Chapter 17: The Devil in I

"Step inside, see the devil in I..."

Why?

Why the hell was he even her first visitor at the hospital?

Nex sat on the lone chair, his fingers brushing the metric fuckton of tubes and wires and who knows what else.

Needles wrapped in medical tape pumped fluids into her wrist—some sort of healing agent, no doubt. A pale blue sheet covered her form, matching the colour of her eyes.

The very same eyes looking at him, bright and alive despite the sorry state of their owner. A scar ran over her left eye, crossing her eyebrow down to the tip of her cheekbone.

Weiss shifted, probably trying to hide the blemish on her otherwise flawless face. Her hair was let loose, fanning out and covering most of her pillow.

She looked... different without the ponytail, the fringe, and the tiara.

Somehow.

Like Weiss Schnee was just another girl in the park—a girl complaining about scraped knees and spilled ice cream.

"Hey, Weiss," Nex said. "You really did everything to pass, huh?"

And it was so like her.

Weiss nodded, her flaked lips pulling into a smile. "I passed the test, Nex. We're going to Beacon."

And there was nothing else to say.

Nex stared at her scar, resisting the urge to dump aura into his semblance. There would be time for that later.

Weiss turned her head, facing him. Evidently, she gave up on trying to hide it. Her eyes stared into his.

There was no need for words.

Certainly not when their way with words was through silence.

Minutes passed.

A clock ticked somewhere in the background—just like that one afternoon in the library.

"How did you know?" Weiss said. "The media doesn't even know."

Nex shrugged. The media could go fuck itself. "Winter called me. She's busy with military stuff, so she sent me to pitch in."

"That's just like Winter. Always looking out for me even if she can't," Weiss said, breathing a sigh. "Not that I don't appreciate you coming here, because I do."

Winter Schnee. The big sister who loved her little sister very much.

But his partner's entire ordeal was nothing but a decoy. And it served nothing more than the satisfaction of her father. The scar on his partner's face was nothing but a ploy.

Some answers would be great.

Wonderful, even.

Now.

But Weiss needed him here. Not now, then.

Maybe later.

It was doubtful her father missed her current companion.

"What happened?" Nex said.

There was no need to clarify what he was asking. His partner was intelligent enough to know. He had already been staring at her scar for minutes.

"My father made me fight an Atlesian Paladin," Weiss said, her eyes fixed on her needled wrist. "I did everything I could."

Her father made her fight one of those mechs Roman was interested in. It was a miracle she was lying here at all. And it was certainly better than being dead.

A scar meant she was strong—that she survived so she could become even stronger. Being dead meant he would have been missing a partner. And that would have meant he lost yet again.

"What happened?" Weiss said.

Nex smiled. Probably expected him to know what she meant. "Ironwood endorsed me to Beacon. I got in."

"That's great, Nex," Weiss said, beaming. Then she grimaced, pain ghosting over her face. Just like when her arm broke. His calves tensed, already moving to push him up. "No, I'm okay. What did he thank you for?"

Nex shrugged, plopping back into the chair. "Didn't Winter say that it's classified?"

Weiss frowned. "Then declassify it. I won't tell anyone."

Nothing wrong with telling his partner, but there was a camera on one of the walls.

Did that thing even record audio?

Knowing her father, it probably did. Her father's association with Ironwood meant that if he did tell her here, then the general would definitely know.

"The walls have ears," Nex said, glancing at the camera. And eyes, even. "Besides, I don't think the general would like it if I told you. On record, at least."

Weiss smiled, her hand flexing. "I can wait then."

Nex shrugged. There was nothing left to say. And nothing left to do but sit here and wait for his partner to recover.

He was no longer a bartender at the Huntsman's Respite. Nor did he actually need any more of the Atlesian lien. There was no real need to rush. And for probably the first time in his entire life, he could finally sit still, relax, and close his eyes without worrying.

A pity the occasion only arrived when his partner was grievously injured. But then again, people won some and lost some.

What was important was that they lived to see another day.

The door hissed open.

A heartbeat stepped into the room. It was calm. Collected. Eerily similar to the beating in his partner's chest.

Her eyes widened.

Weiss stiffened, plastering a smile on her face. "Father! It's a pleasure to see you."

And so, the big man came.

As expected.

Time to see how her father really was.

"Weiss. Excuse me and your interim guardian for a moment," Jacques Schnee said. "We have important matters to discuss."

