VOLUME 2


Aftermath


The Kingdom of Vale had seen better days.

Even in its failure, the raid on the Schnee Dust Company's emergency shipment to Vale was one of the largest of its kind. Any reprieve granted was overshadowed by ever more burglaries. Desperation pushed Vale's constituents to their limits, poverty became all too easy to sink into, and crime lurked around every corner. It was in this environment that two mighty factions thrived: led by Torchwick was the Torches, one of the most ruthless gangs anywhere outside of Mistral, and the White Fang, terrorist organization or revolutionary force, depending on who you ask. Between them lay the majority of Vale's Dust: if you wanted it, in time, you would have to turn to one of them.

Little did the kingdom know, both factions were working together. The majority of their forces didn't know it, either.

Such was why a White Fang officer, proudly wearing the signature black, long-sleeved hoodie and sleeveless, white jacket, watched his goons throw the bodies of the last Torch gangsters into the alley from the back door of their recently-conquered safehouse. He sighed and idly adjusted his mask. Things were going smoothly. Too smoothly. Their invasion had gone off without a hitch. Even the rookies had done their parts flawlessly, and you didn't get as far as he did without knowing that nothing went exactly to plan. It could've been as simple as a rookie dropping their mask in the middle of a heist or as bad as the police being competent enough to set up a bust, but something always went wrong.

Those were the rules.

He shifted his jaw and looked back at the squad of soldiers he had lingering around the truck behind him: reserves who had their auras activated. Just in case. "Spread out and watch the ends of the alley. Don't look too suspicious, but if you can't get rid of any problems headed our way, I want to know the second it gets bad." A group of salutes later, and he strode into the building, trusty mace drawn.

He didn't get two steps inside before the power shut off. Confused shouts and grunts—his own included—filled the air as, within the building, he and a squad of eight White Fang tried to get their bearings.

"Who tripped a breaker!" the officer called as he carefully made his way around blood and debris towards the stairs leading up to the floor the Torches kept their Dust on. A few of his comrades scouting out the main floor stepped in at his sides, complaining but unharmed and unafraid. That was good: it meant they weren't under attack, at least.

"No clue!" Two faunus came down the steps, crate of Dust in tow. "None of us were near any electrical equipment."

The officer shifted his jaw as another pair came down. He didn't like that. He doubted that was just some accident. He looked over the dingy hideout with couches scuffed and dirty enough to be obvious even with his nightvision, where cigarette embers still burned on a bloodstained table, the game played on it forever unfinished. And suddenly, things felt way too quiet.

He turned and swept his arm out to his nine masked soldiers in the shadows. "Get these crates out and watch the windows! I don't want—" His breath caught in his throat.

Nine.

He'd only brought eight. Four on the first floor. Four on the second. He tried to play it off as if he were clearing his throat while he reached into his pocket. He would have been fine believing it was one of his reserves outside if it weren't for the simple fact that the extra man was atop the stairs his Dust-carrying men came from.

"I don't want anyone sneaking up on us, alright?" He drew out a red Dust crystal and channeled his aura into it, bringing a hot light to the room. The officer suddenly twisted on his heel to challenge the newcomer, but he was already gone.

The air rushed past his ears, and a sharp cry of pain came from behind him. One of the White Fang had been struck unconscious, the perpetrator landing on his feet in a mass of black amidst the group. Crates were dropped, Dust spilled to the ground, guns were drawn and orders shouted in a cacophony. The closest two drew blades and swung out, but their foe shattered one's arm with a single kick and swept the other's legs out from beneath him.

"Pin him down!" The officer raised his hand, channeling his aura into the crystal and firing spears of flame to lead the charge. Beside him, the four once carrying crates raised their rifles and let loose. The room was filled with a constant roar of gunfire as the shadow nimbly dipped and dodged through each shot, diving behind couches and leaping from wall to wall.

The figure's hands snapped behind his back, and with two sharp cracks, two of the officer's gunmen struck the ground behind him. Landing atop the bloodstained table with two short-barreled rifles aimed at them, now lit by the crackling flames left behind, the figure became clear to the officer.

It was no wonder he was able to blend in with them: he was in their own uniform, albeit entirely in black all the way down to his mask, which held the dimly glowing, green lenses of a lower officer or specialist rather than the more common eye slits. A face mask over his jaw hid any defining features. Was this some kind of traitor to the cause?

