Special Operative Caroline Cordovin, Commander of the proud Atlesian forces formerly stationed in the Argus Military Base, marched down the hodgepodge of circuitry and pipework, soldiers saluting her as she passed. A frown lay seemingly-permanently etched upon her aged face, as a displayed scroll in her hands mercilessly continued to list the ever-mounting problems being encountered during their continued stay in the once-great land of Vale. Day by day, more and more repairs were needed, as supplies began to dwindle and tensions began to rise between her dutiful soldiers.
The Atlesian remnant had been chased out of their former military encampment in Argus, struck in the dead of night by an elite task force armed with the sole duty of eradication. The assailants had known their every code, their ciphers and their security clearances, and had struck without mercy. Half of the men in the Argus Military Base had found their throats slit before an alarm was raised and the soldiers were roused.
And their assailants had been a group numbering in the single digits. Her men, those that had managed to survive and report to Cordovin herself, had counted three responsible for ending the lives of a great many proud servants of Atlas. So much death, at the hands of three people.
Only two had been identified, the sole remaining individual having used some manner of feeble backwater technology to render their mighty Atlesian security systems incapable of recognising their traitorous identity.
Those that were identified, however, had raised several immediate concerns for Caroline Cordovin.
A pale faunus with golden eyes and dark brown hair tied into a long braid, sporting the tail of a scorpion. Cordovin had known the true identity of the perpetrator almost instantaneously; Tyrian Callows, a known criminal infamous for both his sadistic tendencies and sheer body count racked up over the years that the man had been unfortunately allowed to live.
His true power, however, that which had enabled the crazed faunus to effortlessly slaughter so many of her mighty Atlesian warriors, was without a doubt his semblance.
The ability to disrupt aura.
With this semblance in hand, Tyrian had been able to easily render even the most battle-hardened soldiers relatively non-threatening, for even those able to activate their aura the moment their body registered a blade, found their one true defence unable to repair the damage of his strike.
Thus, while it was true that an aura could not be activated during a restful state, even those who found themselves roused from sleep before death set in found themselves without any true method of defending against their would-be killer. Using this semblance of his, Tyrian had remained virtually undetectable until the noise from his various executions happened to alert a nearby bunker through a notoriously thin wall. From there, it had only been a matter of time before the ensuing firefight had roused the entire base into a frenzy.
However, when Cordovin's figures revealed the identity of Tyrian's presumed partner, it was only then that the Atlesian Special Operative truly began to sweat.
Professor Leonardo Lionheart, Headmaster of Haven Academy.
Clad in all of his snivelling, worthless glory, the professor seemed more the part of a traumatised child wafting through a bloodbath than any real collaborator, yet Caroline Cordovin knew better! Whether the man had been forced into collaboration against his will or had betrayed the good people of Atlas, despite their alliance, of his own intent, the man was still a traitor and had been dealt with as such.
No doubt, Tyrian and the as-of-yet unidentified third assailant had used Lionheart's likeness in order to initially breach security under a political venture of some kind. It was more than likely that the two Nubuck guards assigned to monitor and alert Cordovin to any incoming parties had been slain the moment they unwittingly allowed their would-be killers entrance to the Argus Military Base. With the likes of Tyrian Callows, attacks could be swift and lethal in spite of any auric defences. The guards wouldn't have stood a chance, unprepared and unawares as they no doubt would have been.
After all, who would expect such treachery?
...Now, Caroline Cordovin had been forced to consider the implications of a joint extermination mission between a known criminal and a member of the Mistral Council. Willing or not, such compliance on Leonardo's side spoke of dangerous tidings for the good people of Atlas that had unfortunately been stationed in Argus at the time of the slaughter.
And it had been a slaughter, for this was no typical assassination. The proud members of the Atlesian Military had been universally targeted with no regard for their name or rank, seemingly consigned for extermination by a higher-ranking political figure. With Leonardo Lionheart in accompaniment, Cordovin suddenly found herself cut off from a great many allies for an as-of-yet unknown reason.
For, the question hung over a head like the destructive sword of myth poised to rend her in two- if the Mistral Council could be coerced into assisting the likes of Tyrian Callows, then how far did the corruption truly spread? How many faces that she had been trained to recognise as allies had been secretly working to slaughter those placed under her charge? How many had been working to slaughter her?
All that Cordovin knew, personally, was that only her proud soldiers were exempt from potential corruption. After all, they had all been marked for execution, each and every one of them. They were, as a result, the only ones that Caroline Cordovin could hope to trust with any reasonable degree of accuracy.
Thus, when the word had come and Special Operative Caroline Cordovin had found herself suddenly under attack, she had not hesitated in including her proud soldiers in her ensuing plan of assault, knowing that her men and women would fight to the bitter end for the might of Atlas if the need arose.
And Caroline Cordovin had known, without a shred of doubt, that if she were to send her soldiers into battle, they would be overwhelmed and promptly slaughtered. For this had been a planned assault, one that had been executed to the letter. With time passing and more and more of her forces dwindling, she made the only decision she could.
Flee.
A dishonourable deed in her own eyes, as Atlesians were trained to be better than those brutish thugs of other Kingdoms, fighting to the bitter end in order protect the good people of Atlas, who depended on the might of the Atlesian military for their continued survival. However, if it would ensure the safety and survival of the only ones Caroline knew could be regarded as trustworthy, then she considered a tactical withdrawal as the only viable option.
With the number of dead only rising the longer that the likes of Tyrian Callows and his associates continued to wade through her barracks, it would only be a matter of time before the grimm were alerted and the beasts of dark descended to ruin all that Cordovin had been charged to protect. In their state, their numbers reduced and their fortress a ruin, there would be no defence for Argus. Whether it be by grimm or assailant, if Caroline and her forces stayed in Argus any longer, they would meet a universal end one way or another. There was nothing that could be done to prevent it. She needed to flee, in order to protect those who served under her.