It was most definitely not a request.

Rather, it was a demand.

And the look in his partner's eyes only confirmed it. She only ever looked like that during the White Fang incident.

What kind of father inspired that look in his daughter's eyes?

Fuck it all then.

Fuck all the fathers in the world.

Particularly the secretive and manipulative ones. And the ones who were missing a set of balls. Too drunk to even—

Screw it.

Nothing would really change, would it?

"Be right back, Weiss," Nex said, hauling himself to his feet. Even as his partner whimpered. He spun on his heel, face to face with the smiling man. The smile was matched with practised ease. Mirrors and all. When he was younger. "Your father and I need to talk."

Jacques led him through the door and out of the hospital. They spoke little, until they were well-situated inside his stupid, fancy car. The unseen driver sped them off, probably back to his office.

All important men had those.

"I'm sure you know who I am," Jacques said. "Everyone reads the newspapers nowadays, don't they?"

Jacques opened with a joking tone, obviously expecting him to loosen his guard.

The city zoomed past the black-tinted window, the SDC private hospital turning into a dot on the highway.

Weiss was alone. While he was sitting here with Jacques. But her father definitely had the answers to his questions.

A compromise then.

"Actually. I don't," Nex said, rolling his eyes. It was the furthest thing from the truth. But her father did not need to know that. "The name's Nexus. Nexus Shade."

Jacques chuckled. Definitely at his own joke. "Jacques Schnee. I already know who you are."

Jacques did?

Shocker.

Nex shrugged. "Well, now I know who you are too. So, what do you want to talk about?"

"We'll talk in my study. But if you'd prefer," Jacques said. "We can talk right now. I'm sure you're eager to return to my daughter's side."

Nex shook his head. It was probably a bait. "We can talk there. I'm in no hurry."

The roads turned into twists and the twists turned into spirals. By the time they arrived, he already lost count of the number of cars they overtook on the dark, neon-lit streets. It was simply the way Atlas was—cars, billboards, commercials. Even the vans of the news outlets, looking for their next big scoop—a scoop that they were definitely missing.

The one in the hospital and all.

It took an elevator ride to ascend the SDC's main headquarters. Probably one of the tallest buildings in the heart of Atlas.

And well, it was probably compensating for something.

The varnished wood of Jacques' personal study opened by itself. A camera swung on the ceiling, sweeping the carpeted floor.

The carpet looked like as if it was made of real fur. Strands of white stuck to his dust-caked boots. And knowing the man, it was probably real.

If the SDC's most vocal critics were to be believed, then Jacques Schnee skinned his underpaid, faunus miners just to make some carpets.

Easy propaganda material.

But still, what exactly was the truth?

Jacques Schnee made no derogatory comments about his extra pair of ears. Not a one. Not even when he was purposely being difficult during the drive.

Jacques' veiled comments were definitely reserved for his general attitude instead. The one with the rolly eyes and the shruggy shoulders. And certainly not for his half-heritage.

Or else it would have been nothing new.

"After you," Jacques said, gesturing at the doorway. "I'd hate to be seen as a poor host."

Gods forbid.

Of course he would.

Nex rolled his eyes, stepping into the room. "Well, thanks. That sure is nice of you."

Jacques' personal study was the exact opposite of Ironwood's. Where the latter was a pure-bred minimalist, the former kept a lot of portraits and bookshelves.

There was barely enough space inside the lamp-lit room for a single desk and two chairs.

Jacques waved at a velvety chair—the one probably meant for his guests. "Do you need refreshments? Perhaps some water? Do speak your mind."

"No thanks," Nex said, sitting on the chair. Damn. It was second only to the headmaster's in Atlas Primary. Maybe even softer. "I don't want to keep Weiss waiting."

And that was the absolute truth.

Every second here meant Weiss was alone in that cold, sterilized hospital. There was no way he could call himself her partner if he could not even take care of her while she was injured.

"Your dedication and loyalty to my daughter is admirable," Jacques said, sitting on the chair across him. Right across the desk. "Tell me. What do your eyes see?"

Nex shrugged. A lot of portraits hung on the walls, most of them displaying the man in various poses. "A lot of your pictures. You sure love having yourself framed."

Jacques chuckled, apparently missing the implication that he was narcissistic—which was exactly what a narcissist would have done. "I'm glad you're appreciative of my tastes. But that's not the only thing that I want you to notice. Look behind me. Use your eyes."

