Missing In Action

Chapter 1


Her name was Cinder Fall, and she was dying.

The bullet wound in her abdomen had torn deeply through her guts, burning with white-hot pain the entire time. She could feel it, embedded just a short distance away from her spine. It was a small mercy that the man who'd fired it hadn't aimed an inch to the left, otherwise it would have severed her spine and she would have been dead rather than dying. Not that it mattered – she'd managed to escape into the wilderness, but she could tell that she wasn't going to make it much further.

Still, something kept her limping forwards, even as the blood trail she left on the grass behind her began to thicken. She wasn't sure what it was – the mission was over, and had been successful. If anything, she should have just laid down and died then and there, and yet she didn't.

Behind her, another explosion rocked the night, and a fireball lit up the sky, illuminating the forest around her. She'd made it quite a ways away already – a few miles on-foot before a patrol had caught her, and she'd been shot – but the sheer size of the Dust refinery ensured that her act of sabotage was going to cause quite the light show for the rest of the night. Not that she cared – all that mattered to her was that the mission was now over, and that she had to return to base for the next one, because that was all that ever mattered.

Cinder burst through a thicket, nearly doubling over in pain as her bullet wound flared up. She hissed and grit her teeth, then looked around. Off in the distance, she could see what looked like a small farmstead. It wasn't much, but perhaps she'd be able to steal some supplies from them. Anything to treat her wound at this point.

She took one step towards the house, then her legs finally gave out from underneath her. Cinder came crashing to the ground, letting out a cry of pain as she fell. She laid there just outside the treeline, flickers of black encroaching on her vision as her abdomen screamed at her.

Finally, the pain and exhaustion became too much to bear, and she blacked out.


"Line up, all of you. Let the General get a good look."

She stood there, at the end of the line, her hands clasped behind her back. Young as she was, she didn't understand the significance of the General's visit, only that it was important that she be on her best behavior. Then again, that was always important – the orphanage dictated their every move, and made sure they were nothing if not obedient. Any children who stepped out of line had their meals for the day revoked or were beaten. It was brutal, but it was how Mistral operated – they valued discipline above all else. Any individualism was to be stamped out for the greater good.

And so, she stood, eyes focused on the wall ahead of her as General Ironwood went through the line, stopping by each child to examine them closely. At each one, he shook his head and said something to the soldier following behind him, who then wrote something on his clipboard and moved on along with the General.
Finally, they came to her. And for the first time, General Ironwood seemed interested.

"Name?"

The question took her by surprise, but she hesitated for only a second. "Cinder."

"And your last name?"

"I don't have one."

Ironwood nodded. He gazed past her, out the window. Cinder chanced a look back and saw that he was staring at the autumn leaves as they fell from the trees onto the ground below. Her gaze tracked a bright yellow leaf as it floated through the air, then landed atop a small pile on the ground.

"Fall," Ironwood suddenly announced, causing her to snap back towards him, surprised. "Cinder Fall… it has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Cinder nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. The other children were glaring at her, offended by the sudden burst of individualism that had been bestowed upon her.
Among the orphans, having a last name was taboo, and the only ones who had one had inherited it from their parents. Those of them who didn't know their parents, such as her, weren't given such a privilege – to pick your own last name was to go against the crowd, which was forbidden.

"Do you like that name, Cinder?" Ironwood asked.

She spared a look over at the other orphans. She would receive a beating for this, but she didn't care; she'd never liked any of them, anyway. Anything to spit in their eyes. "I do."

For the first time, Ironwood frowned. "Sir," he added. "I do, Sir."

"I do, Sir," Cinder repeated.

He was pleased at that, a thin smile crossing across his face. He stood up straight, then looked back to the woman who ran the orphanage. "This one shows promise. I'll be taking her with me."

Cinder felt her heart skip a beat. He was adopting her, it sounded like. She had no idea what she had done to earn the General's interest, but she didn't care – this was her ticket out of here.

