I think these chapters might have been a little lazily written on my end, mostly 'cause I was suffering some writer's block when I wrote them, but hopefully they hold up to the standard the other chapters have set. But enough about that. Enjoy some more Thorns!
Frustration was among the things driving Winter mad tonight, but it certainly wasn't the only thing as she drove her shoulder into the sparring drone.
The drone toppled backwards, then rolled over and stood up, going for Winter's throat with its dual-pronged claw. Winter went into a back flip, leaving behind a cloud of frosty vapor that solidified into a block of ice around the bot's arm. It struggled to pull the claw out, but it was able to yank its arm from the ice chunk and parry the incoming blade of the halberd descending on it. Winter dodged the next claw attack by ducking, then rolled backwards and danced into a back handspring, the halberd, Gefrorene Bolzen, transforming into its rail gun form. She landed on her feet, lifted the rail gun, and pulled the trigger, sending the electromagnet-propelled projectile into the bot at high enough velocity to rip it in half.
The bot collapsed with a loud whump! as it hit the mats covering the floor. Winter sheathed Bolzen in the holster on her back, then walked over to the bench nearby to retrieve her water bottle and guzzle about half of it before returning it to its place. She had decided to go to the gym to blow off some steam and take out her frustrations on the training bot's, which she had programmed to try their hardest to subdue her non-lethally. She had even gone as far as putting the combat settings on this most recent one to "Incapacitate," which meant knocking her unconscious as soon as possible, but it wasn't enough for her. This was her sixth bot tonight, as well.
The servants moved on from their places in the safe rooms on either side of the gym and began cleaning up the bot's smoking remains. The servants who now served her sister.
Sitting on the bench, she watched as the servants carted the parts away in large white boxes that were barely capable of containing their cargo. They were already rolling in the next drone for her strenuous practice session, just another one of the same type as the other bots. She wondered if they were being repaired or if Father had simply bought new ones when they were damaged. Or if Weiss would buy new ones.
She grumbled and stood up, turned to the servant who tended her between matches, and told her to call of the activation of the next drone. The servant nodded, then rushed off to the other servants to deliver Winter's orders. Winter herself picked up the rag from the bench, slung it around her neck, finished off the water, and departed from the gym.
She just couldn't stop thinking about Father. Slain in cold blood, and by none other than the White Fang. It had to be; Blake said as much herself. What other proof was really needed? A stamp saying that the White Fang had killed her father? She couldn't decide what she would do when she reached her room. Would she get angry and start punching the wall? Or would she just collapse in bed or the shower or anywhere and just start sobbing? Oh, the heartache that had come to pass was unbearable.
She entered her room the moment she reached it, tossed Bolzen on the bed, and took off her shirt so that she could go and take a shower. She stopped by her window and opened it, leaning her elbows on the sill and staring out across the darkness and letting the breezy fingers of the wind comb through her hair. It was such a nice night, with the moon hanging brightly above and the whispers of the gusts tickling her ears. But among the sights she could see, a glint of reflective metal attracted her eye. She squinted to try and identify what it was and gasped as she processed the silhouette.
"An airship?" She wondered, then spotted the symbol on the side: the White Fang insignia. She swore.
Blake was right! It was the White Fang!
She saw that the vegetation around it was stirring, like the engines of the airship were running. That meant it was waiting for someone so it could leave. That would mean the assassin was still here, at the resort! She could ambush the assassin, wait until the right moment and cripple them. At this range, though she wouldn't be able to get a shot fast enough without alerting the pilot.
She rushed over to the bed, pulled her shirt over her head, and snatched up Bolzen, then rushed to the window. The ground was only about a story below, not too much for her, and she jumped, landing among a tuft of bushes. She took off half-crouching, half-running to keep from being spotted, and she found a grove of trees near the airship where she could hide. Getting a better vantage point, she climbed up one of the trees and drew Bolzen, powered up the scope, and peered through it.
There was already someone in the ship. In the extremely dim lighting, Winter was just able to make out a girl with a head of bobbed brown hair and silver-streaked bangs, wearing a servant's uniform. She sat with one leg crossed over the other. They were about to leave!
