pass failed spectacularly in its opening motions; polite enough not to say anything about it, but not patient enough that she didn’t rise to the bait regardless.

“Dreams typically occur when one is asleep, you gormless idiot. Why would I be referring to you three? Do you actually sound clever in your own head?”

"....Yeeeeeeeeeuuuuusually?" Yang eventually enunciated with a wince, very much totally put into a conversational tailspin by Winter's well executed return fire, having totally and entirely sniped what she'd been getting at and assuming.

Considering that a savage and pointed enough evisceration of whatever this random blonde was trying to do to resume more or less just ignoring her, she refocused her attention on Belladonna, who in lieu of any remote kind of intel at all on the other two she sort of just assumed was the one with the most transmissible information.

The irony.

Still, there was a faintly annoyed curl to her lower lip that hadn’t been there previously when she pressed on, trying to remain undaunted.

“I’ve been troubled by these nightmares for weeks, as have a number of the rank and file. But fine, let’s pretend you’re not already aware of that,” she sniffed, a terse expression of dismissal.

“I just hope whatever new tool Sienna’s acquired for herself is aware they’re throwing their lives away to help an autocrat rise to power. Poorly, if this venture is anything to go by.”

Then, for whatever reason, she turned, apparently having decided there was nothing more to be gained here.

Or simply that she’d had enough of looking into those eyes.

"WAIT!" Blake-

's voice came out a slurred, bestial howl as she slammed herself against the door to her own cell, then again with a far more wordless scream. She beat her first against the bars, pulled against them, smashed her forehead off of them, and screamed all the way through, scars new and old bloodying as she ripped them open against the metal of her cell-

-pressed her fists up against the hardlight, her tone desperate.

"...please. I'm sorry that I don't know anything that can help you. I'm sorry that we can't explain why in a way that makes any sense. But thousands of innocent people are going to die today if things happen like they did the first time, and I... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let that happen. So if there's any way we can earn your trust, or anything we can do to help without it, then let us."

 

[Gus Gungus]

"What--"

The burly huntsman was flabbergasted in an instant following the slap. Unexpected wasn't entirely apropos here, though suitable on a basic level yes but it felt at odds with the figure before him. He had been wont to demonstrate the sheer breadth in their abilities and had no qualms taking it as far as possible, that was usually the end result when Ren shifted to his pragmatic mentality in the final stages of it. He was still toying with him, prompting a montage of disconsolate grunts and frustrated growls accentuating each and every one of his attempts.

Up to the moment where it seemed like that wasn't the case anymore, the final strike seeming to come for the eyes. Whether or not his aura would've averted disaster or if the assassin had a technique that would have mitigated its effectiveness, the singular thought in Hazel's mind amounted to the one negative thought's surety brimming to the surface, that he'd lost in the end.

Only for his nose to be tweaked, as if he were a clown. Or as Mercury would put it, he'd been clowned on. There was no denying the look of shock in his face and the confusion dancing on the surface of his hazel-colored eyes as Ren did just that. There might've been a beat in that moment as a result of it. But Hazel was anything but an idiot. In that moment was something of an opportunity, one he was going to relish. Their proximity to one another was a dangerous thing, for both.

The enforcer's shirt was gripped by Hazel's hand, fingers pinched and clawing into flesh with pressure that would bend iron as he was pulled toward Hazel who smashed his forehead into the assassin's own nose before finding himself hoisted in a near three-sixty degree motion a la the turn of a windmill and smashed into the flooring. Then with surprising alacrity in Hazel's footwork as he stepped over with his hand still lodged into Ren's shirt, turned and twisted to build momentum and power in the motion to fling Ren down the corridor's length in a makeshift fashion that could really only be likened to a spinning top.

Brothers know, he would have loved to exact something more of retribution for their previous altercation but there was something else far more pressing than satisfying his wounded ego.

And that was him gripping the door handle into his sister's room and violently ripping the door from its hinges before he swung his head low and entered, decorum completely abandoned and replaced with an urgent desperation.

"Gretchen??" Came his cry as he entered.​

Had Ren held even one iota further of the huntsman's attention where he lay, half-buried under rubble at the furthest corner of the corridor from Gretchen's room, Hazel may have been given cause to wonder why he, despite his aches and pains, was still smiling that same godforsaken smile.

"A task accomplished. The score rests at one apiece. 'Til our next meeting."

He was long gone by the time the goliath returned.

Meanwhile, within the room:

Hazel found three absolutely terrified younger students trying vainly to stack their beds, desks, and bookshelves up against the frame to block his entry, only to scatter like mice and screech to the high heavens as he finally forced his way in, bringing their weapons to bear. He also spied Gretchen herself, still sequestered comfortably in her bunk, and in absolute fairness to Lie Ren—she was sleeping very soundly.

"GRETCHENNNNNN!"
"gREEEEEEETCH!"
"HOLY SHIT YOU LETHARGIC FUCKIN COW HOW ARE YOU STILL SLEEPING YOUR THIRTY FOOT TALL HEADCASE BROTHER IS GONNA KILL USSSSSS!"​

 

[Gus Gungus]

She didn't wait even a split second after Arthur finished speaking before she piped up herself. "Yeah? Well how about you indulge this? Either you let them out of your stupid cuffs, and you tell your guys to lower those guns, right now, or there's gonna be problems!" Cinder all but growled as she glared fiercely right at the general in the middle of all his soldiers, regardless of whether or not she could actually make good on that given how many there were. Not to mention the Ace Ops.

"They...we...we haven't done anything wrong! You jerks gave her a black eye!" Her grip tightened around the obsidian bow in her hands.​

He felt himself striding towards Ironwood, the Ace Ops, all the soliders. It didn't matter who or what.​

The overtures towards violence prompted an immediate reaction from Ironwood, though Roman's didn't seem to concern him too much. A simple two-fingered hand signal in their direction didn't break his stride, and before anyone could stop them two of the Ace Ops had crossed the office in the blink of an eye, Vine touching down lightly on the opposite side of Salem's desk from his semblance-assisted swing off the ceiling to affix Tyrian with an impassive stare, having firmly separated him from Roman using his other appendage.

Roman found himself much more directly accosted, streaks of electricity marking the spot operative Harriet Bree skidded to a stop as she put her hands on her hips and regarded his emotional state with an exasperated eye roll. Teenagers. Yuck.

"Chill out, kid. Eat some gummy bears or something."

She blew a bubble from the gum she was chewing, letting it burst with a moderate pop. She'd seen this kid fight in the opening rounds, and to put it mildly she really didn't expect much trouble here.

It was Cinder's threat that had Ironwood finally cease his advance, standing alert a short distance opposite Watts and issuing a graver nod back towards the elevator car. There was a moment's pause, as if a slight reluctance existed on the part of the soldier who'd been avoiding the various gazes trying to meet hers ever since the doors opened, but a firm clearing of the throat from Ironwood communicated he knew that couldn't be the case, and a moment later a voice that should've sounded plucky and cheerful sounded anything but as its owner stepped out from behind the general sheepishly.

"Friend Cinder..."

Eight rotary blades pulsed green as they spun into a neat configuration behind her, and she reluctantly put her hands out in preparatory fashion, only able to meet Cinder's eyes for an instant.

"...please do not make this difficult. As my only friends, it is very important to me the members of team WTCH and team MTEN receive the appropriate medical treatment as quickly as possible."

"Oh, yeah?" Mercury piped up, an entirely different tone to how reserved MTEN's leader was being now, more familiar to those who knew him as he carefully took in the layout of the room and everyone in it. "That's pretty funny, Teenage Robot. 'Cause last I checked, we all had a pretty clean bill of health right up until Neo caught a rifle stock to the head with her aura down. It was this guy, by the way. This guy did it."

He jerked his head at the soldier to his immediate right just in case anyone was wondering whose ass to kick first, and the man drooped slightly in response. Ah, crap. Thought he got away with that one.

Ironwood scoffed lightly at that, but kept his focus on Arthur for the time being.
​

"James. Nice to see you again. Tell me, did you just jump ship six months early this time, or does someone have you on a leash you don't even notice is being pulled past your big, fat, Atlas shaped blinders? I've no idea what I've done, but I'm sure you're about to tell us all."

It registered that this was going to be their first actual conversation ever since the last time he stood in a headmaster's office with James Ironwood, all the way back in Atlas Academy.

He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this meeting even less.​

"Shut up, Arthur."

It was a flat, mirthless command the student received as his rejoinder, one that harkened back to a fleeting encounter between the two in another time as much as it was disinterested in engaging in any witty diatribe or anything of the sort. He opted to ignore the more nonsensical parts of Watts' sentence, looming large over his fellow Atlesian despite the short distance between them, no amount enough to escape this man's shadow.

Spoiler

Though there were none from either Remnant who could yet be cognizant of it, perhaps the gods orchestrating this whole affair appreciated that certain showdowns between souls appeared fated regardless of rhyme, reason or circumstance.

"I actually tried to help you, you know. I understand you never saw it this way, but I could've had you court martialed for accessing military secrets under my Academy roof. I thought a change of scenery might do you some good instead; it's rare for me to admit this, but Atlas never suited you."

He sighed, rife with disappointment; both for Watts and for his own judgment.

"I wish I'd seen it sooner. A thirst for knowledge can be a great thing, but without proper guidance and direction it can also be dangerous. If only your parents had taken more of an interest."

"Mister Watts has been a fine team leader and a finer student," came Goodwitch's cold interjection, frankly still utterly incredulous that James had the gall to do what he was currently doing. "And I sincerely hope for your sake that you've brought something to substantiate this scandalous behavior, general, because otherwise I'm going to begin throwing your men from the top of the tower in the next ten to fifteen sentences—"

"He's a traitor. And a junkie."

"—Pardon?"

So shocking was the statement, so utterly unexpected and seemingly outside the realms of common sense, that Goodwitch honestly didn't even know how to continue. She just waited, but instead of continuing immediately Ironwood slipped a gloved hand into his pocket, producing a series of small, pressurized canisters with vibrant colored hues.

"They all are. Do you know what this is?"

He paused, as if expecting a response; Goodwitch's eyes widened in recognition, though none of the students could claim they were familiar themselves. He didn't wait long enough for anyone to form a cogent answer anyway, and pressed on, cadence harsh in its judgment.

"This is Entropy. It's an aura stimulant being manufactured in Solitas. Highly potent, highly addictive. It can be spiked with dust to induce a variety of different effects, along with just about any other chemical an addict might feel like filling their veins with. Its effects on aura prevent immediate overdose or medical complications in the short term, but over a period..."

He tutted, jaw setting into a dark scowl.