However, despite what her superiors may believe, Caroline Cordovin was no fool! She was no imbecile, as to allow the gutter trash of the world to have unprecedented access to the mighty technological marvels housed within the Argus Military Base. If the likes of Leonardo fucking Lionheart wanted to take her and her people out, then they would find themselves bereft of any advantage they foolishly believed was theirs to take! The Argus Military base was hers! She knew every schematic. Every structural design. Every piece of equipment that was dutifully inventoried by her loyal soldiers.
And, as a result, Caroline Cordovin had known the precise location to cause the most damage. And that had been exactly what she had done.
Together, her legion had assembled, fractured Remnant as it was, banding together and storming the halls of the Argus Military Base. Together, united, even the strongest of assassins could not stand against their combined military might! Sure, they had tried to divide them once more, severing connections and hacking their critical systems, yet even the mightiest of sabotage could not withstand the full force of her Atlesian armaments! Walls had been torn apart and barricades blown to smithereens, and onwards they marched!
Caroline Cordovin and her company of loyalist troops had marched down to the barracks and torn through the inventory like men and women possessed… yes… possessed with a sole duty charged by Cordovin herself! Piece by piece had been meticulously compiled and stockpiled onto their rudimentary transports in record time, while a hearty helping of soldiers rigged the remaining pieces not suitable for transport to instead serve another purpose.
Detonation.
Yes, it would be dangerous. And, yes, it would destroy billions of liens worth of equipment funded by the Atlesian military, but it was a small price to pay in order to destroy those who had DARED to steal into her compound! They would rue the day they sought to oppose Caroline Cordovin!
Following that thought, with the grimm likely fast approaching, doom would soon descend upon the Argus Military Base, and Cordovin would ensure that it did not ensnare the good people of Atlas. It was all that she could do. And, thus, it was all that she would do.
When the supplies had been gathered and the remaining equipment either sabotaged or rigged to blow on her mark, only then had Cordovin ordered her troops to depart. Ever onwards they marched, tirelessly defending against each and every attempt to repel their movements by the enemy. With a squad of her soldiers, armed to the teeth and rearing to defend their great nation, there was nothing that the likes of Tyrian Callows, Leonardo Lionheart, or the remaining collaborator could ever have hoped to achieve!
With the approach to the aerial transport bay cut off by their would-be executioners and requiring a vast expenditure of time in order to supersede, Cordovin had made the executive decision to move her taskforce elsewhere.
The fools believed Cordovin to be stranded through one measly defence?! Hah! She would show them that the might of Atlas could not be so easily trodden upon!
Down to the docks they marched, disabling turrets and weapons encampments hijacked by the enemy through the deployment of the most explosive ordinance her forces could muster, tearing apart the previous bastions of defence now turned into tools of war by their frenzied aggressors. And Cordovin played her part to the letter! Soldiers were rotated as their aura began to fade, as their proud brothers and sisters of the military defended those torn apart and broken, comrades to the very end! None perished. Not under her watch. For Atlesian barracks were designed to hold all forms of equipment, and Cordovin had ensured a vast number of medical equipment had been allotted to her stockpiles. Medical equipment that would, in time, heal the wounded and allow them to fight another day.
In that moment that she arrived at the docks alongside her fellow comrades-in-arms, Caroline Cordovin had seen them. The grimm. Hundreds of thousands of them. Avian, aquatic, gigantic. No doubt, the grimm had easily detected a veritable cesspool of negative emotions output by those witness to the wholesale slaughter, by the many civilians that had been roused to wakefulness by the sounds of a firefight. Each and every one of them had unknowingly contributed to the demise of Argus. However, as Cordovin had stood and witnessed the threat as it approached, and despite her very orders as a defender of the people screaming at her to repel the threat, Caroline had shaken her head and rallied the men and women once more.
Argus would fall. The Military Base outfitted by Atlas would fall. Without its sole defence against grimm incursions, any feeble defence mustered would inevitably fall against the onslaught of grimm. However, Caroline Cordovin and her remaining troops would NOT fall, not if she had anything to say about it!
Aquatic transportation had been their sole chance for a successful withdrawal from Argus. While the avian variants of grimm dominated the sky, even if Cordovin's force had been successful in taking back the aerial transport bay and commandeering a fleet of vessels, they would find themselves quickly pulled into a fierce battle against the grimm, leading to their inevitable demise.
The same problems that arose for aerial transportation could instead be mitigated through the use of aquatic transportation vessels. While notably slower, Atlesian military vessels were all equipped for war, boasting an impressive amount of defensive and offensive emplacements capable of ensuring their survival. Encounters with the grimm could be mitigated by sticking close to the shoreline in a manoeuvre that, while difficult, would ensure that a majority of the aquatic and mammalian grimm would instead find themselves drawn to the city of Argus before targeting their own vessel. Grimm, especially younger members, tended to prioritise a weaker opponent. And the Atlesian company that Caroline Cordovin commanded was by no means weak.
And when the likes of Tyrian Callows had mounted one last desperate attempt to prevent their escape, cackling madly all the while, Caroline Cordovin had taken express pleasure in personally firing off the rocket-propelled dust device that had ignited the remaining explosive ordinance in the Argus Military Base. The resultant explosion had devastated the surroundings, turning a bloody dawn into a vibrant menagerie of blurring colours for a brief instant, as dust of all sizes and categories fought for dominance. Chunks of the base were flash-frozen in mere seconds from a volley of stored ice dust, only to be flash-boiled in the presence of an abundance of superheated steam expanding out from the dust cache hidden deep underground.
Cordovin had been prepared, however, and her soldiers had planned for her lethal execution of the Argus Military Base. Emergency shields had been activated upon the firing of Cordovin's improvised ignition tool and surrounded the harbour where Cordovin's forces lay situated, the tell-tale crack of blue dust likely being the last thing that Tyrian Callows had seen prior to his imminent demise, blasted away from the safety of the shield and forced to bare witness to an incredibly painful reaction baring down around him.
