A/N: This chapter is dedicated to wonderful man, without whom, you guys wouldn't be reading this. Rest in Peace, Monty Oum.

Book Two: Corruption's End

-Chapter 10: In Passing, We Achieve Immortality-

"I met a traveler from an antique land…" – Ancient Text from the Dark Age of Technology, unearthed on Terra in M32.222

Yang's head snapped back from the bolter shell, her aura saving her life.

The round struck the ground behind her and exploded. She hit the floor. Pain. Pain everywhere. Taking reeling, gasping breaths, she stared up at the stars, which swam and danced in front of her. Her semblance was activating slowly, hard-pressed from such sudden force.

Blood. She tasted blood. The Commissar stood over her, glowering. Shock and surprise seized him when he realized she was still breathing.

"How are you still alive?" He gasped.

"You missed." Her leg swung around, ripping his feet out from underneath him. With an 'oomph!' and gust of breath, he fell, bolt pistol clattering across the street. She could feel her aura now, pumping rapids of light that coursed through her like a surging river. She dove on top of him, ready to paint the street with his brains.

A boot burst forward before she could, smashing into her stomach. She shrugged it off, still advancing towards the Commissar.

"Witch!" He bellowed, surging towards her. His fist flew towards her face, but she pushed it aside. Years of training with aura-enhanced individuals gave her an incredible edge fighting against those who could not bring its power to bear.

A fist slammed into his armor, her fists denting the officer's cuirass. Sailing backwards, he crashed onto the street, groaning. He spat a tooth out, blood trailing from his lips. She kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling across the ground.

"I'll teach you to shoot me in the face, asshole!" He caught her next kick, pulling her to the floor with a powerful hand. The bolt pistol was within reach, and they struggled for it, blindly battering each other for control. With a roar, Yang smashed her forehead into his nose, feeling it break under the strike.

He rolled in agony, spitting and cursing, blood streaming from his nostrils. Yang reached for the bolt pistol, but the Commissar managed to kick it away, sending the heavy lump of metal towards the stunned and speechless Ros.

Swaying, he stood, wiping away the blood that fell onto his shattered armor.

"I'll have your head, witch."

"I'm a brawler, bitch." She growled. "Try and take it." He obliged, swinging his fist around. Yang blocked it with her arms, stopping the fist dead in its tracks. Roaring, she stepped forward, blasting him in the chest with a well-aimed punch. He flopped over, hitting the ground as dead weight. Groaning in pain, he tried to stand, and found that he could not. Yang drove a foot into his ribs. He rolled over, but otherwise did not make a sound. She spat out the blood that was filling her lips. Bolter'd done a number if it managed to do that much before her aura deflected it.

"Well fought." He didn't reply. Ros did.

"Yang." She said, voice tremulous and uneasy. The bolt pistol was in her hands, leveled squarely at Yang. One shot, and she'd be blown to bits. She saw the training vids. Death by bolter shell -pistol or otherwise- was not a pretty way to go. She had her aura for now, but she wasn't sure how many more rounds she could take. Ros could at least squeeze of four before she could wrench the gun away. Four was too many.

"Easy, Ros."

"Why? Why should I be?!" She cried. "You fucking liar! You were a psyker the whole time! You lied to us, Yang! You were my friend! Our friend." Yang wanted to be angry. Wanted to hit her until she understood this was just as scary for her. All she felt was pity for her friend, brainwashed into zealotry.

"Ros. I'm telling the truth. I don't know for sure if I'm a psyker or not, and I was just going to turn myself in to make sure." It wasn't a total lie. She needed to be sure. Ros hissed, the bolt pistol edging closer.

"Yeah right!"

"It's true. Please Ros. Take it easy." She stepped forward, but Ros jerked, steadying her weapon.

"You stay right there. Witch!"

"I'm sorry, Ros, please, I don't know for sure, and I have to find out. What if I'm not?" Her boot rang against the pavement, one step closer to Ros. "What if I'm not a witch? Do you want my blood on your hands?"