"Destroys the mind. Makes people start to speak gibberish, see things that aren't there; Believe things that aren't real."

He sent a pointed glance Salem's way.

"It hasn't fully made its way here yet, but it's just about ravaged Mistral. This is what Lionheart came to you for help with, months ago; Another problem you ignored until it was too late."

"Forgive me if I don't see the relevance to—"

"About a half hour ago," he continued, sweeping straight past Glynda's interjection in a way she would never have allowed if she were on sure footing. There was something in the way she was staring at the canisters, though, James having offered it to her for inspection. "Shortly after dealing with a significant security breach elsewhere, I received a tip that a member of team WTCH was rampaging through one of the student dormitories. Destroying property, committing assault. Raving about finding his sister. The anonymous source advised a search of the team's room, along with that of team MTEN. Apparently they were up well after curfew last night, playing music. Partying."

He held up one of the canisters, clasped between thumb and forefinger.

"My men found enough Entropy to kill a small Leviathan, along with a scroll containing evidence Arthur has been hacking a second Academy's databases, and an executable called 'White Queen'. We're still figuring out how it works, but from how it's been explained to me if this file had been introduced to the Vale CCT mainframe it would've created a backdoor tunnel into the network my military uses. Ships, robots, turrets. A skilled enough hacker could've taken control of all of them, for a time. Do you understand what that means? The gravity of it?"

The deep, long-suffering exhale and way he pinched his brow indicated he had dwelled on it all too much. He straightened up, squared his shoulders, and cast his scowl back Salem's way.

"You asked for an explanation, Salem—And quite frankly, I don't owe you one. I'm here at the behest of the council, so I'm only telling you this as a formality. But sometimes the best explanation is the simplest one." He turned, sweeping a piercing, stony gaze across the various students, lingering on each of them one by one.

"Your eight prized students, each of whom has a noted problem with authority, suspected criminal background, or psychological instability of some sort or another, have gone digging where they shouldn't have. They've uncovered information they never needed to know, gotten in contact with the wrong people, and made a terrible mistake. And they're going to be locked up for the rest of their lives for it."

He fell silent, trying not to relish too much in the look on the now plainly speechless Glynda's face as she continued staring blankly down at the vial.

"Now. Does anyone not under arrest have a problem with any of that?"​

 

[Gus Gungus]

"WAIT!" Blake-- pressed her fists up against the hardlight, her tone desperate.​

"Ah!"

It was, all things considered, such a tiny reaction it might've been dismissible under any other circumstance. An unfortunate—for Winter—consequence of getting too close to the hardlight in a bid to recement her authority, to make back whatever slight ground she may have felt was lost in the skirmish earlier, and of being too preoccupied with her thoughts to consider that she should probably take a step or two clear of the cell before taking her eyes off its occupant. Embarrassing, perhaps, but nothing particularly noteworthy.

What made it otherwise was precisely who it was they were talking to. Because, regardless of this world and its idiosyncrasies, Winter Schnee wasn't some doe-eyed cadet. She was still Winter Schnee; the best of Ironwood's best, the inspiration for Weiss's rebellious streak and benefactor of her semblance, who'd taken it upon herself to go blow for blow with a Branwen across Beacon's campus simply to stretch her legs after a long flight and who gave orders to the Ace Ops despite being younger than most of them. Whether their identification read huntress or specialist, there were few with more mettle to be found across the whole of Remnant.

So to see someone of that caliber issue such a small, genuinely distressed scream, attempt to turn back around while stepping away so quickly she stumbled, and briefly struggle with what should've been a quick, easy movement she'd carried out a thousand times in drawing her weapon was an odd sight for Blake; perhaps one that would've brought her a small amount of satisfaction a long time ago, when she was a different person who held different company. Now it just felt strange, and of the three of them, only Yang could've possibly understood the context for it.

​

Yang's shoulders dropped in exhausted relief she let herself bask in for all of two seconds before a horrifying scream of pain echoed through the hall, followed by a crash and another scream, this one of raw, animal fury.​

She was the only one who'd heard the screams.

​

"...please. I'm sorry that I don't know anything that can help you. I'm sorry that we can't explain why in a way that makes any sense. But thousands of innocent people are going to die today if things happen like they did the first time, and I... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let that happen. So if there's any way we can earn your trust, or anything we can do to help without it, then let us."​

Winter didn't even hear the first part of Blake's impassioned appeal, the context for which was far more readily apparent: she had remembered where some of that mettle was.

"BACK AGAINST THE WALL! Try anything like that again and I'll make sure you die in that cell, you degenerate—"

​

Winter took the threats against her own person and Weiss calmly enough, but her eyes flared at the mention of the other two in a manner that suggested Blake's path to whatever nerves the Shadow Fang could strike in the Schnee family was far less obstructed and cluttered with frozen debris for the elder sister than it was the younger. "Threaten them again and I'll make sure you die in that cell, you degenerate—"​

The threat cut off, breath catching in her throat sharply enough that she had to suck a second in through her nose to avoid sputtering like some sort of aristocratic caricature. The stab of remembrance, if indeed it could truly be called such, wasn't the only thing that had her refrain from finishing that threat; Blake's ability to power through at least enabled the back half of her plea to be heard, and Winter's concerted effort to take in as much oxygen as she possibly could in the interest of regaining a demeanor somewhat befitting her station had her more of a mind to listen.

If it meant the damnable quake in her saber's grip and beads of sweat lining her forehead were addressed, all the better.

"I... shouldn't even be doing this. I'm under orders not to speak to any of you." Her weapon found its way back in its sheathe, and so clouded was her expression when she glanced back towards the door it was impossible to say with certainty whether she was leaning towards hearing them out or walking, even for Yang. Everything they knew about Winter suggested that acting contrary to an order was antithetical to everything that made her Winter. "I told you, telepathic semblances are nothing we haven't seen. An interrogation specialist has already been dispatched from Atlas. He's en route here to dig through your minds, sift truth from lie; he's not going to be delicate. It... won't be a pleasant experience for any of you."

She pursed her lips, and a flash of guilt reified like lightning through the storm of uncertainty that made up her expression. Her sigh was deep, and affixed the door with one last stare before crossing her arms and giving them her full attention again.

"...When I got a proper look at the three of you in the colosseum, saw how young you all were, how... bewildered you seemed, I thought... high-level operatives have defected from Sienna before. Taurus and her White Fang... It's not unheard of." She sounded almost like she was trying to convince herself, reframe the points she'd already argued to the general a certain kind of way to create some sort of logical loophole for herself, something that would allow her to do what she was doing without it constituting a form of mild treason. She glanced over at Yang, then Ruby, eyes slightly narrowed in scrutiny. "And I assume the two of you are just local thugs. Valkyrie's people? No doubt following well-honed survival instincts."

"What?! C'mon." 'Local thugs'. Maybe Yang carried mild holdover 'local thug' energy from all that time she used to spend in Junior's place, but Ruby would've been something way cooler. She squinted. Who had Nora been here again? Torchwick, kinda? How could that possibly have been Winter's impression of them?

The specialist cleared her throat. "Regardless... if something is going to happen today, something so terrible it's triggered your guilty conscience, of all people's..." She directed a sharp look back at Blake.

"...Then you need to tell me. Now. Because as things stand, general Ironwood is adamant the tournament finals go ahead as intended. It's not a decision I agree with, but it's one I understand. With the way things have been going lately... well, I don't have to tell you people. Whatever you've been doing, whatever forces Sienna is drawing on as part of this crusade of hers to destabilize the kingdoms..."

She pursed her lips again, then bit the lower one fully, clearly troubled in a way none of them had ever seen the specialist before.

"...it's working."

It was a look born from sleepless nights, from endless work days, one duty ticking over to the next, the only rest to be had in brief, involuntary power naps here and there. More than anything, it was a look of fear. Not the same kind of fear Blake had just provoked from her, but the slow-burning kind. The abstract fear; Fear of where things were heading, of whether their army, for all its might, was going to be able to do anything about it. Fear for her family, their futures, and for the generations that were to follow.

In other words, it was a type of fear Blake understood all too well.

"I don't think you can possibly understand how well it's working. If you did, you would've turned yourself in months ago. I mean, have you watched the news lately? Remnant is practically coming apart at the seams. In ways I frankly don't even understand how your group can be responsible for, but the general and Salem seem certain." The specialist let her brow furrow, perplexed. "This new narcotic is partly to blame, but it's more than that. Dust mines are running dry left and right. The weather patterns don't make any sense. The soil acidity, it's... nothing will grow. I'm not just talking about Atlas and Vale, either. Everywhere. Menagerie's ecosystem is practically dying out; we're in regular communication with your parents. Even the fish haven't spawned the way they should've this year. They're not going to have enough for the winter."

She drew in a deep, steadying breath, for as much as she was able to, at least. "And some of the grimm that have emerged lately... they're like nothing we've ever seen. We've done a good job of hiding it, but this year's Vytal Festival needs to be a success; without it, Remnant might not have the strength to make it to the next one. If Sienna's plan is to capitalise on that..."

The specialist chose that moment to banish all fear, all doubt, all the honest conviction Blake's own seemed to elicit in her, letting the full stern weight of her gaze settle back on the faunus once more in a show of icy coercion.

"You need to tell me what you k—"

"Why do you keep saying Sienna?"

This wasn't the dopy confusion of a Ruby whose bell had been rung a little too hard; somewhere in the middle of that the huntress had sat up, hood drawn, cloak pulled a little tighter over her shoulders than usual and chin on her knuckles as she listened with probably a little more focus than someone in her condition should've been trying this hard to channel, honestly. It was warranted, and more than a few leery glances had been sent Yang's way at some of the more worrying specifics. This Remnant had definitely been off the last time they were in this position, but... nothing like that. It sounded like this version of Remnant was already on the brink.

"The Fang, Nora Valkyrie... they're just pawns. This is Ozpin, right? I mean... who else could it be?"

A lengthy pregnant pause settled in over the room at that, Winter's brow creasing further as she tried to parse that sentence. Ruby was starting to sweat she'd screwed up again somehow when the specialist finally spoke, an even-keeled but firm request for more.

"Who's 'Ozpin'?"

"Wowww, you didn't know anything when we were at Beacon huh?"

Now she really felt bad.​

 

[MidwayLives]

"You asked for an explanation, Salem—And quite frankly, I don't owe you one. I'm here at the behest of the council, so I'm only telling you this as a formality. But sometimes the best explanation is the simplest one." He turned, sweeping a piercing, stony gaze across the various students, lingering on each of them one by one.

