Renné was nothing but exhausted and collapsed into her bed. She knew she wasn't just exhausted, either. She was upset, she was angry, and she was suffering from severe aura loss. So help me God...she thought weakly. To let this go for now, anyways. It had been almost a year since she had abandoned her son and husband, leaving them, her friends, family, and the world to think she was dead. It was painful in every way imaginable, still. Renné kept telling herself it would never be too late to make things right, that Ozpin would never — no, could never lie — when the stakes were so high. He had said she would get to see her son and husband again, even if it took years. She believed it. Renné supposed she would probably have nothing left if she couldn't cling to her return one day. God, I want to dream again, she thought, tears biting at the corners of her eyes and dragging the dust and dried sweat and makeup from the day into her lashes and into her eyes. It was a physically painful experience, and her eyes kept fluttering to try and fight them and the tears away. Renné rested her arm over her eyes, closing them and feeling resigned. In some ways, she thought she was as bad as her mother these days with all that she had done in the name of "sacrifice."

"You are unbreakable!" Raven had shouted at her earlier that day. They had been sparring deep in the woods, using no semblances or Dust (or in Raven's case, magic) and only physical weapons. Swords. Knives. Guns. Their own two fists and feet. "Stop acting like a child and get off the ground and fight!"

Renné has stood up shakily, her hair a mess and shagging into her eyes. Dirt caked her fingers and seemed to pervade every part of her body. "Stop treating me like I'm lesser than you when we fight!" She snapped at Raven, throwing a knife at her. Raven only just dodged out of the way. "You're —"

"Stronger!" Raven shot back, blocking another knife with her sword. "I have years — decades, even —of experience over you! If I didn't, you probably would have landed a solid hit on me already without resorting to cowardice!"

"I'm not a coward!" Renné shouted, shooting at her. Her voice, however, betrayed her true fears. "You're just a —"

"Just because I can't break you doesn't mean you're not a coward!" Raven began to block the bullets with swift strikes from her blade. "I hope you know fear is just a damn crutch that's going to hold you back and destroy whatever the hell it is you have to cling to! Give in, Angelica! You're not a Schnee anymore! Prove it to me!"

"If I'm not a Schnee anymore," Renné screamed, finally landing a shot on Raven's shoulder. "Then stop calling me by that name!"

Renné glared up at the faux-ceiling created by the tarps of her tent once she opened her eyes and pushed her arm back to rest on her forehead instead. She couldn't help but wonder what her old friends would say if they knew she was still alive. Tai would probably understand but Glynda and James wouldn't. Renné — no, Angelica — could all but feel her best friend slapping her, absolutely horrified that she would abandon her own family. Renné knew in her heart that was what she had done but she refused to dwell on it lest she become guilty. Raven had told her guilt was a funny emotion, one that weak people were held back by. Renné saw her point. She wondered if Angelica would have too. It was odd, having fracked herself into two different layers. She never felt quite right, and heart was always heavy. Her head often ached, and she couldn't imagine facing the life she had left behind when she acknowledged it. Raven kept insisting she was unbreakable and Renné sought to prove it. She couldn't trust what she couldn't see, after all, and, more than anything else, Renné could see that nothing could get to her anymore.

The question of whether or not Angelica could have taken it was too dark for her to even consider.

Arwyen Morell stared at Taiyang Xiao Long in surprise upon him stepping into her office. He was one of the last people she had expected (let alone wanted) to see. After the loss of his wife, Arwyen imagined he would be less than agreeable, let alone in a state of mind to have a rational conversation. Her years of masking taking over, however, she stood up, shook his hand, offered condolences, sat him down, and poured him a cup of coffee. Tai was nothing short of shocked by her behavior. He had assumed, based on all of his previous interactions with Atlesian government officials, that she would be sharp, brusque, and perhaps even a little cruel. He got the sense that many people in Atlas were fond of torturing others, whether physically or otherwise. He could cite any number of examples ranging from Lillian Schnee to Annabella Sassler, the director of the CIA. He kept those unsavory thoughts to himself for the time being. Watching Morell over the rim of the mug, Tai let her speak. She was used to being listened to, of that much he was certain. He loathed himself when a few decidedly lecherous thoughts began to form in his mind regarding her perfectly tailored suit and the way it hugged her breasts. He finished his drink and glanced briefly to his hands.

He was not wearing his wedding ring, although that had far more to do with grief than anything else. Stealing a glance at hers, he realised she did not wear one either. Tai told himself he didn't care. She was nothing to him, after all.

"I confess, I didn't think you would come all the way to Atlas in a search for information," Arwyen eyed him critically. "That is why you're here, I presume?"

Tai honestly didn't know why he was there but kept that fact to himself, not wanting to snap her temper.

"Yes," He said shortly.

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell," Arwyen told him, standing up and removing a surprisingly slim file on Summer. "She was only an irregular government contractor and, frankly, her death is the only thing in here of note. There's little more than what the autopsy showed and, I'm afraid, the words of your colleague — Mister Qrow Branwen — on her death are considered hearsay at best. He isn't exactly what we would call a reliable witness and neither Chad Leviner nor James Ironwood had anything they could add to the report."

Tai raised an eyebrow. "Why hasn't the Council enacted a full investigation into what happened?"

Arwyen blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Tai sighed. Part of him wanted to snap at her for her dismissiveness. "You say there was nothing to add but Qrow was sober at the time and swore that Summer was murdered, not killed in an accident."

"Murdered by whom?" Arwyen challenged, a hint of danger in her voice. "Must I reiterate that Branwen is a classically unreliable witness?"

"Maybe in some circumstances but not in this one," Tai scowled. "He says it was the same unidentifiable woman that attacked Emmett Schnee."

