Weiss retained a straight, confident posture as she walked off of the stage, ignoring several shouted questions, and into the backstage area. She maintained this assertive posture and deliberate stride, her hand resting lightly on Ron's arm and aware of General Ironwood walking on her other side, until she reached the conference room. Once the door closed behind her, she allowed her shoulders to slump while her sigh of relief threatened to deflate her. She dropped into a chair and gratefully grabbed the bottle of water her mother offered her.

"It could have gone a lot worse," Yang pointed out. "In fact, I think it went pretty well. I thought all of your publicity people were being silly with all of the questions they were bringing up this morning, but they were right; the reporters asked the same questions and you were ready for them...mostly." If the golden-haired young woman held a grudge about having her posterior frozen to a toilet seat, she didn't show a sign.

Weiss flinched at her statement. There were few things that she admired about her father, but she had to admit that the man was much better at handling public situations than she would ever be. "Why couldn't you have been just a little bit honorable?" She thought to herself. "I could have kept you on as a PR director, or even a vice president. Your political agility and your insight on human nature could have been invaluable. The only problem was, you couldn't steer your life in a direction that wasn't destructive towards everyone in the end."

"Another thing, you always demanded perfection in efforts that were important to you," Weiss sighed internally. "Like Yang said, things could have gone a lot worse, but they could have gone better, as well."

"So, the most important question is what do we do next?" Weiss asked the conference room, as she put her water bottle down. For a moment, the occupants exchanged glances with each other; Yang looked at her mother, who looked at General Ironwood, who looked at Dr. Physiker, who looked at Ron, who looked at her publicist, who looked at her. The silence lasted long enough to become awkward.

"We continue," Einsam finally announced. "We are still Schnee! We are still Atlesians! We do what we must!"

"Madame Schnee is correct," General Ironwood answered. "We deal with this crises by doing our duties...and mine is to defend Atlas and to train the new generation of huntsmen and huntresses."

"And my duty is to try to make sense of these wonderful materials that Mr. Stoppable has brought to this world," Dr. Physiker added.

"And my job is to make sure that the Schnee, both as a company and a family, are well regarded," the publicist mentioned.

"Man, I never thought that being famous could be such a trial," Yang admitted.

"We Atlesians are a conceited lot," the publicist, a middle-aged woman, grinned at the young woman from Vale. "Once you realize that, the job becomes a lot easier."

"So that's why you insisted we present the Mistralean doctor's findings before the Atlesians!" Weiss suddenly realized.

"Exactly," the woman allowed herself a slight smirk. "By stating what the Mistraleans had learned, then presenting the additional information gleaned from the Atlas Academy Medical Center, it played into Atlesian arrogance. Those reporters will present reports confirming that Mr. Stoppable is, indeed, from another world, because it points out that our medical professionals are at least a little better than those from Mistral."

"And the fact that our own medical doctors merely expanded upon the results that the Mistralean doctors had already obtained won't even come into question," Dr. Physiker pointed out. "Nor will the thought that I have had several weeks to examine the components of this bomb."

"Perhaps we should delay the self-congratulations and focus on those points that we didn't handle all that well," General Ironwood cautioned. "If any political or social enemies want to act upon this presentation, they will focus on them."

"The General is correct," the publicist agreed. "So, let us all deal with where the performance was weak."

"The questions about...our interactions," Weiss noted, with a timid glance towards Ron.

"Exactly," the woman nodded. "We had to throw this briefing together in haste; I'll admit that it was my idea, as the risk of insufficient preparation was less than the risk of people jumping to conclusions. However, Miss Schnee, you never did explain your relationship with Mr. Stoppable to me during our preparations."

"I thought I did a good job of sidestepping," Weiss informed him.

"You did," he nodded. "But you didn't fool anybody. Now, we're all friends here and you're eventually going to have to answer the direct question. What are your feelings towards Mr. Stoppable?"

"That's private!"

"Like it or not, you do not have a private life," the publicist told her. "You are the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company, the most powerful corporation on the face of Remnant, as well as the heiress of the Schnee fortune. Every move you make is subject to scrutiny. As for you, Mr. Stoppable, you are the only alien person on the face of this planet. Every move you make is going to be watched...for several reasons. As much as you should have a private life, you don't. Now, Miss Schnee, what are your feelings towards Mr. Stoppable?"