Nex squinted.

There was a rectangular portrait.

Hidden by a shadow.

Four people stood side by side in the picture.

A petite woman with waist-length, luscious blonde hair stood farthest on the left, hefting a sheathed sword on her armoured shoulder. Two tufts of fur sat on her head.

To her left stood a pale-skinned woman. Probably the same height as the fair-skinned blonde, but her white hair was cut into a pixie bob. One that barely touched her squared shoulders. She was pointing a rapier straight at the camera, arching an eyebrow, her chin raised.

The third was a man with slick black hair and the beginnings of a moustache. His bare hand was joined with the white-haired woman's, just under their hips. Almost managing to hide it, even.

The fourth was definitely a grizzly bear. A tanned, seven-foot one. But a grizzly bear nonetheless. His scarred arms were planting an axe into the dirt.

All of them were smiling. All of them looked suspiciously familiar. Familiar enough that he already met at least three of them.

His semblance flared.

White fizzled over black.

"That's my mom. And a younger you before you bleached your hair," Nex said. "And Mekel. They're your teammates? You're a huntsman from Beacon?"

Jacques chuckled, placing a fist on the brown wood. "The implication that I'm old is unflattering. But you're correct. What you see in the portrait is Team SSJW of Beacon, pronounced as Shadow, led by your mother. Amariss Shade."

Nex sank into his seat, blinking twice at the portrait.

The scene in the sunny meadow did not change.

He could definitely recognize Oathkeeper and Vigilance on sight, even if the scabbard still looked like its curved, unmodified self. More damning was the golden wolf howling at the moon. The one stained on the scabbard's surface. His mother's emblem. It was even on his own version of Vigilance.

The woman with the rapier resembled Weiss so much that there was no question the woman was her mother. In fact, the crystal-white rapier was definitely the same weapon Weiss was using.

Mekel still looked the same, albeit thinner. Well, his ex-boss was getting a little bit bulky under the brown suit.

"Why W for Mekel?" Nex said. "What's his surname?"

His ex-boss never said anything about it. It simply never came up. He was happy enough the crime lord gave him an honest job, despite the thick irony. And this was apparently why Mekel did.

It was a small world.

An incredibly small world.

It was getting claustrophobic.

"Winterheart. Our eldest is named after him," Jacques said. "You see, my partner and I are two threads in the same stitch, weaving our own tapestry inside Atlas. I'm sure your incredible intellect can connect the dots."

The incredible intellect part was debatable, but his semblance did connect the dots.

Jacques Schnee controlled the Schnee Dust Company.

Mekel Winterheart controlled half of the criminal underworld.

They were definitely coordinating their efforts, keeping the city under their thumbs. But that was relatively unimportant—what mattered was why his mother's teammate was telling him all this.

Jacques smiled. "I'm sure the cogs in your head are spinning. You take after Mary. And if she were in your place, she'd have already asked why I brought her here by now."

"Why?" Nex said. "Why tell me all this?"

Because believe it or not, his mother's teammate held the answers to his questions. And it seemed Jacques was perfectly willing to provide them. As long as it stayed that way, Weiss could wait a little while longer.

A hologram flickered over the desk.

White Fang goons collapsed in the hallways of Atlas Primary, clutching their stomachs. Those in the auditorium did the same, splashing vomit on the white-washed walls.

His chest tightened. Yuck. Somehow, it looked even more toe-curling on record.

The tape ended just as the soldiers barged into the auditorium, led by Winter herself.

"The Mantle Frequency. Don't bother denying it," Jacques said, chuckling. "I don't believe Winter's little fairy tale. As amusing as it may be."

Nex shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the hologram. "I did what I had to do to protect Weiss. I don't care if my methods step on the sensitive feelings of faunus or politicians. They can stuff their feelings elsewhere while I attend to reality."

"And you've answered your own question. Stupendous," Jacques said, smirking as he clapped once. "You are unlike any of my progeny. You are a man willing to do whatever is necessary, the consequences be damned, to further your own agenda. If only my son and my daughters had half your perspective, then I wouldn't be going through all of these ridiculous schemes."

Jacques' claim was undeniable.

Well, he could deny it, but then there was no point in lying to himself. In his own thoughts, even.

But still, Jacques Schnee was turning out to not be as irrationally evil and one-dimensional as Weiss portrayed him to be.