"Your eight prized students, each of whom has a noted problem with authority, suspected criminal background, or psychological instability of some sort or another, have gone digging where they shouldn't have. They've uncovered information they never needed to know, gotten in contact with the wrong people, and made a terrible mistake. And they're going to be locked up for the rest of their lives for it."

He fell silent, trying not to relish too much in the look on the now plainly speechless Glynda's face as she continued staring blankly down at the vial.

Roman's entire body tensed up.

He knew HE wasn't some kind of teenage crackhead.

Sure, he stole, he fucked around and sometimes he even found out.

Even managing to fuck around all the way off the mortal coil, apparently.

But if fate was giving him this chance to walk around once more? Like hell he was going to risk pissing it away in some kind of Atlesian jail cell. Gripping tightly onto the corner of Salem's desk, Roman's chest moved up and down as he inhaled/exhaled. Whatever was in store for him? It could go ahead and have it's way with him. But not before...

He glanced again over to Neo and Mercury.

He saved the people he loved.

He fell silent, trying not to relish too much in the look on the now plainly speechless Glynda's face as she continued staring blankly down at the vial.

"Now. Does anyone not under arrest have a problem with any of that?"

"Kind of, yeah."
A ripple of orange-colored energy spread out from under the palm of Roman's right hand. Suddenly, Salem's desk seemed to vanish, nearly causing Roman to trip over and ruin the entire 'badass move' he was trying to make.

Recapturing his posture at the last second, he held his right hand out towards the crowd, specifically the chunk of soldiers situated near Mercury and Neo. Sure, Harriet was right in front of him but Roman doubted his chances in taking her on in a fight. So whatever he tried to do to her probably wouldn't work anyway.

Besides, fuck those guys, right?

"Arrest this."

The desk reappeared, alright.

Right above those chucklefuck's heads.

*CRASH*

He then looked up at Harriet from where he was still laying on the ground, having lost his footing due to the desk's unexpected disappearance. Flashing the Ace Operative, a winning smile.

"Okay. Let's go."

It probably wasn't gonna end well but eh, he'd give it a good honest try. What was the worst that could happen? That he could die again?


*gulp*

"He's a traitor. And a junkie."

"—Pardon?"

So shocking was the statement, so utterly unexpected and seemingly outside the realms of common sense, that Goodwitch honestly didn't even know how to continue. She just waited, but instead of continuing immediately Ironwood slipped a gloved hand into his pocket, producing a series of small, pressurized canisters with vibrant colored hues.

"They all are. Do you know what this is?"

He paused, as if expecting a response; Goodwitch's eyes widened in recognition, though none of the students could claim they were familiar themselves. He didn't wait long enough for anyone to form a cogent answer anyway, and pressed on, cadence harsh in its judgment.

"This is Entropy. It's an aura stimulant being manufactured in Solitas. Highly potent, highly addictive. It can be spiked with dust to induce a variety of different effects, along with just about any other chemical an addict might feel like filling their veins with. Its effects on aura prevent immediate overdose or medical complications in the short term, but over a period..."

He tutted, jaw setting into a dark scowl.

"Destroys the mind. Makes people start to speak gibberish, see things that aren't there; Believe things that aren't real."

He sent a pointed glance Salem's way.

"It hasn't fully made its way here yet, but it's just about ravaged Mistral. This is what Lionheart came to you for help with, months ago; Another problem you ignored until it was too late."

"Forgive me if I don't see the relevance to—"

"About a half hour ago," he continued, sweeping straight past Glynda's interjection in a way she would never have allowed if she were on sure footing. There was something in the way she was staring at the canisters, though, James having offered it to her for inspection. "Shortly after dealing with a significant security breach elsewhere, I received a tip that a member of team WTCH was rampaging through one of the student dormitories. Destroying property, committing assault. Raving about finding his sister. The anonymous source advised a search of the team's room, along with that of team MTEN. Apparently they were up well after curfew last night, playing music. Partying."

He held up one of the canisters, clasped between thumb and forefinger.

"My men found enough Entropy to kill a small Leviathan, with a scroll containing evidence Arthur has been hacking a second Academy's databases, and an executable called 'White Queen'. We're still figuring out how it works, but from how it's been explained to me if this file had been introduced to the Vale CCT mainframe it would've created a backdoor tunnel into the network my military uses. Ships, robots, turrets. A skilled enough hacker could've taken control of all of them, for a time. Do you understand what that means? The gravity of it?"

"Hmph."
What a bunch of utter bull.

Tyrian wasn't a stranger to drugs.

He'd been offered so many during his time before he'd gone to Beacon. Turned them down every single time. Alcohol tasted disgusting to him and drugs always made him feel uneasy and if you messed around too much? You'd end up developing a dependency on the stuff. Couldn't have that while trying to keep yourself in peak fighting shape and make your father figure happy. But this went beyond just mere baseless accusations. Insinuations about his friends AND his beloved teammates that he'd give anything for. He'd even stabbed himself, if just to try and make his opponent bleed as well. All because the son of a bitch had the nerve to threaten his loved ones. His tail coiled up, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Roman. Stay behind Cinder and me-"

He fell silent, trying not to relish too much in the look on the now plainly speechless Glynda's face as she continued staring blankly down at the vial.

"Now. Does anyone not under arrest have a problem with any of that?"

In just the span of a few short moments, not only was Salem's desk just GONE. Disappeared from where it'd just been, it then re-manifested right atop a handful of Ironwood's goons.


"Were, you uhm, going to signal to any of us that you were gonna do that? Or how you even did that??"

"Y-Yeah, haha, funny story! I guess um...I just..." Roman started before quickly waving it of because things likely were gonna esclate further now that he'd done that. He was only half an idiot who acted on base impulses after all. Still some common sense in there somehow. "I'll probably figure it out after! Deal?"

"Works for me."

Both teenaged boys looked back at Salem.

"sorry about the desk/your property, m'am."

Tyrian then dropped to all fours, bared his teeth at Vine, and let his tail loose.

"Out of my way!"

He was proud of Roman for unlocking his semblance. Truthfully, the scorpion struggled to believe if Roman genuinely ever WOULD. There was the brief hint of it during his....final moments. But that didn't mean that Torchwick was gonna be able to hold his own against an elite soldier. Tyrian had to get to his side and fast!

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Though there were none from either Remnant who could yet be cognizant of it, perhaps the gods orchestrating this whole affair appreciated that certain showdowns between souls appeared fated regardless of rhyme, reason or circumstance.

"I actually tried to help you, you know. I understand you never saw it this way, but I could've had you court martialed for accessing military secrets under my Academy roof. I thought a change of scenery might do you some good instead; it's rare for me to admit this, but Atlas never suited you."

He sighed, rife with disappointment; both for Watts and for his own judgment.

"I wish I'd seen it sooner. A thirst for knowledge can be a great thing, but without proper guidance and direction it can also be dangerous. If only your parents had taken more of an interest."

"Mister Watts has been a fine team leader and a finer student," came Goodwitch's cold interjection, frankly still utterly incredulous that James had the gall to do what he was currently doing. "And I sincerely hope for your sake that you've brought something to substantiate this scandalous behavior, general, because otherwise I'm going to begin throwing your men from the top of the tower in the next ten to fifteen sentences—"

"He's a traitor. And a junkie."

"—Pardon?"

So shocking was the statement, so utterly unexpected and seemingly outside the realms of common sense, that Goodwitch honestly didn't even know how to continue. She just waited, but instead of continuing immediately Ironwood slipped a gloved hand into his pocket, producing a series of small, pressurized canisters with vibrant colored hues.

"They all are. Do you know what this is?"

He paused, as if expecting a response; Goodwitch's eyes widened in recognition, though none of the students could claim they were familiar themselves. He didn't wait long enough for anyone to form a cogent answer anyway, and pressed on, cadence harsh in its judgment.

"This is Entropy. It's an aura stimulant being manufactured in Solitas. Highly potent, highly addictive. It can be spiked with dust to induce a variety of different effects, along with just about any other chemical an addict might feel like filling their veins with. Its effects on aura prevent immediate overdose or medical complications in the short term, but over a period..."

He tutted, jaw setting into a dark scowl.

"Destroys the mind. Makes people start to speak gibberish, see things that aren't there; Believe things that aren't real."

He sent a pointed glance Salem's way.

"It hasn't fully made its way here yet, but it's just about ravaged Mistral. This is what Lionheart came to you for help with, months ago; Another problem you ignored until it was too late."

"Forgive me if I don't see the relevance to—"

"About a half hour ago," he continued, sweeping straight past Glynda's interjection in a way she would never have allowed if she were on sure footing. There was something in the way she was staring at the canisters, though, James having offered it to her for inspection. "Shortly after dealing with a significant security breach elsewhere, I received a tip that a member of team WTCH was rampaging through one of the student dormitories. Destroying property, committing assault. Raving about finding his sister. The anonymous source advised a search of the team's room, along with that of team MTEN. Apparently they were up well after curfew last night, playing music. Partying."

He held up one of the canisters, clasped between thumb and forefinger.

"My men found enough Entropy to kill a small Leviathan, along with a scroll containing evidence Arthur has been hacking a second Academy's databases, and an executable called 'White Queen'. We're still figuring out how it works, but from how it's been explained to me if this file had been introduced to the Vale CCT mainframe it would've created a backdoor tunnel into the network my military uses. Ships, robots, turrets. A skilled enough hacker could've taken control of all of them, for a time. Do you understand what that means? The gravity of it?"

The deep, long-suffering exhale and way he pinched his brow indicated he had dwelled on it all too much. He straightened up, squared his shoulders, and cast his scowl back Salem's way.

"You asked for an explanation, Salem—And quite frankly, I don't owe you one. I'm here at the behest of the council, so I'm only telling you this as a formality. But sometimes the best explanation is the simplest one." He turned, sweeping a piercing, stony gaze across the various students, lingering on each of them one by one.

"Your eight prized students, each of whom has a noted problem with authority, suspected criminal background, or psychological instability of some sort or another, have gone digging where they shouldn't have. They've uncovered information they never needed to know, gotten in contact with the wrong people, and made a terrible mistake. And they're going to be locked up for the rest of their lives for it."

He fell silent, trying not to relish too much in the look on the now plainly speechless Glynda's face as she continued staring blankly down at the vial.

"Now. Does anyone not under arrest have a problem with any of that?"

Watts initially intended to keep his face schooled into neutrality, to carry that energy through this entire conversation if he could. But the mention of Entropy made his brow furrow, his eyes glancing to the side as he questioned... not if that was what really happened, obviously, because eight people didn't have the same hallucination that wasn't how drugs worked. Usually. No, he questioned where the hell all this was coming from. Entropy hadn't existed in the other timeline. He was certain of it; whatever time in Atlas hadn't been devoted to putting together Phylactery had been spent trawling news sites and the less savory portions of the web, to say nothing of whether some of their less hinged enemies would've clearly relished a free aura boost.