"Well..." Weiss looked at her mother's sympathetic expression, Yang's gleeful expression, Ron's nervous expression, and Ironwood's unreadable expression.

"No stalling!" The publicist told her. "You're among friends here!"

"I'm attracted to him," she admitted, now refusing to meet Ron's eyes.

"Mr. Stoppable?" The publicist asked the man in question.

"I'm attracted to her," he answered.

"There, was that so hard to admit?" The woman shook her head at the obvious irony. "Here we have a young woman of wealth and privilege, who instead of basking in comfort, chooses to undergo arduous training and risk her life for the people of Atlas and Mistral. We also have a young man from another world who, instead of taking in the comforts and fame such status could give him, chooses to risk his life for a world he barely knows. And now the fine young woman and this fine young man admit to a certain attraction to each other? How horrible! How will the kingdom survive if good young men and good young women start to show an interest in each other?"

"You've made your point," General Ironwood interrupted the rant, but he allowed a brief, faint smile to flit across his face. "Now, could you please tell those of us who aren't obsessed with public perception why you made it?"

"Of course," the woman allowed a self-assured smirk to cross her face, giving her a look somewhere between a smug boss and an arrogant professor. "Miss Schnee and Mr. Stoppable are correct in saying that this is a personal matter. However, some of the reporters, and citizens, are going to want to pry. Now that the two of them have admitted, openly, that they are attracted to each other, they will be ready for this prying." She looked at the two she had just mentioned. "Defend your privacy, but realize that it can be breached and be ready for such an invasion."

"Good advice," Einsam admitted. "But what actions do you suggest we take now?"

"Go on with your lives," she told them. "Show everyone that you are not ashamed, but be prepared. Know that people are going to ask you such questions at times you won't be ready for careful answers, so know in advance what you're willing to admit."

"Excellent," Einsam nodded. "I will, of course, schedule another party and invite my peers to meet Mr. Stoppable, this time as someone from beyond Remnant. A formal setting, in which the upper class can speak to him directly, will show that we have nothing to hide."

"Excellent!"

"And I'll help with the missions that General Ironwood spoke about," Yang added. "At least until Beacon is ready to start classes again. That will show that I'm not just sponging off of the Schnees' generosity."

"Being public and seen is the way to go," the publicist agreed. "But for now, go home and relax. I understand that you have to deal with a rather rebellious and treacherous son."

"Indeed," Einsam noted. "Mr. Stoppable has an idea which may be harsh, but should show Whitley that there are penalties to pay for betraying family. "

"I'll meet with you at a later date," she told the matron. "But I'd appreciate it if you will speak to me before announcing the party. I'm sure I can be of use."

"Of course," Einsam told her.

"If you're done with me, I'd like to head back to my laboratory," Dr. Physiker told the rest. "There is so much research to do on these new materials."

"Indeed," the general nodded to the older woman. "And thank you for your time and expertise."

"Headmaster, there's someone who would like to meet you," Ron showing a great deal of nervousness, addressed the imposing man. "She has a proposition for you...as a headmaster not a general...and it could be to your benefit."

"Oh," Ironwood was slightly curious. "You've met someone with a new invention, or perhaps someone who has a new tactic?"

"Nothing so dramatic," the young man from Earth stretched the collar of his Atlas Academy uniform...and promptly received a sharp slap on the wrist from Weiss. "She's on the academy grounds and...it has to do with upkeep of the facilities...and you sort of have to meet her before I can explain the offer."

"I suppose I could take a few minutes at this time," Ironwood mused. "If she's available."

"Oh yes!" Ron assured him. "She's...really flexible in her hours. It's down towards the older part of the campus."

While everyone else in the room looked curious, Weiss had an expression of horrified amusement. His curiosity definitely piqued, Ironwood instructed Ron to lead him to his associate.

An advantage of holding the press conference on the Academy Campus was that Ironwood was able to exercise some control on the number of reporters present, and how long they could stay afterwards. Since Atlas was very much a law-and-order type of kingdom, the reporters had shown up at the appointed time and had left, with only slight encouragement from campus security, after the press conference was over. Because of this, there were no lingering media representatives to see the headmaster, accompanied by Weiss, Ron and Yang, as they strolled through the campus towards the older buildings, one of which held clandestine quarters for unofficial guests. Ron made a point to knock on a specific drain pipe, before leading the group to a bench.

