A/N: Well, this chapter came out a little later than I would have liked. On the plus side, I'd say that the scenes are all pretty polished, so at least the wait was (hopefully?) worth it.
Side note: I'd like to give special recognition to Gryffen for coming up with the punny chapter name. I told him I was still looking for a good title, and I was sold the moment I saw the suggestion.
Weiss sighed as she walked down one of the long, empty hallways of the Schnee manor. A passing servant gave her a sympathetic look, undoubtedly assuming that her heavy exhale was due to her worrying about her upcoming performance at the fundraiser event. The assumption wasn't entirely wrong. The stress plaguing Weiss was certainly related to the event. But her performance was the last thing that concerned her.
XCOM was going to be there, both invited and otherwise.
When her father made an announcement to the household that Central Officer Bradford had been formally invited to the gala, Weiss had to fight hard to resist blinking in shock. So far she had still maintained her father's favor by upholding the illusion she was the daughter he wanted her to be, and not who she really was. When her father smugly added that Bradford would be accompanied by his two distinguished guests Doctors Tygan and Vahlen, Weiss's jaw almost fell to the floor.
What the hell was her father up to? Maybe he was getting pressured from Atlas's government body to invite representatives from XCOM. Atlas loved appearances, and they'd certainly love to avoid appearing biased in the political war between XCOM and ADVENT. But then again, Atlas had already clearly thrown their support behind Cinder and her faction, given how closely the two militaries had been operating for at least a month now.
No, her father was up to something. Maybe he was enjoying the power trip of inviting the man in charge of XCOM after he had personally ordered the execution of two of their operatives on nothing more than the word of Cinder. He could put on airs of diplomacy, pretending that he's willing to respect both factions if they're willing to work towards a better Atlas, all while reveling in the fantasy that Bradford had no idea that he murdered two of Central's best in cold blood.
Or maybe he wanted to try to learn more about his enemy? Invite Bradford into his own home to see how he acts, try to glean any information about how he strategizes. Her father also forced XCOM's two top scientists to be pulled away from their work and waste a night floundering about like fish out of water at a social gathering. And oh, how some of Altas's 'finest' would love to belittle 'uncultured' souls like Vahlen and Tygan. Moira being sneered on by that blonde trollop of a trophy wife. The very thought made Weiss's blood boil. She had to remind herself to stop grinding her teeth. It was a shame that Annette wasn't invited. She'd already shown herself to be an excellent guide for Vahlen when it came to high society functions during the post-war trip to Paris. Plus, no one really had a clue about psionics here on Remnant. How easy it would be for Annette to just pluck up secret thoughts left and right.
No matter what her father's machinations were, they only served to strengthen Weiss's resolve. One way or another, Weiss was going to do her part to help Bradford pull one over on Jacques while Jacques thought he was pulling one over on Bradford. Only in your dreams, father-dearest. Only in your dreams. The only catch, of course, was figuring out a way to slip XCOM's recon team into the manor undetected. Then it was a simple matter of the operatives finding a way into her father's study, which was only his most prized and highly-secured room in the entire mansion.
A trivial matter, really.
"Miss Schnee, is everything all right?"
Weiss apprehensively looked up at the sound of Klein's voice to see her beloved butler, his gentle brown eyes wearing a look of concern as he stood at a respectful distance from his favorite Schnee. An uncertain smile played across Weiss's lips, and she asked herself how much she should tell Klein. How much could she tell him?
"I… yes," she answered hesitantly. "Sort of."
"It can't be the performance that's bothering you. You've mastered every concert since you were twelve, and lately your poise is stronger than ever," Klein answered with a knowing smirk. "Perhaps it's something to do with your father?"
He knew her too well.
"... Perhaps."
Klein closed his eyes. They were red when he opened them again. "Can't say I blame you," he growled in a thick burr. "Bastard has no right to restrict you to the manor until your performance. As if there was any chance you'd make the mistake of not giving yourself ample time to prepare."
The fact that Klein was confident enough that nobody else was around to hear him speak ill of his employer brought a smile to Weiss's face.
"You know the real reason, though," she said.
Her friend sighed. His eyes returned to their usual brown after another blink. "Yes. Of course. Wasn't hard to figure out when the order to restrict your freedom came less than an hour after his announcement about XCOM's invitation to the gala."
Foolish of her father for thinking she didn't have other ways of getting in contact with Odei. The possibility of Weiss getting Rapunzel'd by her father was quite literally one of the first things they discussed back when Odin and Osiris were still alive.
All right. It was time to make a decision. Weiss already knew that Klein cared little for the Master of the House, and his expressed opinions about her recent travel restrictions meant that he was resentful of Jacques Schnee even more than usual. If anyone could help Weiss figure out how to get an 'in' for the Recon team, Klein would be it.
"Klein," she started, "can I… trust you with a question? It's an important one. Between you and me."
Klein nodded, his eyes now yellow as he looked at Weiss. "Of course, Weiss. Anything."
"I'm developing a… well, trying to develop a plan of sorts." Her voice grew low. "One that would not make my father happy."
"Oh?" Klein asked with a barely-contained grin.
"It's a plan to expand the number of XCOM guests who are unofficially invited to the gala," Weiss said. The look of muted glee on Klein's face told her that he caught her meaning immediately.
"Ah," the man answered. "And is there anything they were hoping to see at the gala?"
Weiss nodded. "I may have let slip once that my father has an impressive private study."
Klein stroked his chin pensively as he thought about Weiss's request. "Hmmm… that's quite the tall order you have there, Miss Schnee. However, I may be able to accomodate… provided your guests are able to arrive without any fuss."
Weiss felt a small twinge of disappointment at her butler's words. She was hoping Klein could help her with getting the operatives inside… but she knew he had a good reason for not offering to help with sneaking in the Recon team. Figuring out a way to get them access to the study was going to be risky enough and, if Weiss was being honest, a task that likely required his full attention to plan out. Even if he could come up with a plan for both parts of the mission, she couldn't risk having him get caught in the first half of the op.
"If I may…" Klein said, his eyes brown once more. "Perhaps another visit to your mother might be in order."
What?
"I'm not sure where you're going with this," Weiss admitted.
Klein tutted slightly. "Come now. You think I haven't noticed your efforts to spend time with your mother since you've come home? A fascinating change in that regards, by the way. Your sister doesn't have time for her, and your brother detests her. Your father has all but forgotten she exists… or at least wishes he could forget. The servants vacate from the sound of her voice immediately. You are the only one who has shown her even a modicum of compassion. I'm not sure you understand how meaningful that is for Lady Schnee as she continues to… well… exist."
A slightly cruel word choice to summarize Willow's life, but not really a lie, either.
Klein stepped back, brushed off his vest, and cleared his throat. "Well, I best be getting back to my duties, Miss Schnee. I do hope you'll take my advice."
Weiss watched as Klein continued down the hallway, whistling to himself.
Wait… since when did he know the tune to 'Heigh Ho'?
Ozpin sat quietly in his chair in the dining hall, staring at the lavish dinner in front of him. Ordinarily, he would be eating it right about now, given that it was fifteen minutes past the time Salem always expected him down for dinner. However, his host was the one being tardy today. While it was inexcusable for Ozpin to keep Salem waiting even for a few seconds, the reverse was evidently not a problem.
And Ozpin shuddered to think what would happen if she walked in to see that he didn't feel like waiting for her.
The thralls stood at attention along the walls of the room, eyes slightly glazed over as they waited for instructions from a mistress who wasn't even present. He had to admit that, as awful as that twisted avenue of research was, the degree of skill that Salem had put into developing and implementing mind-altering or mind-controlling Grimm was impressive. It made his job of protecting Remnant from her incredibly difficult, of course, but a small part of him still respected the technical skill involved.
The witch still had it, apparently.
"Ooooozpiiiiiiin."
Speaking of…
The doors to the dining hall opened up, and Salem strode in, all smiles. She saw Ozpin sitting at the table and tutted.
"Ozpin, you shouldn't have waited for me! You knew I was alerted that I had a message pending from our dear, sweet Summer, and that it would probably take a long time." She sat down at her seat across from Ozpin and started eating as she finished, "It's a good thing I didn't spend another half hour with Summer like I was planning to. Your food would have been completely cold."
