Chapter 12


The words came abruptly but not unexpectedly, a billowing crescendo which every preceding sentence seemed to, in some way, contribute towards. Spoken with such prefigured intent as they were, Mr. S was unsurprised when the board director, in his natural tone of self-important gravitas said, "...it is with this in mind that the board recommends you, resign your post," finishing smoothly and with the greatest delicacy, barely hesitating when it came time to say the critical words.

Mr. S released a heavy sigh under his breath, as if having exerted himself in listening patiently to the uninterrupted monologue of justification and the most valid reasons why he, "upon review of recent conduct was unfit to continue headship of the Schnee Dust Company and all incorporated assets." He then paused, processing the speech, and everyone seemed to dissemble at the unnaturally long silence that followed as Mr. S stood, fascinated by the ease with which the board director's attention seemed to float over Mr. Schnee's response to hand out a firing. He was being fired, he thought, disinterested...but that wasn't it.

Perhaps it was the surreal intensity of the situation, or maybe some aspect of himself which had changed, but Mr. S felt with unusual keenness the subtler features of the words spoken to him. And, through effortless application of this sudden awareness, Mr. S noted that, in the entirety of everything which had been said, nothing more had been asked of him than his voluntary resignation. Of course, it would have been quite bold of anyone to believe that any conclusions could be drawn from this bit of evidence, but Mr. S was feeling quite brave when he said…

"Board director Schen," gathering the attention of the room in that ever enchanting voice. "You speak quite confidently about resigning me, but it seems as if, and correct me if I'm in any way mistaken, that you can't fire me."

Now that, had gathered serious attention, and Schwarz noted the uneasy agitation that formed, Schen drawing an impassive mask as the figures surrounding him glanced furtively between him and Mr. Schnee.

Mr. S, for his part, noticed only the silence, but he wasn't oblivious to all of its subtleties. He could tell, for instance, that this was no ordinary silence, this kind of silence, he recognized,...was dangerous, the kind of silence found shortly before the mafia boss started to laugh and immediately after the same mafia boss slammed his hand down onto his desk.

With that figured, the only mystery left to Mr. S was to find out which side of the metaphorical desk he was sitting on. He pondered on this, resolving to hold his silence until a clear prompt to action could be discovered.

Schen was the first to break the silence in the end, blinking stiffly as he looked coldly out with his good eye.

"You should very well know, Company Head Schnee, that we are not within our rights to enforce a resignation as long as you maintain expected company performance metrics at the end of each quarter, and stock price is a very important metric." This, Schen said with an exaggerated sense of obeisance even as a hint of chiding snuck into his tone..

Mr. S rushed to assure them, "The company will continue nominal growth by the end of this quar-"

"Company Head Schnee," Schen interrupted in a manner which irked Mr. S's senses to hear, "do not play the fool," he said, adding with a hint of mirthfulness, "it does not suit you.

Do not forget that the board can control the stock nearly as well as you, and it would be a simple matter to ensure that the terms of your retirement are met at the end of this quarter, our asking for your resignation was a considerable favor on our part, to reward your years of excellent service, a favor I hope you will accept without the need to incur such a messy affair as that." Shen said with a bargaining tone.

"I would certainly hope the honorable director Schen would not resort to such blatant abuse of contractual powers," Mr. S spoke, more for the purpose of drawing out a response than as an answer to the question.

"Let us not get bogged down in the formalities of your situation," Shen spoke as if liable to forgetfulness, "the matter remains that you have overstepped your bounds as Company Head, Mr. Schnee; the contract is the method, not the reason, for your termination, and I certainly hope you will recognize our ability to enact such methods."

"Are you certain it's wise to enact such methods, as you say, then?" Mr. S leaned forward a touch as he spoke, and if possible the silence in the room seemed to grow even colder.