"So where is this lady?" Ironwood asked. While he was intrigued, he didn't have a great deal of spare time.

Before Ron could reply, a rustling sounded in a nearby bush.

"Here she is," Ron told the older man. The boy extended a foot towards the bush, allowing a rat to run up his leg and perch on his shoulder.

"Pelz?" Weiss asked.

"Exactly," Ron answered.

"We have rats on the campus?" Ironwood demanded.

"Headmaster, there aren't may places that don't have rats," Ron told him. "They're very intelligent and adaptable...which is why Pelz has an offer for you."

"You want me to make a deal with a rat?" Ironwood's good humor was quickly evaporating.

"Headmaster, this rat breached your security," Ron told him. "I think that means she's due some respect and consideration."

"What?"

"We spied on you by having Pelz place scrolls in your office, and in Dr. Physiker's," Weiss told the general. "And probably a few places that I don't know about."

"One rat managed to infiltrate multiple points?" Ironwood was both incredulous...and somewhat respectful.

"No," Ron corrected. "She subcontracted, but that just goes to show how organized she can be. She's offering three things; first, she and her mischief will remain neat and tidy, not harming the buildings, food, and other materials that are stored here."

"Second," Ron continued, before the general could voice his skepticism. "They will report damages to the buildings and other infrastructure. They're everywhere, general, so they know where the leaks and flaws are at."

"Rats are smart enough to know about damaged buildings?" Ironwood scowled at him.

"They know when water is present where it shouldn't be," Ron answered. "As well as exposed metal. They can sniff out termites and other burrowing pests. I'm not a handyman, but I know that it's a lot easier and cheaper to take care of damages when you catch them early."

"And the third offer?" To his credit, the general sounded just as intrigued as he was bemused.

"They will either eliminate or subjugate the other mischiefs on the campus," Ron told him. "They will provide you with a campus in which all rodents are allied with you. Should you accept this offer, the only rodents on campus will be your allies."

For several moments, the headmaster could only look at the younger man. Finally...

"And what will the rats expect in return?" He finally asked.

"Food and medical attention," Ron answered. "They don't eat much and you have a veterinary school right here on the campus. Even after her mischief subjugates all of the rats living on these grounds, you'll spend considerably less than what you're now spending on pest-control. Not only do you spend less, you'll have an early lead on necessary repairs an other things that shouldn't be there."

"Other things?"

"If I can set recording devices in your office, why couldn't a good spy do the same thing?" Ron asked him. "Or other places on the campus? The rats get around, they know what should and shouldn't be in the walls, above the ceilings or under the floors. Sure, they aren't technical experts, but they can let you focus your attention on where it needs to be...additional eyes, ears and noses throughout this campus."

"I can't believe that I'm seriously considering buying into a rat protection racket," Ironwood shook his head. In reaction, Pelz sat up on her hind legs and squeaked into Ron's ear.

"Pelz has already found plumbing leaks in two buildings," Ron announced, once Pelz was done speaking. The rat crossed her forearms and fixed the headmaster with a stern, if somewhat beady, glare. "She's willing to let you know where they are, to sweeten the deal."

Several expressions warred for possession of James Ironwood's face, Ron clearly saw disbelief, frustration, outrage and contemplation take the dominant position, only to be overthrown by another. Finally, resignation took over and maintained control.

"Work up the amount of food and number of rats to be cared for," he finally said. He didn't know if he should be addressing Ron or Pelz. "Send it to me tomorrow, along with the location of the plumbing leaks, and I'll give you my answer. I need to get back to work." Without waiting for a reply, he strode purposefully towards the administration building.

"He's going to go for it," Ron said, very confident, once the man was out of earshot. "It's hard to say no to someone as cute as Pelz."

"Uh, Ron," Weiss asked, clearly wondering if she really wanted to hear the answer. "I don't suppose Rufus had something to do with this deal, did he?"

"Well, yeah," Ron shrugged. "He doesn't like to see rodents living as parasites."

"We saw him running rats at my home through martial arts drills," she pointed out.

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you're going to wind up offering the same sort of deal to my mother, are you?"