Ozpin stared at Salem as she ate another mouthful of soup. He knew he shouldn't be incredulous, and yet he could help it. His jailor was just so… cavalier about her hypocrisy.
"Please don't refer to that thing as Summer," he said as he finally started to eat his own dinner. "That is 'Summer' about as much as you are-"
"Don't say iiiiiiit," Salem intoned in a sing-song voice.
Ozpin sighed. "Very well. What is it that your agent had to say?"
"I had no idea that you had an interest in the family business!" Salem exclaimed with a smirk. "Summer was merely reporting that her mission was successful."
Oh no. Ozpin had a sinking feeling in his stomach when he first heard that it was Summer's puppeteer that was contacting Salem via her Seer network. Salem was all too happy to brag about "Summer's" mission to kidnap Ruby when she first sent her minion out.
"The girl is alive, obviously. It will take Summer a little while to return, but we'll have our little Rose soon enough." Salem was quiet for a minute as she calmly enjoyed her meal, then asked, "Aren't you excited to see your little protégé? Just think about how she'll react when she sees you again."
While the food that Salem's chefs prepared was always excellent, it didn't taste very good tonight. Well, perhaps Ozpin could get Salem off of the subject of Ruby if he changed her train of thought to something else. Maybe something that could help him learn a little more about how she pulled off the Vytal attack.
"Perhaps it's the wine going to my head," Ozpin began, even though his wine glass remained dry, "but you might be right about my interest in the… family business."
Salem raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Trying to tease some secrets out of me, are you?"
"What with it being the last cycle and all, why not?" Ozpin asked. "I'm still curious how you managed to cause the Disconnect. There's no way that it wasn't you."
"How can you be so sure that it was me?" Salem asked. Try as she might (or maybe she wasn't trying at all), she couldn't hide the slight smirk on her face.
"So you're telling me it wasn't you?"
Salem rolled her eyes. "Of course it was me. But did you know that the link between worlds was also my doing?"
"Do you think I couldn't figure that out?" Ozpin deadpanned, eyebrow raised. He knew that Salem thought highly of herself at the expense of all others, but still…
At the same time, now that he got some momentum going, it was almost painfully easy for Ozpin to let Salem just brag about her accomplishments. With any luck, she might let something slip.
"Ah! But did you know that wasn't the first time I linked to Earth?" The look on Ozpin's face must have encouraged Salem to grin triumphantly as she continued, "I had to test if my little plan would work, you see. Our mutual friend down in the depths of Beacon was more than willing to help me with my research — behind your back, of course — and I needed some field data to make sure I was on the right track."
Well this was news. Ozpin was able to piece together his friend's betrayal when the link between worlds was first opened, but it sounds like his cooperation with Salem had gone on for far longer than Ozpin had realized. If he ever got the chance, a small chat with his old confidante down below might be in order.
Maybe he should have let himself get captured by Salem in previous cycles.
His host continued, "It was interesting, really. Our friend keyed in the research we'd already done so far, initiated the connection, and almost immediately detected anomalous activity… out here, in fact." She gestured out the windows with one hand while she took a sip from her glass of wine with the other. "For a while, we couldn't tell what had happened, but eventually my associates found some very confused temporally-displaced travelers dressed in rags and carrying knives. Claimed they were from some clan or something. Macklay? Maulin? Not that it really matters."
Ozpin raised an eyebrow, and asked, "I don't suppose you kept them and turned them into slaves."
Salem rolled her eyes. "Servants, Oz. And no. The connection wasn't as robust as the one I established for your dear RWBY, and so the brutes phased back to their own world after a few hours. Besides, why would I keep them? A few minutes of pitting them against even the lowliest pack of Beowolves proved that they had no Aura to speak of. They put up a good fight, but more than a few of them died when none should have."
Not a robust connection? Perhaps Salem's second attempt was more successful because her target had the Hyperwave Relay to keep the link stabilized.
"When did you try this?" Ozpin asked.
"A few months ago," Salem answered. "Our friend was very eager to try again after our first field test."
"Interesting…" Ozpin mused. "So you were able to select a specific location when you made your second attempt?"
Salem gave her prisoner a curious look, and Ozpin wondered if she was trying to figure out what his game was. The truth was that there wasn't a game, that Ozpin was just interested in figuring out how Salem pulled off her trick. But he didn't really feel inclined to tell Salem that.
"Location and time, more or less," she answered. "A few factors seemed to pull us to the specific point in time when the link was established, but we had considerable control over the general location in the timeline."
Ozpin opened his mouth to speak, but Salem put up a hand. "Nope. That's enough for today, Oz. Maybe if you behave yourself, I'll be willing to play your games another day. But now I'd just like to finish my meal in peace."
Damn. Well, at least Ozpin had some kind of lead on how Salem severed the link between worlds, even if she didn't actually explain it. Even if he never left this place alive, he hoped he would find a way to get a message out to Bradford and let him know that the answer to his marooning situation lay somewhere in the ruins of Beacon.
Maybe Ruby's capture had a silver lining to it after all.
"Knock knock."
Roman pulled his gaze away from the ceiling of his cell and saw Bradford standing at the gate.
"What do you want?" He glanced over at Neo, who was also staring curiously at their guest. "What does he want?"
Bradford shrugged. "I figured you'd be up for a chance to stretch your legs a bit. However, it looks like you'd rather just count the pieces of dirt on the ceiling. My apologies for taking up your precious time."
Ah. So he was playing the snarky funnyman angle today.
"Rewarding us for being on our best behavior while we rot in here?" Roman asked.
"Something like that," Bradford said, unlocking the cell with an audible click. "We'll have a couple of escorts keeping their eyes and brains on you, of course..."
Psi troopers. Lovely.
"... but you won't have any other restraints or security measures put on you," Bradford added. "So you won't have to suffer the indignity of being handcuffed while you follow me to the Medbay."
"The Medbay?" Roman asked, "What is this, some kind of monthly checkup?"
Bradford chuckled, much to Roman's annoyance. "Don't worry. Tygan won't be asking you to turn your head and cough. But it seems you've forgotten that you're still a prisoner on my ship. I'm letting you stretch your legs for a reason."
"As if that's something I could forget." Roman sneered.
While the rest of the ship had (mostly) the same boring white walls as the inside of his cell, at least now Roman would get to see different white walls on the Atlesian airship. Bradford whistled casually as he turned to walk away from the duo. Roman's eyes narrowed at the man's nonchalant attitude. In any other situation, there's no way this guy would willingly have his back turned on two known killers, and yet here he was. Thanks to those psi operatives (and probably those creepy shadow people) watching their every step, Neo would be on her knees before she could try to do anything. A fact that Bradford pointed out with his oh so generous offer of not shackling Roman with anything other than an escort.
Clever old bastard.
Roman sighed dramatically as he got up from his bed. "Well, I guess I don't have a say in the matter, now do I? Come on, Neo. Let's go see what this charade is all about."
"You always have a choice, Roman," Bradford countered as he motioned over his shoulder to the unlocked cell door. "You have the choice between dying of boredom in that miserable cell or making yourself useful to me."
Roman said nothing as he glared at Bradford on his way out of the cell. He stopped for a moment to make a dramatic show of stretching while he glanced up and down the hallway. Sure enough, a couple of operatives were standing a few paces back and keeping their eyes locked on both him and Neo. The fact that neither of them were carrying guns told Roman everything he needed to know about them. Dammit.
No sign of that 'Vessira,' either. Not that Roman could count on himself to spot it, anyway. Or the masked woman working with it. Reapers… what kind of stupid-ass edgy name is that, anyway?
The group walked down the hallway in silence. Roman was not inclined to give Bradford the satisfaction of a casual chat, and so he opted to take in his surroundings while they made their way towards… wherever they were going. He noticed that while this was originally an Atlas ship, it also very much wasn't. Gone were the sterilized white walls and the immaculate hallways, replaced with blue and grey colors, strapped-down crates, and makeshift bunks. That XCOM logo was spray-painted everywhere.
The occasional soldier passed them in the hallway, but other than a casual salute, didn't really pay them any mind. Pretty loose and informal band of terrorists Bradford had assembled here, it seemed.
