A/N: Surprise, I'm back. Explanation at the bottom.


Hostile Takeover


At first, Almond said nothing. His eyes were hidden behind his mask, not like that mattered: he always had a good poker face. The only thing breaking up the silence between him and Adam was the constant rumble of shouts and chatter from the first floor and the steady tap of Almond's finger against the table. The temptation to ask for what Blake was doing here grew with every moment that passed. Adam forced it down. Later, he told himself. Later, he would figure that out.

"Ridiculous," Almond growled. Before Adam could reply, Almond continued. "After everything you've done against your people, you come here as the leader of a group of defectors and traitors to bargain for Beacon?"

"Yes. But I'm also coming to you as someone protecting what they care for."

Almond barked out a laugh. "Your pack of teenage girls?"

The wooden armrest creaked in Adam's grip. He sneered. "You're quite jovial for someone who would sacrifice every faunus in that academy."

That shut him up quick.

"If they were all I cared for, I wouldn't be willing to turn Vale over, nor would I have been willing to work with you against Cinder. Something, might I add, that you weren't so touchy about on that train."

Almond waved it off. "That was before Cinder proved herself worthy of the faunus' trust."

Perfect. He'd fallen right into his trap, and Almond didn't even know it.

"Did she really?" Adam asked with a satisfied smirk. "I distinctly recall that I was the one who needed to save the White Fang on that train from perishing in a botched, rushed invasion ordered by your pack of humans. Humans Cinder controlled. There was no bomb at the end of that tunnel, Edward: everyone on the train would've died." He brought a fist to his chest. "Until I destroyed the final barrier."

An urgent knock at the door kept him from speaking further. The two stared one another down. One second passed. Then two. Three.

Almond looked past him. "Return in ten minutes!" he called.

Adam settled back into his chair. He had Almond right where he wanted him. "This invasion may very well be no different: a suicide mission meant to distract from or forward whatever goal she may have. One where the White Fang is used as a sacrificial—"

The heavy crash of Almond's fist against his desk echoed through his office. "Enough! What do you want, Adam? Why did you really come here?"

He took his time leaning forward and stared right through Almond's mask. "I'm taking up your offer, Almond. I'm taking my rank back."

Silence reclaimed the office. Almond sat up straight, but no words escaped him. Suddenly, however, he relaxed. Realization had struck him.

"Trouble in paradise: something's gone wrong in Beacon."

Adam nodded: he had no intent to deny it. "I was always going to return to the White Fang, Almond. It was just a matter of time. This has only pushed me forward." He stood and stared down at Almond.

"And as your commander, I give to you my orders: leave Beacon out of your plans and assist me in striking down Cinder. Operation Pale will proceed as planned with additional reinforcement from my to-be former defectors, and once Vale is in our grasp we will put a final end to this era of terrorism and senseless violence. Vale will know the faunus' strength. Cinder will know the faunus' strength. Even Sienna soon shall understand." He offered a hand, symbolic as it may have been. "There will be those I will seek to have protected, and there will be those I prevent from taking bloody revenge, but you tell me, Edward: is denying me that power worth being a slave to Cinder Fall's goals?"

Contingencies flew through Adam's mind: he couldn't read Almond. It was only a matter of time before Ilia wondered where he was or needed a status report. In the case this went south, he needed to get out of here and contact Ilia as soon as possible, and that was if he was lucky enough for Ilia not to run into Blake. If that happened, there was a distinct chance he'd be escaping alone.

However, those thoughts came to an end. Almond rose from his desk.

The door behind Adam swung open.

"You should be more careful when speaking of the devil," Cinder purred as she sauntered into the room.

Almond froze. Adam twisted to face her and snapped his hand to his rifle. He couldn't leave this to chance any longer, but before he escaped, there was one question he needed to know.

"What have you done with Blake?" he demanded.

Cinder rolled her eyes, but that damned smile of hers remained. "How rude. Unfortunately, that's no longer any of your concern." Her crimson dress glowed, and with the Fire Dust woven within, she set her hand aflame. "Your usefulness has run out."