"Well, I'm working through Kline," Ron admitted. "But your mother is very fond of Unscharf, so she'll probably agree."

Weiss could only shake her head. "Maybe we should just go home."

In response, Pelz squeaked into Ron's ear again.

"If it's okay, Pelz would like to come along and visit her brother," he translated.

"Why not?" Weiss rolled her eyes. "I have a feeling that all of Atlas is going to be answering to rats before too much longer, why not be sociable?"

"Okay, I don't understand this," Weiss admitted, as Kline pushed a cart out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards the bedroom wing. "That food smells a little unusual, but not bad. In fact, it smells tasty. If we hadn't already eaten, I'd ask for a taste."

Ron, who was savagely scrubbing at his hands with a towel, looked at her with a horrified expression.

"Please, don't say that!" He gasped. "Trust me, you'll understand in a little while."

"Hey, we aren't fainting daisies, or something like that," Yang challenged him. "I know what goes into sausage, so it won't bother me."

"Please, don't make me describe it more than once," he begged them. "Let's just let your brother eat his dinner, then I'll tell him what it was, what went into it, and how it was cooked." He shuddered. "He should be okay...he won't have anyone forcing seconds onto him." He took a shuddering breath. "I didn't have a choice...back then."

"Okay, why don't we talk about the missions we're going to be accepting?" Yang suggested, as the three made their way to a comfortable sitting room. "General Ironwood's text said that he'd have us doing missions a lot like you guys did with Flynt and Neon. Care to fill me in a little?"

"Mostly, we did hit and run missions," Ron shrugged. "We would go out to an abandoned village and tangle with whatever grimm we could find, while someone from the academy observed. They would tell us what to do better."

"That was it?" Yang asked. "You just fought for observation?"

"Well, I guess we cleared some of the villages," he mused.

"And we kept the grimm away from Atlas proper," Weiss added. "Our instructors never came out and told us this, but we did."

"Yeah...I figured that out," Ron grumbled.

"So, what kind of reviews did you get?" Yang

"Let's see," Ron murmured, pulling out his scroll and searching through the menus. "So much has happened since then...here we go. The observer felt our teamwork was sufficient, but our planning needed work."

"We only knew about the mission that morning!" Weiss protested, after she determined which mission was being referenced. "We didn't have time to plan!"

"According to the observer, we should have made some general plans, then adapted them to the situation," Ron continued reading.

"Yeah, we worked on that, didn't we?" Weiss commented.

"The observer also stated that I needed some form of ranged weapon," Ron noted. "She said that as long as I only had melee capabilities, I would be something of a burden upon my teammates."

"That's not right!" Weiss fumed. "You're a powerful addition to any team!" Gaining control of her temper, she continued in a quieter tone. "Even though the comment is valid...and you still haven't addressed it."

"Why not?" Yang asked. "I mean, you've had plenty of time and you've been around plenty of experts who could have made the modifications to your tonfa. You modified one to include a grapple, so why haven't you modified the other to include a gun?"

"It...just...seems like something that's not what I am," Ron answered, now looking at the floor.

"Why?" Yang asked. "What are you?"

"I'm someone who isn't used to killing or maiming people," Ron protested. "I don't like hurting people...permanently."

"Do you think I do?" Weiss demanded. "It's sometimes a necessity!"

"How did it get like this?" Ron asked, but the question was directed to the air, to someone that Yang and Weiss couldn't see. "I remember going out on the missions; we never carried guns...never carried weapons other than the knockout gas. We went up against mad scientists with take-over-the-world schemes, but we never had to kill anyone. We never had to really hurt anyone."

"What were the stakes?" Weiss asked. "Name one of the missions when you went up against a mad scientist."

"I don't understand the question," Ron admitted.

"I didn't phrase it very well," Weiss told him. "From the conversations we've had about Earth, I believe that there are many more people on Earth than there are on Remnant."

"The population is in the billions," Ron agreed.

"And don't some of your...what is it that you have instead of kingdoms?"

"Countries," Ron answered.

"Don't some of you countries have armed forces larger than one of our cities?"

"Probably," he admitted.

"So you weren't fighting for the same stakes there as you are here," she pointed out. "Okay, name one of the missions when you went up against this...Drakken...character," Weiss continued.