It wasn't just Ironwood.

"Its not going to be the same attack." He murmured, half to himself. Then he sighed, and glanced upwards to meet Ironwood's eyes again as Cinder and Penny squared off.

"...I'm sure everyone here is going to read this as the cliche it sounds like, but you are making a terrible mistake, James. Again." The last word came out as more of a growl. "You and I both know that you've just laid out a prodigious pile of evidence that is entirely circumstancial. And while I know there are degrees to this sort of thing, time travel is only slightly less ludicrous an explanation than me being a junkie." He took a step forward, though only the single step to see what sort of response it procured from the group in front of them.

"You've been fed the easy answer, Ironwood." he continued, finally dropping the first name basis. "The one that's the easiest to rationalize. The one that doesn't bring anything strange into the world. You'd think a man in your position, who knew all the things you did, would know better. The answers in this room, in reach-" He said with a gesture towards Raven "-actual evidence that we're right. You could do the right thing for once, and this could all deescalate, and we could work together to stop whatever's coming."

The sneer that had snuck into his words made it clear how likely Watts saw that outcome being.

"But of course, thats not how this is going to go, is it? You've got the opposite problem of me, James. You've never really given a shit about being right, so long as everything was 'under control'. You've marched half a god damn army into another headmaster's office, broke whatever trust between you was left, and heaven forbid what the optics of that looks like if you're wrong."

He sighed, glancing over to Penny. In some ways, a sign of the Atlas Ironwood had spent so long trying to make real

"...You're not a terrible leader, James. Atlas, if its problems were only Atlas, could've been better for you. But its problems were never just Atlas. And you were never really built for the stage of gods and monsters." He turned back to the general.

"besides; you've always been shit at deescalation."

Roman's entire body tensed up.

He knew HE wasn't some kind of teenage crackhead.

Sure, he stole, he fucked around and sometimes he even found out.

Even managing to fuck around all the way off the mortal coil, apparently.

But if fate was giving him this chance to walk around once more? Like hell he was going to risk pissing it away in some kind of Atlesian jail cell. Gripping tightly onto the corner of Salem's desk, Roman's chest moved up and down as he inhaled/exhaled. Whatever was in store for him? It could go ahead and have it's way with him. But not before...

He glanced again over to Neo and Mercury.

He saved the people he loved.


"Kind of, yeah."
A ripple of orange-colored energy spread out from under the palm of Roman's right hand. Suddenly, Salem's desk seemed to vanish, nearly causing Roman to trip over and ruin the entire 'badass move' he was trying to make.

Recapturing his posture at the last second, he held his right hand out towards the crowd, specifically the chunk of soldiers situated near Mercury and Neo. Sure, Harriet was right in front of him but Roman doubted his chances in taking her on in a fight. So whatever he tried to do to her probably wouldn't work anyway.

Besides, fuck those guys, right?

"Arrest this."

The desk reappeared, alright.

Right above those chucklefuck's heads.

*CRASH*

He then looked up at Harriet from where he was still laying on the ground, having lost his footing due to the desk's unexpected disappearance. Flashing the Ace Operative, a winning smile.

"Okay. Let's go."

It probably wasn't gonna end well but eh, he'd give it a good honest try. What was the worst that could happen? That he could die again?


*gulp*





"Hmph."
What a bunch of utter bull.

Tyrian wasn't a stranger to drugs.

He'd been offered so many during his time before he'd gone to Beacon. Turned them down every single time. Alcohol tasted disgusting to him and drugs always made him feel uneasy and if you messed around too much? You'd end up developing a dependency on the stuff. Couldn't have that while trying to keep yourself in peak fighting shape and make your father figure happy. But this went beyond just mere baseless accusations. Insinuations about his friends AND his beloved teammates that he'd give anything for. He'd even stabbed himself, if just to try and make his opponent bleed as well. All because the son of a bitch had the nerve to threaten his loved ones. His tail coiled up, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Roman. Stay behind Cinder and me-"



In just the span of a few short moments, not only was Salem's desk just GONE. Disappeared from where it'd just been, it then re-manifested right atop a handful of Ironwood's goons.
View attachment 1097282

"Were, you uhm, going to signal to any of us that you were gonna do that? Or how you even did that??"

"Y-Yeah, haha, funny story! I guess um...I just..." Roman started before quickly waving it of because things likely were gonna esclate further now that he'd done that. He was only half an idiot who acted on base impulses after all. Still some common sense in there somehow. "I'll probably figure it out after! Deal?"

"Works for me."

Both teenaged boys looked back at Salem.

"sorry about the desk/your property, m'am."

Tyrian then dropped to all fours, bared his teeth at Vine, and let his tail loose.

"Out of my way!"

He was proud of Roman for unlocking his semblance. Truthfully, the scorpion struggled to believe if Roman genuinely ever WOULD. There was the brief hint of it during his....final moments. But that didn't mean that Torchwick was gonna be able to hold his own against an elite soldier. Tyrian had to get to his side and fast!

-the same of which could be said for Roman, apparently, as there was a brief moment where Watts and Neo waited to see how that all spun out

Tyrian wasn't a surprise

 

[MyrtenRose]

"Friend Cinder..."

Eight rotary blades pulsed green as they spun into a neat configuration behind her, and she reluctantly put her hands out in preparatory fashion, only able to meet Cinder's eyes for an instant.

"...please do not make this difficult. As my only friends, it is very important to me the members of team WTCH and team MTEN receive the appropriate medical treatment as quickly as possible."

It was only a glimpse, a shared glance for no longer than a second but that was enough. Golden eyes stared into green, the one person she dreaded locking a gaze with the most. Not because she was afraid of her, or didn't like her, or anything like that. It was entirely the opposite. She really did like her, and it sucked that she got dragged along into this. That momentary shared look was enough for her glare to soften. "Penny...you know me. I'm not a junkie, and I'm definitely not a traitor!! We fought together at the docks, remember? When we chased Valkyrie off? And the attack from Mountain Glenn...I don't care what evidence he supposedly found, it's a bunch of crap! Arthur isn't dumb enough to leave things like that just lying around, even if he was doing what General Asswood thinks he was, which by the way he wasn't!!!"

She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry Penny. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I have to. I'm not taking these false accusations lying down."​

In just the span of a few short moments, not only was Salem's desk just GONE. Disappeared from where it'd just been, it then re-manifested right atop a handful of Ironwood's goons.

"Were, you uhm, going to signal to any of us that you were gonna do that? Or how you even did that??"

"Y-Yeah, haha, funny story! I guess um...I just..." Roman started before quickly waving it of because things likely were gonna esclate further now that he'd done that. He was only half an idiot who acted on base impulses after all. Still some common sense in there somehow. "I'll probably figure it out after! Deal?"

"Works for me."

Both teenaged boys looked back at Salem.

"sorry about the desk/your property, m'am."

Tyrian then dropped to all fours, bared his teeth at Vine, and let his tail loose.

"Out of my way!"

He was proud of Roman for unlocking his semblance. Truthfully, the scorpion struggled to believe if Roman genuinely ever WOULD. There was the brief hint of it during his....final moments. But that didn't mean that Torchwick was gonna be able to hold his own against an elite soldier. Tyrian had to get to his side and fast!

Watts initially intended to keep his face schooled into neutrality, to carry that energy through this entire conversation if he could. But the mention of Entropy made his brow furrow, his eyes glancing to the side as he questioned... not if that was what really happened, obviously, because eight people didn't have the same hallucination that wasn't how drugs worked. Usually. No, he questioned where the hell all this was coming from. Entropy hadn't existed in the other timeline. He was certain of it; whatever time in Atlas hadn't been devoted to putting together Phylactery had been spent trawling news sites and the less savory portions of the web, to say nothing of whether some of their less hinged enemies would've clearly relished a free aura boost.

It wasn't just Ironwood.

"Its not going to be the same attack." He murmured, half to himself. Then he sighed, and glanced upwards to meet Ironwood's eyes again as Cinder and Penny squared off.

"...I'm sure everyone here is going to read this as the cliche it sounds like, but you are making a terrible mistake, James. Again." The last word came out as more of a growl. "You and I both know that you've just laid out a prodigious pile of evidence that is entirely circumstancial. And while I know there are degrees to this sort of thing, time travel is only slightly less ludicrous an explanation than me being a junkie." He took a step forward, though only the single step to see what sort of response it procured from the group in front of them.

"You've been fed the easy answer, Ironwood." he continued, finally dropping the first name basis. "The one that's the easiest to rationalize. The one that doesn't bring anything strange into the world. You'd think a man in your position, who knew all the things you did, would know better. The answers in this room, in reach-" He said with a gesture towards Raven "-actual evidence that we're right. You could do the right thing for once, and this could all deescalate, and we could work together to stop whatever's coming."

The sneer that had snuck into his words made it clear how likely Watts saw that outcome being.

"But of course, thats not how this is going to go, is it? You've got the opposite problem of me, James. You've never really given a shit about being right, so long as everything was 'under control'. You've marched half a god damn army into another headmaster's office, broke whatever trust between you was left, and heaven forbid what the optics of that looks like if you're wrong."

He sighed, glancing over to Penny. In some ways, a sign of the Atlas Ironwood had spent so long trying to make real

"...You're not a terrible leader, James. Atlas, if its problems were only Atlas, could've been better for you. But its problems were never just Atlas. And you were never really built for the stage of gods and monsters." He turned back to the general.

"besides; you've always been shit at deescalation."


View attachment 1097287

-the same of which could be said for Roman, apparently, as there was a brief moment where Watts and Neo waited to see how that all spun out

Tyrian wasn't a surprise

It seemed a fight was likely, just off those two's actions, despite Arthur's words. It was not that surprising from Tyrian, but she wouldn't have pegged that from Roman for a few reasons. One of those being that she didn't even know he could do that. Seriously, what the hell was that??? Her grip tightened even more on the bow in her hand, her eyes instantly taking on a more intense glow as fire itself flared out of them. They had numbers but she had her power. If a fight broke out, like hell she was holding back--

"THAT'S ENOUGH."

The loud voice suddenly booming through the room got the young maiden to jump up a little, startled by Salem's interjection. She briefly shot a look over her shoulder, caught sight of the angriest she'd ever seen Salem and decided she'd rather not be looking at that so immediately turned her head back forward.