They reached a small elevator, and Bradford stepped in before waving Roman and Neo in. The box was far too small to fit the security detail, and Roman didn't like how his captor seemed to be inviting just the two prisoners to join him in the elevator. Still, Roman wasn't about to show signs of hesitation, so he followed in after Neo, and the doors closed behind them.
After a few seconds of silence, Roman couldn't help himself. "Pretty ballsy to leave yourself alone in an elevator with two criminals."
With his eyes firmly set on the door and his hands held calmly in front of him, Bradford answered, "Feel free to try something. We'll see how well that works out for you."
Pretty ballsy, indeed.
The doors opened, the three of them were met with a different pair of operatives (also 'unarmed'), and the group once again set off down the hall. The walk passed uneventfully, and then Bradford directed them into a room that looked like some sort of medical lab. Roman noticed a couple of people in lab coats standing around a table and focusing on whatever was on it.
Oh. A body. Definitely a dead body. The smell kind of gave it away.
One of the body watchers, a woman, looked up at the group and nodded at Bradford. "Welcome back, Central. It appears that your detour was fruitful."
"We'll see," Bradford answered with a shrug. "Have I missed anything?"
The woman shook her head. "Nothing new, Commander. My colleague is running tests on samples from the body, but I haven't uncovered anything more from the autopsy other than… well… the obvious."
What was this? Science Day at Camp Bradford? What was the point of Roman letting himself get dragged all the way over here?
"Central has a few questions for you about the body," one of the escorts commented.
Ah, yes. As if he needed a further reminder that he was being watched by psi operatives. Roman rolled his eyes and stepped forwards towards the table. His attitude quickly shifted (and his stomach did a few contortions) when Roman got a good look at the body and realized that it had been cut open, the torso clamped apart, and the red-and-black mess of internal things dejectedly oozing about.
"What kind of power play is this?" Roman asked through a suppressed gag.
"None," Bradford answered. "Have another look and tell me if you notice anything."
Roman glared at Bradford before forcing his attention to the corpse. Once he got past the revulsion of the main cut in the body, he did in fact, notice a few things.
Or rather, the lack of a few things.
The eye socket was the most immediately obvious. It looked like whatever was there had been scooped out by a dirty spoon, leaving a large cavity smeared with black puss. The arms looked deflated, with several open sores similarly leaking the same black crap.
"Looks like a dead body to me," he said.
"Check the chest cavity," Bradford suggested. "I assume you've murdered enough people in your life to have a good idea of what the human anatomy is supposed to look like."
Roman looked down at Neo, who was busying herself with inspecting her nails instead of anything to do with the body on the table. Not that she could get a good look at it anyway, and she wasn't about to embarrass herself by standing on her toes or hitching a ride on Roman's back. Whatever. At least she was out of the cell for a bit. Maybe she was using her time to try and figure out a way to escape or something. In the meantime, Roman would just have to keep up the charade.
He peered into the cavity running down from below the corpse's neck to just above its groin. As disgusting as it was to look at, Roman did notice that the number of organs stuffed into the body was quite a bit smaller than what he was expecting. Not only that, but a couple of organs that were there had large chunks removed in a way that was similar to the eye socket. Roman couldn't help but make a face.
"This was an ADVENT soldier that we picked up from Avitus," Bradford explained. "Mistakenly, of course. Odei thought she was grabbing one of our own."
Roman cast a sidelong glance at Bradford that hopefully carried across the message of, 'you're an absolutely terrible liar.'
Bradford continued, "Odei also had intel indicating that the troops deployed to Avitus were ones modified by Merlot."
"So what's your question?" Roman asked. He was already pretty sure what it would be, though.
"You worked with Cinder. Did you see anything or hear anything that would be linked to this kind of body modification?"
Roman wanted to be snarky, but both his eyes and his stomach didn't really have the energy for it.
"No."
"Spectral analysis is completed, Central," a man called out from the other side of the room. "The black residue very closely matches the Grimm essence studied back on Earth. I regretfully don't have that data with me, but I am confident that the match is at least ninety percent."
Bradford raised an eyebrow and glanced at Roman. "Human-Grimm hybridization, huh? That would certainly explain why a bunch of organs look like they just evaporated. Matches up with the reports of a few of our operatives who were deployed in Avitus. Said they saw a smokey-black mist rising from the open wounds of victims of the Wendigo. They assumed it was some kind of caustic poison at the time, but now…?" Bradford gave Roman a hard stare. "Are you sure you never heard about any of this while you worked with Cinder Fall?"
Roman had no problems with lying. He stole for the hell of it. Cheating was a game to him. But this…? This didn't sit well with him.
"Nothing."
Silence fell between Roman and Bradford while the scientists continued their work to examine the body. They cut out organs, bagged them for further inspection, called out visual curiosities, and so on while Bradford's group just placidly watched.
"Still think you're backing the right horse?" Bradford asked.
No.
"Still think I'm backing the winning horse," Roman countered.
Bradford shrugged. "We'll see about that, I suppose. In any case, that's all I had to ask you. I knew it was a pretty low chance, but I figured it couldn't hurt to see if you had any information about this. Shall we head back?"
"You won't hear me complaining about getting out of here," Roman answered. "The stench is atrocious."
"I don't know what you are referring to," the woman absently called out from the surgery table. "This scent is almost pleasant in comparison to my other projects over the years."
… creepyyyyy.
Nobody talked on the way back to the cell. Roman could see Neo's frequent glances at him, and he knew he'd have to talk with her later to assure her that he was fine.
But in this case? He wasn't sure his lie would be any more believable than Bradford's.
A pair of young women, bundled up in winter cloaks to keep out the Atlesian weather, stepped lively down a quiet avenue in an uptown part of the capital. They chatted as they walked, giggling amongst themselves as they turned down an unassuming side street. A brisk wind blew, causing one to wrap her bulky coat tighter around her frame while the other appeared completely unbothered by the biting chill.
The duo turned again into a cul de sac and made their way towards a small, dumpy-looking house at the end of the road. A small dog lay curled up on the porch, and it looked over at the two visitors as they drew closer. Once they were within several feet of the dog, its eyes began to glow red, and it stood up to face them.
"Password: Daedalus," one of the girls confidently announced. The dog's eyes stopped glowing, and it returned to its previous position on the porch. The two of them heard a quiet click as the door in front of them unlocked.
"Thank you, Argos," the young woman said, patting the 'dog' on the head as she walked towards the door with her companion. "Please ask Father to meet us in the foyer."
The two of them stepped into the house, and the one girl with the bulky coat immediately ripped it off and revealed a small, boxy drone that she'd been carrying beneath her layers.
"I hate Atlas already," she deadpanned, rubbing her arms as she looked around. "I'd be a popsicle by now if it weren't for Nichole acting as a small body warmer underneath my jacket."
"You're welcome!" the drone chirped.
"Oh, Atlas isn't that bad, Lily!" the first girl said. "I've lived here all my life, and I've found it to be a wonderful experience."
"Well some of us don't have the ability to turn off our sensitivity to the freezing temperature," Lily snorted.
She was already starting to feel better now that she was inside, though. A quick look around didn't reveal anything too exciting about the first room of the house. Just a boring (and rather empty) entryway with a couple of chairs and a small coffee table.
Lily gently swept her hand across the top of a small cabinet and watched as dust fell like snow to the floor. "So, uh… are you sure your dad is home?"
"Oh, absolutely!" Penny answered, "He just doesn't spend too much time up here. We shouldn't have to wait much longer!"
Indeed, just as Penny had finished her statement, the flooring in the room started to creak. A small, concealed trap door opened up a few paces ahead of the visitors, and the head of an elderly gentleman poked out. Lily smiled with uncertainty at the older man, but his gaze locked on her companion. Several heartbeats passed as he stared at Penny, wordlessly, before his eyes started to glisten. He deliberately walked up the last couple of stairs, stepped across the room, and enveloped Penny in a full, tender embrace.
"My little girl," he whispered fiercely. "I've missed you so."
Penny returned the gesture and rested her head on her father's shoulder as she answered, "Me too! I've made a lot of new friends and seen a lot of amazing places since I was last home, but you are in my thoughts every day."
The little drone whirred around their heads and chirped, "Hello, Father! I've also missed you!"