"I-" She started. "I'm willing to take the risk. You think I didn't notice? You think I'm a fucking idiot like Caolin? You think I didn't see your hair glowing? I saw you get shot by that ork, and I saw you take that punch in the fighting ring. Hell, the Commissar just shot you square in the face, and here you are, without a scratch on you! No regular human can walk away from shit like that. And that heavy bolter? You think I'm supposed to believe you can just pick that up no problem?" She took a deep breath. "You're a witch. And I'm going to kill you, right here, right now." Ros sucked in a deep breath, trying to steel herself.

"Koris-"

"Don't you fucking dare!" She howled, tears pricking at her eyes. "Don't you fucking dare bring him into this!"

"I don't think he'd want you to shoot me on just suspicions." Accurate though they are… "He loves you. And… I promised you I'd bring you back to him. I'm still gonna keep that promise. Just please. Please. Please don't pull that trigger." Ros was crying, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"They're not just suspicions! I know what I saw!"

"Ros, you have to believe me. I would never lie to you!"

"Don't make me do this, Yang." Ignoring her fear, Yang gave her a radiant smile.

"No one's making you do anything. I wasn't lying when I said I was going to turn myself in. So let's leave asshole over here to stew for a bit," She said, jerking her thumb over at the unconscious Commissar, "and go see the Colonel." She put her hands up. "Ok, Ros?"

"Why." She blubbered. "Why can't I pull the trigger?"

"You're a good person Ros, I know it. You know it." Something clicked within her, her dark brown eyes flashing bright before fading away. The bolt pistol fell, hanging low at her side. Her fingers loosened and it tumbled to the ground, metal clanging against the pavement. Yang stepped forward, and wrapped her in her arms.

"It's ok. Let's go. Right now. We're going to HQ, and I'm going to turn myself in, Ok?" Ros nodded, sniffling. "And hey, if you're right, I'm gonna make sure you get all the credit for capturing me. Sound good?" Ros wiped her eyes.

"Yeah. Please, I… don't make me regret this, Yang. I want to believe I was just seeing things."

"You won't. I promise you, Ros." Separating from the embrace, Yang wiped away her own tears. "Let's go." Throwing an arm around her, Yang led Ros towards the 111th's HQ, where a ship would take them to the dreaded Black Ship that hung over their heads.

Ros sat quietly in her seat, not saying much as they rocketed skyward. She had been very close to blowing Yang's head off, and it was a stroke of unbelievable luck that she'd managed to talk her down. They'd sent command into a panic when they marched into H.Q. and handed them a psyker suspect. Yang pretended to be far more wounded than she was, attempting to bolster her friend's reputation. She stumbled and spat blood every chance she got, before they bound her in chains and threw them aboard a Valkyrie. Someone had the balls to press a seal of some sort onto her chest, hot wax sitting warmly on her stomach. But for the sake of her life, and the lives of a billion others at stake, she bit down her rage.

"Comfortable?" Yang asked, hanging upside down next to Ros. They hadn't unchained her since departure. Ros didn't answer. No wonder she was so sullen when I was trying have fun last night. Yang thought. Must've been mulling over her theory even before they announced the rogue psyker! Clever girl. They left atmo, and the sensation of blood rushing to her head faded away. Whew!

Through the window behind the dozens of masked, black-clad guardsmen training enormous lasguns on her, she watched the Black Ship draw near. It dwarfed the Ascendant Dawn, which hung in orbit beside it. Yang should have felt fear, but her decision to turn herself over had brought her nothing but cheer and relief. Soon, I'll free this galaxy from the terror of Abaddon. And they'll thank me for it. I'll be like a rock star!

"So, what's the Inquisitor like?" She asked the guards. They didn't answer her, which didn't come as much of a surprise. "I mean, I've heard stories, sure, but in person? They've gotta be pretty scary, right?"

Their captain strode forward, sinking to his knees to come face to face with her.