She had relished the silence that had struck the world following the culmination of her grand plan. No longer did her men and women fear the assassins. Oh no. Now, they were victorious. All that they had needed to do, then, was escape. And there was no other fleet of vessels in Argus more heavily armed and well-fortified than those that were under Cordovin's control.
As was expected from the moment that Cordovin had first issued the command for a tactical withdrawal, the grimm that had swarmed the coastline wasted no time in making a beeline for Argus. Even now that the danger had passed and Cordovin was safe and secure inside a base of her own design, not a night went by where she couldn't hear the screams. However, as unfortunate enough as it was for her, the memories of the event in Argus weren't even close to some of the worst that Cordovin had experienced over her long life.
Safe to say, Cordovin had known that there was little chance that her band of soldiers would be able to survive the trip back to Atlas by sea. Their fleet of warships was indeed capable of making the trip, but those under her command were in no state to maintain a patchwork assembly of supplies and equipment across grimm-laden icy waters for any length of time. Not in the slightest. It was safe to say that Cordovin's only option had been to make port in a closer landmass. One that was, preferably, outside of Lionheart's influence.
Make no mistake, Cordovin was not under any assumptions that the bumbling fool of a huntsman professor had survived the blast wave in the Argus Military Base. However, Caroline Cordovin was also aware that even with the demise of Lionheart and the destruction of Argus a statistical certainty, she had no way of telling how much of the Mistralian military was suffering from corruption. With the presence of Spider growing ever larger in recent times, she wouldn't put it past word of her location being broadcast to every cut-throat nearby within a hour of making port in Mistral.
Safe to say, landing in Mistral was out of the question.
And, for much the same reason as Mistral, making port in Menagerie would inevitably lead to chaos. While personally, Cordovin could care less about the faunus or their people, as enhanced perception could be useful to the common soldier if trained appropriately, she despised their current government. Cordovin had been there as a soldier when the White Fang began to err towards bloodshed, and she had seen what had resulted for both the participating faunus and for the humans foolish enough to be caught in the crossfire. No matter their intention for establishing a peaceful community, the people of Menagerie would remain deeply entwined with the White Fang for some time to come. They were too volatile a people to deal with at the current moment. The likes of Sienna Khan had seen to that.
Which, unfortunately, limited Cordovin's options quite severely. With Mistral out of the question and Menagerie akin to a long slow death or a discrete knife to the neck depending on the weather, all that was left was Vale and Vacuo, located on the continent of Sanus. Not an easy trip by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly doable with the right equipment.
Vale, specifically, was something of a hot zone following the Vytal Festival Tournament. As an Atlesian Special Operative, Caroline Cordovin had of course been briefed regarding the tragic event in Vale that had led to the death of General James Ironwood of the Atlesian military. The esteemed General had always been something of a soft point for Caroline, as the man had seen the drive within her and saw fit to give her the very best that the Atlesian military could offer. She would always carry a torch for the man, for everything that he had done. To learn that General Ironwood had fallen during a charity event of all things had been a horrid development, as thoughts of war and enemy action were immediately considered and, thankfully, disregarded when the truth came out.
Rozen Maiden. Kirakishou. An artificial being, not unlike a certain highly-classified military resource yet infinitely more complex, bearing a semblance that held the potential to grow seemingly ever more powerful as time went on. A dangerous threat indeed, one that had overwhelmed and consumed an entire Kingdom. The existence of the Rozen Maiden and their involvement in the Vale incident was, naturally, highly classified, yet as a Special Operative Cordovin had the appropriate clearance necessary to learn the truth.
The rest of the world believed the tragedy of the Vytal Festival to be the result of nothing more than a wayward semblance. And, as Cordovin believed, it was probably for the better that the people of Remnant believed such a lie. There was nothing else that could be done in order to quell the idea of such… oddities from spreading. She had seen the results of Subject Penny's destruction during the Vytal Festival Tournament, and how the blame had been placed on Atlas for their supposedly nefarious attempt to hide synthetic life from the population. The idea of seven other synthetic beings, possessing powers strong enough to ruin Kingdoms, would send the world into a panic. And panic would bring the grimm.
With the grimm a sizeable threat, Atlas was doing all that it can in order to defeat the scourge. Needlessly aggravating their opponent would only lead to numerous deaths that could have been avoided.
...Ironic, of course, that such a tactic had been the only thing that had ensured the safety of Cordovin's remaining battalion in the end. Cordovin did not deign to ignore the fact that the only reason her remaining soldiers were all alive was because she had commanded them all to ignore a major threat to the very city they were charged to protect. She was, in essence, little more than a deserter in the eyes of Atlas. However, with corruption potentially rampant in the upper echelons of Remnant's political society, her soldiers were the only ones that could be trusted. Nobody else was clear. Not yet.
Thus, the vast deserts of Vacuo were to be her only hope for solitude. If the people could not be trusted to obey her, then Cordovin would send her loyalists to a place without such petty distractions. From there, they could establish a temporary base and begin to make some sense of the madness that they had all just endured. Cruising along the coastline, reaching Vacuo would be a simple manoeuvre.
Or… more precisely, it should have been a simple manoeuvre.
Caroline Cordovin had found herself vastly underestimating the sheer amount of grimm that would find themselves drawn towards her impromptu fleet of vessels. Even following their departure from the ruined city of Argus and venture around the northern edge of Anima had not only led to her vessels being bombarded by a tidal wave of sea-faring grimm, but also by avian grimm seemingly searching out their vessel with little hassle. Soldiers were required to work around the clock, with scheduled shifts enabling for full operation of any-and-all artillery that the group had seen fit to install.
A brief, desperate gambit to cross the channel to the northern continent of Solitas where Atlas rested had led to a hasty retreat when multiple leviathan-class aquatic grimm were spotted in number. Most of her fleet had been lucky to escape in time.
...One vessel, however, had met its unfortunate hand at the end of a leviathan-class grimm seemingly pulling the entire vessel down to a watery grave. How the beast had escaped radar detection was a mystery for the ages, yet it had set a precedent that a quest to return to Atlas was strictly off the books without sacrificing an overly substantial amount of men and women. And Cordovin would not allow any more of her loyalist soldiers to perish!