The figure waved them on. With a roar, the officer launched a wave of flame towards the assailant, only for him to flip off of the table and send it crashing into him. Two swordsmen were on him in an instant, turning into a dazzling frenzy of unpredictable slashes coming high and low. Each and every one was deflected or dodged with only minimal movement. With a final missed swing, the two ducked off to the sides just in time for their remaining two allies to let loose with their assault rifles. Crimson lights flashed from each impact on his body, but the figure still stood.

The gunmen were stunned: one or two shots absorbed by aura, sure, but to take that many...

"It's a Huntsman!" one of the swordsmen shouted. As if waiting only for that realization, the rogue pounced, shoulder checking him into the now-flaming wall and blasting his comrade across from him. Beneath it all, the officer scrambled to his feet and, cursing himself all the while, sprinted for the door. He didn't get it. He didn't understand! He had planted his reserves in the alley for this very reason: why hadn't they come?

As the chaos of combat raged behind him, the officer finally shoved his way through the doorway through the alley. He froze.

Every one of his reserves lay unconscious, scattered around their own getaway truck.

The sound of clashing blades and gunfire came to a sudden halt behind him. There didn't look like there was much of a struggle: they were caught off guard. Each close to a huntsman-in-training, taken out so easily? He should've at least heard the clash! Unless...

The officer's hand gripped his Dust crystal hard enough for it to flare. Unless they were attacked at the same time he was.

He spun on his heel, eyes searching around for any sign of the second assailant.

Someone tapped his shoulder.

With a cry of surprise, the officer spun and launched a gout of flame, but when the fires cleared, there were only embers. Another tap, another blast, another miss. But on the third, he was ready, weaving his knowledge of Dust into a ring of flame that rippled through the alley. With a distinctly feminine yelp, his new foe jumped back and readied her weapon: a deadly-looking, polearm with a blade in the rough shape of a heart.

"Gotcha!" he snarled. But before he could bring his crystal up again, a pair of heavy bullets slammed into his back, shattering his aura and sending him to the ground.

"Be more careful if you're going to insist on tagging along," the traitorous assailant spoke from behind him.

The girl groaned. "Awww, but you keep taking all the fun parts, Ace!"

The young officer struggled to look up at this second attacker: most of her body was hidden by a large, red cloak, and her face by both a red bandana over her mouth and a pair of crimson shades to match. Just from her size, though, she looked like a student the traitor just grabbed off the street and threw a half-baked disguise on.

"It's not about fun." 'Ace' dragged the officer up and pressed him into the wall of the smoldering hideout. "It's about getting answers," the masked man hissed to him and raised a rifle up.

"Alright, fine! I'll talk!" the officer shouted. "Who the hell even are you people?"

The masked assailant sighed, but the girl in red hopped up closer to him. Even without seeing her face, the officer could hear her grin.

"That's Ace, and I'm..."


"Ruby!" 'Ace' hissed as they regrouped atop one of the many rooftops of Vale proper, "If you are going to insist on following me, at least take this seriously!"

Ruby crossed her arms with a huff, red bandanna pulled down around her neck. "I am taking this seriously! I built a whole weapon for the disguise and everything!" She pointed off to her ruby-red polearm left leaning up against the doorway to the roof.

"That's not..." With an annoyed sigh, Adam ripped the black mask off of his face and yanked down the one over his mouth. "Look. I came here for information on the White Fang's new chain of command and potential headquarters. This isn't about 'stopping crime' or some superhero nonsense."

Ruby quietly rocked on her heels, suddenly finding the skyline particularly interesting.

Adam took a deep breath. "What?"

"You, uh, might be a te~ensy bit late on the superhero thing."

"... What do you mean?"

Ruby stayed silent.

Grimacing, Adam stepped closer. "Ruby, what did you do?"

She grinned and finally brought herself to stare back up at him. "Soooo... you know how I came up with those cool names for us?"

"That I did not ever agree to, yes," he grumbled.

Ruby tapped her fingers together. "I might have been leaving calling cards behind when you weren't looking, they might have been a pair of playing cards, and the news might have gotten an anonymous tip to what they mean..."

Adam felt a headache coming on. "Cut to the point."

"The public might know us as..."