"There was this time he built a swarm of killer robots...he called them destructo-bots," Ron recalled. "But he wasn't all that good at programming them for unsupervised combat, so he kidnapped a robotics expert to fix his glitches. That's when we found out about his plan and stopped him before he turned them loose on the world."

"Ron," Weiss now used a tone of patience with him. "I'm sure that if those robots got loose, a lot of people would have been hurt or killed, but would your civilization...would the human race on Earth have been threatened?"

"But hundreds of people..." Ron tried to say.

"Ron, I'm not trying to say that a human life on Earth is worth less that a human life on Remnant," Weiss interrupted him. "But could those destructo-bots have been able to crush your kingd...er...country?"

"No," Ron admitted, after thinking for a short time. "While the local police couldn't have stopped them, the National Guard could have, and they would have never stood up to the regular military."

"I don't know the terms," Weiss reminded him. "But I believe that I've made my point. If you and Kim were to fail your mission...even if you would have paid with your lives, your civilization would have survived. Even if millions of people had died, your own country had over three hundred million citizens! On Remnant, there are four kingdoms, the Island of Menagerie, and vulnerable towns and villages in between. If we fail in a mission, the City of Atlas might be at risk."

"With Vale crippled, Atlas is clearly the most powerful kingdom," Weiss continued. "And the City of Atlas holds the majority of the scientific and manufacturing capacity. If we fail, Atlas may fall, one of just four, remaining kingdoms will be gone. We don't have the luxury of the morality you and...Kim...displayed. When we go into a battle, we have to do what we have to do."

"Maybe we're being a little hypocritical," Yang joined the conversation. "Remember the fight on the subway between Mountain Glen and Vale? We couldn't bring ourselves to actually kill any of the White Fang, but we knocked them off of the train, knowing that the grimm would shred them."

"But the point I am making remains valid," Weiss sniffed back. "We used every asset at our disposal; dust, lethal weapons and training, because we knew that if we didn't, Vale was in danger, as was the entire kingdom. We didn't try to capture the White Fang, we eliminated them in the most efficient way that we could."

"These are the stakes that we are dealing with," she now addressed Ron.

"I know," Ron know looked almost defeated.

"What's wrong?" Yang demanded. "I thought she made a good point."

"She did," Ron agreed. "But it's just seems that I'm giving up something of me by changing." He took a deep breath. "I know that I'm a resident of Remnant now, but do I have to give up everything that I was before?"

Neither of the young man's companions had an answer for him. There was an awkward silence as all three wondered how to break the deadlock. Fortunately, Kline interrupted the tense moment.

"Master Whitley is finished dining," the efficient butler announced. A professional, he did not mention the tension he must have noticed. "He enjoyed two helpings."

"That's good," Ron nodded. "Or maybe bad. I guess it's time to teach him the meaning of betrayal."

"It is," Weiss nodded. "And I'm coming along with you."

"That might not be a good idea," Ron told her.

"Ron, I'm not some pampered princess," she protested. "I can handle the bad news."

"Same here!" Yang chimed in. "You've managed to make me curious. That food smelled pretty good."

"In thirty minutes, I want you both to remember that you insisted on this," Ron grumbled, then followed Weiss towards her brother's room.

The heiress was prepared, making a call to her brother to make sure that he was available to talk. She understood the need to keep the younger Schnee off-balance. Upon calling him, she simply activated his door lock and barged in, Ron and Yang right behind her. The boy had a certain style, sitting at his desk and turning to face the three.

"Yes, dear sister?" He calmly inquired, showing the expression of a boy facing a question about his latest essay, rather than an enraged sibling with the training and motivation to eviscerate him.

"There seems to be a disconnect between logic and morality here," Weiss announced to him. "Your actions were logical, as long as your goal was to strengthen your position as the heir to the Schnee Dust Company and the Schnee fortune. Yet you failed to act in a moral manner, in a way that will encourage those around you to continue to place their trust in you. Such trust is vital, both for a huntress and a CEO of a major corporation."

Whitley simply listened, an expression of slightly bored amusement on his face.