Dr. Polendina's eyes widened momentarily before he smiled in wonder at the drone. "And so have I. Come, let's go downstairs. It appears that we have a lot of catching up to do, my dears. And you can introduce me to your friend."
"Oh!" Penny smiled sheepishly and waved at the remaining figure standing awkwardly off to the side during the Polendina family reunion. "This is Lily! She's a very good friend, and an excellent tinkerer! When she found out I was coming to see you, she begged Bradford to let her go along to meet Atlas's greatest inventor!"
Lily's face flushed red and she muttered, "You… you didn't need to say that last part."
Dr. Polendina chuckled. "By all means, I would love to chat with a bright young mind that has become good friends with my daughter." The man's eyes twinkled, and he added, "You have good timing: I just put a kettle on the stove downstairs for a pot of tea."
"... I should have brought my dad along," Lily giggled as she followed the Polendina family towards the trap door.
Dr. Polendina set down his cup of tea and stared thoughtfully at the table.
"That is indeed… concerning," he said. "ADVENT has been treating us well up here, but I have every reason to believe the words of my own daughters."
Daughters. For someone who had just been informed less than an hour ago that the two copies of his one daughter had mutually agreed to remain as two separate entities, Lily was impressed with how easily Dr. Polendina had embraced the news. Especially with everything else he had to take in that they'd thrown at him, Lily couldn't help but feel love for this quiet, reserved, and brilliant man. He reminded her a bit of her own father, in fact.
The hidden workshop/laboratory they were in looked nothing like the labs Lily had grown accustomed to seeing with XCOM. Tests weren't running in the background, computers weren't conducting waveform analyses on samples, and lab technicians weren't bustling about prepping specimens. There was a lot of equipment and workspace down here, but save for the pot of water burbling on the stove, nothing moved. She wasn't even sure she heard a ticking of a clock.. It felt a bit… lonely.
Penny nodded. "Part of the reason we came to Atlas is because there is concern that Weiss and her sister are in danger. Especially her sister."
"Weiss speaks of Winter quite often," Polendina noted. "She might not say it outright, but it's very clear that she holds her sister in high esteem. Given all that Weiss has done to help me during these last few months, it would be my honor to return the favor."
"Well…" Lily started, "apparently we're trying to get some info on a Doctor Merlot, since he's modifying Atlas's soldiers. Weiss thinks that his work is what's making Winter be… ummm… not Winter."
Lily noticed Polendina's eyes narrow at Merlot's name. His back hunched slightly and he scowled into his teacup.
"Is everything alright, Father?" Nichole asked. "I'm sensing several abnormalities in your vitals!"
"Merlot…"
The amount of acid in that one word unnerved Lily, given that all she'd known of the man so far was how much he reminded her of her own father. Dr. Polendina continued, "Yes, I know that name. Though Weiss has kindly refrained from mentioning him in my presence, I was acquainted with him in my younger days. He is not a good man, and if Atlas is trusting him to improve her soldiers, that is ill news indeed. Especially if…"
He trailed off, and Lily traded concerned glances with Penny. The latter gently put a hand over her father's to pull him out from his internal thoughts.
"Father, you must help us against this man. If you know anything that might help XCOM, please tell us."
Dr. Polendina sighed, then looked at his guests. "Did Weiss ever tell you how she got her scar?"
"Something about an armored Grimm, I think?" Lily answered uncertainly. She remembered overhearing Weiss talk about it with some of the operatives back on Earth, but she never got the full story herself.
The Doctor's reaction told her that she was at least somewhat correct. "She fought an animated suit of armor as a final test of sorts during her training. The armor was animated by a Grimm that possessed it."
"Oh! Like the Ents on Patch!"
"I'm… not sure I've ever heard of an Ent," Polendina admitted with a chuckle, "but if it is something that is possessed by a Gheist or similar, then yes. The suit of armor, the Arma Gigas, was a project that Jacques Schnee had contracted to me. How to get a Grimm to inhabit a specific object, and how to keep that object restrained until a desired point in time? It was a challenge that I enjoyed. I took my time, did my research with the help of Atlas's considerable archives, and relished the prospect of the end result that would be Weiss defeating my work in a spectacular fashion.
"But Jacques was less interested in the Arma Gigas itself than he was by the idea of possession," Dr. Polendina continued, his face growing dark. "He didn't contract my services for further research into possession — perhaps because he knew I would refuse — but he did briefly ask me to develop a countermeasure, a method of removal that could de-possess an object. He cancelled the contract shortly after I started work, but I always felt uneasy about the implications of why he would need such a thing. Worse yet, several of my future endeavors allowed me to return to the archives for research. On each occasion, I casually tried to re-locate the literature I'd used for the possession research in the first place. I was never able to find it."
"Do you think Jacques stole it?" Nichole asked.
Dr. Polendina nodded. "Or destroyed it. In either case, it would prevent others from retracing my work. I have notes of my own, but there was a great deal of information in those books that I never thought I would need to copy down."
"And you're concerned that if Jacques is working with Merlot…" Lily began. Her skin started to crawl as she pieced together what Dr. Polendina was saying.
Polendina nodded. "Merlot was fascinated with the Grimm. While Jacques only cared about the possession trait exhibited by a select few, Merlot spent much of his time focusing on the adaptable, rather malleable nature of the monsters. They conform to our darkest fears, shaping themselves like clay to strike terror in our hearts. Merlot spent his time and effort trying to learn if man could directly modify Grimm, and shape them to his will rather than his fears. He was successful, to a degree."
The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. "... now it sounds like he's been given free reign to experiment on Atlas soldiers."
And Winter, Lily realized. Dread slithered into her veins.
"Dr. Polendina… do you still have the counter-possession research you started?" she asked.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Lily noticed the twinkle return to the Doctor's eye.
"... and finished," he answered, with no small amount of pride in his voice. "I told you I was concerned about Jacques's reasons for wanting it, didn't I? And besides… the challenge intrigued me."
Dr. Polendina got up from the table and stepped around to a small corner of his lab (followed by Nichole) to brush aside a few stacks of paper and reveal a small, unassuming safe. He fiddled with the locking mechanism for a few moments, and pulled out a folder.
"My recording!" Nichole interjected, presumably at something else she saw in the safe. "You kept my recording!"
Polendina nodded as he walked back to the table with the folder. "Of course I did. It was the only proof I had that you were okay after the Vytal incident, and it was proof that my little girl had grown up so quickly."
He sat down at the table, closed his eyes, and recited, "You didn't give me life and give me the best Atlesian technology to just sit at home. There are people who need help, and I can help them." The Doctor tenderly reached over and put a hand on the little drone. "I was so broken hearted the day I first heard that message that I was incapable of understanding the truth. But as I had time to get past the initial shock and think it over, I realized just how wise you have become, my dear. I'm so proud of you."
With a small push, the files slid across the table to sit directly in front of Lily.
"Hard copy research notes," he said. "Never duplicated, never digitized, never left that lockbox. I feared that Jacques would find a way to steal them from me. They're not as comprehensive as I would have liked, given the disappearance of the source material, but…"
He smiled at Lily as her eyes grew wide. "Take them. Please. I'm certain that XCOM will find a better use for my work than having them sit hidden away in my workshop."
"Thank you so much for helping, Father!" Nichole cheered.
Dr. Polendina smiled. "Of course. It's for the good of mankind and… all that."
"And to finally get one over on Dr. Merlot!" Penny added.
"My dear," Polendina sighed, "I can assure you that's only an infinitesimally small factor. The good of mankind is easily 99 percent of the reason."
Lily grinned. "Weeelllll… maybe 95 percent."
"Definitely more than 90 percent." Nichole agreed.
"Alright, alright," the Doctor said, waving his hand to silence his guests, "80 percent and no less. It will be nice to demonstrate to Merlot how much better I am, but the lives at stake are of course more important."
"Thank you, Doctor." Lily said, stowing the folder in her pack.
"Now then, why don't you tell me about some of your projects?" Polendina asked. "I've spent some time working with Miss Schnee learning the secrets of this Elerium that your Central Officer gifted to Ironwood. Do you have any additional insight to add?" He turned his attention to Penny. "And if you don't mind, Penny dear, I'd like to check the maintenance on your body. Ironwood reported that your body was lost in the Vytal incident, which is why I was expecting Nichole to come home. Seeing you here, though, I suspect that was an intentional misstatement by XCOM."