Ironwood seemed to recognize that she was excited, because he was quick to direct his attention back to her.

"This is not a vacation," he warned. "In exchange for helping you leave this place and giving you a last name, you are called upon to serve. You will train, and you will serve Mistral and Atlas as best as you can, with distinction. You will become a weapon pointed at our enemies, but in doing so, you will be given something of your own, something which you have lacked for your entire life, and which you otherwise would not have – purpose. Do you find this agreeable?"

Cinder didn't have to think twice. She didn't quite understand what he was saying – she was only seven years old, after all – but anything that got her out of the orphanage had her attention.

And so she looked up into Ironwood's eyes and nodded, and in so doing, sealed her fate.


Cinder woke with a start, catapulting upright. Her stomach screamed at her as she did so, but she didn't flinch – no, she welcomed it. Pain meant she was still alive; being alive meant she could still return to Atlas and continue her mission.

She took stock of her surroundings. She was in a small wood-patterned room. There was one door in front of her, and one window behind her. There was little else in the room – an end table, and a wooden chair a few feet away from the bed, and not much else. There was a glass of water sitting on the end table; her throat burned as she stared at it, and Cinder went to reach for it, but her hand was stopped from traveling across her chest by something. She looked towards it, surprised, and found a heavy chain connecting her hand to the bed frame.

Her brow furrowed. So it's going to be like that.

There were footsteps outside the door, and Cinder turned towards them just in time to see it come swinging open. She tensed, expecting an enemy soldier of some kind, but that wasn't what she got. Rather, what she got was a young man, approximately seventeen years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was carrying a small roll of bandages and medicine. The two of them stared into each other's eyes, and he paused mid-stride to look at her.

And then, to Cinder's surprise, he dropped what he was carrying and took off down the hall, shouting the whole time.

"Mom! Dad! She's awake!"

And then there were more footsteps, these a lot heavier than the last. Again, she tensed, especially when the newcomer stepped through the doorframe and stared at her.

He was tall, even taller than the young man had been. In fact, the resemblance between the two of them was uncanny – this man was obviously the young man's father. He was dressed in jeans and a tan vest, which showed off his well-muscled physique. His yellow hair had started to fade a bit with age, but his body looked as youthful as ever, save for some heavy scarring across his chest and stomach, which she recognized as shrapnel wounds.
A veteran, then. Just her luck.

The man wore his hair somewhat long for a man, with it tied back in a short wolf tail. He also had a well-maintained beard, faded just a bit like the hair on top of his head.

He took a sudden step towards her, and Cinder waited for him to strike her, but he never did. Instead, he simply sat down across from her and rested his hands in his lap, and they stared at each other. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"You'll have to forgive my son," he began. "We don't get many visitors here."

"Is that what I am?" Cinder asked. "A visitor?"

"Well… no. Your equipment made it quite clear what you actually are."

At the mention of her equipment, Cinder looked down at herself. Predictably, it was all gone – her battle rifle and pistol had been taken, as had her armor and her bodysuit. And yet, they hadn't seen fit to strip her, at least not completely – rather, she was wearing… she wasn't sure how to describe it. It was some one-piece garment that flowed from two straps on her shoulders down to her knees, and which blossomed out at the bottom. It was bright blue, and covered in yellow flowers. The man noticed her brow furrow at the sight of it, and let out a small cough.

"My wife's the only one here who's your size," he said. "We figured giving you a dress of hers was better than leaving you nude."

"What do you want?" Cinder growled. "If you intend to kill me, then do so. Do not waste my time talking to me."

"Kill you?" He shook his head. "No, I won't do anything like that. Not when you have so much to answer for."

He pointed past her, out the window. Cinder followed where he was pointing, and that was when she saw the huge plume of smoke cresting over the horizon a few miles away.

