His arm was numb. Not in the tingly way caused by lack of circulation, but a more fiery kind of sensation resulting from yet another clash between shield and short sword. Even as Pyrrha attacked again – so furiously that a grunt escaped her glossy lips – Jaune found himself able to hold his ground. A sword slash from above his head failed to move him; he simply crouched, soaked up the impact with his shield, then jabbed out carefully with his own blade to poke his sparring partner gently in the tummy. "Tag. You're it," he quipped through gasps for air.
Pyrrha laughed heartily and stepped back from the point of his silver blade. "I suppose I am!" she replied, rotating both shoulders to keep her arms loose. "Shall we take a breather?"
"Yes, please, oh gods I can't feel my legs." While he leaned on his sword – and a second later, Pyrrha herself – for support, he looked left at the other occupants of the combat arena – Weiss, Nora, and Blake, all huddled around each other in a quiet conference. "Ohhhhh boy it's never good when Nora grins like that. Hey! What are you planning over there?"
"It's not her plan, it's mine," Weiss corrected him. With a shared nod, the gaggle broke up. Blake spooled out the black ribbon from Gambol Shroud and wrapped it around her wrist as Nora scattered small wind Dust crystals on the floor a few meters away. "Do you have a target?"
"Yes." Blake pointed at one of the exposed steel beams which held up the roof of the arena. "Right there. If I can get any height, I guess."
Nora winked playfully, twirling her warhammer. "You leave that to me. Let's do this!"
Blake backed up toward the edge of the raised platform before sprinting forward, her boots clacking sharply against the stone tile. Just as she was about to step on the scattered green crystals, she jumped and folded her legs up underneath herself, her Aura concentrating itself in her shins for what would come next. The Dust detonated as she passed overhead, thanks to Nora's silent prayer; the second she detected herself flying upward instead of forward, she flung her weapon out with a squeaky roar. The pistol assembly managed to wrap around the steel beam – one stiff flick of her wrist snapped the ribbon taut and the spool mechanism in her weapon drew her in. By the time it all ended, she found herself hugging the beam with arms and legs, many precarious meters above the floor. The others gathered to look up at her.
"Neat!" Nora yelled with both hands cupped around her mouth. "That scream was really cute, by the way."
"Uh, thanks?" she called back, her lower body scrambling for purchase as she tried to unwrap Gambol Shroud from the around the thick beam. "I'm… I'm a little bit stuck."
Before Weiss and Nora could figure out how exactly to get her down, footsteps attracted everyone's attention – they turned to see Ilia lead a pack of Haven students into the arena. Among their number was Ciel, though Penny was conspicuously absent, and Qrow, shuffling along with his hands in his pockets and a distant look in his red eyes. Once Ilia processed the situation, she dashed ahead and came to a sliding stop underneath her best friend with both hands on her head. "Blake?!" she yelled. "How on Remnant did you get up there?!"
"That is a pretty good question," Qrow admitted while smoothing back his hair. "What's goin' on?"
"We're experimenting!" Nora sang cheerfully. "Don't even worry, she's totally fine." Her eyes then went to Weiss. "Dust again on the way down? I still have some wind stones left."
"Hmm…" She rubbed her chin with slender fingers. "She just barely made it up there. I'd try fire, but I don't think she's quite as durable as Yang is. I'll do it." Qrow's deadpan gaze shook her train of thought for a moment. "I assure you, we have this under control."
He watched Blake continue to scramble along the beam, grinning wryly, but ready to intervene in case she fell. "Do ya, now."
"Of course!" Weiss discharged a fuzzy gray stack of two larger-than-usual Glyphs with one swing of her rapier. "Blake!" she shouted, maintaining a fencer's pose as she funneled her Aura to keep them powered. "Jump! Or fall. Fall safely, though!"
"Are you crazy?!" was her frantic answer – though with her lower body strength quickly expiring, Blake realized she didn't have much choice. "Uhhh…"
Jaune had an idea; after handing his sword and shield to Pyrrha, he stood underneath Weiss' Glyphs with arms spread wide. "Hey, just fall on me, it's fine. I should be pretty easy to hit."
"She can fall on both of us." Pyrrha set all of their hardware, hers and his, on the floor and walked over to join him. "We'll catch you! I promise!"
After one deep swallow and a mumbled "Why did I agree to this," for good measure, Blake aimed as best as she could and released her grasp on the beam. Many of the students emitted some kind of gasp or yell – Ilia beat them all with an incredibly shrill scream – but Weiss' adjustments and her good guess ensured she fell into the Glyphs, slowing her velocity from doomed feline cannonball to anxious snowflake. This resulted in a rather anti-climatic shared catch by Pyrrha and Jaune. She stumbled away and dropped to her knees as soon as they put her down. "Okay… I think it's someone else's turn now…" she stated weakly. Ilia tackled her clear of the whole group in a powerful hug. "Gah! Wait a minute!"
"Okay, okay, that's enough of that," Qrow said over the sporadic clapping and laughing of the other students. "Mind if I borrow the arena for a little bit? You kids aren't the only ones getting ready for the wilderness survival courses. 'Sides, ain't it better for birds to roost outside?"
"Whose stupid idea was this, because I know it wasn't yours!" Ilia demanded. She looked back when everyone pointed at Weiss. "You will never see my vengeance coming," she added with a grin.
"Yes, well, you can defend your girlfriend's honor later," Weiss replied, haughtiness mostly feigned as she looked down her nose.
Blake flailed her arms as best she could, given the whole Ilia still wrapped around her. "She isn't my-!"
The redhead wiped tears of amusement – and relief – from her eyes, somehow finding the clarity to give Jaune back his weapons and to collect hers. "Sorry for the fuss, Professor Branwen," she apologized while herding her friends toward the nearest exit corridor. Only four emerged into the brisk evening air at first; Blake arrived a moment later, groaning with annoyance as she examined Gambol Shroud for any damage. Her wavy locks were a bit more ruffled than usual.
"That has to be what a Beringel grapple feels like," she muttered upon arrival. "Well, it works, but I think we need a little more planning than just 'throw someone and see what happens'."
"Agreed." Weiss stared at her Scroll, frowning with disgust about how much Aura she'd used. "And I clearly need to hit the gym more."
"Or eat. You're waaaaay too thin!"
Jaune stared at Nora. "She can't. You never leave any for the rest of us."
"Hey, these guns need ammo!" she retorted, flexing her left arm. The humor quickly drained from her face. "Speaking of… how's Ruby?" Weiss and Blake deflated almost instantly. "That bad, huh?"
"She wants to be sure that everything is all right," Weiss finally offered. "I'd feel the same way if I suddenly had a hallucination."
"Maybe she's just stressed out?" Jaune shrugged when the girls looked his way. "It's hard being a leader. I couldn't do it." His smile at Pyrrha caused her to blush faintly.
Blake's face lit up with an idea. "Hey, her appointment with Professor Peach shouldn't take too long, right? Let's go meet her and Yang at the meditation hall. Maybe have dinner together. You know. Be supportive?" Her feline ears twitched at Nora's cheer. "Erm… you want to come too?"
Weiss rolled her icy eyes. "Please, Blake, you know she'd never turn down food."
"I'll go get Ren!" she chirped, folding her weapon into grenade launcher form so it would be a little easier to run. "Meet you there!"
"Um…" Blake shrugged at her back as she tore off down the walkway before looking over at Jaune and Pyrrha. "What about you two?"
Pyrrha cocked her head, glanced at Jaune, noticed he still seemed to be winded, and decided to delay for a moment. "Go on ahead, we'll catch up. I think Jaune needs a minute."
"Naah, I'm fine," he lied, mopping sweat off his brow. "Really. All good." The redhead's smile melted his resolve. "Maybe I should sit down. Yeah. We'll catch up." He allowed her to guide him over to the nearest bench as Blake and Weiss waved a goodbye and departed together. "My everything is burning," he whispered harshly as they sat down together.
"You know, you really don't have to push yourself like this," she chided him gently. "You can't become… well, me, I suppose, in a few months. You'll hurt yourself trying." She misread his distant expression, assumed offense, and hastily added, "Not that I'm insulting you. You really are making progress."