She lined up the shot, charged the rail gun's battery, and—
The shot went wide as she found herself falling out of the toppling timber. The bolt missed, bounced off of the ship and ricocheted into the ground. Winter slammed her head hard enough that she was seeing stars, and Bolzen clattered out of her grasp. The wind was knocked out of her and she feebly gasped for breath, reaching for air that wouldn't come. A figure appeared above her, cloaked in a hooded black shroud. There was a sound like a sword being drawn from a scabbard, and the figure bent down over her, and plunged the wrist-mounted blade into her chest. Winter wrapped her hands around their arm, staring up into their face. She saw on one half of the face that their skull was visible, just thinly covered in scar tissue, the cheek gone, allowing all to see her teeth and the tendons that allowed her to operate her jaw. A damaged white eye stared at her on that side. The other half of her face, now becoming dimmer as her vision grew dark, was that of a pretty, young girl of sixteen, short brunette hair tipped with red, and a single silver eye in which cold determination and fiery hate had taken up a permanent residence.
Her grip weakened, and her hands loosened. Her eyelids grew heavy. She made one final attempt at striking her enemy by reaching up and barely closing her trembling fingers around the girl's scarred throat before she lost all of her remaining strength, her hand fell to the earth beside her, and everything went black.
—
Yang's warm, soft lips had left a burning, passionate desire on Weiss's neck in the form of a hickey, as the new company president had discovered as she looked in the mirror of her bathroom.
The two had not hesitated in "getting busy" the moment they got to the room. Long story short, the two girls had wound up having sex—turned out, Yang is great in bed, who knew?—and she had fallen asleep right afterward. Weiss had gotten up and went to take a shower, something she had yet to do in three days, and she was glad for the warm water, as well. She had probably stayed in that shower for half an hour, just thinking about Yang for the duration of it, long enough that her fingertips had wrinkled. Oh, it felt amazing. Yang was the one that filled her thoughts now. Not Father, not Winter, not the stresses of owning the company. Yang. Oh, the way Yang's lips caressed her own, the way her body fit like a puzzle piece to her own, the way her skin left behind a tingling ecstasy only sated by her touch...
There was a knock at the door that interrupted Weiss's euphoric thoughts, and she turned to the door, pulling a loose-fitting icy-blue silk top, and leaned it open just a little bit. "Yes?"
"Winter's hurt. Badly."
It was Blake. She had a worried look in her eyes and frazzled appearance that indicated she had ran all the way here.
"What?!" Weiss's pleasant reminiscence ground to a halt, replaced by the empty void her worry constantly plagued her with. She pulled on her pants, not bothering to close the door for it, and Blake gestured for her to follow. The two dashed from the room, running as fast as they could through the halls and corridors.
Not her sister. They couldn't take her sister and her father in two days.
They had reached the medical wing in no time. It was easy to tell which room Winter was in; there were armored guards outside the door. They didn't move an inch when Weiss walked between them and through the door, leaving Blake in the hall.
Weiss spotted Winter immediately. She was lying in a bed, hooked up to countless tubes, machines, and life support systems, and she was wrapped in bandages on her torso and head. She was unconscious, and the heart monitor was rather sporadic, never keeping a rhythm.
"Miss Schnee," the doctor appeared, the same one who had fixed up Yang's nose, dressed in a surgeon's scrubs. He approached her.
"What happened?" Weiss snapped rather indignantly, but it was justified considering the situation.
"Nobody knows. Your friend brought her in just half an hour ago, and we were able to more or less stabilize her condition. She was bleeding from a wound in her chest, with a puncture in her heart. It's a miracle she didn't bleed out."
"Will she be okay?"
"Depends on your definition of the word. Yes, she will live. No, her quality of life may never be the same. Judging by the condition your friend found her in, she had just fallen from a tree. She had slammed her head on a rock hard enough to fracture her skull and give her a concussion, and her spine has been damaged. It will be a miracle if she ever walks again, let alone fight, and her heart may be weak, so she won't be able to perform strenuous activities that might strain her heart or she could burst it."
Weiss looked at her sister. She was at peace, but not comfortably, shifting and stirring constantly. How would she react when she found out that she would be handicapped for the rest of her life? Not well, she imagined. Dust, everything was just out to get her!
"Will she need a wheelchair, then?" Weiss asked after taking a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves.
"I believe so, but I'm sure that you could use your fortune to obtain a pair of cybernetic legs for her. General Ironwood of Atlas has been developing prosthetics for injured soldiers and civilians. Perhaps you could acquire a set from him?"
Weiss nodded. She had been thinking about the deal that Ironwood had made with Father, which had taken effect today. Even as they spoke, Ironwood was shipping an entire private army to the estate. When would he arrive, she wondered? He would be expecting her father, but...well, he was gone, so she would have to do it in his place. Perhaps she could convince him to give her a spare set of prosthetics for Winter. He already had his payment of Dust and would need more later, so perhaps that would be a fair trade. Just a little more per month. She would work it out with him later.