"Oh, I was most certainly destroyed!" Penny said. She stepped close to her father, her concern and her regret showing through. "I went rogue due to the invasive signals sent by the hijacked Atlesian ship that's now the Avenger, and Ruby and Nichole had to deactivate me! But XCOM repaired me when things settled down, and I would estimate that I am at 95 percent of my original functionality!" She paused, then added, "I did lose functional control over my swords, however. Ruby had to cut them for my own safety, and it was one of the only things that XCOM was not able to repair for me."
"I added those swords at General Ironwood's request," Dr. Polendina admitted. "We'll have a talk, you and I, about whether or not you want them back."
"That sounds wonderful!"
The Doctor turned his attention back to Lily. "But here I am getting sidetracked again. Let's hear about your work, my dear."
Lily grinned and pulled out her scroll. "I would love to, Doctor."
"Good night, Chuck."
"Night, Lisa. Stay safe out there."
Lisa Lavender suppressed an eye roll as she left the office. She always got at least one "be careful on your way home" comment every night when she was on her way out the door. Sure, she was a bit of a workaholic and left VNN after it was dark, and sure, the worldwide fame she'd earned recently due to both ADVENT and XCOM made her a recognizable target. But she was careful, she knew how to defend herself, and she'd never had anything close to resembling an incident in all her years working at the news station. And especially now with ADVENT patrols keeping the streets safe? She was not concerned at all about having a run-in with criminal elements
She walked along the quiet streets back to her apartment, her head buzzing with thoughts about the battle of public opinion between ADVENT and XCOM. Obviously one of them was right and the other was wrong about what the latter's goals were, but the fact that both of them fought to hard to defend Kuo Kuana made it difficult to suss out which one had bad intentions. The reports she heard about XCOM's arrival at Avitus painted a less-than-glowing picture of the organization, however.
Distracted, she took a shortcut through a back alley that she usually reserved for when she left work early and still had some daylight left on her walk home.
She only realized her mistake when she saw two burly men in XCOM colors standing between her and the end of the alley.
Emerald sighed. This was almost too easy.
"O-oh!" Lisa squeaked from ten feet away. "You're with XCOM, I take it. H-how can I help you?"
To her left, Emerald saw Mercury making finger puppets and talking in a bad attempt at a deep voice. "You've been real bad, Lisa! Saying nice things about ADVENT is not what you're supposed to do! … Yeah, we want you to promise to shut up, or face the consequences!"
A crass (but not entirely inaccurate) summary of the illusion Emerald was giving to the Lavender woman, she had to admit. Two large, menacing operatives were making threats at Lisa, telling her that she needed to make things more favorable for XCOM, or they might have to take more drastic measures.
And Emerald couldn't resist throwing in a, "And don't forget… we will be watching."
And it was working beautifully. Lisa looked absolutely shaken. "P-please. Don't do this. I'm a-a-a reporter. I do my best to… to keep things unbiased and look at just the t-truth. You shouldn't n-need to make these threats if XCOM exists to protect the people, like you said!"
She tried to back up, but Emerald accounted for that by having one of the operatives circle around to her rear and asking, "Going somewhere?"
Lisa yelped and spun around, and Emerald almost snorted as she watched the reporter fall back on her ass.
"This isn't like you!" she pleaded. "Y-your Central Officer always talked about doing the right thing! Why are you d-doing this?"
Merc decided to take another stab at guessing what Emerald was having the soldier say. "Because we're liars, and we play to win! No matter the cost! So help us make ADVENT look bad, or suffer the consequences!"
"It's almost sad how pathetic she looks," Emerald sighed. "Time for you to get to work, though. Try not to rough her up too much. Just enough to leave a few scrapes and bruises so she realizes that this wasn't all in her head."
"Thought you'd never ask," her partner said with a crack of his neck. Emerald winced slightly at just how much enjoyment Mercury was getting out of his role as the brute squad.
But even so… Cinder demanded it, and so it had to be done.
"Kid's moving in," Omerta warned, adjusting her scope. "How long until we have the Twins backing us up?"
Ochoa checked his watch and answered, "Two minutes."
Shit. Lisa didn't have two minutes. Omerta's finger touched the trigger of her rifle, but she let go as soon as the boy glanced over his shoulder as though he felt someone watching him.
"Goddamn danger sense…" she muttered. "I like the huntsmen more when they're on our side."
Ochoa nodded in agreement, settling in next to his partner with his spotting equipment. "No kidding. Escape route is still clear, though. If they smell us, we should be able to outrun them long enough for our backup to catch up."
And the kids in Omerta's scope would be giving up their precious hostage. It seemed odd that the reporter was being this jumpy before they'd done anything to her, yet. Omerta couldn't really make out anything they were saying, but the panic creeping into Lavender's face was clear. Plus, it looked like she was jumping at ghosts when she spun around and fell to the ground even though there was nobody behind her.
Could it be that one of them had some kind of sound projection semblance or something?
"Our guy's moving back in again," Omerta reported as the kid turned back around and approached Lisa.
"I see him," Ochoa answered. Quietly, he called out rangefinding data to help Omerta line up her shot. She adjusted her scope accordingly and watched as the boy came within kicking range of Lisa.
"Twin's are a minute out."
When the kid raised his foot to stomp on the downed reporter, though, Omerta knew that it was now or never.
She pulled the trigger.
"GHAAAAHHHHH!"
Emerald's focus slipped for half a second when Mercury cried out and gripped his hip in a mixture of shock and pain. Not that it mattered, though, since Lisa was busy screaming and covering her head at the sound of the gunshot. Immediately, Emerald had her weapons out, and her eyes darted around in search of the assassin.
A twinge in the back of her mind caused her to spin just as another shot rang out and clipped her in the shoulder. She hissed at the pain, but the shot told Emerald that her attacker was firing from the rooftops.
"Up there!" Emerald exclaimed, pointing in the direction she suspected the sniper was firing from.
Mercury growled, "Knew something felt wrong," before bounding up to the closest roof in a single leap and taking off into the darkness. At least he'd be able to take out his rage on someone. In the meantime…
Emerald dashed towards the direction of the shot and pressed herself up against the alley wall while keeping her focus on the illusion she was creating in Lisa's mind. The chaos and the yelling was something that Emerald allowed to slip through to the reporter's senses, as the confusion and violence worked in favor of what she had in mind.
While reality involved XCOM ambushing Emerald and Mercury to chase them off, it wasn't very difficult to flip the script and make Lisa believe that it was ADVENT ambushing XCOM instead.
Omerta swore. "The girl's staying behind."
"Yeah, well, we've got a bigger problem to worry about right now," Ochoa commented.
"I know."
The two operatives were making judicious use of their grapples, the escape route Ochoa had established, as well as several traps and obstacles they had slowly been setting up during their time in Vale. With no other major criminal elements in this area of the megacity besides Junior, Ochoa and Omerta had almost complete free reign of the rooftops, and so they did what covert operatives do best: prep for eventualities.
Like getting chased by a raging huntsman.
"Twins are at the rendezvous point!" Ochoa announced, "Just gotta get over this roofshit!"
Bullets started to whiz past them, and one clipped Omerta's partner in the leg.
He grunted in pain, but managed to tersely report, "Keep going. I'll be alright."
The two of them skipped over another tripwire, grappled over the roof, activated one more barrier, and sighed in relief at the sight of the Twins as they rounded the final corner. They were dressed in their usual colors, but in attire that was less ostentatious (and more practical) than party dresses.
"He's on our heels, and he's mad," Omerta warned as she slid past the twins and pulled out her sidearm.
Miltia snorted. "Should be fun, then."
"Aren't there two of them?" Melanie asked.
"The other is still with Lisa," Ochoa answered.
Before they had a chance to speak any further, a silver bullet of a huntsman plowed through Omerta's last trap and flung himself with an enraged roar into combat with the twins.
This was madness. Absolute madness. Being cornered and coerced by XCOM, then caught in the crossfire of an ambush, and now hearing the sounds of ADVENT soldiers coordinating their counterattack to push back against the XCOM instigators?
