She was twelve, and it was the night that had changed her life forever.
Silence reigned as the family sat around the dining room table. Father was in one of his moods again, like it always happened after a bad day. Those happened more often than the good days, so much so that he should start calling them regular days, but that didn't help his temper.
Weiss didn't know exactly what had happened – she wasn't privy to that kind of information back then – but she could tell that it had been worse than usual. Father was looking at the steak on his plate as if he wanted to strangle it, and Winter was unusually slack in her seat, her head swaying forward occasionally, only for it to snap back up a second later. Her eyes were a puffy red, like she'd been awake for days.
Weiss had already finished her dinner. She could see Whitley had finished his too. Winter had eaten half of hers, and didn't seem able to stomach any more. But none of them got up – they all understood that the first one to do so would regret it dearly. They'd learned from experience, thoroughly.
A distant clock ticked the minutes away in a distant hallway. Weiss remembered that clearly. Funny how the littlest things become engraved in your mind.
Finally, Winter dragged her chair back and stood. Weiss froze, meeting eyes with Whitley across the table. This was it…
"Where are you going?" their father asked, his eyes rising slowly to Winter's face. "You haven't finished your food."
"I'm sorry, father. I can't eat anymore," Winter said, blinking heavily. "I… might be ill…"
"You should be sorry," he replied cuttingly, ignoring her last remark. "What do I pay the kitchen staff for? Nothing worthwhile, I suppose, as far as you children are concerned."
Winter didn't reply. For a moment, her eyes shut completely, and Weiss thought she'd fallen asleep right there, standing up and everything.
"Winter Schnee!" their father shouted, standing up and going around the table to stand before Winter, who opened her eyes, startled. "What is this?!"
"I'm – I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" Winter faltered, her usual flawless behavior all but gone. "I'm just – I'm so tired – I've been working without pause for the past week on that project you entrusted me – and today – I was helping all day with the White Fang fallout-"
"Are you blaming me for your lack of discipline? Or are you blaming those blood crazed mutts? Am I to understand you are the real victim here, living under my roof without a worry in the world, while every day more of my people-"
"No, sir, I just – if I could just get some rest, then-"
"DON'T INTERRUPT ME."
The slap rang in Weiss' ears for years to come. She wasn't unfamiliar to the sound, but this time… she never wanted to hear anything like that again.
Winter was leaning against the table, breathing laboriously. Her hair had fallen from its bun to cover half of her face, leaving only her right eye visible. Weiss saw a tear slide down her cheek…
And suddenly, Winter had turned and thrust an arm towards their father, and something appeared between them, a floating disc of what looked like solid light, spinning fast like a clock.
"Don't touch me!" Winter screeched, and their father was sent reeling back by an invisible force, stopping just short of hitting the wall behind him.
The disc of light disappeared. Winter looked down at her hand, her eyes widening in terror and confusion and – and awe? Then she turned and ran from the room, not caring as she slammed the doors against the walls on the way out.
"What in the-" For a moment, their father looked utterly lost, even afraid. Then, as if nothing had happened, his ire returned. "WINTER SCHNEE! GET BACK HERE!"
And he went after her, his steps echoing like an earthquake. Weiss stayed rooted in her chair, numb to the world around her. What had just happened?
In a distant hallway, the clock kept ticking and ticking.
Jaune backed away, feeling sick.
He had really screwed up this time, and not in a funny way. He'd had one job, to protect Weiss Schnee while the Commander went ahead and fixed the mess they were in. It should have been easy. Stay put, and stop the heiress from doing anything rash - that was all he needed to do.
But he'd failed. He'd let her talk him into doing the stupidest thing she could have done. He'd helped her. Done it for her. And now she was dead. Because he couldn't exert his authority over her – he was too afraid, too weak, too insecure.
He was nothing, and she had payed for it. When Commander Goodwitch came back, she'd fire him. He'd probably be punished for his incompetence too. But he didn't care. He deserved it.
He didn't belong in Beacon in the first place, anyway.
She was fourteen, and today marked one month since Winter had left.
Weiss hadn't waited long for her to come back. After two days, she knew for certain that Winter had left for good, and that father would not be going back on his decision about the heirship.
Weiss was the heiress. Winter was gone. This was how things were now.
Her father hadn't uttered Winter's name since that day. Not even once. But Weiss knew that, even as he took her to meeting after meeting with the board members, and scheduled new and exhaustive business lessons for her, and made sure she was, despite everything else, giving double time to her job at the Research Center – that Winter's slight against him never left his mind.