"Well, that just means convincing her, when she wakes up, to let me or Ironwood's surgeons implant the legs and the necessary systems in her body."
"She might be...upset by the thought, but if she wants to be a Huntress, she needs to accept the price. I will talk to the General when he arrives, I believe three days from now. Keep me updated on Winter's condition, please."
"Can do. If she wakes up, I would prefer that you ask her if she wants to have the implants. I will notify you when she awakens."
"Good. Have a nice night, doctor."
"And you as well, Madame."
With one more glance back at her crippled sister, Weiss left the room and met Blake in the hall. She was talking to someone. The yellow cloak told her it was Yang, and the blonde spotted her and smiled warmly. Weiss returned it with a wave and moved to stand close to the taller girl, facing Blake.
"What are you two talking about?" Weiss asked, and Blake looked at her.
"I was telling Yang about...something I found earlier," said Blake, glancing at the guards. They were absolutely still, but clearly, Blake didn't want them to be here when she spoke and they weren't planning to move anytime soon. Blake slipped past the other two girls and beckoned to them to follow, and they did until they reached the end of the hall. They rounded a corner and stopped.
"I found something earlier, when I found Winter," Blake continued in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder every once in a while. She pulled something out of her pocket. "You might want to take a look at it."
Yang held out a hand and Blake handed the object to her. Weiss glanced over Yang's shoulder to see it. She raised her eyebrows and gasped.
It was a photo, depicting Yang, Weiss, Blake, and Ruby, totally messy and sitting shoulder to shoulder. It was obviously taken last year, somewhere around Yang's eighteenth birthday. Weiss remembered it vividly; Yang and Ruby had been throwing pies at each other and various other messy foods, as well, enough that Blake was eventually dragged into it after being collateral damage from the large pizza Yang had thrown to try and hit Ruby. It had been just a fun day, that day. Oh, how long ago it felt.
But the photo wasn't quite so happy. There were holes in it, for one. A hole through Yang's face and another through Weiss's face, likely from a knife or other sharp object. The words "Hurt" and "Kill" were scrawled above their heads in ink. In stark contrast to the obviously hateful and bitter feeling this photo's owner felt toward Weiss and Yang, there was a heart framing Blake's smiling face, and the word "Who?" written over her head, and below, "Can't Remember." Half of Ruby's face was darkened with ink, and the hand on that same side of her body was scribbled out.
"I found that on Winter when I brought her in. It was in her pocket. I can guarantee it wasn't hers."
"How could Winter's attacker get ahold of one of these?" Yang asked, appearing to be a little anxious. Weiss subtly grabbed her hand and squeezed, and Yang calmed down before her anxiety became to much to handle. "There were only ever two of these made. We gave one to Ruby and the other one is framed on the wall in our dorm."
"I know. That's exactly it. Ruby always kept that photo with her. Always. I saw her looking at it and smiling on the ride in to the compound where she died. I think...I think the reason we never found a body that day wasn't because she was obliterated. We never found a body because someone else found her first."
Weiss and Yang looked at each other, then back at Blake.
"The photo would have been on her person. There would be no other reason that we would see this now unless her body was intact."
Blake took the photo from Yang again, then pointed at the darkened half of Ruby's face.
"You see this? I think it might mean something, like her face was burned or destroyed on that side. Maybe her entire right side was. I don't know."
"I-I think you're jumping to conclusions, Blake," Yang said, her voice uneven.
"No! Well, yes, I am, but I think there's reason to think so. You see how your face and Weiss's face are missing? I remember having a photo of my old mentor that I constantly poked holes into, just to take out my anger on something. For a long time, that was just because I wanted to kill him. I think that's the case here."
"N-no," Yang's voice was on the verge of sobbing. Her hand clenched tightly around Weiss's, almost hurting her. "Y-you're wrong! Ruby is gone! I know what you're going to say and it's wrong!"
"Yang."
Blake put a hand on Yang's trembling shoulder.
"I know this isn't what you want to hear. But you need to hear it. I think Ruby survived the explosion. The White Fang found her and corrupted her."
"Blake, I don't think—"
Blake silenced Weiss with a hand and continued.
"There's something else, too. One of the security cameras was still working, in Mr. Schnee's office. The other ones were disabled using a White Fang EMP. This one survived, somehow, and it got the footage. It got everything, from when the assassin broke into Mr. Schnee's office to the point where they left."
Now Blake had Weiss's attention.
"They took off their hood, before they killed Mr. Schnee, and...it was Ruby."