The headmistress was standing now, no point sitting since there was no desk there any longer. "Glynda." She addressed, adding nothing beyond a gesture over to Roman and Tyrian trying to pick a fight, confident that her meaning was clear.​

He fell silent, trying not to relish too much in the look on the now plainly speechless Glynda's face as she continued staring blankly down at the vial.

"Now. Does anyone not under arrest have a problem with any of that?"

"Good of you to ask. Yes. Yes, James, I do have a problem." Salem made abundantly clear, striding forward herself to plant herself directly in front of the General, lifting her head up slightly to stare him down. "You apparently do not understand where you are at this very moment. This is not Atlas. You were given responsibility for security for the Vytal Festival by the Vale council. That does not give you free reign to act as you please. That does not give you the right to plant devices in my academy and eavesdrop on my conversations. That does not give you the right to invade my sanctum with your soldiers. That most certainly does not give you the right to come in here, and accuse my students, who, regardless of their backgrounds, have on multiple occasions proven their heroism and valor, of the heinous crime of treason with only flimsy evidence that could have simply been planted there. Tell me, did you even consider how convenient it is that an "anonymous source" just so happened to direct you there, or did you not even care so long as you got to assert your false perception of your own dominance in this kingdom?"

Her fists curled at her sides as she continued to glare him down, scrutinizing him down to the very bone it seemed. "James. You have been a friend and ally for a long time. It is with that in mind that I'm telling you now as a courtesy, that if you don't order your men to stand down and leave this very second, you won't like what happens next."

She stood unflinchingly, leaving it up to him to decide.

Cinder, for one, was really apprehensive about the next minute or two.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Ah!"

It was, all things considered, such a tiny reaction it might've been dismissible under any other circumstance. An unfortunate—for Winter—consequence of getting too close to the hardlight in a bid to recement her authority, to make back whatever slight ground she may have felt was lost in the skirmish earlier, and of being too preoccupied with her thoughts to consider that she should probably take a step or two clear of the cell before taking her eyes off its occupant. Embarrassing, perhaps, but nothing particularly noteworthy.

What made it otherwise was precisely who it was they were talking to. Because, regardless of this world and its idiosyncrasies, Winter Schnee wasn't some doe-eyed cadet. She was still Winter Schnee; the best of Ironwood's best, the inspiration for Weiss's rebellious streak and benefactor of her semblance, who'd taken it upon herself to go blow for blow with a Branwen across Beacon's campus simply to stretch her legs after a long flight and who gave orders to the Ace Ops despite being younger than most of them. Whether their identification read huntress or specialist, there were few with more mettle to be found across the whole of Remnant.

So to see someone of that caliber issue such a small, genuinely distressed scream, attempt to turn back around while stepping away so quickly she stumbled, and briefly struggle with what should've been a quick, easy movement she'd carried out a thousand times in drawing her weapon was an odd sight for Blake; perhaps one that would've brought her a small amount of satisfaction a long time ago, when she was a different person who held different company. Now it just felt strange, and of the three of them, only Yang could've possibly understood the context for it.




She was the only one who'd heard the screams.





Winter didn't even hear the first part of Blake's impassioned appeal, the context for which was far more readily apparent: she had remembered where some of that mettle was.

"BACK AGAINST THE WALL! Try anything like that again and I'll make sure you die in that cell, you degenerate—"





The threat cut off, breath catching in her throat sharply enough that she had to suck a second in through her nose to avoid sputtering like some sort of aristocratic caricature. The stab of remembrance, if indeed it could truly be called such, wasn't the only thing that had her refrain from finishing that threat; Blake's ability to power through at least enabled the back half of her plea to be heard, and Winter's concerted effort to take in as much oxygen as she possibly could in the interest of regaining a demeanor somewhat befitting her station had her more of a mind to listen.

If it meant the damnable quake in her saber's grip and beads of sweat lining her forehead were addressed, all the better.

"I... shouldn't even be doing this. I'm under orders not to speak to any of you." Her weapon found its way back in its sheathe, and so clouded was her expression when she glanced back towards the door it was impossible to say with certainty whether she was leaning towards hearing them out or walking, even for Yang. Everything they knew about Winter suggested that acting contrary to an order was antithetical to everything that made her Winter. "I told you, telepathic semblances are nothing we haven't seen. An interrogation specialist has already been dispatched from Atlas. He's en route here to dig through your minds, sift truth from lie; he's not going to be delicate. It... won't be a pleasant experience for any of you."

She pursed her lips, and a flash of guilt reified like lightning through the storm of uncertainty that made up her expression. Her sigh was deep, and affixed the door with one last stare before crossing her arms and giving them her full attention again.

"...When I got a proper look at the three of you in the colosseum, saw how young you all were, how... bewildered you seemed, I thought... high-level operatives have defected from Sienna before. Taurus and her White Fang... It's not unheard of." She sounded almost like she was trying to convince herself, reframe the points she'd already argued to the general a certain kind of way to create some sort of logical loophole for herself, something that would allow her to do what she was doing without it constituting a form of mild treason. She glanced over at Yang, then Ruby, eyes slightly narrowed in scrutiny. "And I assume the two of you are just local thugs. Valkyrie's people? No doubt following well-honed survival instincts."

"What?! C'mon." 'Local thugs'. Maybe Yang carried mild holdover 'local thug' energy from all that time she used to spend in Junior's place, but Ruby would've been something way cooler. She squinted. Who had Nora been here again? Torchwick, kinda? How could that possibly have been Winter's impression of them?

The specialist cleared her throat. "Regardless... if something is going to happen today, something so terrible it's triggered your guilty conscience, of all people's..." She directed a sharp look back at Blake.

"...Then you need to tell me. Now. Because as things stand, general Ironwood is adamant the tournament finals go ahead as intended. It's not a decision I agree with, but it's one I understand. With the way things have been going lately... well, I don't have to tell you people. Whatever you've been doing, whatever forces Sienna is drawing on as part of this crusade of hers to destabilize the kingdoms..."

She pursed her lips again, then bit the lower one fully, clearly troubled in a way none of them had ever seen the specialist before.

"...it's working."

It was a look born from sleepless nights, from endless work days, one duty ticking over to the next, the only rest to be had in brief, involuntary power naps here and there. More than anything, it was a look of fear. Not the same kind of fear Blake had just provoked from her, but the slow-burning kind. The abstract fear; Fear of where things were heading, of whether their army, for all its might, was going to be able to do anything about it. Fear for her family, their futures, and for the generations that were to follow.

In other words, it was a type of fear Blake understood all too well.

"I don't think you can possibly understand how well it's working. If you did, you would've turned yourself in months ago. I mean, have you watched the news lately? Remnant is practically coming apart at the seams. In ways I frankly don't even understand how your group can be responsible for, but the general and Salem seem certain." The specialist let her brow furrow, perplexed. "This new narcotic is partly to blame, but it's more than that. Dust mines are running dry left and right. The weather patterns don't make any sense. The soil acidity, it's... nothing will grow. I'm not just talking about Atlas and Vale, either. Everywhere. Menagerie's ecosystem is practically dying out; we're in regular communication with your parents. Even the fish haven't spawned the way they should've this year. They're not going to have enough for the winter."

She drew in a deep, steadying breath, for as much as she was able to, at least. "And some of the grimm that have emerged lately... they're like nothing we've ever seen. We've done a good job of hiding it, but this year's Vytal Festival needs to be a success; without it, Remnant might not have the strength to make it to the next one. If Sienna's plan is to capitalise on that..."

The specialist chose that moment to banish all fear, all doubt, all the honest conviction Blake's own seemed to elicit in her, letting the full stern weight of her gaze settle back on the faunus once more in a show of icy coercion.

"You need to tell me what you k—"

"Why do you keep saying Sienna?"

This wasn't the dopy confusion of a Ruby whose bell had been rung a little too hard; somewhere in the middle of that the huntress had sat up, hood drawn, cloak pulled a little tighter over her shoulders than usual and chin on her knuckles as she listened with probably a little more focus than someone in her condition should've been trying this hard to channel, honestly. It was warranted, and more than a few leery glances had been sent Yang's way at some of the more worrying specifics. This Remnant had definitely been off the last time they were in this position, but... nothing like that. It sounded like this version of Remnant was already on the brink.

"The Fang, Nora Valkyrie... they're just pawns. This is Ozpin, right? I mean... who else could it be?"

A lengthy pregnant pause settled in over the room at that, Winter's brow creasing further as she tried to parse that sentence. Ruby was starting to sweat she'd screwed up again somehow when the specialist finally spoke, an even-keeled but firm request for more.

"Who's 'Ozpin'?"

"Wowww, you didn't know anything when we were at Beacon huh?"

Now she really felt bad.​

There were a hundred ways that the Blake Belladonna of this Remnant and of the one these three girls called home were different. It was still an easy error to make, mistaking one for the other, but if you ever saw them in the same room it wouldn't ever be one that you'd make again.

They were both still Blake Belladonna, however, both similar in where they started, the extreme core of who they were. Which was why Blake didn't flinch anymore than The Hand might've when receiving a threat from an atlesian specialist on the other side of a cell wall, and merely held her gaze firm and finished her plea. Yang's reaction was different, her expression falling to one of almost morose pity at Winter's reaction, because yea. She remembered. That was a sound she wasn't ever gonna forget, honestly, but there was no way to communicate that to Blake in a way that made sense, so she just kinda... sat on that herself for now.

At least until she met Ruby's gaze with a worried frown of her own as Winter continued. Then the other pin dropped.

Ah.

Blake gave the other two a helpless glance, still entirely out of her depth, and Yang rubbed the back of her head.

"... How much do you know?" She asked. "Like, how old Salem is? Whats keeping Atlas in the air? Any of that?"

 

[Gus Gungus]

There were a hundred ways that the Blake Belladonna of this Remnant and of the one these three girls called home were different. It was still an easy error to make, mistaking one for the other, but if you ever saw them in the same room it wouldn't ever be one that you'd make again.

They were both still Blake Belladonna, however, both similar in where they started, the extreme core of who they were. Which was why Blake didn't flinch anymore than The Hand might've when receiving a threat from an atlesian specialist on the other side of a cell wall, and merely held her gaze firm and finished her plea. Yang's reaction was different, her expression falling to one of almost morose pity at Winter's reaction, because yea. She remembered. That was a sound she wasn't ever gonna forget, honestly, but there was no way to communicate that to Blake in a way that made sense, so she just kinda... sat on that herself for now.

At least until she met Ruby's gaze with a worried frown of her own as Winter continued. Then the other pin dropped.

Ah.

Blake gave the other two a helpless glance, still entirely out of her depth, and Yang rubbed the back of her head.