The Board director reared back, on the edge of sputtering in his indignation. "This board will enact whatever methods it sees fit to preserve the standing of the Schnee Dust Company," he spoke softly, voice seeping with exhausted patience. "As you have made it clear that you are unwilling to cooperate to that purpose, we have no choice but to suspend your right to buy any further stock in this corporation; furthermore, any exchanges you have made within the past twenty four hours are to be considered void on authority of the board of directors of the Schnee Dust Company. Have I made myself clear?"

Mr. S, quite unused to the normally subdued nature of Atleasean higher ups when they yelled at you, was oblivious to the dangerous tension that had risen between himself and the Board Director and which rose ever higher with every exchange. The rest of the board worked their hardest to keep hidden this obvious fact, everyone putting the greatest effort into masking the nervous glances and fearful postures which threatened to overtake them as, in the middle of everything, the Company Head and Board Director decided to kick off an inter-company war over video chat.

To all of this, Mr. S was blind, but he did make note of the arguments the Board Director presented for firing him and...in light of things, he was inclined to believe that the Board Director had some pretty good points. Mr. S was unqualified to run this company as far as he knew, and this could be a relatively easy way out of this predicament...but some things just didn't sit right with him.

Beyond the primordial survival instincts which drove him to avoid getting fired at any cost, there was something about the harrowing ignorance in which he seemed to be situated that unbridled that deeply buried instinct to freeze, as if he were standing on a blind precipice and every compulsion called to hug the floor until morning came.

So, in place of gracefully accepting retirement, Mr. S made it his new goal to fill the time with trivial observations until an informed decision could be made.

This, he did as a safety measure to stay away from anything important until the moment came to act. But of course, often the most vital truths are also the most trivially apparent.

Mr. S spoke at last, eager to break the long silence and in a voice that seemed to carry much meaning: "You certainly speak much on behalf of the board, director Schen," Mr. S said, oblivious to the catastrophic expressions which drew themselves across the shadow masked faces of the board members, as well as the almost painful chill which ran through Director Schen's bones at these words.

Schwarz leaned against the air for support and Winter held together slightly better, if only for the fact that she was still several surprise revelations behind the rest of the room and thus currently unacquainted with the theory that this was happening in the real world.

Director Schen was silent for a moment, finally responding in a calm voice, so heavily concealed with counterfeit serenity that Mr. S mistook it for the genuine article, "I...understand you must be tired. It is obvious we will not have any more productive conversation this night, so I will take my leave of you;"

"Of course," Mr. S replied.

"have a good rest," Director Schen continued, "we will have a very extensive discussion about our situation at another time."

'Shit,' he thought.

"Of course," he said, giving a nod of agreement.

Returning his nod, the board director leaned forward into the light, revealing for an instant his thin, sharply angled body as he reached forward to end the call.

Quietly and without circumstance, the hologram flickered away like a dying candle, and Mr. S was left staring into the space it formerly occupied, knowing to his every certainty that important things had been said and important things had been done through that projection. He could almost feel the important weight of that conversation as it cascaded its portentous mass through every moment and future in this world, and, at this realization, Mr. S felt that, while he could care less, he'd probably have to stop breathing for that to happen.

Mr. S was quick to turn around, ready, almost eager, for action as, despite his ever increasing weariness and steadily evaporating morale, he found himself already trained to confront the coming obstacles he was almost certain that he would have to face. But, in the duration of time it took him to turn around, Mr. S realized that any further occupations were essentially optional; and upon completing his turn and facing the silent, though by no means, subtle demands for answers that came from the audience spread out before him, he stepped forward and continued stepping forward until he passed between the central gap of the curved group, unconsciously stepping over the leg Qrow extended in his direction and consciously ignoring the tracking gazes of everyone in the room as they watched the intensely interesting enigma that was Mr. Schnee, ignore them.

Nobody spoke a word at this, but the awkward silence of unresolved tension and bore of curious stares maddened him, the phantom irritation of unsettled business grew and grew with every step he took to the door, soon spiking high enough so that he, with self loathing frustration, turned back around just long enough to ignore the still questioning looks and say: "If you have any business, feel free to schedule an appointment, I expect I'll be open to visitors by next week at the latest."