She had been strong enough to stand for herself. For the first time, her will had won over his. And one time was all it took for her to break free. He was livid. He wouldn't soon forget that day.
Weiss wouldn't either.
Today was the first day she would be going about her business on her own, without him or one of his many assistants watching over her shoulder. The title of heiress wasn't just for show – she had real obligations to fulfill, minor matters that her father couldn't see to himself, but important enough that he needed someone he could trust to do it in his stead.
"Remember, Weiss, I am counting on you. You've excelled in the new position I've trusted you with, but today is different," he said, sitting behind his desk. "You'll be on your own, but don't think that means you can relax. In fact, I expect you to work even harder," he smiled at her, but that made him look even sterner. "Think of it as a test of whether you are ready to step into… your new role."
Winter's role. That was what he meant to say. Weiss knew, because his face darkened as he spoke those words, and when he was finished, he dragged back his chair and went over to the shelf on the corner of his office, which held a myriad of liquors Weiss had never seen him touch before – not during business hours, that is.
He uncorked a bottle and spilled the drink onto a glass, then turned to face the window, silent. Weiss saw his face reflected on the glass and sank a little in her chair.
"I understand," she said, striving to keep control of her voice. "I won't disappoint you, father."
"Don't waste my time with words, child," he sighed, spinning his glass slowly. "Let your actions speak for themselves. Only then will I be satisfied."
Weiss bowed her head hastily to hide her reaction. She was, as often happened when they talked alone, wishing she could go back in time and change what she said. She also hoped his rage didn't spill over, that it stayed sharp, cruel, yet contained.
But a small part of her wanted to snap back at him, to yell at him that, yes, he might not need to hear any promise of hers, but he also didn't need to chide her for showing the slightest amount of self-confidence, for once. She was, after all, his heiress. He was supposed to be putting his trust in her.
It was scary. She'd felt that way before, of course, but had never entertained any serious thought of rebelling against him. She's always known better – until Winter taught her that, perhaps, that wasn't the way things had to be.
"Yes, father," she got up. "Have a good day."
"Yes, yes," he replied absently, bringing his glass to his lips.
Weiss stiffened. The rebellious voice inside her head was suddenly much louder, deafening the meeker, more sensible voice that usually commanded her every action – the voice she used with everyone but herself.
"Can you look at me?" the words left her mouth without thought. "If I'm to represent you and your company, at least have the decency to face me."
In the following silence, her words rang in her ears, again and again, and her whole body was taken by a chill. She'd really done it. She'd said all that. And now she waited for the consequences – but she didn't back down, she didn't apologize, because… she meant it. Those were her words and they mattered, whether he liked them or not.
"Excuse me?" he spoke finally, turning to look at her.
"I asked you to look at me. That's all," Weiss said, steeling herself. "In this last month, you've entrusted me with responsibilities no person my age should be expected to shoulder, and I've met each of them head-on and, as you yourself said, excelled," she paused. "Common courtesy is the least I should be afforded."
He looked at her, and she saw the same face he'd worn a month prior – a mixture of outrage and disbelief, like he'd never been so affronted his whole life. But there was something new, something he hadn't shown even at the height of his fury at Winter – contempt. Pure, unfiltered, utter contempt.
"You are not half as strong as your sister," he said, leaning on his desk, towering over her. "Nor are you half as smart. If you were, you'd know to choose your battles," his grip on his glass tightened, and a bit of his drink spilled over onto the desk, staining a stack of documents. "God, you are pathetic! One little change in your life, and suddenly you think you are on top of the world. Nothing's changed. Heiress or not, you're my daughter, and as such, I won't have you speak to me in that tone ever again. Understood?"
Weiss withered. The rebel inside was gone, and her voice took back over, stuttering, whimpering, crying apologies and platitudes to appease him.
"I-I u-understand, father," she said, barely getting the words out.
"Good. Now go do your job."
She turned quickly and went to the door, nearly running for it.
"No person my age. What nonsense," she heard him say caustically behind her. "You're a Schnee, for God's sake. Start acting like one."
"Basement, basement, basement… Ahah! Found you, treasure cove."
Roman Torchwick stopped before the steel door, smiling greedily as he imagined what wonders hid behind it. His info on the Center hadn't specified what the Schnees kept in there, but they had to have somewhere to store their cancelled or on-hold prototypes, and what better place than a locked basement confined to the most remote corner of the facility?