"Pray to the Almighty Emperor she does not find you guilty. For if she does… recall your weakest moments, your worst mistakes, and your darkest nightmares. She will rip them from your mind and lay them bare before you… and laugh while you weep tears of blood."

Yang swallowed. Good feeling's gone.

"I've watched her do it, too." He continued. "None of them protest their innocence. They die screaming, guilty to the last." He poked her forehead with a thick, armored finger. "I will pray for you as well, little girl. I hate cleaning up my Lady's messes."

A few chuckles from his fellows.

"Be glad she wants you alive. My Lady likes to be assured of her victories, and does not trust your… interrogation to anyone else."

"C'mon Darron, don't make her shit herself." Another (female?) trooper quipped. At least, Yang thought she was female. Their armor was extremely bulky, and they all wore those white masks, which she found oddly familiar.

"Does that answer your question, Witch?"

"Close enough." She replied. Ros gave her a sympathetic glance, which was a victory in her book. She shifted in her chains, trying to wiggle a little more breathing room into them. Not the most comfortable of trappings. She itched. And what was that about ripping things from my mind? Do mind readers exist here? I mean, we have aliens, giant super-humans, giant, evil super-humans, and space travel via inter-dimensional seas of emotion. Sure, why not. Mind-reading's more plausible than half of that shit anyway.

"Darron, right?" She asked the captain.

"Captain Darron, Witch."

"Captain Darron. Those are some cool lasguns. You soup 'em up?" He appraised her coldly.

"These are Hellguns… powerful gifts from the Adeptus Mechanicus. I wouldn't dare tamper with their holy art." Ah. Well, so much for conversation.

"Keep the Witch quiet, Captain." A red-robed figure added.

"Yes, Lord Ira. You heard the man." He growled at her. "No more talking." Yang shrugged, as much as she could bound in chains and hanging upside down… in space.

The shuttle docked after twenty minutes of increasingly uncomfortable silence. They turned her around and dragged her out of the bay, ordering Ros to come with. Yang took deep, steady breaths. This is it. Here we go.

The Lady Inquisitor paced around the interior of her office. Only one day after she ordered the 111th to aid her search, and they bring her a suspect. No doubt that fool Longinus attempting to placate me. She'd thought. But as soon as Ira confirmed they landed, she sent a psychic probe to the cargo bay, and the surge of psychic power pulsed back, huge, unerring.

That blunt dunce actually managed to do it. I don't know how, but he did it. First his commanding officer, and now a rogue psyker. She chuckled. The man has talent for flushing out corruption! Perhaps Longinus had some skill as an Inquisitor. A small smile came to her lips. Normally, a being this powerful would be marked for instant death, but the sheer power had come to intrigue her.

Her microbead buzzed.

"My Lady. Do you require assistance with the psyker?" The voice said, humble and smooth. She pondered the thought. Twenty kasrkin, Ira, and herself should be enough to deal with the psyker, however monstrous its power. And it was imperative her Ace in the Hole remained concealed. Only herself, Ira, and Captain Barnes knew of his presence, and the fewer the better. She trusted her kasrkin implicitly, but Longinus would be present as well…

"Remain on standby outside. I will hail you if there is trouble." The Lady Inquisitor did not take risks. At the first sign of trouble, the psyker would die.

"Yes, my Lady. Good hunting." The voice snapped off. She checked her inferno pistol. Good to go. She wasn't the type to whisper prayers over it like some ignorant peasant. The Adeptus Mechanicus were skilled with technology, yes, but marred their knowledge with mysticism and airs of occultism. She was an Inquisitor. She'd seen the warp, she practiced magic of sorts, and the Mechanicus dealt with neither. Only ignorance.

Her power sword was a different matter entirely. A simpler construction, it required neither extensive cleaning nor intensive maintenance. It was her steadfast companion, and had claimed the lives of many heretics. Ira hailed her.

"We'll be there shortly. She's an… interesting case, this one." Muffled, distant, she heard a strained 'I heard that!'