And, then, in the quest to venture towards Vacuo, Caroline Cordovin's fleet had touched the continent of Sanus. And from there, they had witnessed the anomaly.
Vale.
The Kingdom of Vale.
It was gone.
By Oum… they hadn't even known that they were in Vale at the time until the sensors had indicated that, according to the navigational charts, they had technically crashed into the mainland several miles ago.
And, there was more. Or, more precisely, less.
Sensors could not detect any grimm. That is to say, grimm both aquatic and avian were no longer being detected by even their most advanced sensory equipment tuned to the longest distance possible. There was nothing. Just empty ocean for as far as the eye could see.
...Cordovin didn't need to be told twice. An area devoid of grimm was a strategic haven for a band of Atlesian remnants with limited resources fleeing from constant grimm assaults day in and day out. She would not let the opportunity pass her.
Or, more precisely, she hadn't let the opportunity pass her. Now, as she stood in a makeshift floating base composed of salvaged parts and welded vessels, did Cordovin begin to wonder just how much of a mess she had gotten herself into when she had thought to establish a permanent outpost on the anomaly that was the missing Vale.
As she approached her headquarters, little more than a heavily-modified operational deck from her flagship vessel housing a number of loyalist soldiers, all eyes turned to her. Salutes were exchanged with the rapidity of an earnest desire to push forward, and Cordovin knew what had to be done.
"...Report."
"Ma'am, CCT continues to remain locked to local networks, namely our own. Attempts to breach the outside net are ongoing, however, none of the attempts thus far have had a modicum of success."
Cordovin frowned. No change since the last report on the situation, then. How very unfortunate for her.
"Understood. Continue."
"Yes, ma'am. Patrol vessels have been modified for longevity using available supplies, however, mechanical supplies are now running quite low as a result and will negatively impact future repairs. Fuel will also become an issue in the immediate future, with a current inventory suggesting a week's worth of operational integrity until systems begin to fail."
She grit her teeth at the prospect. A week's worth could be stretched for several days by isolating key systems, but, doing so would leave them running blind.
"And have the sensors picked up anything?"
"...Nothing, ma'am," the soldier shook her head. "Grimm encounters are zero ever since entering the area formerly identified as Vale. Initial sensory readings regarding the lack of grimm appear to have been correct. For whatever reason, there is no grimm presence in this area, nor do sea-faring grimm attempt to establish a beachhead from habitable waters."
Cordovin grunted uncomfortably, pacing to herself even as the soldier dutifully followed along, having long since grown used to her escapades. "I don't like this lack of information," she palmed her chin, thoughtful. "Sitting dead in the water like this, unprepared and unawares, it's a recipe for disaster. Such thinking is what led to our neigh-annihilation at the likes of that faunus. And I will not allow for such compliance to leave us failing once again!"
Dare she say it, there was a smile on the soldier's lips. Which, privately, Cordovin found to be rather unsettling. Atlesian military officials, or in the very least her own private branch, were trained to remain stoic while on duty, both to ensure proper military conduct and to avoid needlessly alerting the grimm.
Bah. She supposed it didn't matter. These cursed waters appeared to hamper the grimm, for some as-of-yet unknown reason. Likely, it would be yet another shitstorm that Cordovin would be forced to deal with. Perhaps, this was her karmic retribution for sacrificing Argus. Sitting in the eye of the storm, trapped and unable to gather a footing, as inconsistencies began to pile up, with no end in sight. Absolutely horrid. She truly couldn't imagine a worse fate for a leader of the people.
"Orders, ma'am?"
She straightened up. "Orders are this; fuel will become an issue, so we must take preemptive measures to eliminate the threat before it can overturn everything that we have fought for. These waters, devoid of the grimm, are nothing but a temporary reprieve. Temporary. We must work towards gathering more fuel, and to do so, we will need to encroach upon the remaining land, if there is any. Vale was known to be under enemy occupation for an extended period of time and, potentially, this removal of Vale may stretch only to the formerly-occupied territory. Venture forth! Map all terrain! Vale may be gone, but Vacuo may still exist!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
As soldiers began to scurry about, relaying orders across the bridge of Cordovin's command vessel, the Atlesian Specialist smiled to herself. Yes. Perhaps, in these waters, a curt smile would be allowed while on duty. A smile for victory.
"Wonderful food, isn't it, girls?"
"...Yeah, great," Militia mumbled glumly, stabbing into her expensive steak dinner, while her twin sister Melanie remained silent. Lil' Miss Malachite breathed a sigh, the blonde leader of Spider having dealt with their sordid attitudes practically since the moment they were freed from Kirakishou's Palace of Beginnings.
Malachite had showered the girls with luxuries, and ever still they had remained closed off and, quite frankly, antisocial. And she didn't need to be a damned doctor of mental linguistics to understand that her daughters were feeling some manner of strain following their time under Kirakishou's reign. They hadn't spoken about the experience, not even once, but it was beyond easy for the leader of an information-gathering network to piece together the clues with what little information she had.
And, frankly, at the moment Lil' Miss Malachite had more important issues to deal with than her two twin daughters acting up.
Business was booming. And, quite frankly, it was a terrible logistical hassle that Malachite would certainly prefer to do without. But, how could she? That wasn't how the game worked, after all. You were either on top, or you were dead.
It had all started a day or two ago, when the Cross Continental Transmit system kicked its last breath, failing entirely for the first time since the culmination of the Vytal Festival Tournament. As of yet, efforts to return the system to some semblance of operational normalcy had failed. In one fell swoop, the world had been sent back to the ancient times, as the Kingdoms found themselves unable to communicate with one another. As feared, a non-too-insignificant amount of people lost access to their funds and, as a result, began to turn to less reputable sources for income.
Her organisation had practically tripled in size overnight.