"Come on, boys and girls," he said, turning around and spinning his finger over his shoulder. "Get that door open so we can enjoy our spoils."
The basement's door was operated by a digital lock, but seeing as he'd turned off the building's electricity, they couldn't simply hack their way inside as he normally would. That was a downside of this lockdown method, but he'd choose that slight inconvenience over having Beacon and the Atlas National Force raining their wrath upon him any day.
Luckily, he'd come prepared. His three accompanying underlings took out a miniature bomb and attached it to the door, then backed away as it started ticking. Torchwick took a step back and lowered his hat before his eyes, waiting in silent glee. Three… two… one…
The bomb went off with a resounding boom, and the door broke from its hinges and fell on the floor, resembling a ball of warped metal. Torchwick waited for the smoke to dissipate, then stepped over the door and walked down the steps.
The basement wasn't as big as he had dreamed, but he wasn't disappointed at all. From the looks of it, his prediction about the place had been more than right. There weren't only forgotten prototypes down here, but also regular Schnee products, too old for current-year standards, but still advanced enough to fetch him a nice price each.
"Ah, how predictable these folks are, thinking their doors will stop me," Torchwick sighed contently, looking around. "What have we here…"
He went over to a desk, upon which rested a device he'd never seen before. It looked like a coffee thermos, but he'd never heard of the SDC trying to get into that market. He picked it up and spun it in his hands. On the side was a button, so small he had missed it at first. Torchwick pressed it and, to his astonishment, the thermos's bottom expanded outward like a baton, until he was holding it like a baseball bat.
"What the-" he looked down at it, struggling to understand how anyone had come up with such an outlandish invention. What was its function? Was it even practical? "No wonder they keep this stuff locked in a dark basement! I wouldn't want anyone to see this silly thing either."
He looked at the thermos for a moment longer, then pressed the button again, and it returned to its original form. Chuckling, he hid it under his jacket. Practical or not, he was sure someone would show interest in buying it eventually. With the million-lien haul he'd already scored, he would have all the time in the world to sell the niche stuff.
"What else, what else…" he mumbled under his breath as he walked around the storeroom, examining its wares and picking out what he wanted his people to take back to the plane. "Dust flashlights? Good stuff, shoulda worked more on those. Relightable cigars? Eh, doubtful, but I'll keep one for research purposes. A shield? Made of oumhi – oumhni – oumwhat?"
He stepped past that last object with a sneer on his face. The Schnees were making up metals now? Right. Probably fancy, well-disguised titanium or something.
Finally, Torchwick arrived back at the entrance of the basement, and he wasn't too happy. He had expected more out of this venture. All he had were trinkets and obsolete tech. Pocket change at most.
Sighing, he started to turn back to the stairs, but something caught his eyes and he stopped in his tracks. On the right wall of the storeroom, hidden behind a metal shelf, was the outline of a sliding door. His greed relighted, Torchwick marched there in a heartbeat and rolled the shelf aside, then tried to open the door. It was probably meant to open automatically, but with the electricity off, it was inactive, so he had difficulty getting anywhere with it. Eventually, with the help of his underlings, he managed to pry his fingers into the side of the door, and pushed it into the wall.
He looked up, and as he took in the new discovery, his eyes lit up with amazement. Oh, this detour had been more than worth his time.
"My friends," he said breathlessly. "…we're gonna need a lot more people to carry this beauty out of here."
She was fifteen, and it was her first free day in a whole year.
Father was brutal with his expectations about her business life, but at least he was merciful on her birthday. However, she was certain that he didn't grant her the freedom out of compassion or care, but rather out of a sense of obligation. The same sense that made her mother come out of her room and talk to her for once, even if but a for a few minutes.
She'd been counting the days for a long while, but now that her birthday was here, it wasn't as liberating as she had imagined it was going to be. Weiss had half the day off, yes, but thoughts and worries about the company still plagued her mind every second she wasn't working, and she still had to behave like the proper heiress. She wasn't allowed to go out of the house and make some fun for herself either, because, as her father had told her, she still had obligations to see to tonight.
Oh, well. Even if she had been allowed that freedom, what would she have done with it? Weiss didn't know anything more than her house and her company's many buildings and branches. Frankly, the idea of going out into the city, to partake in the activities regular people engaged in everyday… it made her more anxious than she would ever admit. That kind of thing – that whole world – it was not hers, and it would never be.