Maybe Winter was right.

There was more to the official story.

An unofficial one, even.

"Why then?" Nex said. "Why put them through all of your tests?"

Jacques rubbed his temple. "Why does any parent put their child though a test? Would you believe me if I told you, that everything I do is only for the sake of my family, so they could live the life of luxury that they deserve?"

Now that was an interesting thought. Weiss was afraid of him. Winter was tight-lipped about him. Their mother seemed to be missing from their lives.

How did Jacques see it from his side?

"That's interesting," Nex said, licking his dry lips. "Where's your family now, then?"

Jacques frowned, his gloved finger tapping the wooden desk. "They don't understand, so they shun me along with my methods. They don't know what it's like to work until their hands bleed. They don't know what it's like to fear that today's lien may be their last. They, are neither you, nor I."

Admittedly, Jacques had a point.

But he would never go as far as the Schnee patriarch did.

So far that his own daughter was afraid of him.

"I'm nothing like you," Nex said, his eyes narrowing. "I wouldn't put my hypothetical daughter through all of your schemes."

Jacques grinned. "On the contrary, I am you. I'm even starting to see myself in you. A boy pushed to the edges of society, attached to one of its elites by coincidence. I clawed my way out of the gutter just like you did, all for the one person that I truly gave a damn about."

Thunder rattled his brain.

Nex flinched, almost falling off his chair.

Something about the statement strummed all the right chords. And that was because it was nothing but the truth.

He met Weiss because they were partnered in Dust Practical. A complete coincidence. Everything stemmed from their partnership. If they never met, then he would probably be half-asleep somewhere, his head lost in the clouds, his brain waxing some lyrical poetry.

Or even some songs for no one.

"Willow Schnee," Nex said, breathing a sigh. "She inspired you, didn't she?"

Just like how Weiss inspired him.

"Now you're starting to understand," Jacques said with a curt nod. "Weiss insists that she enrols at Beacon. She will be alone for four years, surrounded by those I can't possibly trust."

Jacques paused, seemingly considering his words.

"But you'll be there, won't you? Do you understand exactly what I'm offering you?" Jacques said, steepling his fingers together. "I give to you what I value the most in this world. Ensure that the world doesn't take her away from you."

Jacques did not need to tell him that. He would have kept Weiss safe even if her father did not ask.

But he was definitely missing something here.

A critical detail of what Jacques just said.

"Alright," Nex said, heaving a sigh. "What's your game?"

Jacques smiled, dropping a card on the desk. "I assure you, I'm not playing any games. It'd be disrespectful to our old friend if I played games with her son. And I'm, as your generation will put it, quite serious about this."

His semblance never reacted to anything dangerous. It was possible Jacques meant him no harm. But then again, it was possible his semblance was lying.

Fat chance.

The odds of a rogue bagel destroying the Grimm were higher than that.

Jacques arched an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. If that was even possible. "You don't trust easily. That's good. You do take after your mother."

As opposed to what?

His father?

Gods forbid.

He was definitely swearing off alcohol because of Qr—

He who shall not be named.

"Only a fool takes everything at face value," Nex said, rolling his eyes. "There's always something more."

Ironwood, Amariss, Summer, and all the other people in the world. There was something connecting them. A thread. Some stitch that wove them together in the tapestry of life. Team SSJW was proof of that. An unexpected connection. Or even a cloak and dagger conspiracy.

Maybe his mother's teammates were in on it as well?

"I happen to agree. But you don't need to trust me," Jacques said. "You only need to assume responsibility when the time comes."

Nex shrugged, swiping the card into his pocket. Maybe it could come in handy. "Can I go back to Weiss now?"

"You may. I'll have one of my employees take you back," Jacques said, smirking as he shot him a look. "But don't do anything irresponsible. Willow and I are still unprepared for that eventuality."

Nex raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Come to think of it, Winter said the exact same thing.

"Well. Everyone has their weak points," Jacques muttered, cupping his forehead. Like he was contemplating his life choices. "Go now. Don't keep my daughter waiting."

Nex shrugged, standing up.

No need to ask him twice.

Fun Trivia: Team SSJW is Team STRQ's B-side counterpart, like what Team JNPR is to Team RWBY. It's even in their team names—Shadow and Stark—and their missing team leaders. They both feature in Artificer's to-be-published prequel, Knightess. More details on my profile if you're curious.