And, she would be blind not to suspect Kirakishou's involvement in the matter. The rose-eyed blonde had held complete dominion over Vale as a result of her absurd semblance, and crippling Vale's Transmit Tower was well-within her capabilities as a result. For the first seventeen hours following the CCT's destruction, that was what Lil' Miss Malachite had believed.
Until, of course, the web of Spider sent a messenger her way. A messenger from the continent of Sanus, previously situated in the Vacuan city of Feldspar, tending to the operational support CCT Tower that stood in the city. The blasted man had arrived in Kuchinashi in the dead of night, stealing his way into one of her safe houses and delivering one dust-laden hell of a message.
Vale was gone.
Not destroyed, not overtaken, but gone, wiped off the map like it hadn't existed in the first place. In its place was, instead, a great lake of all things, likely stretching as far as Vale was wide.
To say that Lil' Miss Malachite had been surprised was the understatement of the century, however as soon as the shock had worn off, she had refocused and began to assess what had truly occurred.
Naturally, the development involved Kirakishou, as the complete disappearance of one's entire territory was a certain level of absurdity that was certainly within Kirakishou's level of skill. However, Malachite found herself doubtful that Vale's disappearance was another one of Kirakishou's plans. The timing was simply off. Why go to all the trouble of bartering for information on Raven Branwen, only to suddenly destroy your own fortress? It made no sense.
However, if Malachite instead followed the scenario from a pragmatic approach, it began to make far more sense in her eyes. If, for instance, a hypothetical strike force knew that Kirakishou was outside of Vale, then theoretically they would be able to infiltrate the semblance-laden city without risking detection. Malachite could only begin to imagine what had occurred, however, to result in the mass-scale disappearance of not only Kirakishou's semblance, but the entire city, Kingdom, and landmass itself. Had a rival Kingdom developed a countermeasure strong enough to erase almost an entire continent?
Lil' Miss Malachite hadn't wasted time in dispatching several of her men in order to locate Kirakishou and her small group and inform them of the development. Over the years, Malachite had known that it was far more advantageous for her in the long term to ally herself with the greater force, rather than tucking her tail between her legs and hiding. And, quite frankly, she wanted to ensure that the blonde that could level an entire Kingdom with her crystals remained calm and collected, lest her overpowered semblance fly off the rails and cause even more devastation than it already had.
Oum, that damned semblance. Crystals that spread and could overtake an entire Kingdom, gathering and collecting people trapped inside in what had been the world's largest act of kidnapping, confused for mass slaughter. Somehow, Kirakishou had been able to activate her semblance at the end of the Vytal Festival Tournament and trick the rival Kingdoms into believing that her semblance led to death when instead it appeared to trap its victims in a sort of crystalline stasis. Her twin daughters, Militia and Melanie, were living proof that this state could be reversed if Kirakishou deemed it advantageous.
And, yet, an entire Kingdom of presumed-dead victims hadn't suddenly popped up in the middle of nowhere. No, it was more than likely that they had also disappeared right alongside Kirakishou's crystalline fortress.
And, simply put, Malachite wanted to stay on the good side of the one person she beloved to be strong enough to counter such a potentially devastating device. Not Kirakishou, not even Summer Rose, but instead Malachite found herself setting her eyes on Summer's daughter. Ruby Rose. The little disgraced trainee huntress held the complete attention of all those around her. The only one that could ever hope to control Kirakishou, that could effortlessly direct Summer Rose, that possessed her own unique semblance seemingly stolen straight out of myth and revealed right before Malachite's very own eyes.
Ruby Rose. A powerful girl in her own right.
However, she was temperamental at the best of times, sated only by her overwhelming affection for Kirakishou. The two acted more akin to lovers on a destructive honeymoon than any two kids running wild through Remnant and trashing every place they visisted with their broken semblances, merrily accompanied by Summer fucking Rose. An absolute triad of powerful individuals carving their way through Remnant, piece by piece, Ruby Rose was the deciding factor for the group. If Malachite could endear herself to Ruby Rose, then she would soon find Spider under the protection of both Kirakishou and Summer Rose in one fell swoop.
Unfortunately, the plan had hit a problem when the messenger returned alongside two specific members that the leader of Spider would have preferred not to deal with at the current time.
And, there they were now.
"Lil' Miss Malachite, what a joy it is to see you after so very long. Why, my dear Neo and, of course, my own charming self, are so very grateful for your hospitality," Roman Torchwick arrived clad in a false smile while his mute assistant trailed beside him with an all-too-familiar look on her face. The little sadist was as peeved as a cat in the rain, looking downright ready to tear down the entire restaurant and slaughter everyone inside it just to feel something.
Melanie and Militia took one look at Roman and Neo, before unanimously deciding to ignore the two and return to their meals. Malachite almost snorted at the display, if only she could ignore her problems and have them disappear. Unfortunately, life didn't work that way.
"Roman. Neo. It's good to have you here. Please, sit down. Your orders should be delivered soon enough. Before that, I'd like to have a few words with you two, and learn what has transpired as to bring you two before me after so little time."
The enigmatic criminal frowned, but complied with Malachite's request and plopped down on an empty seat, with Neo reluctantly doing the same thing. Smart. One didn't walk into the Spider's Web and decide to get snappy with the one in charge without expecting to get bitten as a result.
And, yes, that was the name of the restaurant. She didn't give a shit what the goody-goodies called it. To this day, she still regretted putting the name to a vote. She just hadn't expected her employees to be so hilariously inept at choosing a name that didn't sound like it had come out of some angsty teen diary.
"Wonderful place, this. One of yours, I presume?"
Malachite nodded. The restaurant, eugh, Eclipse, was one of the more opportunistic businesses that Spider had sponsored over the years, with Lil' Miss Malachite unofficially owning a fair deal more of the store than what the records would initially suggest at first glance. Off the books, many knew Eclipse to be little more than a lien laundering business, utilising the cutthroat hospitality business as little more than an excuse to rotate between various corrupt associates, mules playing staff-member while their bosses pocketed clean lien for their time.