With that simple declaration made, he stepped out of his office, now consciously aware of his perfect posture, and he turned down the long hallway, listening to the quick, increasingly nervous, strides Schwarz took as she caught up to follow alongside him.

It didn't take him long to find a familiar section of the castle, quickly orienting himself as he planned a route through the labyrinthine passageways and expansive ceilings he'd come to familiarize himself with over the morning.

Thinking it over for half a second and deciding that he wanted to avoid back-tracking past his office, Mr. S made a sharp right and headed for the elevators. He was going to bed.

For the second time, as he stood listening to the droning music of the elevator car, Mr. S felt quite curious about the fact that, with his destination so near and sweet sleep so fulsome in its attainability...all of his exhaustion seemed to leave him. It wasn't a wakefulness that he felt, exactly, but rather a calm equilibrium that mixed into his body and numbed him to everything, even his tiredness.

Perhaps, he conjectured, the immediate rest he head towards made the need for tiredness unnecessary, since he no longer really required a strong incentive to go do just that. Perhaps...here he felt his jaws lock, holding back a visible yawn as a lightheaded bleariness overtook his senses, the world seeming to fade away into an extended blink until he could force his eyes back open once more and reassert his balance against the disorienting, cushion like, lightness which came with the slowing of the car.

The bell dinged and the doors slid smoothly apart. A heavenly feeling overcame Mr. S as he drank in the slowly expanding view beyond the stainless doors. The white wall beyond almost seemed to shine through the narrow gap between the doors, and this was enough to make Mr. S feel a if he were a convict seeing the bars open for the last time. Of course, to many the sight would have just been a sliver of wall, but to Mr. S, it was a sight of the wall: the wall which made up the hallway that led to the door which lead to the bedroom that contained the bed that he was far too ready to collapse into. All of this flashed through Mr. S's mind in a dreamlike second, only to be brought crashing down in the next.

Schng.

The elevator thunked with a minor, unremarkable sounding note that belied its own, very sinister consequences. For, in the instant Mr. S recognized the sound, the elevator doors froze in their movement.


The most difficult part of doing nothing was the sudden and completely overwhelming need to look like you were doing something.

The maid in the brown custodial outfit, engaged as she was with stacking the abandoned chairs, did not have this problem. Ruby tried not to whistle as she looked off into a distant corner and twiddled her thumbs. Ruby felt a sudden urge to run out of the room like everyone else had done, but then realized she'd just be lost in a castle with nothing to do, she shook her head at this: best to stay here and wait for Weiss, she thought.

"So…" Ruby directed this remark at Yang, who leaned inquisitively over the office desk, one had braced on either edge of the mahogany and tried to look like she was in the process of stealing company assets or planning a heist, anything other than the nothing which currently occupied her.

"So…" Yang replied, scrunching her brows in appraisal as she ran her eyes blankly over the lacquered woodlines of the desktop.

"What the fuck," Ruby said uncharacteristically and with exasperated breath, commenting on the situation.

"Language!" Yang roared, turning away from the desk to face Ruby, joined in her admonitions by the working custodial maid and managing to startle Blake into awareness.

"Well, what did you want me to say?" Ruby asked, feeling suddenly very attacked.

"I don't know? 'What the heck?' or something? Anything other than dropping an F bomb?." Yang ran a hand through her curls of hair.

"But nothing else makes sense to say!" Ruby pleaded, continuing, "besides, weren't you saying worse when you were my age?" with a skeptical look on her face.

Blake, meanwhile, looked hurriedly around herself.

"Look," Yang appealed tiredly, "you're you, and I'm me," she said with a natural shrug. "And you can't just go and break character like that Rubes; even Weiss managed to keep it together for the most part!"

Ruby took on a regretful look, but, before she could answer, Blake's panicked voice interrupted.

"Where's Weiss!"