She was waiting for him to make the first move. His hand twitched on his rifle. Adam already missed his real weapon. Cinder's flame brightened, and her smile slipped. Her gaze flicked to Almond behind him, and that was all Adam needed. He threw his aura forward into a clone bull-rushing Cinder. Her fire obliterated his sacrifice in an instant, but it was too late: he sped past her and kicked through the door. By the time Cinder had turned, he was gone down the hallway, racing for the stairs.

Adam felt the next wave of heat before he heard it. As he dived down, fire swept across where his head once was and scorched the walls around him. Adam couldn't afford to stop. He rolled back to his feet and was at the door to the stairway down in a blur. He leaped up and kicked through it, leaving it underfoot as a makeshift board to slide down the stairway on, explosions of force and heat following him all the way down.

The second floor alone was an ocean of negativity. Pops of gunfire were muffled yet audible all around him, and what was once just a dull roar of confusion was one of panic, barked orders and rushed calls for help. Grimm were attacking the ward, but Adam couldn't worry about that now.

Back to escaping this office, Adam thought to himself with a snort as he raced through twisting halls until he'd found the familiar cubicles and, more importantly, the windows beyond them. He couldn't see Cinder nor feel her flames, even as he jumped out from the very window he'd entered before to climb atop the adjacent building. Adam barely had a foot down before he was scrambling for his Scroll.

Even that brief loss of focus was too much: the next thing Adam knew, he was tumbling across the rooftop, leaving a trail of embers and his own aura behind. Ignoring the sting across his back where he was struck, he forced himself to his feet.

Cinder strolled towards him, uncaring for the sounds of warfare and Grimm alike. Dual broadswords of black glass glinted dangerously in her hands. There was no choice but to fight now, disadvantaged or not. Adam brought his rifles up, and his gunfire became part of the din. Cinder weaved around each shot, not bothering to block them until she was right before him. In only a couple seconds, it became a close range bout, with Adam forced to use his rifles as clubs to block and counter Cinder. It was a losing battle.

Her blade scored a slash across his cheek, the glass blisteringly hot. A stab nearly threw him from the building altogether. With a hiss, Adam lunged forward, wide swings of his rifles interspersed with shots directed not just at her, but at her blades. Each strike was blocked with perfect precision and returned just as accurately, but now, he had the focus to match her. They were locked in a stalemate, where every clash of near-molten glass and matte-black rifle faded into one another.

Exactly where he thrived. He swiped Cinder's blades aside, then spun and snapped a kick fierce enough to finally shatter one of them. Fire gathered in her palm before the shards hit the ground, but he was faster. He was stronger. Aura gathered around his rifle until it trailed behind its barrel like mist, honed to its peak. He lifted his rifle behind his back and fired through the flame with a flash of blinding, red light. Amplified by his Semblance, it punched through Cinder's leg with ease.

He ignored her shout of pain and frustration and was gone before she could respond. Her aura would patch it up eventually, but until then, she was immobile. Adam was gone before the light faded.


Ildaite Ward was under siege. Waves of white and black were scattered through the streets, turned to blurs as Adam raced across rooftops fast enough to match any of Vale's Bullheads. The red embers of Nevermores' eyes streaked by above him. The cacophony of battle surrounded him on all sides. Bullets zipped through the air and cracked into buildings from every angle, some even showering him with shrapnel: those must've been shells from the Paladins.

The wind whistled to his side. Without a thought, he turned and fired, catching a glimpse of glittering, shattered glass before it erupted into heat and blinding light above the streets. It was gone behind him as fast as it appeared, but across the street was its cause: Cinder, matching his speed perfectly, surfing on a wave of flame with a glass bow in hand while her leg healed. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself to his limits, flipping over alleyways and rapid firing across at her.

She responded in kind, and the war below was lit up in violent orange and red with every explosive arrow blasted from the sky ten stories above the street below. Adam had swung himself onto a taller building when he heard dual clicks from his guns. Empty. Three, burning-white arrows were already making their way to him. Desperate, he hurled one of his rifles into the way and dived to the ground. The good news was that his rifle intercepted the shots. The bad news was that the resulting explosion turned a dive to the roof into an uncontrolled launch off of the roof. Adam scrambled for purchase, only getting the painful shock of balconies, window sills and metal stairs for his trouble.