"I kinda do have to push myself, though."
Again, she cocked her head. "Why?"
He cut his blue eyes over and frowned. "Because…" That frown became tight. "You said they'd have to kill you first."
Worry became confusion in her gorgeous emerald eyes until her brain made the connection. Flashes of that battle quickened her breathing. "I…" She fell back against the bench and sighed up toward the ruddy sunset in the east. "I meant it."
"I know. That's why I gotta push." Jaune finally managed a lopsided smile when she looked at him again. "Look at me, man. I don't even have a Semblance. You and Weiss… you can fly. Now Blake can too. Sorta. I'm just me." He cast a forlorn stare at the ground. "I feel like I'm in the way."
"For one thing, most people don't have Semblances," she began, hand on his forearm, "and for another, don't sell yourself short. Nobody thinks you're useless. Especially not me."
"You can literally pick me up and throw me!"
"And vice versa! Ah, with some effort." She found herself blushing again and looked away. "I think you're lovely the way you are."
They spent a few moments in silence, looking at everyone and everything but each other until her words finally sank in. "Hey, Pyrrha?"
"Hmm?"
Their eyes met at last. "Do you like… like me, like me?" His face screwed up. "Whew. I said like too much." It screwed up again when she didn't immediately answer. "Yeah, I figured."
"I—I think I do, actually." His surprised grunt caused her to snort. "Remember the first time we spoke?"
"Uhhhhhhhhh… the airship ride. Right?"
"Yes. You weren't intimidated and you didn't squeal like Ruby. That was a refreshing change."
It was his turn for a confused head tilt. "Whaa… you're not scary, though. You're Pyrrha. Why would I be intimidated?"
She stood up, turned her back, and raised her arms briefly. "Exactly! It was really nice to be taken at face value for once." After a little sigh to settle herself, she sat down again. "I don't think people are necessarily scared of me, but my family name. 'You're Pyrrha'… goodness. I do like the sound of those words."
"Oh. You're welcome, I guess? Still can't figure out why you'd even give me the time of day, though."
"You're kind, you're earnest, you work hard, you're easy to get along with, and you look nice, especially after you shave." A staring match broke out as two Valesian soldiers in blue overcoats wandered by on their patrol of campus. "Too forward?"
Deeply flustered, he rubbed his chin, grew horrified at the stubble, and jumped to his feet. "Shave! Yeah! I should go do that!" He grinned when she busted out laughing. "You really think I'm, I dunno, any good?"
"If I didn't, I wouldn't be training you, you silly!" After a moment, they began walking toward the meditation hall. "If the past few months have taught me anything, it's that life…" Her eyes closed for a moment. "Life is short enough as it is. For us, it could be really short."
"Yeah." His arms swung gently with each slow step. "Everything you said about me is like, triple for you. Except the shaving part. I bet you could rock a beard if you wanted to, though." Her giggles caused another smile. "I guess you're right, though. I didn't expect to be here, but… I'm still gonna do my best. No regrets. No matter what happens."
"I think that's a good outlook." A distant, gruff voice caused Pyrrha's ears to prick a little; both of them turned around and came to a stop to check the source. They found Indigo swearing at a fully-laden pallet as she dragged it along the walkway a few dozen meters behind them. "Oh my. Looks like she could use a hand."
"Gods, this fucking-" she snapped as they arrived, unaware of their presence at first. While she was still wearing tank tops – this one a retina-destroying pink and white polka-dot example with thin shoulder straps – the weather had finally turned cool enough for her to accept wearing something other than ankle skirts. In this case, it was a pair of demure gray cargo pants which were thankfully much easier on the eyes. "What the fuck is in this fucking thing, my gods damn apartment?!" she growled, sweat dripping down her forehead. "This is the last time I do a damn favor for Heather-" She glanced over, saw a smiling Pyrrha at very close range, and jumped back with fright. "Whoa! Geez! You scared me."
"I'm sorry!" She dipped her head politely. "Need some help?"
"No, I'm…" Anger faded as she ceased struggling with the pallet, ostensibly to rest, but really to tug uneasily at her thin blue ponytail. "I'm good."
Jaune looked around the pallet for the other half of the duo. "Where's your buddy?"
Indigo glanced up at him before she chose to stare at her blue sneakers. "He—I had to let him go." Another glance up at their confused faces. "It's not important." When Pyrrha opened her mouth to change subjects, however, she freely spilled every single bean. "Someone kidnapped him from the shop and I am not about that bullshit, so I had to move on."
"Whoa, what?" he exclaimed, hands on his head. "Is everyone okay?"
"I wasn't there. He's fine. I guess. I haven't talked to him since." Indigo took up the handle of the pallet jack again and started tugging, weighed down both by the physical load and her own grumpiness. "I better get going, this is gonna take long enough."
Pyrrha, unwilling to watch her struggle, got behind the pallet and pushed. Jaune pitched in a second later. "We're all headed the same way anyway," she said when Indigo groaned loudly. "We can at least give you a push until we get to the meditation hall."
"Ugggggghhhhhh, fiiiiiine," was the whined reply.
"You know, he hasn't spoken much to us either," Jaune noted. "Wonder what he's up to."
"He talks to you?"
"Well, it has been a little while, but I have his Scroll number," Pyrrha noted, head down as she shoved with both hands. "He gave it to me after he taught me the… ah… never mind."
Indigo looked back over her shoulder – not that it mattered, since the boxes were stacked too high for her to see past them. "The Dust thing? Yeah. I know." It didn't matter that other students were scattered all around them; she felt no need to keep her voice low. Not long afterward, her cargo became significantly harder to move as Jaune and Pyrrha broke away – they'd reached their destination. "Oh… fuck, already?"
"Yep. We gotta go check on a friend in here," Jaune explained. "Sorry."
"Ah, I get it. Go on. I'll manage." She waved them off with a sigh. A worried look from Pyrrha, who lingered for a moment, caused her to wave even harder. "Go! I'm fine. I'm a grown-ass woman." As they left, however, she remained, watching them enter the hall. One hand ducked into a pocket and came out with her Scroll. She checked the time. Then she opened her contacts list. His entry was still there; seeing it caused a tremendous grimace, but she crammed the device back into her pocket before the temptation to tap his stupid grinning picture became a little too much. Before she could let it go, it began to ring.
"Indigooooooooooooo!" was the nasally greeting she heard upon raising it to her ear – Schwarze, in full whine mode.
"Stop calling me, I'll get home when I get home," she countered with a grumpy huff. "If you're so damn impatient, why don't you fly your busty beanpole ass out here and help me move this-"
"Actually…" When she next spoke, her voice had returned to normal. "I just had a little chat with Major van Ophoven."
Her blood froze solid. "About what?" she urged, abandoning her cargo to sit on the nearest bench.
"We're being reactivated."
"Wh—we're being reactivated? The hell are you saying, you don't sit ready reserve, I-" A cute little sound told her she had another call incoming – seeing from whom caused her heart to skip a few beats. "Oh fuck me, he's calling right now, I'll call you back." One tap hung up on Schwarze, then another connected her to the new call. "Major."
"Sergeant Stahl. Don't tell me your spotter beat me to it."
She became stiff as a board – the posture of a soldier at attention, even though she was seated. "I hear we're being called up, sir, but she didn't get to tell me anything beyond that."
"Good, it's probably best you hear this from me. We're attaching you both to 2nd Brigade, 4th Division, 1st Frontier Corps. Her Majesty wants to put a lid on whatever is going on at Beacon Academy."
"The…" She slumped over far enough to brace her upper body with elbows on knees. "Why does the Corps want us back, sir?"
He chortled for a moment. "Come on, Sergeant, you and Voss are the best team they've ever had. We know you won't hesitate to pull the trigger no matter who ends up in your scope, which is a good thing when we're not even sure who the enemy is."
His compliment was a wrecking ball to the chest. "Yes, sir," was all she could manage at first before her face lit up with confusion. "Not sure who the enemy is, sir? Hasn't Opher Riese spoken to anyone in-"
"We haven't gotten around to setting up a meeting with him yet. At any rate, report to brigade HQ at 0800 tomorrow. Oh, and before I go… congratulations on your promotion."