Psykers were often interesting people. A touch of the warp can change a person irrevocably, in manners unknowable. Even among the most zealous, pious psykers, one would find eccentrics. Ira would learn this, in time.

A rapping at her office door.

"Colonel von Israfel for you, Ma'am." Chera said.

"Let him in."

The doors swung open to reveal the officer. He was considerably less fearful today, and fitted in his finest uniform. A large smile played across his face.

"My Lady Inquisitor, I come bearing gifts!" He spread his hands wide. The man's enthusiasm amused her.

"So I've heard. Perhaps I was wrong to speak so harshly of your regiment yesterday. I am very pleased with your performance, Colonel." He flushed, bowing deeply.

"They are a hardy breed, my Lady. Stocky and strong. It appears they have the noses of hunting hounds as well!" She laughed, a clear, crisp sound.

"Indeed! I have confirmed it; you did indeed find the correct individual. She is on her way here now, as we speak." He nodded.

"The witch, believe it or not, came of her own accord, after some persuading by her friend."

"Indeed." Now this was interesting. If she came willingly, she could be used. And to have such a powerful asset under her control… The Lady Inquisitor beamed. "I am glad to hear it. Now please, remember this: whatever comes through that door, you must be prepared." He stood ramrod straight, folding his hands behind his back.

"I will not fail you my Lady." Good. Because I would gladly trade your life for the worst of my kasrkin. And I'd hate to see what happens once they fail.

She turned, facing the window that streamed in artificial light. Soon, I will deal with this and be off to the front. Her fist tightened around her power sword. And then I will come for you, Abaddon. I will find your agents, your spies, every iota of your defiling touch. And I will purge it from existence. She had already called for her Chamber Militants. The Scythe of Morning would rendezvous with the Order of the Sacred Rose in but a week's time, and then… then, she would stamp out Chaos as a child crushes insects.

And I will laugh. She beamed, a true and honest smile.

"We have arrived, my Lady." Ira called.

"Enter." The doors fell open. She turned to face them, and her face was wiped clear of any joy. Holy chains bound the pskyer tight, a purity seal latching itself to a tank top that strained under the weight of a considerable chest. Her purple eyes shot open upon seeing her. There was no mistaking it: Yang Xiao Long had returned from the dead.

The Lady Inquisitor Weiss Schnee screamed bloody murder.

A/N: This is something I've had planned from the very beginning, and something I wasn't planning on doing until much, much later. Thankfully, I realized putting this twist off was fucking stupid, so here it is, in all its shama-lama glory. That decision has made the story (IMO, at least) at least 150% stronger, and I'm pleased with the result. But. But.

But.

I was so excited. I was counting down the days until I posted this chapter. I know quite a few of you probably saw it coming. I'm sorry if it didn't live up to the hype, but honestly, I don't care. It was such a fun cliffhanger to write, leaving on such an awesome last line (almost like a mic drop).

I wanted to cackle with glee as you (those who were blindsided by the twist, that is) completely lost your shit that Weiss Schnee is here too, that Weiss Schnee is an Inquisitor.

But I can't. Not anymore. The excitement for this reveal that I have been plotting for months has evaporated. In its place is a well of sadness and loss that will forever taint RWBY and all its affiliated works. Monty Oum has passed. My heart goes out to his family, and to everyone who knew him.

Thanks to him, I've had so many wonderful moments over the past two years. I've spent so many hours plucking away at my stories, each and every second a tremendous blast.

I just wish we had more time with you, Monty.

We all do.

I'm sorry this chapter was so short. Also, for the first (and only) time, there will be no review replies. Just know that I love you guys for reviewing. Please, please know that. It means so much to me. I wish I could answer you guys with my usual gusto, but today, I'm just not up for it.

If you want/need a question answered immediately, PM me or hit me up on Space Battles or Sufficient Velocity. Otherwise, just leave a review, and I'll get to you in the next chapter.

Thanks again guys. You rock.