Finally, he managed to clutch onto a ladder a few precious feet from the ground. A fortunate fire escape. His aura flickered and crackled from the strain, but held up. After a couple moments to catch his breath, he dropped down into the dark alleyway. The abandoned buildings around him were cloaked in shadow, and the sounds of fighting had grown distant, but the snarling of Grimm had only grown closer. He was getting closer to the edge of Ildaite Ward now. Closer to where Cinder wouldn't be able to openly attack him without consequence.

From one side, Beowolves approached in a pack large enough to mask their features beyond a black miasma surrounding them. On the other, Cinder had just daintily landed and begun sauntering towards him as if her leg hadn't even been scratched.

"I don't understand why you're even bothering, Adam." A flash of orange, and her bow melted away. Dripping glass warped around Cinder's arms without her so much as wincing, then solidified into jagged, clawed gauntlets. "Blake is mine, the White Fang is mine and soon, so will Beacon. If you ask me, it'd be better not to die tired."

"Please. If I gave up in a hopeless situation, I wouldn't have joined the White Fang in the first place." Adam ejected his magazine and slammed in another. The Grimm behind him had stopped, no doubt somehow controlled by Cinder. This alleyway was roughly the size of a side road: enough to move from side to side, but maneuvering would be tough.

"How tenacious." Cinder's smile grew. "Then don't let me be the one to keep you from dying for your cau—"

A pair of shots cut her off. She swept her arm out, disintegrating the bullets before they'd even reached her. The Beowolves came rushing in behind him and, with a taunting wave to Cinder, Adam flipped not towards her but right into the middle of the horde, landing atop one of their heads. Three precise shots through three of their skulls cleared enough Grimm for him to stand. Cinder sprung towards him, and Adam kicked a dissipating body into her before spinning out of the way of a fireball that burst through the Grimm in an instant.

He pinned a Beowolf to the wall at his side with a kick and kept Cinder at a distance with a burst of gunfire, but she powered through with her gauntlets as her shields. Adam fired behind his back to execute his pinned foe, then swept in, turning their fight into one of flaming jabs barely dodged and sharp kicks narrowly blocked. The horde of Grimm now worked just as much to his advantage as to hers: crowding them in and leaving precious few places to move to. As long as he was sure to watch his back, the Beowolves couldn't so much as approach.

That smile of hers turned to a frustrated snarl after her claw barely scraped across his chest. "Enough of this!" Cidner brought her hand back, and her palm blazed with fire so intense that it warped the air around her.

The split-second it took to focus on that was enough for a Beowolf to try and capitalize on Adam's distraction, leaping for his back. He turned and his attempt to block only had its maw clamp down onto his arm. With a roar, Adam forced himself to turn as Cinder plunged her hand forward. A plume of white flame ignited. Adam slammed his boot into the Beowolf's stomach, and the incoming inferno obscured his sight. One last shot of his rifle ripped the Grimm free and sent it crashing into Cinder. Even the thin sheet of flame that reached Adam left his aura flaring from strain, but Cinder was knocked down, and the rest of the stream went flaring high up into the night, leaving scorched walls and molten metal balconies in its wake.

A rush of wind heralded another pair of Beowolves lunging from his blind spot, but when Adam ducked and raised his rifle up, he was surprised to see them, some wounded from Cinder's attack, rushing past him. Growls and roars followed as the Grimm acted as if Adam wasn't even there, swarming to Cinder as she recovered. Adam didn't wait to see what happened next: he leaped from wall to wall, needing to get out immediately. Behind him, however, he could hear Cinder's orders and the snarling of the Grimm abruptly cease.

Her control over the Grimm was strong but imperfect. As Adam took a second to breathe in desperately needed cold air, he filed that away. He knew what he needed to do.

Adam turned and dashed not towards the wall but deeper into the city. If Cinder was willing to attack him openly, it meant she didn't care about consequences anymore: being in public might not be enough. Even the city's emergency supply of electricity had been cut, leaving the skyscrapers in the distance as black, towering monoliths. The streets were lit only by gunfire and the occasional flame.