The prices were ludicrous. And the wages were, of course, only slightly less ludicrous. Why, one could say that the two were practically the same value, minus a certain finder's fee. Funny, that. Several government buildings had also found that to be quite funny, until Malachite had... appropriated their businesses as well. Either through Lien or through weapons-grade explosives and a heavy amount of blame placed on certain other nefarious criminal organisations.
"...I didn't call you back to talk about restaurants, Torchwick," Malachite dismissed with a narrow of her brow, ignoring how Torchwick's pint-sized freak tensed up. They both knew better than to start shit in the middle of her own damn venue. "In fact, I didn't call you back at all."
Torchwick grinned, but there was a fragility displayed in the smile, one that intrigued Malachite immensely. Something had certainly ruffled Torchwick's feathers. Had he learned of the incident in Vale?
Hm. No. She doubted it. Despite the man's former status as a huntsman, Torchwick simply didn't have the connections to learn about events on the other side of the globe so quickly. Or, at least, not while the CCT was down-and-out.
"Life's full of surprises," Torchwick instead replied, slouching in his chair. "If you were looking for Little Red and her group of crazies, you just missed them. Turned tail and disappeared right off our radar sometime last night."
Disappeared, huh?
"Oddly specific choice of words, there. Disappeared, you say?"
She did not ignore how Melanie and Militia tensed up at the mention of Ruby's group, nor how little Neo's impassive frown grew a touch strained.
"...Yeah. I know what I said. Though I can't really blame them for ditching us, all things considered. But it still hurts. And, to think we went through all of that trouble arranging a meeting."
Torchwick and Neopolitan's meals arrived, and Malachite gave the two the common courtesy of allowing them to begin, content to take the time to assess Torchwick's statement and compare it with the information that she had learned.
Disappearances in the world of Remnant could mean any number of things, especially to one as resourceful as Roman Torchwick. For the right price, Spider had even offered certain similar services of their own, whisking away potentially insubordinate threats for clients before they could become a hassle. It was a far riskier business than simple information brokering, however it tended to open up avenues for communication that were locked beforehand. People tended to be far more willing to talk if they believed that your associates could steal away their loved ones at any given moment.
Furthermore, disappearances could be made permanent for the right price. Having dabbled in the business a few times over the course of her long life, Malachite knew the signs of an assassination disguised as a simple disappearing act. However, Lil' Miss Malachite doubted such an action had occurred for Ruby's group in this specific instance. Considering her group consisted of the likes of Kirakishou and Summer Rose, any number of assassins would be hard-pressed on landing even a single hit on either of the two. Not to mention that doing so would likely enrage Ruby Rose, leading to a swift death if her reactions at Spider's Bar were of any indication.
And a tripe-killing was hilariously right out of the question. Any one of them could call for an entire league of assassins. All three, at once, were too much for any one job.
Thus, some other event had occurred in order to result in the group disappearing, specifically in a manner that had excluded the likes of Roman Torchwick and his pint-sized sidekick. And Lil' Miss Malachite was determined to find an answer if only to understand what kind of clusterfuck she was potentially getting herself into. Or, more precisely, getting Torchwick into. But that was for later.
"...You and I both know that their disappearance was, more than likely, enemy action."
A chill entered the restaurant, as Malachite's and Torchwick's own guests found themselves perfectly still.
Torchwick merely chuckled, though the amusement did not reach his eyes.
"Of course. The girls have certainly made their fair share of enemies over the past few months. Eradicating a Kingdom will do that, so it would seem."
"Do you have any ideas as to what could have happened?"
The esteemed criminal looked down, glancing at Neopolitan for a brief moment before sighing. "...Look, I'm certainly not the first to notice that Little Red's group had a lot of eyes on them. Vytal Festival aside, news of Summer Rose resurfacing after so long would be more than enough to ruffle some feathers. But, little Neo and I both knew that when we chose to throw our lot in with them."
"Naturally," Lil' Miss Malachite allowed with a dismissive wave of her hand, already well-aware of their state of affairs. Both Torchwick and Neo had jumped ship and teamed up with the biggest fish in the pond, in a strategy that Malachite herself had been in the midst of attempting when everything had gone to shit. Though, it was interesting that Roman had brought up the matter now. Was Torchwick implying that an old grudge had come to settle the score?
"Okay, I'll level with you," Torchwick leaned forward. "It happened sometime in the early hours of the morning. You see, both Neo and I like to get up early in the morning when we're travelling. Far safer to travel at dawn than dusk. Especially with the current climate."
Malachite nodded, having trained such survival techniques into a fair portion of her own subordinates. Grimm became far more effective predators in the dark of night, where their dark coats blended in with the lack of sunlight. Beginning travels at the early hours of the day ensured that all the light-fairing hours could be spent travelling without having to fear the encroaching night. Pushing concerns later and later into the evening was one of the many ways that potential travellers of the wilderness of Remnant could find themselves in a sticky situation with little-to-no awareness.
"Well? Come on. Why are you pausing? Continue already," Militia grumbled, the first sign that her daughters were paying attention to Torchwick's story, which was something of an interesting development itself, considering her daughters had been practically dead to the world since the moment they escaped from Kirakishou's clutches.
Roman shrugged off the glares from her twin daughters. "Eh. Can't blame a man for trying. I'm hungry and there's food," he snarked. "Well, early on in the morning, Neo and I heard shouting. Loud enough to wake me up at the time, which was no easy feat. The shouting sounded like Kirakishou, I think. And then there were a bunch of footsteps. When we eventually got there to check things out, everyone was gone, and there wasn't a single sign of Kirakishou's semblance."
"...Her semblance?" Melanie blurted aloud, sounding confused. "What do you mean?"
"Kirakishou can alter reality to some extent," Roman supplied for her, saving Malachite the hassle. "Dunno how it works, just that it didn't look like something she could really turn off even if she wanted to. Even during the short time that we travelled with them, I caught a few instances of trees and grass briefly turning crystalline."
"And this crystalline semblance of hers, I take it that it affected your lodging?" Malachite questioned.