So she spent much of the day in her room, alone, doing nothing in particular. She sang quietly a little, wondering if she hadn't lost her singing voice with the lack of practice. Around noon, Klein brought her a cake he'd baked just for her, and they'd eaten together. That, more than her everyday dealings with her father and her brief conversation with her mother, felt like a true family moment to her. But it was over quickly, as Klein had other things to attend to.
Weiss had resigned herself to being unhappy for the rest of her birthday, when someone knocked on her door – someone she thought she'd never see again.
"May I come in?"
Weiss held the door open, awestruck at the sight of her sister. Winter had turned eighteen-years-old months before she'd left, but only now did she look like an adult to Weiss' eyes, and she suspected it wasn't just because they'd spent so much time apart. Winter looked… confident, and not in the way their father had taught her to be. There was something in her eyes that spoke of a newfound certainty, an unbreakable strength that lay evident in her regal posture.
"Of… of course," Weiss caught herself and took a step back. "Come in."
Winter stepped past her, and Weiss felt quite small compared to her. Ugly, even. If only she could match that expression, walk the same stride…
"I'm sorry, sister. I wanted to pay you a visit much sooner, but… things got in the way. My life has been hard to manage as of late, as you might imagine," Winter said, turning to face her. "But I made a point to see you today. Happy birthday, Weiss."
Winter bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. Weiss stayed still, her cheeks burning – how very unusual of Winter to be so openly affectionate. Things really had changed over the past year.
"T-thank you, sister," Weiss said, looking up at her. "And it's okay. I wasn't… expecting a visit, though I am happy to see you again. What have you been up to?"
"Father hasn't told you?" Winter sighed. "No, of course he hasn't. I gained many contacts throughout my years as heiress, and one of them worked in the National Force. That's where I'm working now."
"You're… a soldier?" Weiss asked, bewildered. "Are you serious?"
"I am," Winter smiled slightly. "And a good one, if I may say so myself. It pays well, too."
Weiss shook her head slowly. She had thought a lot about what Winter might have been doing since she'd parted ways with the SDC, from joining a rival company to founding one of her own. Winter was a businesswoman, that was fact. Weiss would never have imagined she would become a soldier. But, then again, her sister had done many things that had caught her by surprise over the years.
"What about you, Weiss?" Winter asked. "I've heard a lot about you lately. You make quite the heiress – maybe a better one than I ever did."
"What?" Weiss frowned. "How would you know…?"
"The SDC is one of, if not the most powerful company in the world. Naturally, its CEO is quite the important figure, as is his heiress," Winter said. "The general public might not know who you are, but trust me when I say there are many eyes upon you, sister."
"I see…" Weiss said. "So you're not upset that I took over your position?"
"Why would I be? I quit for a reason," Winter looked at her seriously. "Enough about me. I'm more interested to hear how you've been."
Weiss closed her mouth and looked away. How was she supposed to answer that? She wanted nothing more than to tell Winter about everything – the hours upon hours she spent working every day; her father's expectations, which only grew each time she met them; the cold she felt inside her each time she looked at her reflection, as if her heart was turning to stone bit by bit – but she couldn't say any of that. Those were things that were not to be spoken, that should stay with her and only her.
"I've been doing great," Weiss said. "Being the heiress is tough, but I can handle it."
"I hope so," Winter laid a hand on her shoulder. "Weiss. Understand this – I was in the same position you are in today for a long time. I told myself every day that I was well, that I could rise above it all and power through, and… I was right. I managed splendidly, as you have," she closed her eyes. "But I wasn't happy. I always knew it, but it took me a long time to come to terms with that. Too long, I'm afraid. But when I did…"
She gestured at herself and smiled. Weiss bowed her head. The words rang like an echo of her own thoughts, but it didn't feel right to agree.
"You don't need to pretend, sister, not when you're with me," Winter whispered. "If you're unhappy… Just reach out. I can help you, if you'll allow me."
Weiss opened her mouth, meaning to do just as Winter suggested. This was it. The chance to change everything she was unhappy about.
But then a cold sting went through her heart, and she looked up at her sister, her eyes straightening ever so slightly. "Thank you, Winter," she said stiffly. "But as I've already said, I'm doing great. Your offer is appreciated, but I don't need your help. I am more than capable enough on my own."