"It's been burning since last night," the man stated. "Your work, I assume?" Cinder didn't give him a response. He sighed. "Lots of good people lost their lives last night. You were almost among them. By any right, you should have been – it's sheer dumb luck that Jaune found you while he was out doing chores this morning. I suppose you wound up in our field when you were fleeing the scene?"

Again, she said nothing. He crossed his arms. "The silent treatment isn't going to make things easier, you know. I can always contact Glynda Goodwitch and have her send an interrogator here."

"Then do so," Cinder snapped.

That seemed to take him by surprise. "You understand what the interrogator will do to you, correct? You launched an attack on Vale's soil. That makes you a terrorist. That means-"

"The laws and customs of war do not apply to me. I am aware. I do not care. Call the interrogator and get it over with."

"You're awfully eager to be worked over for information."

"I'm eager for someone to put me out of my misery."

"Why is that? Will Atlas kill you if they think you've talked?"

"I am not affiliated with Atlas in any way."

"That so?" he asked, bringing a hand up to rub at his beard. "Then I suppose it's just a coincidence that you happened to be armed with an Atlesian battle rifle and pistol, and attacked a Dust refinery of one of Atlas' enemies? Come on. I was a soldier, too – on the opposite side, granted, but still a soldier like you. I wasn't born yesterday; I know how this works."

"Do you?"

"I know you're almost certainly black ops," he said. "Probably a Specialist of some kind, though I'd bet you're a bit more elite than even they are. I know that you're going to deny you work for Atlas, and they're going to deny you even exist. There's nobody coming to save you, but I don't think you expect to be saved, either. You're now a prisoner of war, only because we can't exactly prove that you're a soldier instead of a terrorist, the rules keeping POWs safe don't apply to you. That means it's perfectly within Glynda's right to order that you be tortured for information."

"Are you going to keep wasting my time, or are you going to call the interrogator and get even for the lives I stole last night?" Cinder demanded.

The man blinked and held his tongue for the first time. He stared at her in silence for a moment.

"...Miles Arc," he said, after the silence had passed. "This is my home. I live here with my wife and eight children – one boy, and seven girls. What's your name?"

"None of your business."

"That's not a name, nor is it standard Atlas operating procedure. Name, rank, and serial number. Unless you plan to keep insisting that you aren't associated with Atlas?"

"I insist only upon the truth."

Miles Arc sighed, then rose to his feet. "Very well, keep your secrets… or at least, what you seem to think are secrets. I'll come back in a bit to check on you."

He turned and began to leave the room. Cinder followed him with her eyes as he went, and for the first time, she noticed that there was a large group of people standing outside the door – a grown woman, which had to have been Miles' wife, plus eight children, seven girls and one boy. The Arc patriarch motioned for his children to follow after him, and they all did so, save for one – the boy.

He didn't follow after his father, for reasons Cinder couldn't understand. Instead, he stayed there, staring at her with wide eyes. Cinder stared back, her eyes narrowing dangerously, but he didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. Instead, he just continued staring there, his eyes roaming the contours of her dress.

"Jaune," Miles called from down the hall. "Leave her. She's not in a talking mood."

Jaune jumped a bit, his face reddening. "R-right. Sorry, Dad," he called back.

He turned and walked down the hall, leaving her alone. Cinder waited for his footsteps to fade, then turned her attention back towards the window.

A small grin crossed her face when she saw the smoke still curling high into the sky.


They left her alone for a few hours after that. She wasn't sure why – maybe Miles had actually called the interrogator, and they were simply waiting for him to arrive. Maybe they just hoped to leave her in solitude in order to try and break her. If that was their plan, it was a pretty poor one, given how she was quite comfortable, aside from the chain that kept her bound to her bed.

She stared out the window, watching the birds as they flew overhead. Her mind was elsewhere – mostly, she was trying to think of a way out, but none came to mind. Her only real hope was to wait until her Aura came back so she could use her Semblance to burn through the chain. Sure, she'd end up with a nasty burn in the process, but it'd also be enough to break her free. Then she could escape, and eliminate anyone who got in her way.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she turned towards the door, confused. She was a prisoner of war; why would they bother knocking in the first place?