That made the molten arrows bursting up from the roof he'd just stepped on all the more obvious to see. Adam threw himself off of the building just as they detonated and launched him through the window of the building across the street. He was ready for it this time, and though his aura warped in protest, he forced himself into a roll and stood, gun at the ready for any Grimm that might've been waiting.

The two White Fang soldiers staring at him were decidedly not ready to see him get blown through the window they were using as a firing position. Blank masks. Shaky stances. Pristine uniforms. Initiates.

One scrambled for his sidearm. The other reached for his blade.

Adam holstered his gun. "Your blade. Hand it to me," he growled.

"Who—"

"That's an order, initiate!"

Panicked, the soldier threw the sword to Adam, who snatched it from the sky. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of orange.

"Retreat! Now!" Adam didn't spare them a second glance, turned and slashed out at the air. It'd been years since he'd used a Valean weapon. The hilt sat strangely in his hand and the weight was all off, but his aim was true: another explosive arrow shattered on impact. It detonated just as every other, yet this time, all that energy was swept aside until it swirled right into the blade itself.

He'd never been happier to feel his Semblance at its most efficient. A volley of arrows came in with the speed of a machine gun, and each would be struck from the air in flowing slashes. The flame blinded him and his ears rung from the constant din of the explosions, but when the last arrow was reduced to ash, the polished blade of an initiate was glowing a familiar red.

Adam glanced back: what little of the room he could see through the choking smoke was in ruins. No sign of the initiates. Good.

The smoke twisted, and Adam lazily leaned away from Cinder launching herself through it heel-first. In that split second before she reached the ground, Adam could see the Dust glowing across her dress and flames spread across her arms. Adam was sure she could see him aiming his now-glowing rifle right where she was about to land. He winked at her and pulled the trigger.

He was gone before the bullet hit the ground. Standing atop a rooftop across the street, Adam watched the building become little more than a silhouette in the blazing red light of his Semblance. The ground rumbled as the floor wilted away, then collapsed under its own weight. As the two initiates fled below, the building groaned, then floors began crumbling in on themselves. On Cinder. Adam smiled.

Then, his light was eclipsed by a flash of white, and the upper section of the building was washed away in explosion that threw Adam onto his back and sent flaming chunks of stone and steel raining across the block. Adam forced himself to his feet. The world twisted and turned, and all he could hear was a waning, yet still piercing cry.

A glint of white in the ruins caught his eye. In the inferno left behind, Cinder stood, unfazed by the heat. The fury in her gaze and gritted, bared teeth was stronger than any Grimm's. Like a corporeal manifestation of her anger, fire swirled and flared from one of her eyes. She'd pulled back an arrow formed of nothing but white flame. And despite himself, despite the threat, despite the heat he could feel from here, Adam grinned. He knew someone easily provoked from the moment he saw them.

The Dust lining her dress fell dim. Cinder loosed her arrow. Adam pushed his aura to its limits and raised his blade side-on. The explosion sent him flying, the heat made it unbearable to grip the sword, and even through the blinding light, he could see the sword turning just as bright as the arrow that struck it. But that didn't matter. Even as Adam crashed into the ledge of a building hard enough to break stone, it didn't matter. He was exactly where he needed to be.

He twisted and grabbed onto the crumbling remains of the ledge, but his smoking blade slipped from his hand into the empty side street below, tumbling past darkened shops and abandoned cars before getting stuck and dangling on the air itself. Countless sparks of gold lit up within the shops and alleyways alike. Watching. Waiting. Widows, seeking what fell into their webs.

Adam had barely a moment to pull himself up before Cinder came rocketing towards him on a plume of fire that lit the night like a meteor. He dodged to one side as she landed with a flip and kick that left a wall of flame dividing the roof in two. Embers and dust alike fluttered through the air around them both as the fire spread, coiling around behind Adam and leaving no way out but through her.

"This game of cat and mouse is getting on my last nerve!" Cinder shouted, then caught herself and, with a shaky breath, forced her smug smile back into place. She held her arms out, and her black broadswords reformed from the ash left behind. "I would have expected someone so driven about their 'noble cause' to care more about dying a coward."