Winter looked at her in dismay for a moment, then sighed and turned away. "If that's how you feel," she went to the door and opened it, but stopped short of leaving, casting a look over her shoulder. "You are strong, sister. Don't ever allow anyone to convince you otherwise."
She closed the door behind her, and suddenly Weiss was alone again, standing in the middle of a lifeless room. Her eyes stung, but she wiped them with her sleeve and forced her face to assume a stoic expression. She wasn't going to cry. She was better than that.
She was a Schnee, after all.
Silence. Thump. Silence. Thump. Silence. Thump. Silence.
…
The red light of the Protector disappeared after a corner in the middle of the hallway. Glynda rose up behind her hiding spot, a desk she'd taken from a nearby room and turned just in time to avoid being spotted by the machine. If she'd taken just a second more, her presence would have been revealed, and she would have been faced with danger she wasn't certain she could survive.
Since her saving of Weiss Schnee and Arc, the Protectors everywhere in the building seemed to be patrolling much harder than before. They probably shared a minor network while not being linked to the building's security mainframe, and so all were aware that there was an armed intruder able to disable them navigating the facility.
It was only her experience and an extraordinary amount of luck that had carried her so far without being targeted by the robots, but now that she was at the fifth floor, she doubted that luck would last any longer. The security room was sure to be secured heavily by a number of Protectors, and probably a few of Torchwick's men too.
The next minutes were going to be hell. She was the Sub-Director of Beacon, but she was no miracle worker. She was going to be spotted. Every machine on this floor was going to be gunning for her. But she would not be intimidated.
In a lifetime of crises, this was just another one, and Glynda Goodwitch never backed down in a crisis.
She was seventeen, and she had just received the strangest email.
Weiss knew better than to open just anything that appeared in her inbox, but there was something different about this one. Her email address was regulated by company policy, and had the strongest security system that could be bought. She seldom received spam or scam messages, but when she did, it was purged immediately and automatically from her computer.
So the fact that the e-mail had not only arrived whitelisted in her main inbox, and had remained there, untouched by security, was peculiar. She didn't open it, of course. Maybe the security system was taking a long time processing it, or it had made a mistake in analyzing the message. But as the hours passed and she kept working, and still the message remained there, her curiosity only grew.
A friend. That's what whoever had sent it called themselves. Was she supposed to be suspicious of it? Maybe this was some kind of prank? If so, whoever had had the brilliant idea to play a joke on the heiress of the SDC would be paying a heavy price later. Wouldn't that be funny?
Finally, when she'd gotten all the day's work done and the night dragged on outside her office, her curiosity got the better of her. She opened the email, and an executable file booted itself up.
Pages upon pages about… Semblances? Whatever those were. Formulas. Equations. Images and videos. Weiss scrolled past them all quickly, expecting a virus to pop anytime… but that didn't happen.
She reached the end of the file, and came upon one last video, already playing. Weiss gasped.
It was taken from a black-and-white security feed, showing none other than her sister, holding her hand out in front of her. A giant glowing circle hovered inches from her fingers, deflecting bullets from a dozen different guns at least. A second later, she closed her hands, and the circle narrowed into a thin line, and she whipped it outside's the camera's range.
The video looped. Weiss hung back in her chair. She hadn't forgotten, but… whenever the memory came to her, she shoved it back inside her head and ignored it. She had no explanation for what she'd seen that day, and no one had talked about it – not Winter, not Whitley, and certainly not her father. But here it was again, living proof that she hadn't imagined anything, with pages of scientific research attached to it.
After the video, a lone paragraph ended the file.
Overwhelming evidence points towards Semblances not being random, but hereditary. Do with that information what you will.
Weiss closed the file. What was she supposed to do with this? Why had she even opened the email in the first place? This was probably an elaborate trick, some kind of industrial sabotage. Or a test by her father. Both seemed equally as likely.
Hereditary.
She accessed the email again, pointer hovering over the delete button.
Do with that information what you will.
Weiss bit her lip. She looked around her office, then hastily copied the file and transferred it to her personal flash drive. With that done, she deleted the original from the computer, along with the email.
Hopefully, she would not regret this.
The Commander sure was taking long to come back, Jaune thought. He knew the facility wasn't a very safe place to be in right now, but he had never seen his superior be stopped by anything before. She would turn the power back on any moment now… or would she?
Maybe he should go find her... No! What would he do then? He'd already proven how disastrous his help really was. She was better off without him ruining her efforts.