Indigo sat straight up again. "Wh-what promotion, sir?"
"General Zhen personally authorized your advancement to Sergeant First Class to make up for lost time. Oh, and she sent along a message: 'you keep scratching our backs, we'll keep scratching yours'."
"I… I understand, sir," she replied quietly, hands shaking. "What about Diamond Dust? I mean, my shop, sir."
"Calm down, Stahl, it's not like we're sending you to Vytal Island. Just lock it up. It'll be there when you get back. Anyway, that's all from me. Good luck on your deployment."
"Thank you, sir." She hung up, dropped her Scroll in her lap, and buried her face in her hands. "Gods," she sighed between regulated breaths, "just when I thought things couldn't get any fucking worse."
"But something like this has never happened before!"
Professor Peach tracked Ruby in her orbit around the closed-off meditation pod she was using for their meeting, somewhat surprised that her constant pacing hadn't worn tracks in the wooden floor. She herself was draped across one of two chunky black beanbag chairs, but the other one lacked a dent – because Ruby had yet to sit in it. "The human brain isn't perfect, Ruby. Sometimes it, well, has a hiccup."
"I just—but it was definitely a Razorback! Like, I could see the little nubby armor bits on its shell thingy! It was as real as any of the Grimm out there!" she insisted, pointing at where she assumed the Emerald Forest would be. Her energy failed all at once; she wearily shuffled over to the empty chair and plunged face-first into its fluffy embrace. "I… I swear… I would never point a gun at someone…" she moaned through the fabric.
"I absolutely believe you, Ruby. And I have a surprise!" Peach waited for eye contact before she donned a big smile. Her next words went out the doorway. "Okay, come on in!"
In shuffled a grumpy-looking Emerald, clad in her dark gray hoodie and baggy blue jeans to fight the brisk air – she even wore black sneakers instead of her usual heels. Her hands were rammed into the pockets of her sweatshirt. One glance went to Peach's bespectacled, smiling face; another toward the slack-jawed, stiff Ruby. "Uh… there's nowhere for me to sit."
"Take my chair!" Ruby demanded, springing to her feet and motioning at it with both hands. "Take it. Take it!"
Emerald obliged her after a squint, plopping down and folding her arms. "Thanks, I guess."
"Tell Ruby why you're here."
"So she'll stop apologizing to me?" she replied sarcastically.
That set Ruby off again. She went back to pacing. "But I'm sorry! I don't think I've ever been this sorry in my entire life! Forgive meeeeeeee-"
Peach now wore a tiny frown. "Emerald, please."
One annoyed sigh later, she disgorged a rather lackluster and vaguely rehearsed-sounding reassurance. "Because I'm not actually mad at you. You didn't shoot me. That's all that matters."
At first, Ruby didn't quite know how to take her words and simply stood there, trembling vaguely. "You're really not mad?" finally leaked out. When Emerald shook her head, that quivering intensified.
"Uh… are you okay?" she asked, one thin green eyebrow raised. One second later, she was the victim of a high-velocity tackle hug; Ruby connected with such force that she couldn't help but let out a loud grunt.
"Thank you!" she whined, snuggling Emerald as best she could, given that the other half of the hug seemed totally unwilling to reciprocate. "So much!"
"Could… could you please get off of me…"
"Good!" Peach chirped, hands clasped near her chin and smiling broadly. "I think we're all settled here, then?"
Emerald continued to suffer under a clingy Ruby. "Please get off of me…"
"Erm." She finally ended the embrace, rolled backwards in a somersault onto her feet, then spent an awkward moment brushing off her black dress. "I think I still need to get checked out."
Peach's smile faded a bit. "You already passed the psychological assessment. With flying colors!"
"Yeah…" Again, Ruby paced, this time with a slow, anguished shuffle. "That's not what I meant." Both of them looked over as Emerald stood up.
"Riiiiight, this is probably between you guys," she stated, straightening out her hoodie. "Can I go?"
"Yes, Emerald, thank you." Once she left, Peach's lustrous powder blue eyes tracked Ruby until she looked back. "Is there something else you want to talk about?"
A fidgety Ruby could no longer maintain eye contact and glanced away, head hung. "Do you think it's because I have a Semblance? I mean… when mine manifested back at home, they gave dad the book and stuff and then Yang helped me understand it, but… like, everyone else at Signal was okay, and everyone else here seems okay and…" She snorted up a sharp breath, though her tears avoided falling for now. "Am I not okay?"
The smile was gone. Peach awkwardly rose from her bean bag chair and walked over, placing both hands on Ruby's shoulders. "That's a question I can't answer. We don't have the facilities for a proper examination on campus. You'd have to go into Vale – and I can't give you permission for that on my own."
"Should I talk to Miss Goodwitch?"
"I'll do it." Peach gave her a brief hug. "Give it a day or so, think it over. I'll let her know and we'll see if we can get you a shuttle pass. Okay?"
"Y-yeah. Okay." A check of the time on her Scroll caused Ruby to blink. "I guess I should probably go before Yang busts down the wall."
"Very well. See you in class tomorrow!" One more shoulder pat and Peach was on her way out with Ruby close behind. They went in different directions a moment later.
"Bye, Professor! Thank you!" She wandered off toward the entrance all the way at the other end of the hall, expecting Yang by herself, but instead running into her sister, her team, and Pyrrha's team. "When did you guys get here?" she asked with the best smile she could manage.
"They haven't been here too long," Yang explained. "How'd it go? I saw what's-her-name."
"Emerald. And it… went fine, I guess." Ruby fell in beside her as they all began to walk for the exit.
She didn't buy it, of course. "Yeah? You still don't look so good."
"Give me a minute, dang, I just got outta there." It became quiet; when she looked to see why, a tidal wave of concerned staring slammed into her, not just from her sister, but from her whole team and Pyrrha's too. She looked back at Yang. "I asked the question."
"It's not because you have a Semblance, damn it," she replied, suddenly agitated. "You're just tired."
"Yeah, but Blake was super-tired too that one time and I'm pretty sure she didn't hallucinate."
"Erm…" Blake shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "That's true."
"Chalk one up to the inner peace of the Faunus," Weiss mumbled to herself.
"What should we do?" Pyrrha sighed, scratching at her red hair.
"I want to get checked out in Vale. Really checked out." Ruby turned her back on them and stared out the nearest window for a brief moment. "If I can. I need to be sure." Yang's expression – I'm going too, then – she expected, sure, but the look on Weiss' face was a surprise. "Um… what?"
"I should tag along," she said, tossing her ponytail. Everyone looked her way. "What? I wouldn't want this dunce to get lost in the city." Despite the feigned snide in her tone, this sentiment earned her a powerful hug from the girl in question. "Ouch! Agh… be careful, you fool, I'm wearing my sword!"
Blake allowed herself a giggle. "I guess that makes four of us. I've never been inside a Kingdom before, anyway, it could be nice."
"Awwwwww, you guys..."
"Ahhh, I'm sure you're okay," Jaune added with a supportive clap on Ruby's shoulder. "Hey, what if we all went? Could be… I wanna say fun, but, uh..."
"Could we even get passes?" Nora asked while hugging Ren's arm, "We haven't had our exposure checks for the month yet."
"Eh. Let's just see what happens." Yang snickered as Weiss finally wrenched herself free. "You'd better get used to it, Weissy, you're her buddy now."
"I suppose I could have worse friends," was the huffy reply. After straightening out her dress, however, she acquired a more serious expression. "Let's pray all of this is for nothing."
"Yeeeeaaaaaah." Ruby took a slow, deep breath, eyes closed – until an idea forced them right back open. "Hey, um—never mind." She squirmed under their combined attention. "Seriously, never mind. I just had a thought. Dumb thought."
"Out with it, squirt."
"Oh gods why do I ever expect you to let things slide…" After a look around the hall – which included a couple of Semblance dashes around some of the larger leafy plants and the water fountain – to ensure their privacy, Ruby waved them all closer together. "What if… it was the thing?"
"The thing?" Pyrrha asked.