"Yup," Roman nodded. "And it's more than crystals. She turned a broken-down hunk of wood into a four-bedroom lodging with barely a flick of her wrist. Damn thing must have had environmental controls, too, because it was one of the best damn sleeps I've had in recent memory. But anyway, as I said, when Neo and I ran to investigate the shouting, everyone was gone and the house was back to looking like a hunk of rotten wood. Damn illusion took my best pyjamas, too, so apparently, it works on more than just nonchalantly yeeting nothingness into existance, or whatever."
Both Militia and Melanie snorted dismissively, shaking their head heads. When she glanced up, Malachite, Torchwick, and Neopolitan were all staring at them. Suffice to say, Lil' Miss Malachite was not impressed with the attitudes of her daughters.
"Got something to say, ladies?" Malachite demanded, her daughters knowing full-well that it wasn't a simple request.
"...Tch, you all don't even understand her semblance to the slightest bit. It's pathetic. What you're all seeing isn't even half of what she could do," Militia stated, angrily carving into her steak in some childish attempt to vent her apparent anger.
Torchwick glanced her way, raising a brow. She frowned, but nodded her assent. If Torchwick wanted to play therapist, then he was all the more welcome to try. "Then, if you would, enlighten us. What else can she do?"
"...Dreams."
Malachite blinked at the non-sequitur coming from Melanie, who had been relatively silent in the proceedings thus far.
"Inside her Palace of Beginnings, we dreamed," Militia explained. "Over and over again. It was little things at first, almost like our lives flashing before our eyes. But then they changed. They became more elaborate."
"Elaborate? What do you mean?" Torchwick questioned, Neo noticeably perking up beside him with a frown growing on her lips.
"We dreamed of… potential futures. What felt like hundreds of them. In some, we would be owners of Juniors Bar, in others we'd have control over Spider, and… in others… we had a family. We lived our lives and saw the world. We watched it change, and we changed alongside it. I… I remember… just sitting down with my daughter and, well, holding her. Feeling her warmth and seeing her smile up at me as I braided her hair. Oum, I remember sitting down and watching tutorials on elaborate braiding techniques, just for her, just to see her smile up at me one more time."
Lil' Miss Malachite stared at her daughter, seeing the emotion flashing before her very eyes as Militia practically poured her heart out in front of them all. There was so much pain, so much confusion, mixed with longing and bitterness.
"...We were happy," Melanie continued in lieu of her twin sister. "Endlessly, always, happy. Being here and seeing the world, knowing that all we felt is a lie, it… hurts. And that, above all else, is the worst part about Kirakishou's semblance. It makes people happy."
"Well, that's unnecessarily graphic and incredibly unsettling to consider," Torchwick summed up her thoughts with a visible shudder, Neopolitan looking thoughtful on the side as she fiddled with her meal.
"So, what you're saying is that these… dreams… are the main purpose of her semblance and that everything else is, what? A side effect?"
"I don't know!" Militia groused angrily, raising her voice. None of the other patrons dared to look at their table in fear of retribution, though it was still something of a social faux-pas on Militia's side. Not that Malachite cared much for decorum at the moment. "I don't care about huntresses and semblances and aura, whatever. They're all just a bunch of idiots racing towards a pointless death with their absurd superpowers. Just, what I do know is that Kirakishou's semblance is entirely too complex to just be crystals and dreams. The two sides are connected, I think. One side empowering the other."
"And the dreams are very lifelike," Melanie added. "Touch, taste, smell, everything and anything you would experience in the real world was perfectly emulated down to the finest detail. And the people… I think… I think they were real, too. At least... some of them were..."
"You're saying that all the others trapped inside Kirakishou's dreamworld were all dreaming the same dream, together?" Malachite questioned, surprised. The more she learned of Kirakishou's semblance, the more she found herself uncomfortable with the ramifications. To think that hundreds of thousands of men and women had been dreaming entirely different lives for the better part of several months at this point was entirely too disturbing for Lil' Miss Malachite.
In her line of work, she was aware of far too many methods to break someone, each with its own downsides. And, by far, the best and worst of them all, was kindness. Make someone happy, make someone feel loved, and they would do anything for you.
And the world would suffer for it.
"...Yes, I think everyone was connected to each other," Melanie confirmed with a shaky nod. "Or, at least, most of us were connected. I wouldn't be surprised if some people had dreams that weren't compatible with what everyone else was dreaming."
"Sheesh," Torchwick whistled, the sound more a long drawn out anxious-ridden sigh than any lilting tune. "An absurd semblance for sure. Can't believe Little Red would fall for a girl like Kirakishou. She seemed so, well, heroic, when I first met her in Vale. Well, Little Red did. Can't say I'm not glad that I didn't meet Kirakishou face to face."
Lil' Miss Malachite shook her head, not deigning to reply to such a topic. She didn't particularly care why Summer's daughter had fallen for the destroyer of Vale, nor how she could love someone that was, essentially, trapping everyone she captured in a world of pleasant dreams.
Instead, Malachite opted to push the conversation forward. "Naturally, if the implications of what my daughters have said are even remotely close to the truth, an adversary powerful enough to combat Kirakishou, Summer Rose, and Ruby Rose could be dangerous to all those who have had contact with their group."
Not that Malachite believed such a person existed, of course. But, it was an easier sell than convincing Torchiwick of her own personal beliefs.
Torchwick, oddly enough, shuddered. "Don't need to tell me twice. I've dealt with more than a few power-mad lunatics over my life, and anyone capable of getting a one-up on them was always a cause for concern. Especially since Little Red's group had dispatched one of them for me."