"... How much do you know?" She asked. "Like, how old Salem is? Whats keeping Atlas in the air? Any of that?"​

Winter's gaze twitched back towards Yang with plain irritation, though it was perhaps more forgivable when she sighed in snide vexation this time given a line of questioning that clearly struck her as absolutely irrelevant, trivial nonsense.

"You're asking how much I know about matters of public record? Right. I'm not losing my rank for this."

She shook her head ruefully, as if already chiding herself for being so gullible, and took a step or two in reverse before turning away this time; letting her hands revert to their steeling position folded behind her back as she again started for the door.

"If you're just going to give me the runaround, we can resume waiting for general Carnelian's transport and determine what you know the hard way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You're going to wish you cooperated."​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Winter's gaze twitched back towards Yang with plain irritation, though it was perhaps more forgivable when she sighed in snide vexation this time given a line of questioning that clearly struck her as absolutely irrelevant, trivial nonsense.

"You're asking how much I know about matters of public record? Right. I'm not losing my rank for this."

She shook her head ruefully, as if already chiding herself for being so gullible, and took a step or two in reverse before turning away this time; letting her hands revert to their steeling position folded behind her back as she again started for the door.

"If you're just going to give me the runaround, we can resume waiting for general Carnelian's transport and determine what you know the hard way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You're going to wish you cooperated."​

Yang threw her head back in frustration with a groan. "Ugh, no you goof, I'm not fishing for information, these are things we already know! But the rest of what we know is gonna sound like nonsense if you're not far enough down this rabbit ho-"

"Borous Carnelian is dead"

Blake's words cut through Yang's complaints with the sort of severity Winter probably expected more of during this conversation, but if she turned back towards the faunus it wasn't some furious revolutionary she found herself looking at, not a pair of fiery, hateful eyes that seemed designed to burn through the icy armor Schnees put around their heart for the sole purpose of ripping them out; Perhaps some part of Winter felt some sort of satisfaction; her soul got to witness what she or Weiss or anyone never managed to drag out of Blake, the Hand

What she saw was a terrified young woman. She knew what the start of a panic attack looked like because she worked with distorted Harriet.

Blake was courageous; She knew what she stood for. She didn't give up on people. Even Adam got her pleas for a better path, right up until the end. She knew Winter thought she was doing the right thing, and she knew the stakes; she was never going to be frightened of her.

That was not what what Carnelian was.

"Borous Carnelian was executed twenty years ago after the faunus rebellion for heinous war crimes, ones not even your own military could overlook." She managed to get out, voice hoarse after her declaration. The history books accounts of him were vile; they were also sanitized. She'd heard herself from elders on Menagerie how bad it had actually been. It was stories like that, along with the state of the world, that had pushed Blake to stay with the White Fang in the first place, even after her parents were pushed out. To keep someone like Carnelian from ever getting power again. He wasn't a person. He was an inhuman butcher. She might've first assumed it was someone else who had the name, but the coincidence of the semblance was too much to ignore

"I don't care how messed up this world is supposed to be. there is no way he still alive, let alone-"

"He is"

At some point Yang had stood up, and Blake found a pair of gentle, sad eyes staring back at her as Yang pressed her hand up against the hardlight again, her voice soft but firm. "I fought him myself a few times, the first go around." She said a generous interpretation admittedly. Blake didn't take the offer this time, instead glancing over to Ruby for a third, needless confirmation, before she paced to the back of her own cell with her fists pressed against her forehead and trying to stop herself from spiralling any farther. Yang gave her a mournful glance before she turned back to Winter, her tone still soft.

"Look, Winter. I know we've been burying the lead here, but its only because what we're going through sounds insane even to us. But we're on the same side. Those nightmares aren't from a semblance; I think we both know how insanely powerful one would have to be to affect your whole army. Its something worse. Something that's gotten you killed before. All we want is to stop whatever's coming. We are cooperating. I want to help you, and Weiss."

Her voice got some of its edge back as she frowned.

"But if you try and put that guy in the same room as Blake, you're gonna see what me not cooperating looks like."

 

[Gus Gungus]

"...I'm sure everyone here is going to read this as the cliche it sounds like, but you are making a terrible mistake, James. Again." The last word came out as more of a growl. "You and I both know that you've just laid out a prodigious pile of evidence that is entirely circumstancial. And while I know there are degrees to this sort of thing, time travel is only slightly less ludicrous an explanation than me being a junkie." He took a step forward, though only the single step to see what sort of response it procured from the group in front of them.​

"You know as well as I do that's not how this works, Arthur," he shot back brusquely, though rather calmly all things considered. The step forward was matched by one from the impressively large woman wielding an even more impressively large hammer over her shoulder to his rear flank, a snarl forming on her face that seemed to bode poorly for Watts if his knowledge of the Ace Ops was up to snuff, but a small gesture from the general stayed her hand.

"Whether evidence is circumstantial or not is for the courts to decide. What I can say with some certainty is that it's overwhelming. And damning. And now, as the one tasked with protecting this kingdom for the duration of the festival, I have to decide what to do with it."

The dark circles under his eyes and deeper flecks of grey in his hair spoke to how well he was coping with that burden; the students had seen Ironwood around during their original experience of the Vytal Festival, and while it was difficult to recall with any clarity they remembered him looking a lot less... run down. He was a long way from approaching disheveled, but still; he looked to have lost a small amount of the healthy bulk he once maintained, and his five o'clock shadow was apparent in a way that seemed far less intentional than the considerable beard he had sported by the time they reached Atlas. Taken individually they wouldn't have been anything of note, but together it started to paint a picture; one, perhaps, of how changed the Ironwood they now stood across from was.

Or, if someone of Watts' intellect cared to think a little harder on it, on what he knew of a man as proud and as steadfast as James Ironwood, on what could possibly diminish the way he presented himself to this degree:

Spoiler

The sort of state this Remnant was in.

"...I'll admit, I found it difficult to believe myself. And maybe there is an angle here I'm not seeing just yet; but in lieu of rational alternatives, I have to work with what I'm given. Tangible data trumps gut feelings and instinct. Always. I'd think you of all people should understand that. And in the face of the data, this alibi you sound so sure of? Different timelines, different Remnants, brother gods straight from the pages of fairy tales?"

He lifted his gaze from where it had trailed ever-so-briefly downwards, whatever had been peeking out from behind the dignified bearing of Atlas' general banished in a heartbeat as his eyes' reflection seemed to dull slightly.

"It isn't good enough."
​

"You've been fed the easy answer, Ironwood." he continued, finally dropping the first name basis. "The one that's the easiest to rationalize. The one that doesn't bring anything strange into the world. You'd think a man in your position, who knew all the things you did, would know better. The answers in this room, in reach-" He said with a gesture towards Raven "-actual evidence that we're right. You could do the right thing for once, and this could all deescalate, and we could work together to stop whatever's coming."

The sneer that had snuck into his words made it clear how likely Watts saw that outcome being.

"But of course, thats not how this is going to go, is it? You've got the opposite problem of me, James. You've never really given a shit about being right, so long as everything was 'under control'. You've marched half a god damn army into another headmaster's office, broke whatever trust between you was left, and heaven forbid what the optics of that looks like if you're wrong."

He sighed, glancing over to Penny. In some ways, a sign of the Atlas Ironwood had spent so long trying to make real

"...You're not a terrible leader, James. Atlas, if its problems were only Atlas, could've been better for you. But its problems were never just Atlas. And you were never really built for the stage of gods and monsters." He turned back to the general.

"besides; you've always been shit at deescalation."​

Perhaps it came as a surprise to Watts, given his appraisal, when a glimmer of something else muddled the waters of the general's cool, poised demeanor; the tiniest quirk of the brow that sparked at the notion he was swallowing the easiest answer. That there were alternative perspectives he wasn't considering. That inflexibility was as liable to prove costly here as anything else.

By the time Arthur finished talking, that spark had grown, fanned into the burnt-out embers of a man just trying to do the right thing. One struggling with the weight of having to determine what that was, standing on a mountain peak where trust was as rare and as valuable a commodity as oxygen, one where the allies he'd thought were at his side all seemed to be harboring their own agendas. Where the only one who seemed to understand how close humanity stood to the precipice was him.

At least, he seemed to be the only one doing anything about it.

Maybe that didn't have to be the case. If there was even a slight chance any of what they were saying was true—
​

Besides, fuck those guys, right?

"Arrest this."

The desk reappeared, alright.

Right above those chucklefuck's heads.

*CRASH*

He then looked up at Harriet from where he was still laying on the ground, having lost his footing due to the desk's unexpected disappearance. Flashing the Ace Operative, a winning smile.

"Okay. Let's go."

It probably wasn't gonna end well but eh, he'd give it a good honest try. What was the worst that could happen? That he could die again?​

Well-intentioned and hilarious as the whole desk thing was, Roman's semblance and its specific workings were still extremely new to him to the degree that he didn't even really understand what he just did, and the auraed and armored-up soldiers just kind of stepped out in a half-crouch from underneath the varnished wood occupying varying states of grogginess, pain and confusion. They all exchanged momentary 'what the hell' looks and let their rifle sights drift briefly towards the floor, the one who'd clocked Neo particularly dumbfounded as he tried to figure out if that was some kind of act of god or karma or what. "Jeez."

It was actually, somewhat appropriately, Mercury of all people who got the worst of it, since the guy had been to his immediate right as specified and Salem's desk was freaking huge. His instinct had been to check Neo out of the way so she was spared the worst, and he realised with perfect clarity how much he considered his instinct a giant asshole somewhere between one of the table legs winging him on the side of the face and him butt scooting out from under it with far more awkwardness than the soldiers given the cuffs.

"What the hell, bro!? Now I have a black eye."
​

"THAT'S ENOUGH."​

General Asswood​

"Good of you to ask. Yes. Yes, James, I do have a problem." Salem made abundantly clear, striding forward herself to plant herself directly in front of the General, lifting her head up slightly to stare him down. "You apparently do not understand where you are at this very moment. This is not Atlas. You were given responsibility for security for the Vytal Festival by the Vale council. That does not give you free reign to act as you please. That does not give you the right to plant devices in my academy and eavesdrop on my conversations. That does not give you the right to invade my sanctum with your soldiers. That most certainly does not give you the right to come in here, and accuse my students, who, regardless of their backgrounds, have on multiple occasions proven their heroism and valor, of the heinous crime of treason with only flimsy evidence that could have simply been planted there. Tell me, did you even consider how convenient it is that an "anonymous source" just so happened to direct you there, or did you not even care so long as you got to assert your false perception of your own dominance in this kingdom?"