"There's a vast difference between cowardice and tactics." Adam didn't bother with his rifle this time. He beckoned her forward and opened his mouth to taunt her, but Cinder clearly didn't plan to leave his survival to chance and rushed forward with her blades lashing out for his neck.

It was a losing battle to try and get strikes in, but as he focused solely on evading every slash and stab sent his way, their speed was close enough to the other's to leave him untouched. Molten glass trailed from her broadswords, but not a drop reached him. She interspersed her attacks with bursts of fire and force, but he was always just out of reach.

With a furious cry, Cinder slammed her blades together, turned them into a rippling greatsword and stabbed it into the rooftop. Concrete turned black, and cracks lit by blistering flame raced across it towards Adam, turning dodges and quick steps into a careful dance. It only grew more complex when she was upon him again with this heavier weapon. Whether she was fueled by anger or just had more aura than him, however, Cinder was getting closer with every attack. Adam, on the other hand, found his breath coming quick and ragged. The heat on all sides left him feeling sluggish. The wall of flame now at his back was stealing his breath.

If he couldn't tire her out, then he'd just have to end it faster.

Cinder slashed down, aiming to cleave him from shoulder to thigh, but the blade instead found itself between two Adams, each throwing themselves to one side. Two became four. Four became six, all racing around her in a tight circle of blazing-red light and deep shadows. Her eyes darted between them and, for a moment, Adam was certain she'd spotted which one was him. But his distraction had failed right as Cinder's patience had: she swept her greatsword away into a spinning disc of glowing shards, then fired them in a ring around her.

His aura clones were cleaved in half like butter under a hot knife, but he slid under the furious attack right towards her. By the time she'd looked down, Adam was already rising, and his knee was already an inch away from her chin, crackling with black and crimson bolts of energy.

Cinder was struck into the air, but Adam was faster, channeling a little more of his Semblance into a jump that sent him just above her. In that moment, he wished he had a photographic memory, just to see the look of dawning realization and horror on Cinder's face every morning.

As well as his fist crashing into it with every bit of his aura and Semblance he could put into his punch. The force threw him back up onto the rooftop and slammed Cinder into the ground hard enough to send up a plume of dust and wilting petals behind it. Adam watched over the ledge as the air buzzed with the vibrating cries of hundreds of Widows hiding in the buildings around, furious at the destruction of their intricate web. Searching for the culprit, they'd no doubt sense the sword stained by his and Cinder's aura. Then, they'd sense the source of one wrapped in the aftereffects of the other's Semblance. If the Beowolves—pack creatures used to working together under an Alpha—could turn on her?

Mindless, furious, hordes of Widows would be uncontrollable.

Cinder's shouts of annoyance were drowned out by the roar of her flames and chittering of more Grimm swarming from every window and alleyway.

"See you in Beacon!" Adam shouted down, then was gone into the night, leaving Cinder only with his jeering laughter echoing behind.


The fighting was starting to die down. Gunfire, explosions and roars of charging White Fang and Grimm alike were soon lost in the wind whipping past Adam as he jogged across buildings, but he stayed on guard. His aura wavered and waned, desperate for just a little more time to recharge itself, but he kept it up. There was still one person he needed to watch out for: Ilia. Though there were plenty of times she could've interfered during his fight with Cinder, the likely truth was that Ilia wouldn't have had any hope of catching up to them. Even after the better part of a year, he could still give Ruby at her fastest a run for her money. Ilia was an assassin, but she could barely keep up with Weiss, let alone that.

Unfortunately, that meant she could've just found a good place to hide.

Vytal Tower grew larger ahead, visible only as a shadow on the night sky where no stars shined. The reminder of how close he was to safety might've let his will push him onward, but it also left his muscles burning just a little more. He flicked his Scroll from his pocket and slowed to a stop: if Ilia had betrayed him, she would've attacked by now. First, he needed to check in on her. He typed her number in and waited.

There was an almost imperceptible buzz in the air.

Then another, much closer.

Adam cursed and, his body protesting all the while, jumped back. His Scroll, still ringing, slipped from his fingers, and in the next second was suddenly ripped to the side. A burst of electricity, and it was nothing more than scattered metal and sparking fiberglass.