"The vigilante duo 'Blackjack' has struck a fifth time this month, named for their 'calling cards': an ace of spades and a queen of hearts! Nine White Fang members were taken into custody by Vale police last night after a possible encounter with the unknown vigilantes, In the criminals' possession? One hundred thousand lien in Dust and lien cards. While the vigilantes have only targeted the White Fang since their arrival, local authorities are still concerned about the possibility of not one, but two rogue Huntsman who may be tied to the notorious Torch gang..." Lisa Lavender's voice faded away in Adam's mind as he picked at his food, wondering why he ever even allowed Ruby to come with him. He speared a carrot on his fork. Oh wait. He didn't. She just decided to start following him when he'd leave each night.

He didn't even want to see if Ruby was telling the truth about them having a 'superhero identity,' but he needed something, anything, to keep him awake long enough to get the call he truly wanted. These days, it was one of the only things he looked forward to.

Unfortunately, as promising as their friendship seemed that night on the docks, Team RWAY just could not hold up to the reality of the situation at hand. With each day of dancing on eggshells around the subjects of crime, terrorism, Dust, the Schnees, faunus and the White Fang, they drifted further and further apart. Only Ruby made any attempt to reach out, and beside her following him on his missions like a lost puppy, those attempts had been falling flat.

They tried to ignore the wound left behind, but rather than heal, it only festered. They were still allies and acquaintances, but with the exception of the two sisters, 'roommates' was now as far as they got. By the second week, they were in different worlds.

Ruby and Yang spent their time with JNPR, Weiss focused more on her studies, and Adam found himself solely with faunus: in the mornings, he would teach his club of those who were tired of being oppressed and demeaned, and in the afternoons after class he would chat with Velvet.

Adam's eyes traveled across his team: even now, in times of relaxation, not much had changed. Ruby and Yang had even left their table to go talk with JNPR, and Weiss had gone so far to have her earplugs in as she looked over notes on her Scroll. Their eyes met, and just as quickly found other things more interesting.

With Team CFVY off on a mission, the chill of loneliness might have threatened to creep over his heart had this been even two weeks beforehand, but after the docks, there was no doubt in his mind on where he belonged.

A smile tugged at his lips as his Scroll rang. He silently rose from the table, flipped his Scroll open and strolled to a more quiet corner to talk.


For the briefest moment at the docks after defeating Torchwick, Adam thought he might have been dreaming. On that holographic screen was, without a doubt, his dear Blake. Her amber eyes were downcast, and her ears were still wrapped up in that bow he found so silly, but it was still her. He might've heard one of his teammates calling to him, but he was far and away too focused on just seeing his closest friend for the first time in months.

"It's... been a while." Blake's voice snapped him out of his trance. He could finally move his legs again and was quick to catch up with his other teammates who tossed him odd looks. He'd get to them later. What was important now however, was:

"It's been months, Blake! What happened to you?" he spoke in a hushed tone that tried and failed miserably to hide his worries.

Blake flinched, and her bow twitched as she tried to come up with a good answer.

"I'd gotten caught up in a lot of things, that's all. Trust me, a lot has happened." Any questions Adam had were swept aside by her smile.

"I can say the same, over here. I've been worried about you; our past doesn't treat us well."

Blake nodded in agreement and, after a clear moment of hesitation, brought up a question that looked like it'd been bothering her for some time: "How's Beacon?" Her bow had flattened out, and her smile was more coy. She was preparing for the worst. He must've frowned upon noticing that, for Blake's false happiness grew even more strained.

Adam snorted. "Beacon's... interesting, to say the least. There are a number of odd people around here—"

"Hello~o!" As if to prove Adam's point, that was the exact moment where Yang decided it was time to poke her head into the conversation, verbally and physically by jumping over to his side.

Blake nearly threw her phone.

"And who might this be, hm? A secret girlfriend you haven't been telling us about?" Yang teased and nudged Adam's side with a cheesy grin, enjoying the flustered blushes on both him and Blake. "Ooh, she's cute too, very nice!~"

Blake still looked like she was nearly going to throw her phone, albeit for completely different reasons.

"Alright Yang, that's enough!" Adam tried to put as much authority as he could into his voice. Unfortunately, with his cheeks still pink and his usual mystique being decidedly lessened by their jovial tone going back home, that amounted to very little. Luckily for him, Ruby curiously peered over his shoulder and drew Blake's attention off of Yang's teasing. Unluckily, that brought a new host of problems.

"Wait, you're that girl from before!" Ruby exclaimed.

Blake's eyes widened, and the call immediately ended.