But still, sitting in the dark, facing the still body of Weiss Schnee, he wished he was able to do something. Anything.
A noise broke the silence he was immersed in. It wasn't from inside the workshop, but from outside. Jaune sat up slightly, tilting his head to better listen. A few seconds passed, and he heard the noise again – soft steps, almost imperceptible, then a door being opened ever so slowly…
Jaune covered his mouth to muffle a terrified squeal. Someone was out there, going through every room in the hallway, and from the sneaky way they were going about it, he could tell they didn't have good intentions. Maybe Torchwick had sent someone to find the Commander – or Weiss!
Jaune's eyes returned to the cold girl sitting across from him. Nothing would fix his mistake, but… he had failed her once already, when it really mattered. He wouldn't let anything else happen to her!
Taken by a sudden courage, Jaune got up and tiptoed over to the short-circuited Protector. Careful to not make any loud noise, he took the energy rifle which lay under the robot and adjusted it in his hands. The weapon was as heavy as expected, but its size surprised him. That probably was for the best – he would rather have a big, generous gun, than a smaller one that required good aim.
He saw a light from the window of the workshop, shining on the walls of the hallway outside. A flashlight, it seemed. Whoever was out there was getting closer by the second. Jaune approached the door, took a deep breath to calm himself down, then slammed the door with his shoulder, barreling into the corridor with his gun aimed at the light.
What he saw caught him off-guard. A woman stood a little distance from him, so small she couldn't reach his shoulders, he was sure, with hair that was pink on one side and brown on the other. If it weren't for the wicked smile on her lips, and the knife she held low on her right hand, he would have thought she was a little girl who had somehow found her way into the facility.
"Uh, hi," he said. "I'm guessing you're not a very nice person, are you?"
Neopolitan smiled, and with a flick of her wrist, sent her knife flying towards him. Jaune yelped and dove to the side. He felt air rush against his cheek as the blade passed an inch from his ear. Not aiming at all, he pulled the trigger and didn't let go, and his rifle released a barrage of energy rounds, one after the other, lighting up the hallway.
After almost a minute, the rifle made a wheezing noise and stopped shooting, no matter how many times he pulled the trigger. Jaune looked down at it. "Ah, crap. Recharge!" he slammed his hand on the rifle's side. "Come on, work with me!"
He looked up and saw Neo coming out of a room, having avoided the barrage unscathed. A new blade flashed in her hand, and she dropped the flashlight she held in her other and dashed at him. Jaune yelled wordlessly and threw the rifle at her, which must have taken her by surprise, as she made no effort to dodge it and was hit in the face.
"Sorry!" Jaune yelled, turning around and breaking into a run. "I'm just saving my own skin! Nothing personal!"
He heard a strange noise behind him, then toppled to the ground as a sharp pain exploded in his left leg. Jaune looked down and saw a knife buried in the back of his thigh, and felt blood dripping down to his ankle. He heard a huff, then steps approaching him fast.
Ignoring the pain, he stood back up and did his best impression of a sprint, leaning against the walls to support his own weight. He was unarmed, and now that he was injured, he doubted he could put up even a halfway decent fight… but if he ran far enough away from the workshop, then he would succeed in his self-imposed task.
It didn't fix his mistake, but giving his life to get that mute psycho away from Weiss Schnee's body was the least he could do for her.
She was eighteen, and about to have a mental breakdown.
This was it. She had been working for months on the project, doing research, scouring parts of the internet she swore never to visit, running dozens of simulations until she was one-hundred percent sure the formula was correct.
Now she only needed to inject herself. This was the easy part. A little pinch, a painful aftermath perhaps, and then…
Why couldn't she do it? It was right before her, the fruit of so many sleepless nights. She had nearly lost her mind keeping this a secret from her colleagues and, most importantly, her father. She had earned this.
But what exactly would she accomplish by doing this? Yes, she would gain the same powers her sister had, but what would that change? She was still Weiss Schnee, heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, beholden to her duties and family. Her father's daughter. Nothing would change that.
You're not half as strong as her.
She dropped the serum back into the metal case and locked it, then crumbled to the floor, covering her face as an uncontrollable shaking wreaked havoc on her body.
pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic
You are strong, sister.
pathetic pathetic pathetic
Don't ever allow anyone to convince you otherwise.
Weiss opened her eyes.
Had the room been this cold before?
Had her eyes always seen so clearly through the darkness?
Had the air always been so charged with alive energy?