"The flash thing. It seriously messed up my eyes, right? Could it have hurt other stuff too?"
Uncertain glances bounced between everyone in the huddle until Pyrrha spoke up. "I don't know, but… hmm. If that was the case, I think you would have noticed something before now, right?" was the best she had to offer. Ruby grumbled uncertainly in reply.
"Yo, give me Opher's number."
The redhead blinked at Yang. "I—he already said he told us everything he knew."
Those lilac eyes narrowed. "If you believe that shit, I've got an iceberg in Vacuo to sell you. Give me his number."
She couldn't resist the intensity on Yang's face for long – especially not with a worried Ruby standing right there. "I guess he would be our best lead… all right. For Ruby's sake."
"Awwwwwwwww-"
"Don't get her started again," Weiss advised while smacking her hand across Ruby's mouth to stop her from cooing. Noise beyond their little clutch got her attention; she raised up and saw Professor Ozpin enter the hall from the other end. The the clacking of his cane on the wooden floor had given him away. "We'd better pick this up later."
"Okay." With a nod, Ruby led the formation toward him to leave. "Good evening, your Professorship!" she greeted quietly, in deference to the other students meditating around them. "Er, sir. How's things?"
"Hello, Miss Rose." The gaggle behind her caused his brow to raise slightly. "I thought I'd have a little wander over. I knew you had an appointment with Thumbelina, but I didn't think it involved your whole team and Miss Nikos' too."
"We're the Ruby support group," Jaune assured him with a light smile. "You know. Gotta have her back."
"I'm glad to see she has such good friends. Actually, running into you here saves a trip for all of us. Would you follow me for a moment?" Ozpin moved back outside with the eight kids in tow – while there were still people moving about on the walkway, it was certainly less crowded than the hall they'd just left. "Much better. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience, but we'd like to do your monthly checks right now."
"But we were just about to go eat," Nora whined.
"Is something wrong, sir?" Pyrrha asked, hands clasped behind her back.
"Not at all," he replied, a calm smile on his wizened face. "Our military friends would like to speak to you all in Vale tomorrow morning; this is merely standard procedure. Everyone who visits Army General Headquarters gets an exposure check beforehand."
Yang, who had been fluffing her copious locks, let her arms drop in surprise. "They want us to come to them? Like… in the Government District?" Ozpin nodded at her. "Shit. I should find something nice to wear, then."
"You should stop cussing, dang it!" Ruby chided before her attention returned to the Headmaster. "She does have a point, though, I… I can't wear my combat kit. It's not fancy enough."
Ozpin let out a measured laugh. "Miss Rose, you're going out there for an interview, not to enlist. So long as you don't show up in your pajamas, I don't think they'll mind."
"If you're so worried, I do have a few spare outfits that might fit you… as long as you don't mind wearing white."
"Geez, Weiss, you're generous as hell today! Feeling all right?"
"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?!"
Ruby looked back and snapped a "Shush!" at her sister and teammate. "Do you want us now now, sir?" Again, he nodded. "All right. We'll be at the infirmary in a shake."
"Thank you. Before I go…" Ozpin closed the distance slightly to avoid eavesdropping by any of the other students walking around. "I do appreciate your discretion about the Dust matter. If the Army decides to incorporate it into their training doctrine, we'll have it in ours not long afterward." He paused for a sigh. "Though I do wish Mister Riese was a bit more cooperative."
"He might be." Pyrrha smiled at Ozpin's mild confusion. "I can get in touch with him. Come to think of it, he might be looking for work now. Perhaps he'd sign on here?"
"Wait, what?" Ruby asked over her shoulder. "I thought he worked for gun friend-"
"We'll explain later," Jaune whispered back.
"The point is… he may listen to us." She had to move her long red ponytail back into position after a stiff breeze.
"He did seem willing to risk his life to help you." For a moment, he entertained the idea of using them as leverage, but they would be far less useful than his two friends – after all, Academy students were destined for early graves no matter what happened. He smiled again. "Which reminds me – Mister Riese never explained why. Do you have any ideas?"
"Ah…" Some awkward shuffling from Pyrrha moved her to the front of the pack. "Miss Stahl thinks it's because I look like his girlfriend. His, erm, dead girlfriend."
"That's kinda weird," Nora said, face screwed up slightly. Ren only shrugged.
"Help is help. But yeah. Little bit." Yang checked the time on Beacon Tower's massive clock and waved for attention from Ozpin. "Yo, can we go ahead? I'm really hungry and these checks take foreeeeever."
"Yes, of course. Sorry for keeping you." Goodbyes were exchanged and he left their company, walking slowly back toward his office in the tower – and slightly underwhelmed by Opher's reasoning. "Love," he sighed. "I miss those days." At least now he had a partial description for Opher's girlfriend – something which might get him closer to this edition of Lady Tanager's stubborn legacy. He summoned his irascible Winter Maiden, via Scroll call, to pass on that info. "Are you still at the dorms?"
"Yeah… why?" she asked, her voice somewhat groggy.
"I may need you out in the field shortly. I've just learned something interesting about our little problem."
That perked her up right quick. "Fine, old man. I'll get my gear."
It wasn't the rejection itself that really, truly bothered him – he'd earned it by not being immediately upfront about what had happened at Diamond Dust that morning. No, that loss he would take. It wasn't that they had yet to speak to him, either; if the unending, miserable years of his life taught him anything, it was patience. What kept him in his darkened apartment for more than two days, so far, stood in the same spot, staring out the window at Vale as the sun rose and set, was the double-edged sword of Indigo's resemblance to his mother. As positive as it had been the first time he saw her, like encouragement from beyond, now it felt that her ghost scolded him.
Effectively, he'd been sent to his room without dinner – except Opher himself was the source of his own punishment. This mental chasm was much different than the hole he fell down when Carmine disappeared – thank the gods for that, because staying in his apartment for 1,500 years probably wasn't an option – but the whole thing left him just as empty. He couldn't tell them the whole truth; they wouldn't believe it even if he did. He'd given them their space, too, while remaining awake nearby in case something stupid did happen. Out of sight. Permanently vigilant. A bipedal security system, just in case they needed him.
They hadn't. Yet. He wasn't sure whether or not to make the first move. Hell, they probably felt the same way. He stared at his open Scroll with a light frown. "One message won't hurt," he mumbled. "Surely we've all cooled off enough by now."
He tested the theory with a succinct apology to his former boss. I should have told you when you got back. I'm sorry.
No reply. Not unexpected. Opher put the device back in his pocket and stared at the city below. For all of its black vans of imminent doom and child-killing snipers, at least Vale wasn't a canyon in the ice at the literal top of the world. He wasn't technically alone here. And now that his passport was ironclad, backed by the talent of Atlas' Regular Army, he could…
Wait a second. He owed someone else an update about his situation. Snapped into motion by the chance to make one thing right right now, Opher left his window post and entered his bedroom. While searching his duffel bag, he took note of his lack of Dust crystal reserves. "Where is…"
Hiding in one pocket was the object of his search: Nila's business card. He tapped her number into his Scroll and waited.
"You've reached the inbox of Detective First Class Nila Ward. I'm not available right now. Leave your name and number after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can, thanks."
Voicemail. Damn it. Was his new passport the kind of thing he should dump in her message box? No, probably not. "Nila. It's Opher. There's something you need to hear. Call me when you get the chance."
With his options exhausted on that front, Opher put his Scroll away and looked at his Dust reserves, both external and internal. It had taken him months, but he'd finally run out of gravity Dust – and if he was going to figure out what the hell was going on outside these blasted city walls, he'd need to be able to fly more quietly than wind Dust would allow. Besides, with Carmine's distant sisters now on the field, the relative stealth of magic made crystal over the true art would give him an advantage. He emptied everything out of the bag that wasn't a Dust crystal, intent on filling it full of new ones by the time he finished shopping. After blowing literal dust off his hat and shoulders – a testament to how long he'd been standing in one spot – he stuffed his feet into his silver sneakers and walked out. Schwarze's closed door drew his eye, of course. As did Indigo's, farther down. In fact, he even cast a look at Winter's apartment too, wondering why she hadn't gotten in touch – perhaps, he thought with a smirk, that she was too busy dealing with the contents of their last conversation. Suitably prepared, Opher walked down the hall and entered the elevator to leave.