The person on the other end didn't wait for a response. Instead, she stepped inside. The woman was older than Cinder – this must have been the Arc family matriarch. She closed the door behind her and stepped inside humming a tune, only to pause in surprise when she saw Cinder sitting upright.

"You're awake," she observed. "You were so quiet that we all thought you were asleep."

Cinder said nothing, instead turning her attention to the basket the woman was carrying. It was full of medical supplies, she noted – bandages, antiseptic, the works. It made sense, of course – if they intended to extract information from her, then they would need her alive. The thought aggravated her, but she didn't let her anger show, even when the woman came over to her and rolled her dress up to look at her wound.

"We haven't met," the woman said. "I'm Jillian Arc. And you are?"

Again, Cinder said nothing, instead studying Jillian intensely. She looked to be in her mid-forties, but she wore her age well – she was still quite youthful in appearance, with long, shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes, not to mention a thin smile that Cinder could just tell she wore all the time. She had on a green dress, similar to the one Cinder was wearing.

There was a sudden burning sensation on her abdomen, but Cinder didn't react to it – she was used to pain. Instead, she gave Jillian a questioning glance.

"Antiseptic," Jillian reported. "I know I might not seem like much, dear, but I was a nurse. That's how Miles and I met – he was a soldier, and I was the one responsible for treating him." A wistful smile crossed her face. "And before you ask – yes, it was love at first sight, even with his stomach blown open by a grenade."

"I don't care," Cinder announced.

"No, but I do," Jillian said, unperturbed. She turned her attention down to Cinder's stomach. "Every scar has a story, you know. Of course, I know better than to ask about yours – you'd never tell me, and I wouldn't want to intrude, anyway."

"Just kill me," Cinder growled.

Jillian paused, staring at her in surprise. "Why would I do that? You're my guest, and more importantly, you're my patient."

"I mean it. Stop treating me. It'll get infected in a few days, and without my Aura, that'll be enough to do the job. Why are you wasting time and energy on this? You know I'm never going to talk. Do you just want to see me suffer?"

Jillian stared at her for a bit before her expression turned to a new emotion – Cinder recognized it as pity, which gave her pause.
In that moment, Cinder decided she hated being pitied.

She turned away with another growl, looking up to the ceiling. "Do what you will, I don't care. Just get it over with and leave, and don't waste my time with talk."

"...If that's what you think is best, dear," Jillian offered.

And that was where their conversation ended. Jillian finished cleaning and dressing her wound, then left her, and Cinder went back to staring out the window, admiring her own handiwork.


There were no more visitors until the sun started to come down. Sure, Cinder could hear them just outside the door – all the young girls pressing their ears against it, whispering among themselves about the strange newcomer who was dying in their house, but she didn't bother to lash out at them, despite how they annoyed her. Somehow, she could tell that'd only encourage them.

She enjoyed the silence for awhile, but admittedly as time passed, she was starting to get bored. Perhaps that was part of their plan, but if it was, she had to give them credit – it was working. Normally, her life was pretty monotonous, though it was quite active – when she wasn't training, she was out on missions; when she wasn't out on missions, she was training. It was a simple routine, but it was one that kept her busy, and she'd learned to appreciate the stability of it over the years.

Ironwood had told her she'd be a weapon all those years ago, and he'd meant it. Cinder had figured out early on that he'd always intended to send her on missions until she was captured or killed, and she'd had no complaints about it – the danger was a small price to pay for getting out of the orphanage, and it wasn't like she'd had any hope of escaping Atlas anyway.

Still, she was disappointed that she'd only made it to twenty-three years of age before her time was up. Her time in the field was relatively short, all things considered – nine years, if she was remembering right. Not nearly long enough for Ironwood to consider her debt to him fully paid off. It was disappointing to think that she'd gotten herself killed before settling that particular debt.