Adam stared at the flashing "Call Ended" on his screen, his first sight of his closest companion in months gone in an instant. He took a deep breath.

"Explain." He must've regained just enough of his usual agitation to sound serious again, for Ruby let out an uneasy chuckle and folded her arms behind her back.

"Weeeell, I might have answered your phone once while you were gone and it might have been that Blake girl asking for you..."

Adam's eyes narrowed. She was going through his things! Though, he supposed he forfeited his Scroll when he threw it away and left Beacon entirely... but that did not make it okay!

"She looked really spooked, though, like she was super afraid of something or someone!"

"Afraid of something..." Adam mumbled under his breath and looked at his now-blank Scroll. Were things in Menagerie not going as well as they thought it would? It was only now that he noticed Weiss trying to peek out from around Yang.

"I wanted to see who was so important too, you know!" she complained and crossed her arms upon noticing that Blake had already hung up.

Sensing a new target, Yang turned her mischievous grin down to Weiss.

"Scouting out the competition again, hm?"

Weiss turned her nose up at the prospect and scoffed.

"As if!"


The next few conversations were decidedly less problematic, even if they did decide standard calls would be best for now. Blake had landed safely in Menagerie and was currently just trying to make amends with her parents. It did well to explain why she sounded more closed-off than usual: her final words to them were hostile, to say the least. While she never seemed to want to talk much about efforts on her own front, Blake was desperate to hear just how his life at Beacon was going.

"I still can't believe Ruby and Yang are part of your team." Blake sounded like she didn't know what was more unbelievable: that he had a team in the first place or that such a team included those two.

Adam chuckled and leaned back against the cafeteria wall.

"Don't sound so surprised, Blake. They might not seem that serious—"

"To say the least." She chuckled softly.

Adam rolled his eyes.

"However, they are good humans, I assure you. I just may not want to risk my life on whether or not they can stop making jokes." He heard a brief sigh of relief from Blake and the creaking of a bed as she laid down. The afternoon, for him, must've been at the very crack of dawn over Menagerie.

"I also can't believe you haven't strangled those two or yourself, dealing with that every day."

"Trust me, I've thought about it."

Adam caught a hint of uneasiness in Blake's laughter.

"I don't think you've told me much about the third one, though. Personality, fighting style, weapon... name..." The change in subject was no surprise to Adam: he'd been specifically avoiding that subject from the moment they spoke. Weiss. It had taken weeks of constant contact to get over the urge to draw his blade when she was near and, while Blake was nowhere near as extreme as he was, she had her own qualms against the Schnee Dust Company. He doubted Blake would ever see him as tainted or as a traitor to the cause... but it was not something he wanted to risk.

Adam was not in a position to lose Blake, right now. Then again, was he ever?

"She's as standard as they come." Adam lied through his teeth, gaze having fallen on the subject of their conversation: she was on her own Scroll, shocked by whoever was on the other side. Shock gave way to anger and, with a shout of annoyance muffled by the din of the students, stormed off outside. "How are the parents?" It was a low blow, knowing how much she avoided the subject, but it would also tell Blake it was off-limits. It did its job.

"... They're fine, Adam. I think Dad's finally coming around. Not to possibly leading the White Fang again but, at least to me—" He heard voices on the other end. "Oh, sorry, I have to go. I'll talk to you later!"

"Talk to you soon. Stay safe, Blake." He snapped his Scroll shut and frowned. Things just weren't making sense: sometimes, Blake would disappear abruptly, called away by something he never heard. With her being supposedly afraid when Ruby answered for him, Adam once thought that this was signs of whatever was giving her so much trouble in Menagerie, but that didn't explain why she would always sound so happy when she had to leave. It was a subtle thing, one perhaps only he could hear from her voice alone; however, it was something that left him confused. Confused and faintly jealous. Just what was going on in Menagerie?

He sighed and tried to push the thoughts out of his head the best he could: Adam knew full well that if he let those thoughts absorb him, it'd have him on an airship to the faunus continent in an instant. God knew that it was already a course of action he wished to take. A shrill shout of frustration muffled by the windows behind him caught his attention and thankfully swept aside the rest of his worries. Instead, as he watched Weiss stuff her Scroll into her pocket and storm off, it was replaced by curiosity.

As Adam slipped outside, he didn't catch the worried, silver eyes watching him leave.