Weiss, was not having a good day. If the scowl adorned on her expression failed to make this clear, the murderous way she stalked the hallways certainly did.

If anyone she didn't trust, like her maid or her therapist or her subconscious, had at that moment asked her: "why are you so angry?" Weiss did not believe that she would have answered with the truth. Not that she had any sights on such conversation in the first place.

As she wandered the long hallways of Schnee Manor, however, and as she took slow, familiar steps through long familiar places, her mind couldn't help but wander to the subject.

The obvious answer eluded her, not because she didn't know it, but because she knew the answer, and was afraid, with the sudden upwell of doubt she felt, that it would not survive any close examination.

Despite these phantom thoughts, the answer itself was, of course, still obvious and she bore that in mind as she set her sights on the well lit corridors ahead and tried to occupy her mind with the distance before her. She thought she was about halfway to his quarters if she took the elevators.

Despite her resolve not to think on the matter, Weiss was faced with an equally pressing resolve to linger in the manor, one she recognized with the relief that overtook her when she saw the elevators were inoperable and that her travel would be delayed by just that much further.

Yet, as she came to face the gleaming marble facades of the gargantuan knights, as well as the equally gargantuan spiral staircase they guarded, she couldn't help the feeling of frustration as her mind drew inexorably closer to the answer she didn't feel the need to be thought aloud.

But, as she looked up into the high distance, where the staircase seemed to blend into the white marble of the castle walls, she couldn't help stating, almost cursing, the obvious. That, no matter the delay, eventually...

She would have to go see her father.


"Don't worry sir, I'm sure it's just a mechanical malfunction of some sort, the backup systems should come online any moment," Schwaz said tensely, feeling, somehow, less confident saying that now than she had then last time.

Despite the exhaustion that warbled her words, Mr. S could still feel the muted pang of terror that still expressed itself inside his heart, stabbing into him like a hot coal as, more and more, the slight opening of the doors, now their only source of light, seemed like a prison window.

"Ah, there it is," Schwarz said at last, drawing Mr. S's attention to the soft, though steadily strengthening, green light which now filled the room as the doors began to, ever so slowly, open once more as a computerized voice spoke with a gentle, womanly sound…

"Operational error detected, subsystem one engaged, please exit the elevator car and be mindful of other people's luggage. Incase of fire, use operational elevator. In case of-"

Here, the voice stopped, and doors stopped with it, and Mr. S's heart stopped with them.

"Oh, don't worry about that, sir," Schwarz rushed to assure, careful to keep over embarrassment from coloring her voice, "the system has many more backups in place."

Mr. S began, "Well,-"

"Well, well, well, well, well," another voice interrupted, sounding through the small gap of doors in its familiar gravel. "What bad luck you seem to be having these days," the voice continued in its knowing tone, accompanied by a sudden blotting out of the light as a cloaked form paced in front of the opening.

"Qrow," Mr. S said, surprising himself with how composed and calm he sounded, feeling as if he were talking outside himself with how the sound seemed to play inside the metal compartment of the elevator car. "You did this, I assume?"

Mr. S, in his exhausted capacity to keep a coherent train of thought, didn't pay too much heed to his own words, captivated more by the unsolicited realization that he'd never spoken full volume in an elevator car before...strange he'd wait until he was off planet to realize that potential.

"You can assume a lotta things," Qrow languidly strode back and forth in front of the elevator car, his passing shadow blinking over the streaming external lights.

"Operational error detected, subsystem two enga-" the computerized voice faded once more, the doors seeming to jiggle in place.

Qrow, despite his silence, seemed to show a bit of a spring in his step at this.

"What did you do, Qrow?" Mr. S asked, with dreadfully restrained voice as if he were struggling to contain his annoyance at the man. His alertness sharpened at this, even it functioned to heighten his awareness of the blank elevator walls along with his tiredness.