"Perhaps the fault lies with our father, or perhaps with myself," Weiss continued. "For all of his experience, father never had to deal with peers; people with an equal standing in a shared endeavor. When he married mother, he gained the CEO position of the most powerful company on Remnant and with our grandfather's good reputation. He never had to earn trust, so he never taught us how to do so. Winter and myself had to learn this during our huntress' training. In my case, it was a hard lesson to learn, but one that I cherish."

"Then again, father might not be at fault," Weiss continued, now taking on the aspect of a lecturing professor, not a young woman facing her betrayer. "After all, trust is an intangible asset; it cannot be measured, weighed or valued. How does trust appear on a balance sheet? How does one calculate its worth, so that the amount of tangible assets, time and money, needed to gain it can be profitably allocated?"

"A mystery, isn't it, dear sister?" Whitley's voice was dripping with false sympathy.

"Indeed," she answered. "Since I cannot place a value on trust; I can only determine when the trust that I placed in someone was misplaced. Furthermore, it is both logical and reasonable to insure that whomever betrayed my trust feels betrayal in return, so that he will factor this sensation into his future actions."

"Ah, here we get to the reason for this visit," now Whitley showed an expression of relieved boredom. "And why you chose to bring two companions with you. I can assure you, dear sister, that I have obtained no secret training during my internship. You are perfectly capable of crushing me yourself, so the threats you are about to deliver would have been just as dire had it been just the two of us. There was no need to bring outsiders into a family disagreement."

"Very rich, coming from someone who chose to involve the tabloid press in this family disagreement!" Weiss snapped; then quickly regained her composure. "No, younger brother, I'm not here to threaten you, I'm merely here to educate you. You have never experienced betrayal, so it's my duty as your older sibling to expand your horizons."

"What are you going to do to betray me?" He asked, now with a slight sneer of superiority. "Are you going to drive out father and displace me as the heir? Are you going to take me away from my studies, which were designed to prepare me to be an effective heir and in which I was performing admirably, and force me into an internship more beneficial to one who will never rise above the position of factory manager? Are you going to place the future of the company and the family in your hands, which have been trained to be a huntress, rather than in the hands of someone who was being educated to be a CEO? I'm afraid you've already done them, so it appears you will need to resort to physical violence upon my person."

"No," Weiss now shook her head, showing an indulgent and slightly amused smile. "I'm afraid that you are mistaking discipline for betrayal. Your internship, which father approved of, I may add, was designed to give you a greater insight into the labor required to support the company, as well as give you a glimpse into the lives of those who perform it. You see, discipline is designed to improve the recipient, even though the process may not be enjoyable. Betrayal is designed to harm the recipient, either physically, emotionally, socially or financially, for the instigator's gain."

"Ah," he nodded back. "So I'm about to experience some harm. As you've brought two, rather powerful companions, I'm assuming that I'm about to be subjected to physical damage, that will somehow not be visible. Shall we begin?"

"I'm afraid that you are wrong, once again," Weiss smiled a predatory grin at him. "You've already experienced the betrayal...you just don't know it yet. Mister Stoppable personally prepared the dinner that you recently enjoyed. I brought him along so that he can describe it."

"It was a dish called haggis," Ron told the younger boy. "It comes from a place on Earth known for its highlands, and the fierce and hardy folk who live there. To make it, one takes a sheep's..."

Weiss concluded that Whitley had inherited some of their grandfather's toughness. The boy didn't bolt for the bathroom upon learning the ingredients...one in particular...of the dish he had just eaten. He turned slightly green, but he held his ground. It wasn't until Ron described the cooking process that the boy suddenly ran for the bathroom.

"Was that the truth?" Yang asked Ron. Weiss noted that the brawler had gone rather pale. Weiss was certain that if she didn't already have a fair complexion, she would have turned white as a sheet, herself. "Did you really make...that? And is it really something that gets eaten on your world?"

"Yes," Ron answered. "The folks from those highlands have a well-deserved reputation as fearless warriors. For a long time, I thought that they were charging their enemies. It wasn't the case; they were really running away from their food."

"I think that it's time to let Whitley think about what he did," Weiss decided. "And contemplate betrayal. Mother is waiting, and would appreciate some company after everything that has happened today."

The three left Whitley's rooms, and the sound of his retching, behind. Weiss led them to a comfortable sitting room, where the Schnee matron sat in an overstuffed chair, using a projected screen to play a card game against a rat. For a moment, the three young people took in the scene, seeing Einsam enjoying herself.