He landed near the edge of the flat rooftop of the tower and watched the air shift and twist beside where his destroyed Scroll lay. This was close to the center of Ildaite Ward, where dense, tall buildings had become vast skyscrapers. This was the last place that wouldn't have left him needing to either scale skyscrapers, leap over vast pavilions or descend to the streets to get away. Unfortunately, even if he wanted to take his chance with the streets, that was at least a one hundred foot drop, and all he had was a short rifle.

Worse, the building was large and lined with air conditioning units. Cover from firearms. Cover where she could hide. Internally, Adam cursed himself for overlooking such an obvious location.

"You've gotten better at devising an ambush, Ilia." Externally, Adam put on a knowing smirk. "The execution needs work." He aimed his rifle.

As if washed away by rain, Ilia's camouflaging colors slid away, leaving her with her rapier aimed back at him. "You lied to me about Blake, Adam."

"Oh, please. I didn't lie about a thing." Not beyond omission, anyway, he thought.

"You said she was in danger!"

Adam rolled his eyes. "And do you really think she isn't! If she hurt Blake, all of her leverage would go out of the window! She's forcing her along on whatever manipulation she's doing with the White Fang: the danger is that she'll be dragged too far down to escape this time! A prisoner in an invisible cage."

"She didn't seem to think that way."

His grip on his rifle tightened, and his smirk slipped away. "You spoke to Blake?"

Ilia's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "And the supposed 'hostage taker.' Blake told me enough about what her role in all of this is. Here's a tip for you, Major: if you're going to lie to get me somewhere, you really should make sure the truth isn't in the same building. She's not Cinder's prisoner. She's her ally!"

"Liar!" Adam fired, Ilia dipped to one side and, just as he feared, vanished behind one of the air conditioner units.

Wind rushed to his right, and he leaned away from the snap of Ilia's rapier, now turned to an electrified whip. In the time it took for him to look from the whip to its wielder, she was once again nowhere to be seen.

"Not so fun being the one left behind, is it?" Ilia's voice circled him, yet he could never catch more than a faint shift or warp in the air where he looked, and never for more than a moment. "Blake might not be sure, but I know you're just a traitor now."

Adam scoffed and carefully stepped back towards the ledge of the rooftop, careful not to stay so close as to be easily thrown off. "Spare me your judgement. The decision to leave wasn't made lightly."

"But it was made without me!" Ilia's shout echoed into the night as she returned to view, lashing out with strikes that ripped into the blocky coolers and scarred the ground.

The only swing that got close forced Adam to duck behind one of the cooling units. "Of course!" He let out a short, spiteful bark of a laugh. "I'm sure you would've become a 'traitor' at the drop of a hat." His words were interspersed with the sharp report of his rifle firing around the air conditioner at anywhere he so much as thought he saw Ilia. "That's why you're attacking me, right? How could I have been so blind!"

"I'm attacking you because you're in Blake's way!" Her voice gave away her direction, and Adam rolled out of the way of a stab that left Ilia's rapier embedded in the cooler.

Before she could pull her weapon away, Adam raised his rifle and fired his last shot, ripping a ragged gash in Ilia's hand. She shouted out in pain and stumbled back, gripping her hand and looking at him in disbelief visible even through what little could be made out beyond her mask. The crimson glow of aura around his rifle faded.

Neither said anything, even as seconds passed, even as Ilia's aura stitched the wound back together.

Adam lowered his rifle. "I came to rejoin the White Fang."

"Liar," Ilia hissed.

"Believe what you want, Ilia. Maybe you didn't ask, but that was the point of leaving at all: to come back and make it what it needs to be. That was Blake's plan."

"The White Fang doesn't need to be taken back! We're exactly where we need to be and—"

"I'm not a fool, Ilia!" Adam shouted. "You might've thought I was blind, but I know you're the one who listened to her. I know you agreed."

She clenched her now-healed fist. "Then why didn't she—" Ilia flinched. "Why didn't you take me with you. I..." She looked away, forcing each word out. "You know I would've followed her."