None of this made any sense. Had XCOM lost their minds? Or was this always how the operated when they were hiding in the shadows? Maybe Lady Fall was right about XCOM, and now they were showing their true colors out of desperation.
More gunfire, more voices. Lisa dared not make a run for it, just in case those thugs panicked and decided that an escaped reporter was a worse option than a dead one. All she could do was curl up into a ball and hope that the ADVENT patrol kept her safe. Soldiers cried out in pain, weapons chattered, and then suddenly something heavy struck Lisa's head before the world went black.
The world came back into focus, though Lisa didn't know how long she'd been out. The sky was still dark, and she was alone in the alley. She sat up and examined her surroundings for the aftermath of the firefight. Some blood… lots of bullet marks in the pavement… a few shattered windows…
A siren sounded down the road, and Lisa's ears perked up. Perfect. This was her way out. Now that local law enforcement was here, she was safe. And she could tell them that XCOM-
Lisa hesitated.
Wait. No. What if she was wrong about XCOM? What if… what if these guys had gone rogue or something? Their actions were abhorrent, obviously, but there were still unanswered questions, and Lisa's integrity as a reporter dictated that she couldn't make assumptions or accusations without all the facts. It wasn't right.
The patrol car pulled up, and the officer stepped out, eyes slightly wide at the sight of Lisa.
"Holy shit… ma'am, are you okay?"
Lisa nodded. "I think so. Got… jumped. By some hooligans, I think. Could you take me to a nearby hospital so I can have my injuries checked out?"
The officer nodded and swiftly moved to escort his charge over to the passenger side of his car. All the while, Lisa's mind was reeling.
How was she going to handle… this? Her office had already received several pings from the Central Officer, expressing interest in an interview or two in the near future. That could be dangerous, in light of tonight's events. If those operatives weren't rogue, then they would be reporting to Bradford that the hit had failed, and he might try to use the interview to pull something.
As the car started to drive down the road, Lisa realized that she needed to put any interviews with XCOM on ice until she could get a better understanding of what happened here tonight.
Besides, she wasn't sure she'd be able to remain impartial if she found herself on the other end of an interview with the Central Officer right about now.
"Going to visit our dear, vacuous mother again?"
Weiss halted at the doorway leading into the garden, closed her eyes, and suppressed a frustrated groan.
"Yes, Whitley," she answered, "I am."
Even without looking, she knew he was casually inspecting his fingernails in an effort to look bored, just on the offhand chance that Weiss did turn around to face him. It didn't take long after her return to Atlas for Weiss to remember all of the petty behavior Whitley learned in his efforts to please their father.
"Kind of a waste of time, isn't it?" he asked, "Shouldn't you be practicing for your big day, anyway? I thought Father sequestered you in the house to make sure you deliver a perfect performance."
"I don't need Father's permission to spend a few minutes with my own mother," Weiss said acidly. "Father's been rather pleased with me lately."
Whitley sighed, presumably out of fake pity for his sister. "For the time being. He's wondered why his beloved daughter who so gracefully exterminated a pair of vermin on his behalf has steadily slipped out of the house more and more. You still want to please father, don't you? You do if you know what's good for you. Oh well, I suppose you're more like our mother than I had realized: I'd have better luck talking to a brick wall than either of you. A pleasant day, sister-dearest."
As Whitley's footsteps clicked back into the mansion, Weiss continued on her way into the garden. As awful as his words were, she had to grudgingly admit that Whitley had a point about Willow Schnee's behavior, or rather, a lack thereof.
Wake up. Eat. Drink herself into a comfortable haze on the grounds of the Schnee Manor. Eat. Drink. Sleep.
Weiss may have been put under 'house arrest' until the gala, but her mother was effectively a sparrow locked in a gilded cage. She detested her husband, but he couldn't afford to let that dirty little secret get out to the public. So any luxuries she wanted, any food that she craved, and all the alcohol that she could imagine, it was hers. With the world's finest wines at her beck and call to drown out the misery of her life as Jacques Schnee's prisoner, her spiral into alcoholism wasn't that surprising.
A frown crossed Weiss's face as she passed by row after row of roses. Her mother's state wasn't surprising, but that didn't stop it from being disappointing. She was the daughter of Nicholas Schnee, for crying out loud! Was she so weak-willed that the easy path of least resistance was the preferable one? Did she not want to do anything with her life other than drink herself into oblivion and be miserable? Jacques was conniving, ambitious, and ruthless, to be sure, but Willow was a Schnee. As his wife, she could have pushed back and been a counterbalance.
… If she wanted to.
A halt, a deep breath, and a glance around the quiet garden stilled Weiss's train of thought. No. No point in holding a grudge over something she couldn't change. All she could do was work in the present. She reminded herself a saying that Zhang had once told her, one that had stuck with her ever since.
Trying to understand is like straining through muddy water. Be still, allow the water to settle, and you shall have your answer.
She listened to the birds chirping, she felt the gentle wind blowing, and she smelled the fragrance of the exotic flowers carefully tended to in the garden. Weiss Schnee came out here for a reason. XCOM needed her to succeed. All she needed to do was focus on that, and not concern herself with how maddening her mother could be.
Re-centered once more, Weiss continued her journey towards where she knew her mother would be sitting. At the edge of the garden, an umbrella cast its shade over a pair of chairs and a table by a small waterfall that flowed off of the manor's property that looked down on the rest of Atlas.
Right. Time for High Class Weiss to step up.
"Good afternoon, Mother," Weiss said, her voice airy and her tone composed.
Willow expression curled into one of annoyance. "Why would the staff send my daughter to bring me another glass of Atlesian Brut?"
Be still. Ruby wouldn't have let this bother her.
"The servants didn't send me, Mother," Weiss explained. "I just thought I'd come to say hello. See how you're doing."
Her mother was more surprised than a mother ought to be when told their child wishes to spend some time with them. "Oh. Well, I'm fine. As fine as I can be, I suppose..." Her attention drifted off, before a look on her face hinted that she suddenly had an idea. "Perhaps you could find whoever has my glass of Brut and tell them to hurry up?"
Weiss sighed. She knew to expect this, but that didn't make it any easier.
"No, Mother. I came to talk to you, not to fetch you a drink," she said as she took the vacant seat across from Willow. "More specifically, I wanted to ask you about the upcoming gala."
"I'm sure you'll do fine, Weiss," Willow said, waving her hand dismissively at the assumed question. "You always do, and your father gets all of the praise and donations he's after every time he puts you up on that stage."
At least there was a bright side to the conversation: they were in agreement about her father's true motivations for making Weiss perform. Still, it hurt a little that her mother assumed that Weiss had come just to worry and fret about her performance.
"That's not it, Mother," Weiss assured. "I just wanted to ask… you'll be watching, right?"
Willow cast a sidelong glance at her daughter and answered, "Don't I always?"
Actually, the correct answer to that question was a definitive 'No,' but Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that her mother would not appreciate the truth.
"I know, I know," Weiss lied. "It's just that I have a… a song."
"That is what you usually have when you perform, is it not?" Willow asked, befuddled.
Weiss nodded. "Of course. But this one… this one's for you, and I just wanted to make sure you hear it. It's a song that I'm sure you've never heard before."
That got a look of mild interest out of Willow's near-vacant face. "Oh?"
Weiss nodded again. "I usually don't look forward to these things, but for once I'm making sure I have a song that I want to sing."
"Then why waste it on a mother that spends all her time alone?" Willow droned, surrendering her disconnected attention to the (admittedly splendid) view before them. Though she delivered her question with a flat, uncaring tone, Weiss could sense a hint of bitterness to it. But before she could think too deeply on that little detail, the usual vocal haze returned when her mother added, "I'm sure Winter would appreciate it more. Or do you not have any friends you could sing for?"
Be still, allow the water to settle, and you shall have your answer.
"Because while I was gone, I learned the importance of what a mother means to me," Weiss answered. Weiss had to still the images of Vahlen in her head or she would never keep her voice from cracking. "What you mean to me."
Willow stared at her empty wine glass as she twirled it between her hands, then sighed as she plopped it back on the table in defeat. "We both know that I'm a disappointment."