Weiss arrived to her next class almost half an hour early, choosing to linger next to the door and stew in her fury alone. Cut off. Her father had the nerve to cut her off when she'd nearly sacrificed her life to protect the linings of his pockets and the reputation of 'his' company? The worst part though, the insult to injury, the cherry on top of this cluster of a sundae, was that he'd used Klein's number to call her. With Winter having left, her most loyal butler was the only real friend she'd had. He'd abused that bond for his own means.

Had she any less composure, Weiss might have lashed out at the walls. She was angry—no, livid—her father would do this to her! All of his praise of her skill in years past suddenly evaporated, instead replaced with some drivel about how she could have damaged the company's reputation if they knew she was off being some reckless vigilante! The one time she could stand up for her company, and her father instead cared only for himself and how much power he had to swing about to protect her image: exclusive news deals, Dust to certain friends, favors to certain less... reputable ones. All of it equaled to money she wouldn't be having for a month.

When she'd made the mistake of giving Jacques a piece of her mind, that month became 'an amount of time to be defined later'. Also known as 'until he felt like it'. With no one around to judge her, Weiss groaned and slid down the wall onto her rump. The rush of being able to finally tell off her father had come crumbling down and left only the cold reality of her stupid decisions. She was being a child, and now she was punished.

This didn't just extend to being all but stranded here at Beacon for the entirety of summer break unless she wanted to borrow lien—Weiss shuddered at the thought—but to luxuries like fine clothes and her very fighting style: no top-tier Dust for free. Weiss was certain that, knowing just how much her father despised her coming to this Academy, it would be the last point that he would stick on. It was solely to spite her.

Weiss let her eyes close and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Today was going just peachy.

"Troubles in paradise?"

Weiss flinched and her eyes shot open at the sudden voice. She masked her brief shock with a glare shot off at the source: Adam, looming just at the corner of the hall. The last person she needed to see, right now.

"I don't recall telling you to eavesdrop on me." She couldn't put much malice into her complaint: her frustration was entirely focused inwards.

Adam only stepped closer, Blush glinting in the low light of the halls in his hand. For a brief moment, Weiss thought she might have seen worry flicker in those cold, green eyes. If only she could get her focus off of the image of that pale mask her mind overlaid onto him. The mask of a killer.

"It's hard not to, with you shouting so loudly. What happened?"

How nosy. Weiss chose not to answer that, instead just looking off down the hall and waiting for him to inevitably grow bored. As the seconds passed and Adam only leaned against the wall, she figured out that time probably wasn't going to come any time soon. For that matter, neither would the point where her mind wouldn't just travel back to her stupid mistakes.

Time crawled by. Weiss became distinctly aware that she didn't have anyone to talk to about this: Winter was often busy with specialist work, Ruby wouldn't understand, she didn't really know Yang, Penny's parents had presumably snatched her away before they could exchange contact information and while she now finally knew Klein's number, that clearly wasn't going to be safe. She sighed.

"I was cut off from my funds." Her eyes flicked over to Adam. "My father decided that stopping a massive criminal operation was deserving of punishment instead of praise. He was also not exactly pleased with my decision to inform him on just how insane of a decision that was," Weiss explained, watching Adam carefully. Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, it didn't even look like he'd heard her.

"For how long?"

" 'An amount of time to be determined later'." She put air-quotes around what her father had said, not bothering to hide the mocking disdain in her voice or how childish it made her sound. She needed to vent! "In other words, until I prostrate myself before him and beg for his forgiveness. I know he never even wanted me to be a Huntress, let alone come to Beacon over Atlas! He's so concerned with his image that he just wanted me there so he could scrub any mistake I made out of the public eye. By the way, if you're wondering why our name and faces aren't plastered all over the news, there you go."

"Can you not survive with just what the Academy gives you?" Adam asked with a raised brow. Weiss wasn't stupid, she caught the real implication of that: "What's wrong? Can't survive without the silver spoon in your mouth?"

She glared daggers at him in return.

"I can, but I won't be able to fight." She drew Myrtenaster and slowly spun its cylinder, each slot filled with highly-refined, powdered Dust. The best on and off the market. It was likely the last she'd have for some time. "Not for long, anyway. If you haven't noticed, my style uses quite a lot of refined Dust. With prices this high, I could scarcely fill two of them with the quality I need, let alone some of the most powerful forms. Yellow and purple, lightning and gravity, have all but vanished off the public market."

"Surely, you didn't come without spare Dust." It was clear to Weiss now, that Adam was not so much responding as prodding her to speak her mind. Weiss admitted to herself that she was happy for that.