"Nothing provable, Jack, just came to talk," Qrow said, leaving Schwarz to tense and convincing Mr. S, in the span of two seconds, that he'd never hated anyone as much as he hated Qrow at this moment.

"What about?" Mr. S replied genially, feeling his calmer nature lapsing to temper his rage. He was dreadfully aware of his position, and couldn't let anger cloud his judgement on important matters.

"The Fall Maiden," Qrow said, serious if not for the alcohol induced slur which targeted his speech.

Mr. S thought for a moment, reverting to full wakefulness for just long enough to faithfully express the ever more grand hatred he managed to conceive, fully and completely from the idea that this, thirty-something, homeless, failed devil-may-cry cosplayer, who both looked and smelled like he'd forgotten that sullen alcoholism ceased to be a character trait in the seventies, just decided, after an evening of making smart-ass comments, Just decided to trap the most powerful man in the world in a pillow-less elevator, to discuss a freaking pumpkin festival!

Mr. S, despite his own experience with townies, as well as the sham of his current status, felt his hands shake with effort as he barely stopped himself from throwing them up and yelling, with as much disdain as he could muster, the ever more appropriate sounding, "Do you even know who I am?"

In all honesty, Mr. S didn't really feel any true inclination to do something like that, he rarely snapped, and even then only privately. So he decided that he would take pity on the poor drunk, answering, "I've given much thought to the matter, and I'll be sure to let you know once I come t a conclusion. As it stands, however," Mr. S chuffed in a good humored fashion, as if desiring to lighten the mood of a dreadfully serious subject, "well, there isn't much that can be done about it at this moment, is there?"

"Hm," Qrow grunted noncommittally, leaning back against the wall to the side of the elevator.

"Now, I'm quite tired and I have a long day tomorrow, so if you would…" Mr. S trailed the sentence to a close, waiting in the baited silence of the elevator as he felt himself struggle to hold back several yawns. At last, the elevator lights flicked on with abrupt energy, and a wonderful ring cheered through the air as the doors parted.

Mr. S squeezed past the still opening doors, desperate to leave the claustrophobic entrapment and hounded by fears that the doors might freeze once more.

Looking to the left and right of the hallway he ended up on, he could see he was alone save Schwartz, and his tired swirl of thoughts were eager to forget the past and future, content to bask in the strangely nostalgic feeling which seemed to embolden the walls as he headed down the hall toward those beautifully fitted oak doors he could have sworn he left months ago.

Heading up a half step of stairs, he eagerly pressed his thumb to the thumb pad and pushed through the fortress doors before they'd finished opening. Schwarz followed silently behind as they headed into the carpeted floors and exceptionally well lit hallways of the private level. Mr. S felt a nervous shiver run up his back at this, knowing just how close he was now was almost too much to bear.

Every step on the lush velvet brought him closer, and his real excitement seemed to grow, reaching a fervent peak as the glimpse of brown wood peeked ahead, door handles glistening gold and inviting, seeming almost warm to his eyes with how easily he knew they could be opened.

"Ah, Mr. Schnee, so nice to see you!" Ozpin said, standing expectantly in front of those very doors as Glynda stood closely by his side.

Mr. S felt his eyes flash over to the awaiting pair, firmly convinced that he must have edited them out of his vision to not have noticed them. Looking at their faces he could immediately tell they had questions and wouldn't be leaving until those questions were answered.

Pausing in his footsteps, Mr. S glanced longingly back over to those doors which had become so unreachable even as he came so close to them...As he looked at the sight, almost frozen in time, Mr. S was certain, truly and deeply down into his soul, that if this wasn't the feeling which struck Moses on mount Nebo, then he must've been beholding the rough side of the residential district of the promised land.

Mr. S forcing his focus away from the doors, smiled back at the distant figures, greeting, "and you as well, Professor Ozpin!"

Silently, he turned aside and whispered from the side of his mouth, "How did they get in here!"

"Well," Schwarz chuckled, "Professor Ozpin is one of the only three people outside of the Schnee family with access to this level, sir!" almost playfully admonishing in her tone.