"Perhaps we will agree to disagree," Weiss half-lied. She was disappointed in her mother's life choices, but working with Vahlen taught her one, critical truth about people.
It was never too late to change.
"Just leave me be, Weiss," Willow complained. "Go find out whatever it is that's holding up my wine, then go practice for your performance, or whatever else it is you do."
Be still…
"That's not what I want to do."
"But I'm your mother. You should listen to me, right?"
Allow the water to settle…
"Mother…"
Creases of annoyance started to criss-cross their way across Willow's face. "Weiss…"
"Dammit, mom-"
"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Willow screamed.
And you shall find your answer.
The two sat in silence, Weiss wide-eyed in shock at her mother's outburst and Willow softly panting from the exertion. Mother and daughter stared at each other from across the table, but it may as well have been from across a chasm. Willow was able to insulate herself from everyone else, stay within her hazy existence and drink her life away, but only so long as she could believe that nobody cared about her. That nobody even thought her failures were worth scrutinizing.
Well unfortunately for Willow, Weiss didn't let time and space stop her from getting back to Remnant, and so she wasn't going to let self-pity stop her from getting through to her mother.
"No," she whispered. "You brought two strong young women into this world. Women who are determined to make a name for themselves rather than ride on their family's reputation. We got that drive from somewhere. Do you really think I would walk away just because you asked me to?"
Willow just stared at Weiss, her eyes roiling a mixture of emotions as she grappled with the words coming out of her daughter's mouth.
"You are right that I've always resented the choices you made when we, your children, were in our formative years," Weiss continued, "Our vulnerable years. But that does not mean I will abandon you. You are my mother. My grandfather's daughter. Even if that doesn't mean anything to you, Mother, it matters to me."
"It shouldn't," Willow said in barely a whisper.
Weiss shook her head. "That's not your choice to make. Look at me."
Willow glanced vacantly up.
"No. Really look at me. Look at what I've become, what I've refused to let Jacques turn me into. How does that make you feel?"
A sigh, and Willow returned to her original position of leaning back into her chair. A sign, Weiss realized, that maybe she was pushing too hard.
But she had to give it one last try. "If you want to help your daughter, if you are proud of what she's become and want to be a part of it, then I am standing right here."
"There's nothing I can do, Weiss…"
That defeatism. It was her mother's go-to, and it grated on Weiss now more than ever.
Be still.
"You're wrong."
"You know I'm not."
Allow the water to settle.
"Would I be here if I agreed with you on this?"
Silence.
And you shall find your answer.
Weiss took a deep breath, and prayed that Klein knew what he was talking about. "XCOM's Central Officer Bradford will be at the gala, Mother."
"The terrorist?"
Oooohhhh, she was really testing Weiss's patience. "He's bringing along guests, but Jacques made it clear that he is to only bring two."
"Naturally."
"... He would like to bring a few more."
Silence. Weiss was in no rush, and she'd told herself before coming out here that she would wait for half an hour after making her request before bidding her mother farewell if Willow continued to say nothing. For now, she would settle back into her seat, gaze upon the view, and think about Zhang, Vance, Biggs, and all of the others who she knew would have never given up on her.
Five minutes passed, and the Atlesian Brut finally arrived. The servant apologized profusely for not realizing that Weiss would be joining Willow, and promised to fetch a second glass. Willow dully told him not to bother before Weiss could.
Ten minutes passed, and Willow was already refilling her glass from the bottle. Still not a word was said between the two of them.
Fifteen minutes passed. Weiss's thoughts turned to Ruby. She knew was that her partner wasn't in Atlas, and the only thing Weiss could do about it was have the confidence that Captain Rose was smart enough to stay safe. Weiss was owed an arrival of the cavalry, if memory served. Please come, Ruby.
Twenty minutes passed, and Weiss was slowly becoming resigned to the reality that her mother was simply going to ignore her and wait for Weiss to leave. Well, Weiss promised herself she'd wait thirty minutes, and she wasn't about to cut that short without a good reason.
Twenty-five minutes passed. The bottle of Atlesian Brut stood empty.
Thirty minutes passed, and it was time to go. Weiss stood up, and smiled at Willow.
"Thank you for letting me enjoy the afternoon with you, Mother. I have to be off for now, but I would like to do this again, perhaps tomorrow."
She straightened out her dress, hid a look of disappointment, and turned to leave.
"Weiss."
A single word from her mother gave Weiss pause. She looked over her shoulder to see Willow still staring out over the cityscape of Uptown Atlas. A tiny flicker of hope fluttered faintly in Weiss's heart. They stayed like that, frozen in time before Willow spoke again.
"You know that one of the few requests I make of your father at these social soirees is that he imports only the finest wines and liqueurs for the occasion. He continues to humor me, because the guests love it."
Weiss nodded. She knew this.
"It's very important that the spirits are authentic. All it would take is one wine aficionado to recognize that the Mistrali Barolo is actually Valean Chianti, and suddenly we would be the mockery of everyone who is anyone. 'The family that is too poor to actually serve the highest quality wine to its guests.' So I'm sure you understand that it takes a lot of time and attention to make sure all of the goods and accompanying paperwork is checked and verified."
Again, Weiss nodded.
"Because of the high-profile nature of this event, I've decided that it's critical to request twice the usual amount of alcohol to satisfy our guests. ADVENT deserves all the best decadence that we can provide, after all."
… Ah.
"Perhaps it would be in our best interest to increase the rigors of the screening process, then? If some counterfeit wine slips past and into this event…"
A smirk danced across Willow's lips.
"Perhaps so."
"I'll be going now, Mother," Weis said. "I'd like to do this again tomorrow."
She turned once more to take her leave before adding, "And I won't forget the Atlesian Brut this time."
Ilia sighed as she continued skulking down the neglected street. It had been a long time since she was last down here in Atlas's slums, and yet somehow it still felt familiar. The odor of soot tainting the air, the muted lighting, and the blatant disrepair in the infrastructure all showed how little Atlas thought about the labor force stuck in SDC's mines. Compared to how pristine and luxurious the upper-city looked, this neighborhood wouldn't even classify as a dump. The people down here were a necessary ugliness: a means that Atlesians didn't like to think about to meet an end that they could not live without. So token patrols would come down here from time to time, repair crews might make an appearance once or twice a year to prevent a complete collapse, but the slum dwellers were otherwise abandoned to scrape out a living.
The inhabitants, however, were determined to scrape out that living. Despite the dirty air from the processing plants and refineries, Ilia still saw tenants sweeping their front porch to keep it clean. Despite the low-lighting, children still played in the streets, and people gathered for social events. Despite the damage and dilapidation, or perhaps in spite of it, artwork and handmade modifications were erected to cover the failing architecture and add a sense of communal pride. This was their home, and they refused to let their pride as Atlesians falter and give way to despair.
"Eyes open, people. I'm seeing ADVENT activity in the area."
Ilia rolled her eyes and responded to Hogarth with, "Yes, and we are two civilians who are doing nothing wrong. If anything, we'd look more suspicious if we suddenly changed direction."
"Can't be too careful."
The young woman seethed in exasperation while her partner lightly chuckled.
"You know he's just giving us all the info he can, right?" Jane Kelly commented. "Saying 'ADVENT is here' just means ADVENT is here. It doesn't have to mean he thinks you need help."
They passed by a group of kids playing some kind of kickball game in the street.
"Still feels like he's just being needlessly protective, for whatever reason," Ilia muttered.
Jane raised an eyebrow. "He was assigned as your senior operative, was he not? Are you surprised that he's taking his job seriously?"
"I can take care of myself!" Ilia snapped. She quickly lowered her voice. "I've worked with the Fang for years. I'm not some helpless child."
"And yet you almost killed Mishka when he was answering your questions with the truth, simply because your zeal blinded you to any possibility other than the one you wanted."
Right. Open comms. In a situation like this, it would look suspicious if Ilia keyed her commpiece everytime she wanted to talk to Hogarth, so the line was always open. A fact that she found more frustrating than useful right about now.
"Are you trying to tell me I was supposed to believe him when he said he came from another planet?" Ilia spat.
"I am saying you should have asked yourself why he would have made up such a fantastic tale. If he was telling you something no one had ever even heard of and was willing to lay is life on the line for it, doesn't that warrant a second look?"