"It won't last forever. Besides, this is just a warning: he'll drag me out to Atlas, if I don't submit." Weiss surprised herself with how bitter she was, now that the words actually fell from her lips rather than occupied her thoughts. She traced her fingers along Mrytenaster's glyphs, all but invisible unless the light hit them just right. She sighed and let her shoulders slump: her annoyance was little more than a tiny campfire trying to keep away the arctic that was fear and anxiety. Weiss knew she'd messed up. Who knew exactly how much this had damaged the company? Sure, no one publicly knew, but rumors still spread.

"I might as well get the apologies over with, now. Maybe he'll just see it as a lapse of judgement. Well, it was, but even more of one..." Her hand had already drifted towards her pocket as self-doubt won out over pride.

It was then that Adam decided to take a more active role in their conversation.

"I disagree," he stated and took a seat next to Weiss. She unconsciously inched away from the ex-terrorist, but Adam didn't appear to notice. "He's holding your lien above you because he knows that it can control you. Submit now, and you'll not only solidify it, but admit to you and him both that you are a puppet on golden wire."

"What do you suggest, then? Suffer just to prove a point?"

"Break free. Rebel and go on without your funds to prove that he has no power over you."

Weiss scoffed at the thought. "And put my title and honor at risk? There are things other than just money he can and has threatened to take before; it's easy to rebel when you don't have anything to lose." She tensed slightly, wondering if that was stepping too far in its insinuations of his past. However, Adam only looked off at the ceiling for a time.

"You have a point." The corner of his lips tugged upwards into a mirthless smile. "If only you believed it, yourself."

Weiss sat up straight and threw a sidelong glare at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Why would you come here, if you were so worried about what else he could levy against you? Do you really believe he will fly here and drag you away from Beacon, right out from under someone like Ozpin's nose?"

The seconds ticked by until Weiss laid back against the wall. She brushed a few loose strands of her snow-white hair away, and instinctively let her hand linger on the scar she'd gained in earning even this minor freedom.

"You gravely underestimate just how petty my father can be..." Ice-blue eyes met emerald, both cold and unified in their barely masked disdain for the head of the Schnees. Their reasons may have been different, and the level that they accepted it even more so, but Weiss couldn't ignore that common thread between them. Their conversation suffered a quiet death, leaving the two content to whittle the time away: first by simply sitting there, then by going over their notes for the next class. Only once did Adam speak again before they entered:

"Would you rather be poor and free, or wealthy and enslaved?"

He received no answer.


"Is it nearing completion?" A deep voice, garbled from a modulator, echoed across its small, dark base. Its source watched closely as the final pieces of its weapon were slotted into place by its only ally. It could afford just the one: to take more would increase the chances of being found out exponentially.

"Looks like it! It should be done by the beginning of the second semester. The 'operation' is proceeding as planned." Fiery, loud and boisterous, its assistant crossed her arms and smirked.

Her leader sighed: she didn't even bother obscuring her voice.

"And the Schnee still does not know of the resources we stole... excellent! Do you remember your part?" In response, she flipped out a photo and looked over her targets, taken at the time of their arrangement into teams at Beacon Academy. Namely, a shocked Schnee heiress and silently fuming ex-White Fang member standing at the edge of the frame, distancing himself from the group. The blonde hugging her dear sister was of no regard to them.

"I go and soften them up, test their resistance and them bam! You hit 'em with the weapon and finish it off."

"Exactly! Now go, go and—" The leader broke out into a coughing fit and groaned. "Okay, doing that voice is officially killing me." Ruby grumbled and rubbed her throat. Throwing her voice modulator—a plastic cup she was speaking into—aside, she skipped over and flipped through her—Weiss'—binder full of their super secret plans to bring the group back together. Her secret ultimate team-building weapon!

"You're the one who decided to do it in the first place!" Yang tousled her sister's hair, earning herself the fiercest pout Ruby could muster.

"Well, duh! It's a secret, mysterious plan! You've gotta be mysterious while making it, too! You didn't even try..." she grumbled.

"Aw sorry, Rubes, I'll be sure to do so, next time."

"There won't be a next time! My plan is flawless. We'll have the band back together in no time flat." Ruby shut the binder to punctuate her confident statement. "Now go! Go and... uh, do your social butterfly thing!"

"Operation: Best Day Ever begins today!"