She stood up, and in that movement felt a strength like never before, like she could leap ten times her height without effort. She opened and closed her hands, feeling an unseen power at her fingertips, a new part of her begging to be unleashed. Where her neck and back had hurt before from the Protectors' attacks, she didn't feel any pain.
Like a phoenix, reborn…
Weiss closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she noticed a faint light outside the workshop. The door was open, and when she passed through the doorway, she found a flashlight lying on the floor, flickering on and off. Suddenly, she knew she was missing something, but what was it?
This was an important day... Father had entrusted her with the Dust Core showcase. Had that gone well? Yes, it had. Winter had been there to watch! And… Beacon agents…
"Jaune?" she called, and her voice rang across the hallway. All at once, memories of the past hours became clear inside her head.
Roman Torchwick had put the facility under lockdown. Her sister and her guests were in danger. Commander Goodwitch had gone to restore the power from the fifth floor. And Jaune Arc had helped her with the Semblance Serum injection.
"Jaune!" she called again, louder this time, and began walking down the hallway, nearly breaking into a run. How long had she been out? God, if something had happened to that idiot because of what she'd put him through… she didn't like him, but had never intended to put him in danger. She needed to find him before-
A shout further down the hallway broke her out of her thoughts. Well, not a shout – it was more of a squeal, and that was how she knew she was going the right way.
Weiss took off, running faster than she'd ever ran before – and as she glanced down, she caught the briefest sight of a white glow under her feet, and suddenly she realized it wasn't just her legs carrying her forward. The power – it was beyond belief!
She heard Jaune yell again, this time much closer, and turned a corner into a smaller hallway, coming to a graceful halt when the momentum she had built should have launched against the wall across from her. How odd...
At the end of the hallway was Jaune, his back pressed against a wall, and his assailant – not a Protector, but a girl. Weiss' heart jumped when she saw the glint of a sharp blade cut across the darkness as the stranger raised a hand and pulled it back-
"Stop!"
Acting on instinct, Weiss thrust out a hand, and a small glyph appeared between Jaune's head and the vicious knife. The blade rebounded with a shrill noise, and Neopolitan stumbled back. She spun around to look at Weiss, her eyes looking like they would pop out of their sockets, so astonished she was.
"Weiss! I didn't kill you!" Jaune yelled, and Weiss had never heard anyone spout something so absurd with such unbridled happiness before.
"Yes, thank you," Weiss smiled despite herself. "Hey, you freak show fugitive," she looked at Neo. "Pick on someone your own size."
Neo glared at her, her surprise at Weiss' interference gone. She lunged at her, swinging her knife, but Weiss bent her knees, and a glyph appeared beneath her. Unbending, she shot upwards and turned, hovering in the air for a split second, until she summoned another glyph on the ceiling and stood on it upside-down.
The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever felt. The glyph pulled on her, and it was as if she'd detached from the world and gained an entirely new center of gravity. Her body was overflowing with energy. She could do anything, it felt like.
Weiss kicked against the ceiling, and the glyph boosted her towards the ground. She spun and landed back on the floor behind Neo, her hair falling disheveled on her eyes, but she didn't mind at all. This was exhilarating!
Her euphoria came to an abrupt end when Neo turned in a heartbeat and thrust her knife. Weiss saw it collide against her arm and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the pain, but none came. Instead, she felt only a dull impact and stumbled back a little, and when she opened her eyes, her arm was intact.
Weiss and Neo looked at each other, the latter's face turning red with rage. Neo stepped forward, swinging her knife viciously again, but Weiss raised her arms in reflex and conjured a glyph, blocking the attack. She parted her arms and the glyph expanded thrice its size in the blink of an eye, launching Neo backwards, skidding across the floor.
Weiss was surprised. She'd thought it would take time to get used to this new power, but it was all coming naturally to her, like conjuring the glyphs and manipulating them was as easy as walking. Yet it also felt like this was just the tip of the iceberg… until now, she was just playing with Neo.
"I think we've warmed up enough, don't you?" she said, looking at Neo confidently. "Let's end this."
She extended her left arm to the side and conjured a glyph the size of her palm. It floated there, spinning slowly, glowing in the dark… What had Winter done in the video again? She'd transformed a glyph into a whip, but that didn't seem right to Weiss. It wasn't exactly her style.