"I note that Unscharf has started to wash and groom very carefully," Weiss noted.

"That's something that Rufus insisted on," Ron answered. "He thinks that dirty rats give all rodents a bad image."

"I can't believe that this conversation is taking place!" Yang complained. "The richest person on Remnant is playing poker against a rat while we talk about its bathing habits!"

"He...not it," Ron insisted.

"And he cheats at pinochle," Weiss added.

"But still...a rat?"

"A very clean and well mannered rat," Ron pointed out.

"Ah, my daughter and her companions!" Einsam noticed the younger three hovering at the entrance to the room. "Please join us!"

"Us?" Yang asked, in a quiet voice.

"Rats grow on you," Ron answered. "They're very social."

"Mr. Stoppable," the matron addressed the young man, once all were seated. "While you would only provide me with a very vague idea of how you were going to teach my son the feeling of betrayal, I must ask, have you done so?"

"Yes," Ron said, with a shudder. "I'm not proud of what I did, but it could have been worse."

"Worse?" Weiss gasped. "What could have been worse?"

"It could have been Rocky Mountain Oysters," Ron told them, his face serious. "Or kimchi or even, the ultimate evil; lutefisk."

"I don't know about the last two," Weiss admitted. "But oysters? Just what could you do to shellfish that would..."

"Weiss!" Yang interrupted. "I don't think we want to know."

Seeing Ron's pale face, Weiss agreed.

"Well, since we've decided to deal with unpleasantness later, would the three of you like to join us for a couple of hands?" Einsam asked. "I have plenty of peanuts to wager."

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to Rufus and Pelz?" Ron asked her. He settled into a chair and accepted a handful of peanuts to bet with.

"Rufus and Unscharf here presented me with their offer," Einsam told him. "And I must say that it is a very intriguing proposal. The spreadsheet presentation of the cost/benefit analysis was particularly well done."

"Spreadsheet?" Yang whispered.

"You probably don't want to know," Weiss whispered back, then nudged her larger friend to a seat. Bemused, the brawler accepted a handful of peanuts while Weiss took her own chair and Einsam continued to explain.

"We spent half of an hour debating the tribute I would pay," the matron explained, while keying the tabletop scroll to deal to five. "However, their offer was most logical, so I only demanded slight modifications before accepting."

"So, we are going to have a pack of rats living in our mansion?" Weiss demanded.

"We already do," Einsam pointed out, while perusing the cards she had been dealt. "And the proper term is 'mischief'. This way, I will gain some control over them, receive minor services from them, and still expend fewer resources than I was trying to exterminate them." She placed two peanuts on the table.

"Could you detail some of the modifications you required?" Weiss asked, as she matched her mother's ante.

"Of course. I will have appropriate attire prepared for them, and they will present themselves for my review every day, in Schnee livery."

"You're going to dress the rats?" Yang was dumbfounded, but matched the ante, as did Unscharf.

"Only for formal events," Einsam corrected her. "They are free to live their lives clad in their own fur, but when they meet with me, they will be properly groomed and attired."

"So you also required them to bathe," Ron concluded, also chipping in two peanuts.

"Actually, Rufus had already required that," Einsam told him. "Your companion doesn't like rodents to be dirty."

"He thinks it gives them all a bad reputation," Ron agreed with her, as the five selected their cards for discard and redraw.

"We have all become somewhat distracted," Weiss pointed out, once everyone had their new cards. "I believe that Ron asked what had become of Rufus and Pelz."

"Oh, how silly of me," Einsam tossed in another peanut. "After coming to the agreement, Pelz asked Rufus to show her around the warrens. Apparently, she has forwarded a similar offer to Headmaster Ironwood and would like to see if Unscharf's warrens are more discrete than her own. Rufus said that he would meet back up with Mr. Stoppable, in his quarters, tonight."

"Rufus does like his sleep," Ron agreed.

The first hand was rather tame, with Weiss winning the pot. However, starting with the second hand, Unscharf showed everyone just how clever and brutal a rat could be at bluffing.

Rufus had been a little suspicious when Pelz showed up at the Schnee Estate, but he agreed to walk her through the warrens beneath the mansion and the burrows in the gardens. She seemed curious, but was clearly distracted, as if she were going through the motions. While they were reviewing the pathways the rats used to get between the floors of the mansion, she asked him to take her to the roof.