They'd been a sort of team, once: himself, Ilia and Blake. Adam knew it was no coincidence that Ilia took a permanent assignment to Mistral right around the time he and Blake grew closer than just friends. He supposed this was just confirmation.

"Because I said it was Blake's plan. She planned on leaving: running off to Haven without any of us."

Ilia looked up, ready to protest, but Adam held up a hand.

"She came back because Cinder had her team slaughtered. After that, I thought we were back to changing the White Fang, but I don't know what Cinder's done now. What I do know is that all Blake is to her is a hostage. A puppet. You can believe whatever you want about the White Fang, but don't be a fool. She doesn't care about Blake. We do." Adam shifted his jaw, then took a risk. "Go back to the White Fang. Go back to Cinder and make sure Blake stays safe."

He nodded to her rapier. "Or you could try to kill me, get hurt, and be forced to watch whatever Cinder has in store for her and the faunus. Even if you win, will you really be able to stop Cinder?"

Ilia watched him carefully, but he didn't move. Then, she scoffed and ripped her weapon free.

"Gods, you're dramatic. I was going to take you as a prisoner."

Adam rolled his eyes and hoped his relief didn't show. "You could've fooled me."

"It is part of the job," Ilia said with a faint smile.

Relief was a mistake. He could feel his adrenaline dip and his limbs grow heavier. He still forced himself to walk to the ledge. Just a little longer. Yet, he still stopped. When he looked back, Ilia was watching him.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." He turned to look at his destination.

Adam could hear the smile in Ilia's voice. "An apology from the major himself, huh?" He could also hear an insufferable amount of smugness in it. "Those humans really did do a number on you."

"Don't push it," Adam grumbled, then jumped from the ledge to begin his slow, aching climb down.


People spoke to Adam, but he couldn't hear them. Soldiers approached him, but their faces were unrecognizable. Every step left his body feeling like burning concrete, and all he could hear was his own, labored breathing. All Adam cared about was that he was in Vytal Tower, stumbling his way to one of the spare rooms on the first floor. He heard himself issue an order to those trying to help him: find Chiffon.

But his focus was on not her but what she had: a Scroll linked to Beacon. He'd left his own at Beacon to prevent himself from being tracked: his personal one was the one that now lay in pieces somewhere else in the ward. There was an off-chance, however, that he could use her Scroll to contact his team. That thought was all that left him conscious. Even as Adam shoved his way into a spare room, uncaring of its condition, he refused to sit down, let alone use the bed that called to him like the gates to the afterlife. He knew that if he so much as touched it, that'd be that. He needed to contact Ruby. Then, he'd get to Beacon.

Contact Ruby. Get to Beacon. Contact Ruby. Get to Beacon.

The same two thoughts played in his head—his loyal weapons to fend off the encroaching unconsciousness.

Unfortunately, it was a battle he lost.


A/N: Right, so, flat explanation. I fell out of RWBY around V6, but that didn't stop me from writing. Then I made the mistake of watching V7 with a friend. Then I made the mistake of keeping up with summaries of V8. Anyway, I very much don't like RWBY at all now, but what did the most damage was growing to hate the characters. Puts a bit of a damper on the desire to make things with those characters. Throw that on top of Covid and it's a recipe for having zero will to write.

Good news: Said will is back.

Better news: Ice Queendom. Now I'm even more motivated.

Great news: I've written a pretty meaty chunk of V3 before I decided to come back. If last chapter was roughly the halfway point, another 25 percent has been fully written.

Mixed news: However, I'm unsure if I'll be taking RSoB past V3. I have an ending in mind, but I do apologize if it's a little janky, since V3 initially was going to end in a similar position to canon's with a pyrrhic victory, and left alone that'd be a bit of a downer. Initially, I'd planned to take it much further. "V9" further(albeit far off the rails of canon starting from V4). This fic is nearly 400,000 words now so you might imagine how that was a bit of a pipe dream.

Even so, there's no guarantee that I'll be gone for good. There may/will likely be another pause after that big chunk has finished posting, but I quite like this batch-writing, so it shouldn't be anywhere near as long. I've learned my lesson on giving a timeframe. Apologies for the wait, though. Thanks for sticking around.