Weiss turned her hand. The glyph shrank into a tiny dot of light, then morphed outwards, taking a shape familiar to Weiss. A few seconds later, her fingers had closed around the handle of a glowing rapier, which she held before her, staring at Neo invitingly.
"You first."
Neo launched herself at her, swinging her knife. Weiss parried the blow, then sidestepped the follow-up, before taking her turn to strike back with a neat thrust. Neo stepped aside, hissing as the cold blade sliced across the skin of her arm and she dropped her knife.
"Is that it?" Weiss smiled tauntingly as Neo backed away, holding her arm. "I expected more. Not so intimidating when your victim isn't a blundering idiot, yes?"
"Thanks, Weiss," Jaune said behind her.
"You're welcome," she nodded. "Let me get rid of your bully."
She tossed her rapier upwards in front of her, and it morphed back into a glyph as tall as she was. Weiss touched it with her left hand, and it shrank to the size of her torso. An odd sensation spread across her body, like something inside her was transferring into the disc. The glyph's light went from pure white to a light blue, and five shining points appeared near its center.
Weiss pushed against the glyph, and it released five beams of light that arced elegantly through the air, heading towards Neo. The mute woman started to turn, but before she could run, the beams struck her simultaneously, and she was knocked down violently. A solid layer of ice enveloped everything but her head, immobilizing her.
Weiss lowered her hands slowly, blinking repeatedly as he stared at Neo struggling to get out of her new prison. She had to admit, she hadn't expected that. Was her Semblance supposed to do that?
"Holy crap," Jaune said, stopping beside her. "You froze her, just like that! That's so cool!" he snickered. "Hah. Cool."
Weiss breathed in, wondering if rescuing him had been a good decision after all. "Thank you for your support," she said dryly. "What happened, anyway? How did you manage to get into this... predicament?"
"Well, you were out cold. I really thought you were dead," Jaune frowned. "I heard her coming, and… Well, I didn't want her to find your body, so I led her away. Maybe it was a silly thing to do, but I was terrified."
"Oh. That's…" Weiss paused. "Thank you, Jaune."
"Hey, it's no big deal. It's my job to protect you, right? You don't have to take it personally," Jaune said, then shook his head. "But, uh, I wouldn't mind it. If you took it personally, I mean. My protecting you. Yeah."
He leaned against a wall and smiled at her in what he must have thought was a very gallant way. Weiss certainly didn't agree.
"Right," she said, ignoring him. "Speaking of your job. How long was I out?"
"I don't know," Jaune replied. "An hour, maybe?"
"An hour? And your Commander hasn't returned," Weiss looked up at the ceiling. "That doesn't bode well at all."
"You think she's in trouble?" Jaune asked worriedly. "I mean, I thought about that too… but she's Commander Goodwitch. She's, like, the woman."
"I'm sure she'd be flattered by your confidence in her, but she's just a person, and the odds are stacked against her," Weiss said. "We're going to the fifth floor to restore the power ourselves. Hopefully we'll find her unharmed," she looked down at Neo. "As for you…. Stay quiet. It shouldn't be too hard for you."
Neo glared at her impotently. Weiss stepped past her, grinning. Jaune followed behind her, visibly enraptured, and Weiss couldn't get the image of a lost puppy out of her mind.
"Jaune, one more thing."
"Yes?"
"From now on," she smirked. "I am the woman."
Weiss might be on a little bit of a power trip right now. But, goddammit, she deserves it! Three cheers for Weiss Schnee!
This was a pretty cool (heh) chapter to write. Obviously, I'd already given a lot of hints about Weiss' past throughout the first three chapters, but this is when we really delve into the juicy details. There's still some stuff that we haven't touched on, and, sincerely, I think most of it will remain unspoken. Sometimes its more effective to let you reach some conclusions about a character's past, than outright telling you, or at least that's what I think.
By the way, Weiss' powers are very cool (heheheh!) and coming up with ways for her to use them is even cooler (HAAAAAAAAAH), but! Oof, they are kinda hard to write without making a jumbled mess of a fight scene. Glyph this! Glyph that! Hopefully it wasn't too bad this chapter and I'll get better with time. Lemme know what you think, please!
Oh, and the two easter eggs in Torchwick's scene? One of them, you totally should get. The other one... uuuh... that must be hella confusing, but one day you'll understand! Hopefully. Maybe. (maybe I shouldn't have put that one in after all... eeeh...)
Thanks for reading, and until next week! (also cheers for song-named chapter titles)
-Zeroan