"Of course," Mr. S ground out, deciding not to kick them out.

As they approached, Ozpin stepped forward a half step, drawing a hand, palm up, close to his body in a smooth flowing motion, "I appreciate you must be tired," he started seeming to move forward without any effort, "but, may we speak?"

"May we not?" Mr. S replied in a clear, almost desperately hopeful, tone across the distance, himself easily mimicking the gestured body movements in mid-stride.

"Sir!?" Schwarz's indignant tone shocked Mr. S into a partial wakefulness. And, even through the haze, he could easily feel the unsaid words: "Show some respect!"

Looking back at Schwarz, he saw the panicked features flickering expressfully through her sensitively shining eyes and quickly turned back, unable to bare the look coming from someone who ostensibly trusted him.

On turning back, he saw Ozpin chuckling good humouredly while Glynda scowled yet more humorously beside him.

"Comedy doesn't suit you, Mr. Schnee," Glynda clipped out in a brittle tone, eyes flashing as if she were holding back something more that she wanted to say.

"Perhaps so," Mr. S agreed, nodding a respectful bow in her direction as he came close enough to halt, a resilient new mask of wakefulness hardening as he gazed at the two and resolved to see this last thing through.

A sudden pang of guilt flared through him as he thought of how quickly he'd allowed his exhaustion to get the better of him. He was still dealing with important matters, after all, and they wouldn't stop being important just because it was two a.m. or because he let the idea that he was on a different world ease him into acting like a fool.

Looking directly at the pair, he determined to pay full attention to their issue, and he resolved further to look out for dramatic slip ups like that in the future, he'd made far too many this evening as it was…

Focusing back on the issue at hand, Mr. S set at work to ease the ache of muscle and bone and the drowsy mists blanketing his mind.

'They won't take too long,' he told himself convincingly, noting, 'the most urgent messages are the shortest, after all. Besides, this Ozpin guy has an "adult in the room" feel.'

As it was, Mr. S felt his attention called for once more as Ozpin finished his polite bout of laughter. "Perhaps you are more tired than I appreciated," he said with an almost jovial tone, "although, I imagine I should have guessed seeing the day we have all had."

"Of course," Mr. S threw back, equally gregarious.

"Well, despite that, there still remains work to be done, and there are certain matters I would appreciate if you would step in on my behalf," Ozpin said with an almost shocking seriousness that almost mesmerized Mr. S fully out of his weariness, as if the past several seconds of lighthearted laughter had been a story.

"What is it?" Mr. S said, needing no effort to sound invested, almost leaning forward in curiosity with the dreadfully serious expression that came over Ozpin's face, as if the man were still mulling over the matter which still troubled him, as if he had left the critical decision to be made at this moment.

"Well," Ozpin sighed, bringing back a half calmness into the air, looking almost indecisive for all the tumultuous gravity his tone bore, "there are two issues, really. One is a rather minor matter, to be honest, and, officially, it's why I've come to visit you, but the other…"

"But the other?" Mr. S parroted, feeling almost parched as he spoke, tentative.

"The other isn't something to be announced outside of this room, not before its time in any case," Ozpin said simply, but sparing Mr. S none of the impact the words could hold.

"Naturally, we ought to discuss that first, then," Mr. S urged, now unquestionably eager for the information, more curious about this than he had been about anything.

"Its," Ozpin hesitated a moment, sending frantic paroxysms surging through Mr. S as he feared that Ozpin would change his mind at that.

For what seemed ages, Mr. S held the silence, almost afraid to speak lest he drive Ozpin, who still and truly seemed on the brink of indecision, into holding his own silence.

Finally, however, Ozpin spoke, saying…

"It's about the Fall Maiden."


Also semi-major revisions to chapter 1 as well as Chapter 10.

On another note, I've decided to rewrite my Games We Play/ One Punch Man fanfic entirely, the new title is Critical Hit.