Once on the sidewalk, his Scroll came out again so he could find the nearest Dust shops. The sparse crowd around him filled the air with pleasant, vapid conversation; this meant he only noticed the column of black smoke rising from the northern side of the port district after looking away from his Scroll. "Uh…" he mumbled, face screwed up with concern. "Again?"
An old man with a neat mustache and a sharp suit caught his expression on the way past, and stopped to pat him on the shoulder with a "Don't worry about it, young man, it's under control," before departing just as quickly as he arrived.
"I—okay, I guess?" a startled Opher said.
"It's fiiiiine!" another person called, this one a young woman in a solid green dress, with raven hair, who threw the reassurance at him much as the old man just did. "No problem."
"Right…" Realizing he was the only person openly concerned about the apparent fire, Opher donned an apathetic mask and walked toward it, planning to hit a few shops on the way by. The closest of these stores was about three or four blocks due west.
Off he went through the brisk evening air… and through dozens of people that wouldn't even look at the smoke, lit up by the dying sun as it towered into the sky, much less speak about whatever possible fire was the source. Every time he glanced up, it seemed the column had gotten larger. By the time he reached his first destination, airships were heading toward the scene. At some point he realized he'd ended up in the commercial district south of the Prisma River – nearly every building he passed by was a shop, selling everything from piper leaves wrapped in tan cigarette paper, to food, to furniture, to clothes. He had time to look at their wares through the windows, as every so often the crowd would bunch up to pass through automatic ID scanners. His first target was a neat little building – apparently new Atlesian-style construction, a glass-and-steel sore thumb stuck out among gray stone facades and sash windows – that he entered after another glance up at the smoke.
When he left that store, stocked up on ice and water crystals but empty-handed when it came to everything else, he noticed police vehicles heading in that direction as well. Just police. Nothing he recognized as any kind of fire truck, nor an ambulance – and research told him what those would look like. He pressed on toward the docks. Their sliver-and-black vehicles moved past at relatively high speed, flashing lights and flicking on their sirens to move taxis or trucks out of the way. The people around him paid no mind to the noise – but every time someone else caught Opher watching for too long, they would engage him with a reassurance.
"Don't pay it any attention, it's fine!"
"Ah, nothing's goin' on, don't even give it a second thought."
"I'm sure they have everything well in hand, son."
They never seemed to say this to each other, only to him; after all, nobody but Opher seemed to be interested in the situation.
Except, he noticed after a few more blocks of travel the next shop, for the children. The younger they were, the more visceral their reactions – those who seemed to be of single-digit ages had no issues pointing up at the billowing tower of black smoke while blurting out a nervous "Mommy, look!" or issuing silent, uneasy tugs at their guardians' pant legs or skirts. Preteens seemed to occupy the same worry bracket as Opher himself did, firing looks at the police cars and the smoke; as he observed, he began to catch non-verbal cues from the adults directed toward them. Smiles. Waves. The occasional shoulder pat. Then the kid would look away. Teenagers pretended to be too busy with their Scrolls to care, but they weren't immune from sneaky glances. Opher almost walked right past the next Dust shop, lost in thought. A brief jaunt in this red-brick structure yielded some yellow electric Dust, at least, but not much.
"Damn," he mumbled under his breath, staring into his open bag once he got back outside. "Didn't think I actually needed to go across town." One more look at his Scroll map, where he saw a somewhat familiar name: Rainglass. Her shop wasn't the closest, but its presence on his screen told him just how close he'd gotten to the port district. Instead of hitting the next nearest store, he made a beeline for hers instead, more curious about the fire than resupplying his Dust.
This took some serious walking; enough time passed that the billowing tower of smoke was cut in half by shadows cast from the mountains to the far east. Only the top of the cloud was lit when he caught sight of Heather's store – and from this close distance, he could hear the dull tones of roaring fire. Far fewer people were out and about, as well, but those on the sidewalks with him seemed just as determined to ignore the problem as everyone else. Heather's glass-fronted, cinder block establishment was perhaps eight, maybe ten times larger than Diamond Dust, and unlike Indigo, she had multiple employees. Opher wandered in through the double doors and found a few other shoppers – plus a huge collection of crystals – waiting for him. The owner herself was behind the counter along the right-hand well. "Hey!" she said, smiling when his dull green eyes met her cheerful steel blue ones. "I remember you. Opher, right?"
"Yep." Like Indigo, she also had a glass display case for a counter – it contained, among many other things, exactly four small purple gravity Dust crystals. "Oh, finally, I've been all over the place looking for some of these. How much?"
"Thirty thousand for the set – and, no, we can't let them go individually, either."
He almost dropped his duffel bag in surprise. "I—what. It'll take me a year to make that much money." His face softened with regret. "Or it would have, I guess." He met Heather's confused look with a weak smile a moment later. "Indy had to let me go."
"Aw, that's too bad. Hey, are you looking to stay in the game? I can always use an extra courier."
Before Opher could answer, a tremendous noise and vibration rattled the building. It was potent enough to dislodge some of the displays, including some of the carefully-arranged stones in the display case – and to draw a small crack in the corner of one of the large glass windows up front. After some initial, silent shock, everyone else went right back to what they were doing, including Heather, whose face said she was still waiting for an answer. "Uh, are you sure it's safe to be open?" he asked. "That sounded pretty bad."
Her smile never wavered. "Nah, it's fine. I was open through the last fire. It should go out pretty soon."
The longer he gazed at her, the more he realized how hard she was suppressing her worry. Indigo, Schwarze, Nila, even the kids at Beacon had taught him what to look for in that regard. "Oh. I'll make this quick anyway and get out of your hair." He excused himself to move through the shop and pluck a few crystals off the shelves – he gave up on getting the gravity stones, which were far out of his financial reach – then returned to the counter. "This should do it, I think."
"Yep yep!" Heather went about ringing up his purchase. "We need to scan your ID for purchases over two hundred Lien."
"Fine." He handed her his new chip.
"Ah, I figured you were Atlesian… oh. Wow. You were in the Regular Army up there? Um… geez. Thanks for your service."
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled while taking back his chip and dropping a Lien card on the counter.
"Hee hee, bashful. Indigo's the same way. No wonder you two hit it off." Heather swiped his Lien and returned the card while sliding a neat little white bag with her shop's fancy script logo across the counter. As he picked it up, another, slightly less potent, rumble battered the structure. "Seriously, hit me up if you need some work!"
"I'll… think about it, I guess." Opher moved toward the door, but before he could reach it, a police officer poked his head in.
"Close it up," he said to Heather. "Everyone please head south or east. Just as a precaution."
They acted without hesitation and almost in unison; customers put back the items they had no chance to purchase, while Heather's employees either walked out the door or went into the back to tell those who hadn't heard the order to leave. Heather herself stood by the entrance, holding one door open so people could leave without any delay.
"Go on," she told Opher when they were the only two left. "You first. Go." His quizzical look made her giggle – it came out nervous due to the general situation. "Pff, my grandfather was in the Valesian Navy. The captain is always the last off the boat, right?"
That resolve earned her a little smile. "Take care of yourself. I don't want Indigo to lose a friend. She ain't got many."
They split up once they left the shop; people generally moved toward the commercial district he'd left on his way here, shepherded by smiling, placid police officers in their gray coats. That was the direction Opher chose to go. Conversation, what little there was to hear, seemed utterly calm – although, once more, the children were the most emotional.
He went with the flow until he reached a cross street and looked left. Dusk meant he could see the light of the fire at the base of the gigantic tower of smoke – yellow and orange tones, mostly, plus that distant fearsome groan. He also caught a glimpse of some red, boxy vehicles with flashing red and white lights. One block later, while the police assisting with the evacuation were distracted by some couples with unhappy children, he ducked out of the crowd and into an alleyway, hellbent on rushing north to reach the disaster. The sidewalks and roads were deserted within two blocks; shortly, he reached a steel-truss cantilever road bridge that stretched a few hundred meters across the Prisma River. A police roadblock prevented him from using the bridge itself, but from here he could see the source of the fire: one of the large oil refineries that turned crude from the sands of Vacuo into usable fuels for a myriad of Valesian industries. Several smokestacks and fractionating columns – long, stretched out silver cylinders with hemispherical tops, coated in metal pipes and scaffolding – jutted into the air in front of the giant column of smoke erupting from the complex.