Her fists curled at her sides as she continued to glare him down, scrutinizing him down to the very bone it seemed. "James. You have been a friend and ally for a long time. It is with that in mind that I'm telling you now as a courtesy, that if you don't order your men to stand down and leave this very second, you won't like what happens next."

She stood unflinchingly, leaving it up to him to decide.

Cinder, for one, was really apprehensive about the next minute or two.​

"It's that simple for you, isn't it?"

There was only one significant difference any of them could surmise in the wake of Roman's abrupt play and Salem's scathing dressing-down, for as emphatic as both had been. Harriet managed to get five or six entire merciless slams of Torchwick's face into the floor using a fistful of ginger hair for leverage before Glynda was able to raise her riding crop in its entirety, sending the two Ace Ops skidding back on their heels away from Roman and Tyrian with a dark glare at the former and a much more critical one at the latter, doing her very best to communicate to Roman in one glance or less that whatever that had been was not, in fact, it.

Between that and the offensive's somewhat mixed results, there was only one truly notable shift in the room as Salem's speech drew to a close.

Ironwood's eyes.

"Goodwill and pixie dust. That's all it takes to run a kingdom. That's all it takes to save the world."

His pupils appeared to have lost all shine and color in their entirety, fully dulled to an impenetrable slate that was an effective a barrier to the thoughts within as a lead curtain. He didn't even have the energy for a scowl, or grimace, now. It was a wonder he was able to breathe out the sigh he did.

"When death is a foreign concept, I suppose I can see how that might feel true. That's why you've failed in your position, Salem, for what it's worth. You don't fear it like the rest of us. You don't have the skin in the game we do." He let his eyes travel up to meet hers fully again, mouth drawn into a thin line. "It's impossible to understand what loss is when, regardless of what happens, you can always strike a match and start over. You have no concept of what it is I'm trying to fight against. Of what we, as a species, have been at war with for the entirety of our existence."

He drew his shoulders back, and though a minute ago it had very much been the opposite it was he who loomed over Salem, now; shoulders squared, expression pitiless.

"Extinction. That's the war, Salem. It's not Ozpin. It's not Grimm. It's what they represent. The cold, long dark humanity has been sliding towards from the moment of our inception. And now, because of your negligence and my indulgence of it..." He took in another breath, this one almost shaky. "...we stand closer to the abyss than we've ever been. Villages are starving. Animal populations are dying out. An entire kingdom, Atlas' neighbor, has been reduced to a haven for lowlifes and miscreants. And you stand here, look me in the eye in your emerald tower, either indifferent or oblivious to it all, and tell me, in the face of what any jury would consider overwhelming evidence... to believe in goodwill and pixie dust. That you have a feeling. That your hunch tells you these are good kids, and they wouldn't do this."

He snorted, though it was as drained of mirth as anything else he had said since stepping into the room, and when he spoke again there was a sort of wistfulness to his tone, though muted and faint.

"I wish I could live in the world you do."

He idly tweaked a button on his sleeve, making sure it was straight before he continued.

"But I don't. I live in the real one. I speak for the people who live here with me."

"And they're as sick of your complacency as I am."

Those with acute hearing among them just about caught a gentle tinkle of glass shattering, so soft it almost didn't sound like it was coming from the same room.

It was hard to really pay attention to it, given something far more noteworthy caught their attention around the same time.

The splatter of red across Ironwood's face.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside, somewhere far, far away, the one Ace Op conspicuous in his absence whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he stood on one of the low external decks of the Atlesian warship he was stationed on, about a klick and a half from his target give or take. He could see the room plain as day, though; the obscene magnification factor on his weapon's scope made sure of it, cutting edge and fresh from the requisitions lab back in Atlas.

That old fishing rod held a lot of sentimental value, but he and the general both agreed a little more edge was warranted in light of his recent promotion.

He had to say, the upgrades were well to his liking. A crackling from his earpiece prompted two fingers to his ear as he kept the scope trained on general Ironwood's sleeve, waiting for his signal even as a querying voice confirmed he was ready.

"You got the shot?"

"Aim-wise? All day. Then again, there is friction, wind resistance, distance, the fact I'm posted on the rear hatch of a moving airship... all of which is to say..."

He grinned, using his thumb to flick a gleaming four-leaf pin up and catch it between his teeth, brought the stock of his quite frankly massive rifle to his shoulder.

"...It's gonna have to be a lucky one."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spoiler

Though the morning was young, Salem's office had already found itself privy to many a strange, surreal, and downright uncanny sight; be it the drunken stupor of Raven Branwen, the strange, unexplained fate of her twin, the sight of Glynda Goodwitch staring down her own employer and friend of many years, and even whatever that thing with the table had been.

Not a one of them measured up even slightly in comparison to Salem, benevolent headmistress of Beacon Academy, having the entire top half of her skull blown off by a rail cannon sniper shot from over a kilometer away, splattering gore across the office and flecks of her blood across the face of an Ironwood who didn't even seem to flinch. That was a moment after the tiny breaking of glass, and a moment before Salem's entire office window shattered in an abrupt cacophony, heavy gusts rippling through the room and concealing the metallic click as Ironwood slapped a pair of pulsating cuffs around the fallen headmistress's wrists. He quickly stepped back, face already wary, hand shooting to one of his pistols just in case this didn't work as expected.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, as much a tense noise of relief as it was one of frustration, and turned to where a sheet-white Goodwitch was just... staring at Salem's body, slumped in her spreading pool of blood.

"...James, I don't... even know how to... what have you done?"

He just shrugged, finally seeing fit to wipe the blood off his face. "Glynda, understand that I would never have signed off on that if not for the headmistress's... unique set of circumstances. And the cuffs wouldn't be necessary if she hadn't given me a reason to need her—"

He cut off with a grunt of pain, the sound of shrieking metal assailing the ears of all present as he dug his heels in and attempted to prevent being torpedoed out the window in an instant by a snarling Glynda who—

"STAY!"

—Suddenly froze entirely, about a half-second before Elm brought her gargantuan mallet head crashing down on the Beacon disciplinarian's prone form from above.

BOOOOOOOOM

She didn't hold anything back, either.

The result was a very unconscious, twitching Goodwitch lying at the bottom of a substantial crater, her aura vanishing in a scatter of purple sparks if it needed any confirmation. Ironwood barely spared her a second glance as he drew both halves of Due Process, gaze as hard as steel rising to field whatever the students were about to send his way, which on the part of Mercury at least was... nothing. At least for now.

"..." What the hell had just happened? He liked to think he had a pretty good read on people, and that probably wouldn't even have landed in his top hundred list of 'stuff he thought might go down'. He might not have been a big brain loser savant capable of hacking into the entire universe like Watts was or whatever, but unbeknownst to him he was reaching a similar conclusion around the same time.

Something was very wrong here.

"As mentioned, I'm conducting this arrest on behalf of the Vale city council. Salem's input was optional. Everyone stay calm, keep weapons in their holster, and this can all still end without further bloodshed."

"But let's not kid ourselves. It's not going to go down that way, is it?"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Penny...you know me. I'm not a junkie, and I'm definitely not a traitor!! We fought together at the docks, remember? When we chased Valkyrie off? And the attack from Mountain Glenn...I don't care what evidence he supposedly found, it's a bunch of crap! Arthur isn't dumb enough to leave things like that just lying around, even if he was doing what General Asswood thinks he was, which by the way he wasn't!!!"

She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry Penny. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I have to. I'm not taking these false accusations lying down."

Penny still didn't meet Cinder's eyes at first

"...I... I believe that you all believe everything you're saying. I would even like you all to be right, and us to be wrong. Which is why you need to come with us peacefully. If you are telling the truth, then it needs to be cleared up the right way." She said finally turning back to Cinder. "Not just by ignoring what is in front of us."

"I don't think we're the ones ignoring whats in front of us, Penny." Watts shot back, frustration clear in his tone. Her frown was cut with hurt, but... neither her hands or blades lowered along with it. She had to be ready, no matter how much she would have rather been otherwise, because if one side hadn't backed down soon, then-

Though the morning was young, Salem's office had already found itself privy to many a strange, surreal, and downright uncanny sight; be it the drunken stupor of Raven Branwen, the strange, unexplained fate of her twin, the sight of Glynda Goodwitch staring down her own employer and friend of many years, and even whatever that thing with the table had been.

Not a one of them measured up even slightly in comparison to Salem, benevolent headmistress of Beacon Academy, having the entire top half of her skull blown off by a rail cannon sniper shot from over a kilometer away, splattering gore across the office and flecks of her blood across the face of an Ironwood who didn't even seem to flinch. That was a moment after the tiny breaking of glass, and a moment before Salem's entire office window shattered in an abrupt cacophony, heavy gusts rippling through the room and concealing the metallic click as Ironwood slapped a pair of pulsating cuffs around the fallen headmistress's wrists. He quickly stepped back, face already wary, hand shooting to one of his pistols just in case this didn't work as expected.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, as much a tense noise of relief as it was one of frustration, and turned to where a sheet-white Goodwitch was just... staring at Salem's body, slumped in her spreading pool of blood.

"...James, I don't... even know how to... what have you done?"

He just shrugged, finally seeing fit to wipe the blood off his face. "Glynda, understand that I would never have signed off on that if not for the headmistress's... unique set of circumstances. And the cuffs wouldn't be necessary if she hadn't given me a reason to need her—"

He cut off with a grunt of pain, the sound of shrieking metal assailing the ears of all present as he dug his heels in and attempted to prevent being torpedoed out the window in an instant by a snarling Glynda who—

"STAY!"

—Suddenly froze entirely, about a half-second before Elm brought her gargantuan mallet head crashing down on the Beacon disciplinarian's prone form from above.

BOOOOOOOOM

She didn't hold anything back, either.

The result was a very unconscious, twitching Goodwitch lying at the bottom of a substantial crater, her aura vanishing in a scatter of purple sparks if it needed any confirmation. Ironwood barely spared her a second glance as he drew both halves of Due Process, gaze as hard as steel rising to field whatever the students were about to send his way, which on the part of Mercury at least was... nothing. At least for now.

"..." What the hell had just happened? He liked to think he had a pretty good read on people, and that probably wouldn't even have landed in his top hundred list of 'stuff he thought might go down'. He might not have been a big brain loser savant capable of hacking into the entire universe like Watts was or whatever, but unbeknownst to him he was reaching a similar conclusion around the same time.

Something was very wrong here.

"As mentioned, I'm conducting this arrest on behalf of the Vale city council. Salem's input was optional. Everyone stay calm, keep weapons in their holster, and this can all still end without further bloodshed."