Ilia didn't answer, since she didn't trust herself to not say something unkind. Jane wasn't kidding about Hogarth taking his role seriously. From the moment Bradford had assigned Hogarth to supervise XCOM's newest 'recruit,' Hogarth was practically attached to her at the hip. The metaphorical hip, of course. She didn't know where he was half the time (such as now), but he seemed to always know where she was. And he always had these biting remarks ready, because apparently Ilia needed constant reminders of her failures.
'Failures are how you learn,' he would say. 'Nobody ever got better by remembering what they did right.'
Yeah, well… what failures did Hogarth have, hmm? What was Mr. Perfect Sneakyman hiding under his cool, calm facade?
"We're just outside Odei's point of contact," Jane reported, pulling Ilia out of her thoughts. "I'll go in while Skittles keeps an eye out for ADVENT-"
"That's what Hogarth's for!"
Jane flashed Ilia a dangerous look before continuing, "... and stalls them if need be."
Right. Not supposed to contradict a superior and/or commanding officer in the field. Jane kept her eyes locked on Ilia until Ilia sighed and nodded. Without a word, Jane slipped around the corner, and Ilia was left alone.
"ADVENT patrols aren't heading your way. You can breathe for a moment."
Well… almost alone.
"Can't really take a break with you breathing down my neck, now can I?"
"You don't have a choice."
"Thanks for the reminder, Dad," Ilia snarked as she slowly melded into the shadows. "Bradford should have just left me for dead when Lady Khan ordered my execution, because apparently I can't do anything right."
"You think you're the only person whose life Bradford has spared, Amitola?"
Several people walked by on the street, paying Ilia no mind while she sarcastically answered, "What? Do you have a dark past? Was Bradford your salvation?"
"I was a terrorist on Earth."
Okay… Ilia wasn't actually expecting her joke to have a grain of truth to it.
"My organization fought tooth and claw to bring down XCOM and subjugate Earth. I had a change of heart towards the end of the war when I realized that whatever EXALT wanted for humanity was a twisted visage that was closer to the aliens' goal than XCOM's. I didn't expect amnesty for my crimes, Amitola. I fully expected a shallow grave and a bullet between the eyes, and so my only reason for betraying my organization was to start making up for everything I'd done wrong in EXALT's name. Bradford gave me the chance to finish what I started."
He was being serious, wasn't he? He wasn't just making up a story to compare himself to Ilia. That wasn't his style.
"If you ever wonder why I'm hard on you, why I'm constantly pushing you to be better? It's because when I look at you, I am looking in a mirror from fifteen years ago. Hell, I'm reminded of myself two years ago. We enslaved nations, Ilia. Nations. At one point, we had thirteen nations under our heel. We fed our own people to the aliens' genetic processing chambers. Millions died, Ilia. Half of them were turned into genetic paste while they were still alive. And that wasn't even the worst things the aliens could do, what we let them do."
Ilia sat in silence as she chewed on Hogarth's words. She wasn't sure if the point was to reflect poorly on Ilia's life choices, or to reflect kindly on XCOM's benevolence, or to show that Ilia needed to turn her life around. She didn't feel like biting back with a retort, mostly because this was the first time Hogarth had opened up to her since they started working together. That deserved some respect, didn't it? That and she really had no idea how to respond to that knowledge bomb. To think that Blake lived through all of that? She'd have to find Blake and beg for an explanation somehow.
"ADVENT inbound," Hogarth warned. "Waylay them so that Lieutenant Kelly is able to conduct her work."
Well, being dressed up in XCOM gear should do the trick, given what Ilia saw from those ADVENT goons in Avitus. She stepped out from the shadows, stood at the edge of the curb, and did her best to look bored and annoyed as she waited for the patrol to roll up.
It didn't take long.
"Hey! You there!"
Ilia glanced over at the four thugs as they approached. The leader, clad in red armor instead of the usual white and grey, was pointing an accusing finger in Ilia's direction. Their helmets concealed the upper half of their faces, as usual, but the sneer they all wore told her that she guessed correctly about wearing XCOM's colors.
"Who, me?" she asked.
"Identify yourself, and state your business!"
Ilia raised an eyebrow. "What cause do you have to make demands of me? Do you make a habit out of bullying people standing on sidewalks?"
"Don't test my patience, girl," the officer growled. "Identify yourself."
"Keep him talking, Amitola. Kelly is wrapping up inside, but she has an idea. Whatever you do, stand your ground."
Hah. As if she needed to be told that.
"I am an operative of XCOM who has every right to be here. Or is your head so far up your ass that you missed the open invitation from Atlas's General Ironwood?"
Maybe a bit too far, but Ilia would be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the chance to mouth off to someone undeserving of authority.
The officer leaned in until his helmeted face was inches away from Ilia's. "General Ironwood is in Uptown Atlas. What would a little cockroach like you be doing down here in the slums, if not to cause trouble?"
"I could ask you the same thing, o' Keeper of the Peace," Ilia glared. "Or do you get a sick sense of enjoyment out of interrogating people who are minding their own business?"
The officer stepped back. "You're real funny, you know that? But you won't be laughing for much longer. You're coming with us."
"Stand your ground, and loudly ask about the disappearances happening in the slums," Hogarth commanded. "According to Kelly's contact, ADVENT's been hauling off people, and nobody has seen or heard from them since."
"And why is that?" Ilia demanded, dutifully cranking up the volume. "You don't like what I'm saying, so you're going to try and silence me even though I've done nothing wrong? Gonna take me off to join all the others you've been taking away, just because I was standing here? Dear Gods, I know it's been a long time since I've been in Atlas, but if we're reduced to arresting people for standing in public, the Kingdom is in trouble."
"Alright, that's enough-"
"No it is not!" Ilia shouted. "Are you an officer of Atlas? Or an officer of ADVENT? Because last I checked, I'm in Atlas. You are here on the kingdom's invitation to help keep people safe, and yet here you are abusing that trust to lock people up when they've done nothing wrong!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" The officer yanked an electrified baton off of his back and took a swipe at Ilia. Dodging the attack was child's play, and Ilia smirked.
"Ah! Attacking innocents now, are we?" she jeered. "Such wonderful peacekeepers you are. Go on! Try again. I'm sure all of these people are just dying for a demonstration that ADVENT has their best interest at heart!"
The officer looked around at Ilia's comment. Sure enough, people were coming out of their homes or poking their heads out of their windows to glare down at what the commotion was all about. The thugs behind the officer glanced at each other, the smirks wiped off their face once they realized how the situation looked from the outside.
Ilia made a shooing motion and said, "Run along now, ADVENT, unless you want to keep making fools of yourselves and undoing all that hard work that Lady Fall has done to give your organization a good name. I'm sure she'd love to have a little, private chat with any of her footsoldiers who gave her campaign a black eye."
"This is not over!" the Officer declared as he returned the baton to his back. He motioned to his team, and they walked back the same way they came.
"Nicely done, Amitola."
"You… you stood up to them," a voice said from behind her. Ilia looked back to see a couple of young boys staring at her. "I've never seen somebody stand up to them like that. They've taken so many…"
"And that's why we're here," Jane Kelly said, stepping out through the doorway of a small, nearby shack. A young woman followed behind her, and while Ilia didn't recognize the face (nor the striking platinum hair), the confidence in the woman's eyes was as plain as day. She also noticed several of the other tenants stepping back and bowing their heads in reverence.
"ADVENT may or may not be doing good elsewhere in the world," the woman said, "but here? Here, they have forgotten the claims of integrity and hope made by their Fall Maiden. I think it is in our best interests to remind them."
A/N: Alright, so looking to the future of this arc, I'd say there are ~4 chapters left. Schnee Gala is coming up, which is going to share chapter space with the Slums sub-plot that got started in this last scene. Then there will likely be a chapter that's between that one and the culmination of the Atlas arc. Said culmination will be two chapters, and I will not be posting the first until I've completed the second. This is because I plan to post the second only a week after the first. The reason? The biggest cliffhanger in the entirety of REMCOM will be dropped at the end of the penultimate chapter, and I'm not going to be an asshole that makes you wait a month and a half for me to get the second half pushed out.
Leaving you hanging on Ruby's abduction was bad enough.