"You're talking about Cinder Fall?" Lil' Miss Malachite guessed, earning a nod from Torchwick. "Hm. Yes. I remember the surprise on your face when Ruby admitted that Cinder Fall had been slain. I'd suspected Cinder to have perished, somehow, but I certainly hadn't expected her killer to have admitted it in one of my own establishments. Although… it does lead to a certain theory…"
"What, that one of Cinder's allies would try an exact revenge on Little Red by targeting her Kingdom-ending lover?" Torchwick guffawed. "Doubt it. A woman like Cinder, she'd be nipping at the heels of anyone powerful enough to subdue her. Anyone with at least one brain cell would see that Cinder Fall would make for a terrible subordinate. Not to mention that pissing off Little Red's group like that would be tantamount to suicide, no matter how powerful you were. Especially over the death of a woman like Cinder. Who would mourn her? Oum, what a bitch she was. I'm getting a headache just remembering her."
Malachite chuckled at the thought, sharing a laugh with Torchwick over the image of Cinder Fall trying to deal with someone more powerful than her. She had seen how Cinder acted through the experiences of some of her own associates, and she knew enough to believe Torchwick's assessment was right on the mark. Cinder Fall had been little more than a bratty princess with a strong power, believing herself a Queen.
"All too true," Malachite shook her head in momentary bemusement. "Unfortunately, the exclusion of Cinder's allies as potential perpetrators leaves us in the dark once again."
"...Not that it matters much, though," Torchwick shrugged. "As I said, anyone powerful enough to deal with a girl like Kirakishou isn't someone to be ignored without fearing for your life. Once the rest of the world realises that, it'll be an Oum-damned grimm-hunt to find the perpetrator."
"Exactly right," Lil' Miss Malachite confirmed with a sharp nod. "Which is why, in my humble opinion, I believe our best course of action is to find out what in the world happened to Ruby Rose, Summer Rose, and Kirakishou, and see if we can undo it."
"...Well, count little Neo and my own handsome self into this plan of yours. Better the grimm you know than the grimm you don't, and we had something pretty good going with Little Red's group before they up and disappeared. But, how are you going to go about it? If you went to me for answers, you're just as much in the dark about it as I am."
Fat fucking chance of that, as you're about to find out.
"Not exactly," Lil' Miss Malachite mused with a slow smirk. "Tell me, what do you know about a certain Willow Schnee?"
Torchwick blinked at the name, glancing over to Neopolitan who appeared equally surprised. "...Uh, trophy wife of Jacques Schnee? Former Schnee Dust Company heiress and daughter of the late Nicholas Schnee, before practically handing over the company to Jacques. A solid nine out of ten."
"That's the one," Lil' Miss Malachite confirmed, amused at the assessment. The woman was admittedly stunning. Not that she was jealous or anything. "In her heydays, Willow Schnee was something of a rebellious little brat. Once upon a time, she found herself in the web of Spider, selling information about Daddy dearest in order to spite the company she so despised. Of course, her information fell into the wrong hands, and she soon found herself forced into a marriage she loathed. As it turned out for poor Willow Schnee, information proved to be the more powerful adversary than anything she could summon with her semblance."
Torchwick whistled. "Damn. Didn't expect that. Spider certainly casts a wide web, huh?"
"Something like that," Malachite mused, chuckling to herself. Willow's story was always something of a sordid tale for those in the know, warning of the dangers of selling information directly connected to oneself. "Following that, Willow has been something of an agent to Spider, feeding information about useful company developments in the SDC in exchange for certain condolences on our part. However, her latest communication prior to the collapse of the CCT was rather… lacking. Which, if you have read even a single communication from Willow, is blatantly out of character."
She had said it before and could say it again, Willow Schnee could out-write most authors on Remnant on sheer word counts alone, and it was about some of the most mundane shit possible. Oum. She was glad she had a secretary to pass off the job to, or else she'd have read herself into early blindness.
"...You suspect something has occurred in Atlas? Something connected to what occurred in Vale?" Torchwick took a stab in the dark, earning a curt nod from Malachite. It would seem she chose the right person to confide in after all. Torchwick was certainly quick-witted.
"Correct. Now, whether it be a classified military operation or a group based out of Atlas, both are feasible. My associates have already reported numerous times that Atlesian forces took up occupation in the landmass surrounding Vale following the culmination of the Vytal Festival Tournament. Our mysterious perpetrator may be connected to this group, whoever they may be."
"That's all well and good, but what do you expect us to do about it?" Torchwick questioned. "Despite all our strengths, Neo and I can't take on all of Atlas, or some illusive fucking behemoth of a figure strong enough to take down Little Red's group."
Lil' Miss Malachite waved a hand, refusing the urge to roll her eyes at the idea. "Don't worry. I don't need anything nearly as taxing as what you're suggesting. No, what I do require is a more investigative role from the two of you. Simply put, I want both you and your subordinate to fly to Vale and investigate what has occurred. Transportation will be provided, of course, but once you get to Vale you're on your own. With the CCT down, there's no way of providing immediate assistance anyway."
Torchwick gave a slow and obnoxious defeated sigh that was music to her ears. "...Not like we have much of a choice. But yeah, sure. No problem. We'll fly into dangerous territory and try not to be turned into crystal statues, or whatever."
Lil' Miss Malachite chuckled ruefully, amused at the very prospect. "Oh no, you two won't be flying there. You'll be going by boat."
Perhaps, if she had been feeling particularly sympathetic at the time, she would have told Roman Torchwick exactly what he was getting himself into, with her sources confirming that Special Operative Caroline Cordovin had been sighted venturing into Vale's waters. As in, Caroline Cordovin, formerly of the Atlesian military. The very same former Special Operative that had supposedly gone rogue and was currently being blamed for the destruction of Argus.
But, then, she doubted that Roman Torchwick would have agreed to this particular scheme of hers. Cordovin liked to hold herself with the same neigh-unending resolve as the late Summer Rose, with all the technological might and sheer bullheadedness of Atlas at her disposal to boot. A woman like Cordovin would take one look at Torchwick and resolve to apprehend the man and his bubblegum sidekick regardless of what stood in her way.
Oh well.
What a shame.
After all, if what her daughters had explained was true, even if either Cordovin or Torchwick succeeded, there was a chance that Kirakishou would still win in the end. And that was all that truly mattered to the organisation known as Spider.