"But let's not kid ourselves. It's not going to go down that way, is it?"

...That was going to happen.

Watts eyes were stuck wide open as some of the gore splattered across the back of his jacket, his shoulders stock still. He barely managed to turn and watch Goodwitch get put into the ground. His movements afterwards were slow at first, whatever words he had in return for Ironwood's own before all that lost in a cacophony of thoughts and run backs, trying to see if there was anything he'd missed in the last few minutes that could've possibly warned him that was about to happen. His eyes glossed over Penny, who was looking down in some measure of guilt, but not surprise, and Neo, who was only here because Salem had been willing to give someone like her a chance, stock still and glassy eyed as she stared at the remains, her eyes slowly tracking a spool of blood that was coiling down the room towards her from the largest puddle.

---

Neo could handle violence. She even reveled in it a bit, even before... everything that happened after the left Beacon. It was exciting. The thrill of it. Testing herself against monsters and men. And she could handle some blood. it just sorta came part and parcel with the job. But there was a point where it stopped being blood and wounds. Where a person didn't just die, but were torn to shreds. It... it was just like-

and skidded to a halt, a look of horror blanching across her features. That man was dead. There... there was so much blood. It oozed across the tiles inexorably outwards in every direction from the two halves, and striding right through the middle of it was a woman in a grimm mask. She stepped back, raising her parasol defensively without thinking about it. This was bad. The reality of the situation was eclipsing the absurdity of some blonde spectre of revenge chasing her for some unknown slight, the sight of a corpse somehow making the screams and battlecries from outside and within the building thud against her ears like wardrums now where'd they'd been a distraction moments earlier as she continued to backpedal-

She just sat there. coated up to the knees and elbows in her partner's blood as she stared at his face,

-Blood scattered over her invisible form as they screamed for her to stay silent-

-like her brain stopped working. Like too many memories tried to come up her throat at once, making it hard to breath. Her eyes lolled over to Roman, a glassy sheen to them as she instinctively checked if he was okay, but whatever anger she was feeling about Mercury and Roman's treatment was suddenly muffled over the sounds of things that happened too long ago

---

Watts finally let his gaze settle back on Ironwood, and his voice came out in a quiet, bravadoless murmur.

"...You've lost your mind, James."

He instinctively glanced back down to Salem's fallen form, then to Cinder, before finally falling back on Ironwood.

"...Do you actually expect us to take anything at your word? After that?" He asked, a bit of the steel coming back in. "You think that even if we had the time for a trial before everything goes to shit, we could expect a fair one after that?"

 

[MidwayLives]

"What the hell, bro!? Now I have a black eye."

Well, that was incredibly anti-climatic!
I mean, sure, they WERE wearing armor which on it's own would have lessened the impact of the table. That wasn't even getting into that they no doubt had their auras ready and raring to go. Wouldn't have cut it as an Atlas soldier if they couldn't even muster that. But, most of all, he was considerably embarrassed that only had his makeshift attempt to try and get revenge for his teammates had bombed, he'd actually hurt Mercury in the process.

"Sorry man! I...I'm still trying to get the hang of whatever this-urk!"

He didn't have much time to finish his sentence and wonder more about his newly awakened semblance as Harriet grabbed him by the neck and slammed him down, facefirst into the floor, over and over again. His aura flickered and glowed, but it didn't break and he flailed around, trying to grab and punch at whatever his current lack of leverage afforded him. He'd even try pulling hair if he had to.

~~~



Tyrian was at a loss for words, his momentary rage and pursuit to get over to support Roman thwarted by both Vine and seeing that big desk do absolutely fuck all.

Seeing Roman get grabbed and slammed over and over in the ground like Harriet was trying to squash a bug using his ace, caught his attention again real quick though. A light purple glow came over his left hand as he reared back and went to strike out at Vine-

arriet managed to get five or six entire merciless slams of Torchwick's face into the floor using a fistful of ginger hair for leverage before Glynda was able to raise her riding crop in its entirety, sending the two Ace Ops skidding back on their heels away from Roman and Tyrian with a dark glare at the former and a much more critical one at the latter, doing her very best to communicate to Roman in one glance or less that whatever that had been was not, in fact, it.

"thank you." Tyrian muttered softly while bowing demurely in Goodwitch's direction.

He was confident as all get out that he could have taken out that beanpole.

Making his way over to Roman's side, the faunus helped sit Roman up and patted him on the back. "Hey. You doing alright? That didn't go so great." Roman ran a hand over his face and groaned. "Well, she didn't break my nose and I didn't kill anybody. So I guess you can call THOSE pluses."

"I would!"

Roman, while grateful for Tyrian's support, couldn't help but feel his stomach drop. Even with a semblance, he still couldn't manage to save his dear friends.

"Tyrian, I can't stomach seeing them cuffed up like that. I don't care what happens to me. You with me?"

Tyrian looked back at Cinder and Watts and briefly, his thoughts raced with concern about Hazel's whereabouts.

"...Yeah, I'm with you."

Spoiler

Though the morning was young, Salem's office had already found itself privy to many a strange, surreal, and downright uncanny sight; be it the drunken stupor of Raven Branwen, the strange, unexplained fate of her twin, the sight of Glynda Goodwitch staring down her own employer and friend of many years, and even whatever that thing with the table had been.

Not a one of them measured up even slightly in comparison to Salem, benevolent headmistress of Beacon Academy, having the entire top half of her skull blown off by a rail cannon sniper shot from over a kilometer away, splattering gore across the office and flecks of her blood across the face of an Ironwood who didn't even seem to flinch. That was a moment after the tiny breaking of glass, and a moment before Salem's entire office window shattered in an abrupt cacophony, heavy gusts rippling through the room and concealing the metallic click as Ironwood slapped a pair of pulsating cuffs around the fallen headmistress's wrists. He quickly stepped back, face already wary, hand shooting to one of his pistols just in case this didn't work as expected.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, as much a tense noise of relief as it was one of frustration, and turned to where a sheet-white Goodwitch was just... staring at Salem's body, slumped in her spreading pool of blood.

Neo could handle violence. She even reveled in it a bit, even before... everything that happened after the left Beacon. It was exciting. The thrill of it. Testing herself against monsters and men. And she could handle some blood. it just sorta came part and parcel with the job. But there was a point where it stopped being blood and wounds. Where a person didn't just die, but were torn to shreds. It... it was just like-

Roman blinked.

Then he blinked again
and again
and again, over and over.

That couldn't have just happened.

He, along with all of his peers and friends, didn't just see his headmaster's brains get blown all over the room.

That was just too fucked. To even....consider.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest as his breathing hitched. It felt like a great weight had settled on his chest and he couldn't budge it. His face was where it hurt the most, physically speaking anyway, but between seeing that look on Neo's face and the lack of any kind of face on Salem, it felt like his heart was going to figuratively tear itself in two meaty, bloody chunks. The urge to submit to nausea and throw up was strong, stronger than he would have ever cared to admit but he couldn't do it. He fought back his feelings as best as he could and tried to keep facing forward, focusing on Neo. He'd get her and Mercury out of this mess, he had to.

Which meant taking advantage of the fact that the enemy would likely focus their firepower on a major league threat like Cinder, and so he moved to run towards Mercury and Neo to try and free them

~~~
Tyrian hadn't been there when Ichabod's business had ransacked and destroyed by the Shadow Fang. Things might have been different if he'd been. But that was in the past and as much as Tyrian still clung to it, in an attempt to try and give himself something, any kind of peace of mind. But he'd been there long enough to see faunus, old enough to be his parents or young enough to be his peers, torn apart both physically and mentally by the turmoil of a place like that. Constantly in and out of the ring, taking whatever cocktail of drugs kept your body together long enough for the next one, rinse and repeat.

In a way it'd kind of hardened him to life's more disgusting facets.

Still didn't sit well with him to see Salem's head get splattered like an overly ripe watermelon.

He told Roman he'd stick with him and he meant it.

Moving back to stand beside Arthur, Tyrian coiled his tail back and raised his arms in front of his face.

After a display like that? Who knew what kind of fate awaited them? Certainly not one that'd befit the name of 'justice.'

 

[MyrtenRose]

"..............."

Not even her wildest thoughts about what might have happened had her prepared for what actually happened. It seemed she and Salem both had underestimated the lengths Ironwood was willing to go with this. She stared down with widened eyes, temporarily petrified by the sight of what remained of Beacon's headmistress lying there in a pool of red. The one who'd found her when this power found its way to her, gave her a chance to escape the life she hated...seeing her like that...it was awful. It may not have been permanent, she knew Salem would come back, but that didn't...., as far as she was concerned, that didn't change the fact that it was murder.

Whatever Salem had planned to do wasn't on the cards now, and it was barely a few seconds later that any potential save from Glynda was taken off the table too. Cinder didn't even know if Valkyrie could hit that hard, just judging from the crater their professor had been left lying in. This was going so wrong so fast she almost couldn't believe it, even though it was happening right before her eyes.​

Penny still didn't meet Cinder's eyes at first

"...I... I believe that you all believe everything you're saying. I would even like you all to be right, and us to be wrong. Which is why you need to come with us peacefully. If you are telling the truth, then it needs to be cleared up the right way." She said finally turning back to Cinder. "Not just by ignoring what is in front of us."

It took another moment for her to finally tear her gaze away from the ground to look towards Penny again. "P-Penny..." She started to speak, but it was so choked up she had to take a deep breath before she could continue. "If you think what just went down is doing things the right way, then........."

"....then I'm not sure I know who you really are." It hurt to say, like she could feel it tear at her to hear those words coming out of her mouth, but it was the truth on how she felt. Her eyes shut immediately afterwards and she shook her head like she couldn't believe herself. Grief, shock, disbelief, a thousand other things ran through her like wildfire but by the time she lifted her head back up, her expression had hardened. "But you're right. I can't ignore what is in front of us." ​

"As mentioned, I'm conducting this arrest on behalf of the Vale city council. Salem's input was optional. Everyone stay calm, keep weapons in their holster, and this can all still end without further bloodshed."

"But let's not kid ourselves. It's not going to go down that way, is it?"

"You just had Salem gunned down, and you think you can demand calm?!" Cinder spat in disgust. "You?! A murderer?!" The fire pouring from her eyes got larger with every word. "You want an idea of how this is going do down? You wanna see how this ends?" She leaned forward, as if she were about to fly straight at him any second now. Her eyes flared instead, and a hurricane gust of wind tore through the room, intent on knocking everyone around...and then she flew forward, but not at him. Rather, at Mercury and Neo, intending to take this chance to get those cuffs off of them.​