Before any of the cops spotted him, Opher dashed behind a building to think. "How the fuck can I get across the river…" he mumbled, looking around for a good entry point. He looked up and noticed the wind seemed to be carrying the noxious cloud almost directly overhead. It was close – close enough to fly into. In preparation, he crammed all the colors of Dust crystals he had into his mouth, chewed on them uncomfortably for a moment, then swallowed the shards. The moment they reached his stomach and began to break down, he blasted off, straight up, into the smoke. Once concealed, it was easy to go against the flow and follow it back to the source – though the acerbic nature of the cloud made breathing less than pleasant.
He dropped out of the smoke once the heat and light became intense enough, landing in what seemed to be the center of hell on Remnant. Burst pipes were all around him, belching noisy torrents of flame fueled by their contents. Metal frames were warped in the blistering air. Even parts of the pavement seemed to be melted, though fortunately not the area on which he stood. More ice crystals went into his mouth so his body could stay cool – not that the heat could really hurt him, he just wanted to make it easier to concentrate. No workers were in sight; a few buildings ahead seemed like a good place to start looking, so Opher wind-charged through the inferno to reach them and shouldered down the door once he arrived at the nearest entrance. This building was empty. Back out he went, just in time to be thrown into the air by another explosion. Instead of trying to resist the shockwave, however, he used it to land on the roof of the tallest building in the cluster and gain entry via the roof access. In here was a squared-off, spiral staircase which circled around a column of white pipes and valves – and, more importantly, a few people hunkered down in the corner a few flights down, all dressed in drab green jumpsuits and white hard hats.
"Um, who are you?" a silver-haired, red-eyed young woman said when Opher arrived, noting his street clothes and lack of head protection. She was huddled with four others, two more women and two men, who all looked up at him with confusion. Sweat glittered on all their faces.
He examined the state of his precious hat while replying, "Not important. How do I get you outta here?"
One of the men, blue-eyed with a closely-trimmed beard, blinked with surprise. "Excuse me? We can't leave, we came in here because of the explosions-" Another such blast cut him off, shaking the whole staircase and causing everyone but Opher to flinch. "L-l-like I said," he picked up when it became relatively still again, "we're stuck. There's no way we can get to the coffin."
Opher took up a position in front of them on one knee. "The what?" he asked loudly.
Another woman, green-eyed with dull brown hair, explained. "The coffin! It's the underground reinforced concrete shelter in the middle of the complex! If we can't get there, the firefighters won't be able to recover us when the fire burns out! We'll get blown to pieces!"
The building shook against another detonation; Opher looked back over his shoulder toward the direction from which the awful noise came. "They can't put the fire out themselves?"
Silver hair replied with bad news. "No way! We just got a fresh load of crude, the pipes are full of oil and distillates! All the water in the river wouldn't put this out!"
"If I help you out of here, can you show me where it is?"
"That's suicidal!" green eyes shouted. "The ground entrance is blocked, anyway, we're trapped!" She squealed with terror when Opher lifted them all in the gentle hands of his gravity magic, complete with arm motions to ensure they understood what was happening. "Wh—we're f-flying!"
"When we get to the roof, show me where to go!" he yelled back while putting on his hat. His floating, flailing cargo hovered along after him as he scaled the stairs; their screaming intensified once they reached the roof access door. "Listen! I won't let anything happen to you, but you need to tell me where your shelter is!"
The other man finally spoke up, a young, black-haired, clean-shaven guy with terrified brown eyes. "It's—it's in the concrete pad between here and the north storage tanks! Look for the big white cylinders, four of 'em, in a line, then look down for the steel posts with the green lights on top!"
"Seems easy enough." Opher punted the door open and stepped back into the conflagration. One quick glance told him there were fewer of the silver columns than before – some of them had been replaced by torn metal and jets of fire, which added to the smoke still pouring up into the dusk sky. Another glance behind him revealed the promised storage tanks. He shuffled his charges toward the far edge of the roof, looked down, and saw the posts and a large metal hatch placed between them. "Got it. Clench your asses, we're leaving!"
All of them either jumped or were hauled via true art off the roof and dropped toward the ground, shrieking all the way despite falling no faster than detached bird feathers. Opher increased that velocity when another enormous blast caused the building behind them to partially crumple. Once they reached the ground, he waved them toward the posts – they needed no further urging to run for their lives. He caught up to them as the two men started to open the hatch.
"Gods help me, how did you… how did you do that…" silver hair gasped, body wilted by the heat. She yelped with fright when a cocoon of ice embraced them, waved into existence by Opher's nonchalant motions.
"Dust. What a concept," he joked while helping tug the heavy door open. "Okay, kids, in we go."
The hatch led to a concrete, cylindrical shaft that went straight down, featuring a ladder to climb and barely enough space for a person to use it. Opher was the last to enter, though he didn't bother closing the hatch as he was too busy making sure his duffel bag could come with him. Several moments of climbing later, he reached a dimly-lit tunnel that was large enough in diameter for him to stand up. The refinery workers were already some distance ahead.
"How far underground are we?" he asked, voice echoed by the unyielding concrete.
"I forget how many meters it is. We're probably close to the water table," green eyes replied. She came back to hug him a second later. "Thank you. My family… it would have been so hard for them."
He waved off her gratitude. "Eh."
Bearded blue-eyes seconded her emotion. "Seriously, man. Who knows how many lives you saved."
"What? Pretty sure it was five…" The tunnel ended, becoming an entrance into a huge concrete box full of other workers. While most were in green jumpsuits, some wore distinctly more office-oriented clothing – probably management types, Opher decided. Dozens of sweating people were present. "Oh, we're here. Hey, who's in charge? Are there any people missing? I'll go back up and find 'em."
A headcount was in order, something that took a little bit. "All presented and accounted for," one of the women in a skirt and blouse said afterward. "Who are you, exactly?"
"Doesn't matter." Opher dropped his bag on the floor and took up standing at the entrance with his back to them. "So you just stay in here until this burns out?"
Silver hair had the answer. "Pretty much, even though it might take days."
"Days? What are you gonna do in here until then? Is this like a whole bunker complex or something?"
"Well, no, we're going to leave the hatch shut," another manager, this one an older, bald man, explained. "Or, we will, once you get out. I don't think we can trap a random civilian down here. Seriously, where did you come from?"
"Leave? He's stuck with us, it's awful up there. The pump tower almost got leveled on our way here."
"The hatch isn't even closed," green eyes pointed out. "Mystery guy didn't shut it."
Opher turned to face them at last, intending to figure out exactly what amenities this bunker had to offer for a long-term stay. Many pairs of eyes met his – resigned, terrified, hopeless stares washed over from all angles, save from those huddled together on the floor in hugs to weep their pain together. "Trap…" he said, mostly to himself. Then it hit him: he couldn't see any air vents, which explained why it was so cold and clammy. "There's no ventilation in here?"
"I mean… we don't need it," silver hair said. "We don't call it the coffin for nothing." The horror which crept into Opher's confused expression made her blink. "Did you see how bad it was up there? If the fire damages the safety valves in section C, it'll hit the storage tanks and level the whole district."
"Unless the fire department stops it," Opher shot back at her. She said nothing. "Right?!"
"The fire department is busy trying to protect the surrounding facilities," an older woman with glasses said – the oldest of the bunch, so far as Opher could tell. If he had to guess, he'd say she was in charge of the refinery. "That's why we're all down here. It's hopeless. The columns got breached."
"You're down here to die."
The old woman nodded. "Better chances for our families to avoid exile because the funerals will have our bodies intact. Less chance for us to get exiled because the government wants someone to punish quietly to keep the city calm. I'm afraid you're in the same situation now."