Arwyen scoffed. "That's ridiculous on the face of it."

"Summer deserves better than this," Tai hissed. "Arwyen."

"Mister Xiao Long, there is absolutely nothing I can do here," She crossed her arms and primly sat back down. "I understand you seek closure in the terrible loss of your wife but, while I'm sympathetic, the fact of the matter remains that the Atlesian Council cannot afford to waste its resources chasing wild geese. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal," He bitterly replied. "You care more about interests than common good. Maybe one day you'll figure out that it ain't helping any of you."

Marabella Brie, the president of the Unified States of Atlas, stood in front of the wide windows in her office and frowned at the bustling capital below. She had nothing to show for her continuing the fight against terrorism that had begun in late 2001. She had no way to justify the amount of people who had died on her watch, most recently Summer Rose, a huntress from Vale. If it were going to be anything, diplomacy was going to be a bitch. She silently considered her options. The United Kingdom of Vale was one of Atlas' greatest allies and she had no intentions of taking that lightly. Whether or not there was public outcry in Vale over Summer Rose's death, Marabella knew full well that their government would have to take a more holistic approach. If they did not, the already fragile situation in Mountain Glenn could become exponentially worse for them. She supposed it would be easiest to continue on the path she was on, using terrorism and corrupt people like Merlot as scapegoats for what had happened on her watch. The people seemed mostly content with it, and why would she change something that was true and reasonable? Of course, Marabella knew diplomacy with the kingdom's closest ally was probably the least of her problems.

The internal conflicts and affairs were far more alarming and immediate. She was quite disturbed, to say the least, by the most recent reports from the director of the CIA regarding what the White Fang terrorists they had detained had to say about any of the attacks they were involved or about the hiding places of their leaders. Quite a bit had been gleaned but it was the director's "turning of a blind eye" to some of the practices of the actual interrogators that disturbed the president. President Brie knew Sassler was uncomfortable with the "advanced interrogation techniques" that the interrogators were using but she was allowing it nonetheless. Marabella wasn't sure she was comfortable with the hazy ethics. It was the same discomfort she felt with another project under Sassler's oversight: the aura transfer experiments that government contractors from the Lowell Institute of Science and Technology were running. Their work was scantly documented and rarely reported on yet, because they were government contractors, they were funded federally by the council. Marabella felt sick to her stomach just thinking about the liability concerns. In so many ways, she felt she was telling the world and herself that she would see them in hell.

Willow, Jacques, and Emmett were alone with the imprisoned Lillian Schnee. Her deteriorating state was a shock to them all. She was in an old and dusty but perfectly pressed suit. Her blazer had tears in the elbows and she had dirt on her face. Her children (and her son-in-law) stared at her strangely. Lillian knew full well that she seemed anything short of dignified, and she utterly resented it. She was the wife of a once powerful but now-dead business mogul. She had been the most powerful woman in Atlas because of it but now she had nothing left to show for it. Based on the way Jacques was staring at her, they all knew it too. So far as she was concerned, they were ravenous wolves preparing for a strike against her now that she was left defenseless. There was quite a bit of stake regarding her life, of that she knew quite well. Lillian found she was becoming almost as desperate as them these days, but she couldn't help it. She had no doubt in her mind that they were just waiting for her to die. The dicks. She had never hated her second and only surviving son more. Emmett's hair was nearly at his waist now, his glasses were slightly askew, and he smelled like cigar smoke. So far as she was concerned, he was a weakling.

"What are all of you doing here?" Lillian bitterly asked. "I'm in no position to do anything for any of you. I do hope that's not a disappointment to all of you."

"Don't be a bitch, mom," Emmett said, shaking his head in exasperation. "I was going to visit anyway and these two decided to come along. That's all."

Lillian snorted. "And why would my failure of a son come visit me in prison with or without back up?"

"Mom," Emmett started, his annoyance edging into his voice. "Stop acting like everything is an interrogation. I just wanted to see how you've been. You're still my mother, even if you're a —"

"Say it again, boy, and I'll break your wrist or worse," Lillian snarled, indignantly standing up. "I'm imprisoned on ridiculous charges. If every billionaire who did even half of what I did were in jail, there would be none of us left to actually run the business world."

Jacques laughed. "That is a gross misrepresentation of the business world, Lillian."

"Oh, is it?" She looked to him and turned up her nose disdainfully. "Where exactly did I misjudge you, then? The last time I checked, you perfectly fit that description. Why else did I want you to take on the SDC? Money —"

"Mother!" Willow exclaimed, looking rather scandalised. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Because it's probably true," Emmett muttered under his breath, rather annoyed to be agreeing with anything his mother said.

Willow shot him a dirty look. "Weren't you the one who said we should all be civil?"

"I am being civil," Emmett irritably replied. He had been on edge since their father had died, but time was only making things worse, especially with their sister's death nearly a year prior. "I didn't say it loudly or to the papers, did I?"

Willow, having no response and not feeling motivated enough to argue with him, sighed and turned back towards their mother. "So," She said uncomfortably. "Have you been doing okay? Do you need us to get you anything?"

Lillian shrugged. "A presidential pardon, maybe."

Willow blinked. "What? You aren't serious, are you?"

"Have I ever joked, Willow?" Lillian sat down and ran her hands through her disheveled, somewhat greasy hair. "No, I hate it here. I don't feel human anymore. I feel like I've been cast aside, destroyed, broken into pieces for the amusement of people. It's utterly suffocating."

"President Brie hasn't pardoned anyone living," Emmett reminded her. "I'm pretty sure she's only done in posthumously for people that were wrongly executed."

"It was just a thought," Lillian said dryly. "No need to shut me down, Emmett. It's not like you have very strong legs to stand on anyways."