This was a risky move for rats, as the skies above Atlas held hawks and eagles. Still, Rufus led her first to the attic and then to one of the vents, where they could look out over the city while still being safe from aerial predators. It was a view that was mostly lost on Rufus; while exposure to Mystical Monkey Power had improved him in numerous ways, naked mole rat's didn't have very keen eyesight. Still, he was able to see enough to understand why she brought him here. Suddenly, he was the one that was thinking too small.

She pointed to the other mansions in the area, then down to the manufacturing and business districts. She described the housing for the middle and lower income citizens, then the dozens of ships in the harbor, although he could only see fuzzy images of the last. She pointed out that every building, every ship had rats; rats that the humans were trying to exterminate, but who could be working with the humans, instead. He looked at her, curiously.

She pointed out that she wasn't some peacemaker, seeking to bring understanding between rodent and human. Instead, she was looking out for herself. The two of them could broker agreements between the humans and rats, then claim a reasonable cut of the tribute. For some reason, her admission that she was acting in her own self interest made Rufus feel much better about the proposal, even if her methods disturbed him. Of all the evils that had traveled from Earth to Remnant, modern assault weapons, nuclear warheads, and even haggis, perhaps multi-level marketing was the worst. Still, it had the potential of being mutually beneficial, so he led the way to Ron's suite to do some research.

As much as Rufus missed Earth, he had to admit that the people on Remnant did some things better. For instance, the various models of scrolls were faster and easier to use than any of the computers or smart phones he had encountered on Earth. The desk in Ron's suite had a built in scroll that projected an interactive image which could be customized to any size...even to one convenient for a naked mole rat. Atlas also had better short-range communications, so they had never developed efficient data storage, preferring to keep data in centralized banks. This meant that even more data was freely available for review. Rufus was able to search for data faster than he could have on Earth.

It took him some time, but he managed to track down the income reports from a couple of shipping companies and several independent ships. While some of them had lumped the costs for pest control in with maintenance, others had itemized these costs, allowing Rufus to get a baseline for the amount a typical ship, adjusted for tonnage and based upon the cargo carried, spent to keep the rat population under control. He then contrasted this with the cost to maintain a small rat population on such vessels. As he suspected, both parties would benefit as long as both parties went into such an agreement in good faith.

He looked back to Pelz, who was lounging on Ron's bed. This time, he was the contrite one, as he was the one who had limited his vision. While he had hoped to foster a proper relationship between those people and institutions associated with Ron, she had seen farther, to a planet-wide partnership...all while taking a reasonable cut of the benefits. She took his apology with good grace, pointing out that he would have to train the elite, rat fighting force and be the chief enforcer to make sure that the rodents lived up to their side of the bargain.

While Rufus assured her that he would do so, she got an odd, yet familiar look in her eyes. While rat communication consisted of sniffing and posturing as much as verbalizing, she started to sniff and nuzzle a great deal more than normal, leaving him stuttering in multiple forms of communication, all at the same time. This time, he didn't argue against what she wanted to do. After all, her scent was almost as enticing as Bueno Nacho cheese, her fur was soft and inviting and the act hadn't harmed him the last time.

Unfortunately, the activity proved to be very distracting. Rufus was usually hyper-aware of his surroundings and he suspected that Pelz was, as well. After all, small creatures who don't pay attention tend to be eliminated very quickly. Somehow, with his mind already spinning with the thoughts of a primate/rodent partnership that even Earth hadn't considered, with her scent in his nose and the feel of her fur making his senses reel, he didn't notice the sounds of footsteps in the hall. He didn't even notice the sound of the door opening. He only realized what was happening when her heard Ron's voice.

"Hey buddy what...are...you..." Ron's voice stammered to a halt while Rufus blushed from the tip of his nose to his tail and scrambled away from the other rat. Pelz didn't react, other than to look confused at him, wondering why he had stopped.

For a long few seconds, Ron struggled to comprehend what he had just seen. Finally, he found his voice.

"Rufus! You...Pelz...on MY bed...AW MAN, YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!"

A/N: Again, thanks to everyone who's been reading this little journey through my imagination. Big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta reading.