There was another knock at the door, and just like earlier, Cinder didn't dignify it with a response. It opened regardless, but it wasn't Miles or Jillian – rather, it was the young one, Jaune. He was carrying a plate of food, which Cinder noticed was steaming, like it was fresh out of the oven. She could smell it from her bed – it smelled like chicken, potatoes, and greens.

She had to admit that it smelled really good, but that was mainly because she hadn't eaten in over a day, and because nearly everything she ate these days came from a military ration.

Jaune stopped a short ways away, the plate held in his hands. He met her gaze for a second before looking away, his face flushing red.

"Um… I brought you some food," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. He offered her the plate, stretching it out to try and give it to her. Cinder stared at it, willing her stomach not to growl. Jaune cleared his throat. "Are you gonna, uh-"

"I'm not hungry," Cinder stated, returning her attention to the window.

"You sure? Because you haven't eaten anything since I found you… I mean, I'd be pretty hungry if I was in your position."

Cinder paused. That was right, he'd been the one to find her early in the morning, at least according to Miles. The thought that she'd been captured because of Jaune's interference enraged her enough to want to kill him, but she held herself back for the moment; it wasn't like she could even do anything, given her injury and the fact that she was still bound to the bed.

"You're the one who found me," Cinder stated.

Jaune nodded. "Yeah. I was out working the fields this morning when I saw you lying there. I called for my parents and they brought you inside, then my dad noticed that you were probably from Atlas, so… yeah. Sorry."

And now he was apologizing to her? She couldn't but stare at him, completely unsure of what to make of the situation. It could just be another trick, but at this point, the Arcs had to be really dedicated to whatever psy-op they were trying to pull on her, if it was this bulletproof.

Jaune cleared his throat, then moved the plate a bit closer to her. "Seriously, you should eat something. You've gotta be starving, and your Aura is going to come back a lot slower if you're not eating."

"What's it to you?" Cinder snapped. "You can all stop pretending like any of you care. I know this is all just a ploy to get me to talk. I'm not going to talk no matter what you do to me, so you might as well just kill me or let me die and be done with it."

Jaune blinked, taken aback. "Uh… I'll just leave this here for you, I guess."

He set the plate of food down on the end table next to her, then waved goodbye and left, shutting the door behind him as he went. Cinder cursed him the entire time.

She didn't eat that night, despite how tantalizing it smelled. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he'd beaten her.


Welcome, friends, to yet another story I've been working on in sort-of secret for the past few months. The people wanted more Knightfall, so the people are gonna get more Knightfall. And yes, this is an AU similar to my other Great War AU story, Lost Forever, Lost Together - if you're just joining, first of all, welcome, and second of all, what that means is that this is an AU where the Great War never ended. There's no Salem, but the war itself has been going on for a long time. Cinder is a soldier fighting for Atlas, and Jaune... well, he's not a soldier in this, but he lives in Vale.

Word of warning: This being an AU set around the Great War, Atlas and Ironwood are going to be far more villainous than they normally would be. I figured that just made sense for the setting, personally, but I'm sure some people will take umbrage with the idea of Ironwood being villainous, so if that bothers you, then I'm sorry to say that you will probably not enjoy his portrayal here.

With that out of the way, onto the story itself. This is going to be a shorter one - roughly ten chapters, each one around 4k words. I think that'd make it a novella? I don't know. Point is, it's short. If you liked my other Great War AU two-shot, you might like this one. That being said, I'm still learning my way around the romance genre, personally, so this might end up being more than a little scuffed. This isn't a pure romance, but it's probably as close to it as I'm willing to come.

No real housekeeping items this time, aside from saying that I've been posting a bunch of stories over this past week, including another crackfic and a STALKER/RWBY crossover (which is probably my best serious work TBH), so go ahead and give those a look on my profile if you're at all curious and/or just want something to read, I guess lol. Besides that, I've got nothing else. Have a good one!