At last, their resignation spread to him – but only for a fraction of a second. He turned to listen the dull, distant sounds of the cataclysm through the bunker entrance; his ice shield must have melted, finally. The cold air filled up with low voices – workers muttered about the Grimm, about what to put in their wills, how to arrange their services, what they could do to see to their loved ones, even in death. Sure, the size of the settlement was wildly different, but in reality, nothing had changed. Even accidents were battles in their endless war. Now he was in the middle of one. Fresh wounds of dejection and despair bled over scars older than the city above them; combined, their pain was too much for him to bear.
"Hey, man, you should try to get out while you still can. I don't know what you did to help us, but maybe it you can use it to escape. They might not get mad at you since you're just a random guy."
Opher looked back at silver hair, who wore a bleak smile. "No. I'm going to put the fire out." Some of them burst out into startled laughter. "And then all of you are going to go home."
"They'd never let us stay here!" the plant manager said. "The whole city is probably on edge by now and they're going to blame my workers for-"
"I do not care what this Kingdom thinks!" he roared, loud enough that the whole group backed away from him in terror until they bumped up against the far wall – in fact, he was so mad that he'd started to hover without realizing it. In midair, he turned back to the entrance. "They'll get the fuck over it. I didn't barge in here to shut a hundred caskets. I'll come get you when it's safe. Keep an eye on my bag."
Magic propelled him down the tunnel, an angry human bullet in a concrete gun. Once at the end, he grabbed the ladder just long enough to aim himself and shot upward, slamming into the half-shut hatch on the way with a terrific clash of steel against his ancient, Aura-driven iron armor. The pump tower he'd rescued the crew from no longer existed; another column explosion left it flattened and scattered across the concrete pad. Wind howled past him as the firestorm heated the atmosphere and fresh air rushed by to replace it. One pathetic stream of water from beyond the refinery wall fell on the inferno without effect as Opher walked toward those bright flames; above him were airships with what looked like huge buckets, trying to position themselves over the fire without much success. Before he could figure out how much damage the complex had already suffered, he needed to slay this screaming monster. Maybe, he thought while rolling up his long white sleeves, it'd be a good chance to vent...
...and to figure out if his magic was dying too.
"All of it," he told himself as white fog collected in the air around him, replenishing itself even as the fire sucked it up. "I want all of it. This ends now."
The temperature dropped in a short radius all around his body like a sinking stone – from volcano, to summer afternoon, to winter in the interior of Solitas. It kept falling. It fell until what little water vapor remained in the air became ice that shattered on the concrete. It dropped until his tongue froze to the roof of his mouth when he tried to breathe. His exposed skin succumbed to frostbite until his Aura stopped that process by turning it black with iron. Cold conducted into his body by that metal reduced its temperature too, until some of the fire crystals he'd eaten earlier were forcibly detonated by his essence. He dropped to one knee, then to both knees, his arms crossed over his chest. The concrete on which he'd been standing was covered by solid white ice, even harder than the cement below it. That chill crawled up his legs, freezing him to the ground. He allowed his eyes to shut.
Then he screamed. Ground and pipes and shattered metal were shoved aside by building-sized spikes of frozen water which erupted from the ground in waves of dozens, clenching the fire in their frigid grip and squeezing it to death. Even as they melted into water, more appeared – his magical discharge lasted until the smoke ceased rising into the air and the refinery became silent. The strength he needed to remain upright went with that noxious cloud; Opher slumped awkwardly, face-down against the ice since his legs were still frozen in place. "Unnnh…" he droned a moment later. There was no point in lifting his head to check for more fires – even if he wanted to, thick fog existed where the relatively warm air met his freezing-cold bubble. The outside world was lost behind it.
He listened instead, to the groaning of metal and distant, confused shouting. If there was another fire, it was too quiet for him to hear, so he allowed himself to recover, one cheek still pressed against the ice. "Seems about right," he mumbled lowly – indeed, his magic seemed to be behaving as expected, which made the state of the Maidens' power even more confusing. "Then why…"
The fog, both mental and actual, began to clear. Opher snapped motions at his legs to melt the ice with the fire Dust in his veins; once he was able to stand, he walked in a large, slow circle to get his feet back under him. More airships were overhead – one even dumped its load of river water on the ice spires, assuming the white haze was still smoke. The fringes of that drop splashed him as he moved toward the hatch while he waved his hands around to blow away the fog with little shots of wind Dust. Firefighters emerged from the haze, clad in heavy yellow coats and pants, with red helmets on their heads. They dragged a flat hose with them to drown out a blaze that no longer existed. "What on Remnant happened here?!" one of them exclaimed upon seeing the massive ice outcroppings.
They looked at Opher, blue-lipped and shivering, his skin a bright red while his Aura continued repairs on frostbitten flesh. Little chunks of ice were still frozen to his gray cargo pants. There were even icicles on the wide brim of his camouflage hat. Some of the cold fog stuck to him as he walked, in a roughly-humanoid shape, like a person hugging him from behind. "I think it's out," he told them on his way by. "If you find any other fires, let me know. I'm gonna go get the people out of the underground thing."
"Hold up… what?" a startled female firefighter asked. "Did you… wait… excuse me?"
She went ignored. Once Opher reached the hatch, he apathetically fell into it instead of using the ladder; a little twist on his way down the shaft ensured he landed on his feet with a loud clap. "It's over!" he called into the tunnel. "Come on!" A chorus of disbelieving outbursts was his reply. "I'm serious! Get your asses out here!"
Only silver hair was brave enough to approach. "You're… you're serious?" she asked while walking toward him.
"Yeah. What's your name?"
"Arcene. Arcene Wright." She looked up the shaft as Opher stepped back to give her room. "It's awful quiet up there…" Not for long; she squealed as Opher used his magic to gently launch her up so she could verify his claims. When she grabbed the ladder near the top, he let her go. After a quick look around, she shouted again, this time with bewildered amazement, then slid back down the ladder. "Oh my gods?!" she yelled near the bottom, almost falling off when she arrived. "He's not kidding! Holy cow! The fire's out! Everything past the Coriander Road pump tower looks totally intact!" she yelled down the tunnel. "You gotta come see!"
"How is that possible?!" The probable plant manager's voice.
At last, the rest of them began to file out into the passageway, so Opher launched himself up the shaft to make room. People were everywhere on the surface now – firefighters and police searched the complex for further problems, while airships with mounted spotlights cast beams of white on his ice sculpture. He couldn't see any other pillars of smoke rising from the area. A large gathering of gray- and yellow-clad officials were trying to figure out where the ice had come from. "I'm not sure how much damage I did putting this out," he said to the old woman as she climbed the ladder, offering her a hand when she got close. "Might be a good idea to have your guys check the pipes and such."
She didn't reply; the ice wall left her speechless. More of her colleagues emerged from the hatch, one-by-one, and had much the same reaction beyond a few low gasps and one exclaimed "Gods above!" when they saw his handiwork.
Opher stayed near the hatch to help them all onto the surface. Arcene was the last – she had his bag on her shoulder. "I got your bag," she said as he guided her off the ladder.
He took it and draped it on his shoulder. "Thank you. I think I'm done here, so…" Or not; police had finally noticed their presence and were on the way over. "Great."
Arcene doffed her hard hat to smooth down her hair. "Good luck, uh… what's your name again?"
"Opher."
"Huh. Opher. Well, yeah, good luck. And thank you for… whatever it is you did." Arcene took her leave as the old woman recovered her senses and called on them to start securing the refinery's various systems. As they broke up, Opher walked in a totally different direction toward the nearest visible street entrance.
"Excuse me! Sir! Sir!" yelled a squeaky voice, followed by a lower "Dispatch, it's Collins. I've got a—like, a civilian, I guess? I'm going to talk to him," then another shout his way. "Excuse me! Excuse me!"
Opher looked back and found an adorably short police officer in a gray uniform, waving her arms frantically to get his attention, with shiny black hair bouncing all over as she jumped up and down. Her young, tanned face indicated she was probably new to the force – she couldn't have been more than twenty. The little cop almost skipped along in order to catch him. "I hear you," he said, then pointed toward the huge gate to the street outside. "Can we talk out there?"
Noting his calm, the cop relented a little. "Ummmmmm, fine, but I need your name first, please. Or your ID, that'd work too!" She took the chip when he handed it over. "Thanks!" One scan later told her everything she needed to know. "Dispatch, subject's name is Opher… Reesee? Rye-sye?"
"Rye-see," he corrected after a grumble.
"Rye-see! Sorry. Subject's name is Opher Riese, address-"
Suddenly, another voice broke through on her radio. "D1C Ward, Dispatch, I'll help her talk to this guy." To Opher's ears, she seemed just a little frantic. "PO Collins, where are you?"
"Headed toward the Paprika Street refinery entrance, ma'am!" she replied, almost tossing Opher back his ID.
"Copy. Just keep an eye on him until I get there. Ward out."
Once they passed through the gate, Opher walked off down the sidewalk a few meters, dropped his bag, then sat down with his back against the refinery wall. Suspended over the road were pipes of all diameters and colors, bolted to metal trusses which were themselves anchored to evenly-spaced posts in the sidewalks. This pipe network snaked around every corner of every street he could see. People flowed in and out of the gate beside them, and, occasionally, a fire truck would drive by with lights flashing but sirens off.
Collins, full of nervous energy, couldn't help but pace in front of him and babble. "I've never seen anything like it!" she said. "Do you know what happened? Where did that ice come from?"
"Maybe the gods did it," he quipped – which, in an extremely roundabout sense, was kind of true. He hugged his knees and hid his face. A low, despondent "Fuck me…" slipped out shortly after.
"If that's the case, I need to pray more." Collins snapped to attention when she saw Nila approach, even throwing up a salute. "Ma'am!"
The detective wore another skirt suit – this one gray with black pinstripes – and a white blouse, but no necktie. Her graying hair, while down, was slicked tightly back to keep it out of her gold eyes... which she rolled at the patrol officer's antics. "Collins, why are—you don't need to salute, we're not in the military." She glanced down at Opher. "They need help on Coriander directing the fire department hardware. I'll handle this."
"Yes ma'am!" Another salute, then Collins was on her way.
Unwilling to mess up her sharp outfit, Nila remained standing, but leaned against the wall beside him. "Why are you here?"
"Wanted to check out the fire," he replied, head still bowed.
"I see. I also see you left me a voicemail." She stooped when he motioned for her to do so. "What?"
"The passport issue is no longer an issue," he whispered.
Nila acknowledged this with a nod, though her face remained blank. "Can you prove it?" He handed up his new chip, which she scanned right away. "You… you were in the Atlesian military?"
"It's not as past-tense as you might think. Keep it quiet."
She returned his chip with a low sigh. "Great. I traded one secret for another."
He chuckled weakly at this. "I don't think being in the military is illegal, so you're probably fine."
"If you're not lying to me." The towering ice, visible over the refinery wall, caught her eye as spotlights from above made it glitter. "Can you tell me about that?"
Opher rose, dusting off his shirt and pants on the way up. "I saw a problem. I fixed the problem." Their eyes met. "That's exactly what happened."
"Gods help us all," she whispered, looking at the ice one more time. "Well. I sure can't physically detain you, so... I guess you're free to leave." He didn't move. "What? Go home."
"Are those refinery workers going to be exiled? They seemed pretty sure about it. I even got to see the coffin."
Nila rubbed the back of her neck with a frown. "Every heavy industrial facility has one of those for disasters. Gives the workers' families something to bury if-"
"I already fucking heard this from them."
She trembled subtly at his anger, restrained as it was, and looked up at him again. "I don't know. You certainly helped their chances of staying in Vale."
"Yeah." At last, Opher picked up his bag, but before he turned to leave, he and Nila heard a commotion that caused them both to look around with confusion. "Well. If there's another fire, you might get to see me in action."
Nila squinted at this and turned on her earpiece to listen to traffic – it didn't take long for her to get the message to look up. A shimmering, rainbow glow in the sky high above Vale was her reward. "Whoa! What is that?" she blurted out, pointing up.
Opher only gave it a furtive glance. "Good night, Detective." He walked off without another word, using his Scroll to guide him home. This clued him in to a couple of things: first, Indigo hadn't replied to his message; second, he did have a text from a different source – Yang Xiao Long.
Hey, I need to talk to you about Ruby.
That request went unanswered – he had bigger problems to think about right now. Like why his magic seemed normal when the sorcery of the Maidens Four – who used to be some of the most powerful wielders of the true art on the entire planet – had shriveled up to the point where even he could beat them. His scowl only increased as he walked away from the chaos. "It's upside-down," he mumbled.
Just as upside-down as the victims of a disaster being being ejected for their presence in that disaster, regardless of fault. He glanced back at the refinery. While this revolted him, he comprehended it, at least, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth – especially when compared to his distant memories of the world before Grimm. Opher needed a fuller picture of how things worked now, but he suspected he wouldn't get that by asking the people who lived here. He wouldn't be able to get answers about the tawdry state of the Maidens' gifts from anyone behind these walls, that was for certain.
Behind these walls…
Opher came to an abrupt halt, eyes wide with thought. There was someone he could talk to about both things. She might even deliver him halfway-truthful answers. He'd let things cool off for now. He'd let the city calm down. He'd handle whatever questions arose in the morning.
Tomorrow night, however, he'd be paying Beatrix Malachite a little visit.
Olivine and Amber had been watching the fire – or, rather, the huge pillar of smoke it made as it wafted high above the south end of the plains in the dying light of the sun – from their perch on Beacon Cliff, well south of campus. They were out there to talk, brainstorming with each other in an effort to see if either one remembered encountering anyone who looked like Pyrrha Nikos in their travels around Anima and Sanus.
That conversation died the moment Opher unleashed his magic against the refinery fire. Neither woman had spoken since; several agonizing minutes of astonished silence finally ended when the aurora above the city began to form. "Did… did you feel…" Amber said.
"Feel it? I fuckin' see it, look," Olivine replied, pointing out toward the dim rainbow in the sky. "No wonder he put up a fight against you and Raven, holy hell." A calm mask hid the immense amount of turmoil boiling in her barrel chest as the Winter Maiden screamed bloody, soundless murder. That power pounded on her soul like a locked door, but she couldn't comprehend its message – she only understood its unbridled shock. It left her trembling subtly. "My girl is screaming like a banshee. She knows something, but I can't understand her. Damn it..."
"There's no way it was him. Maybe it was Raven. Could it be Raven?"
"You know it ain't."
"But… but that means…" Amber stood up and walked to the very edge of the cliff, her green cloak fluttering out behind her in the stiff breeze. "I though I had caused the aurora?" Her hands went to her head. "Gods above who parts the stars, it can't be him! It can't be. It just… it can't!"
Olivine, still a little shaky, stood up and walked over to steady her with one massive hand on her shoulder. "Amber. Breathe. The old man will handle this. He'll know what to do. We're going to find out where he came from, who his friends are – we will solve this. Breathe."
She trembled almost out of control. "His magic, though, it's… there's no way it should be this strong, I don't understand-"
"Amber!" she snapped. Only when their eyes met did she speak again. "Listen. I know you're scared, but you won't have to fight him alone again. I swear. We'll handle him together, all of us – Cinder too, whenever she gets ready. Now come on. I'll bet my ass that the old man is gonna want to see us. Let's be calm when we get there."
Author's note: Hi! I suppose I owe you a bit of an update about, you know. Stuff. I'm personally not in great health at the moment, not due to any virus, or at least I think. I've been staying isolated to avoid catching the beerbonic plague, so getting checked out isn't easy, especially not where I live, which has become a huge hot spot. I'm also sorry to say that my friend out-of-state lost basically her whole family to the virus. So, Jen, this one's for you.
That's super depressing! Let's talk story. I'm still re-reading a lot and editing to fix awkward sentences and typos and things, as usual. I've given up a couple of toxic timesinks, so releases should be somewhat more frequent. I might not be able to match two chapters a month again, but I won't be leaving you hanging for two or three months at a time, hopefully. Sorry about that.