Do not bow to the chains of the past. It is never too late. Do not cower before fears of the future. Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing. Instead, embrace the present. Focus on what you can change. Accept what you cannot.
While history may record our beginning, and destiny may dictate our end, it is our choices that chart the path we walk between them.
And as we turn the page on history and march toward a destiny foretold, never forget that it is the journey that matters, not the destination.
For it is in that journey where we find freedom, and that freedom is the right of all sentient beings. What we choose to do with that freedom is up to us. It is in those choices that we discover who we are.
Volume III: Episode 1: Commencement
"I'm telling you, Li'l Britches, if we ever see another one of those Mistrali dancing girls, I'm going to have words and just walk away," declared Bear as the pilot walked down the crowded streets of Menagerie's capital city, Kuo Kuana.
"Would those words happen to be 'please don't steal my ride's keys again'?" asked his young navigator Kitt, a faunus with ursine qualities.
"No!" denied Bear before muttering a series of expletives under his breath.
Kitt just gave a little shrug. "Well, hopefully, it won't be an issue. The Vytal Tournament starts up in a few days, and I want to be in Vale when it happens."
"Yeah, but Becky will be there," lamented Bear. "Do you really want to be around her for days on end while half of Remnant boogies down in one city?"
"How about we just get this delivery done?" asked Kitt. "I mean, we've been trying to hand this thing over for weeks. If we don't deliver it now, we're likely to get swept up in another crazy adventure."
"I want to shoot you down, Li'l Britches, but I think you might be right," relented Bear as he looked around at a few of the faunus that were watching him with avaricious eyes. "Just got to find the address for it."
Picking who looked like the most trustworthy and knowledgeable person in the crowd, Bear moseyed on over as best he could and asked them where the address listed on the letter was. The local seemed quite surprised, but nevertheless pointed them towards the destination and described it. Bear thanked them for their help and continued on for a few minutes until they crested a hill.
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," declared Bear in an exasperated voice as he looked out at the "big house at the end of the road" that had been described by the local.
"Big house"? It was more like a palace! It was easily the biggest house on the island, at least that they could see. In fact, if the guards out front were any indication, it was a palace. Just who was Miss Nikos's friend writing to?
"After you, Papa Bear," Kitt said with a wave of his hands and what might have been wary sarcasm.
With a heavy sigh, Bear started to walk towards the estate, Kitt following behind. "This has got to be easier than dealing with sky pirates."
As they approached, a guard - tall and strong with pointed buck teeth, in black and gold armor - came up and challenged them. "Halt, human. What is your business here?"
"Whoa there, big guy!" said Bear confidently. "We're just here to deliver a letter to…" - he brought out the letter again and read off the name - "Ghira Belladonna. I was told this was the right address?"
He turned the letter just enough that the guard was able to read the address.
"You're at the right spot," admitted the guard, "but why would Beacon Academy send a courier like this?"
"I don't know, man. I just deliver things," Bear defended himself. "I mean, who would trust a mailman that read your mail or asked you why you were sending it?"
"Good point," the guard relented, reaching into his pocket briefly. "Very well, you may deliver it."
Kitt elbowed Bear in the leg. "See? What did I tell you, Papa Bear? No problem."
The pilot looked down and gave a half-glare/half-smile. "You didn't say a thing about that."
"'Papa Bear'?" asked the guard curiously, looking him over. "You're a faunus?"
"No, I'm human. My name is Bear," he explained. "So, when can we meet Mister Belladonna, and who is he, anyways?"
The guard's eyebrows shot up. "You don't know? You're on Menagerie, and you don't know who rules it?"
"Sorry, I don't follow politics," Bear shrugged. "I can barely keep track of who's on the Vale Council, and I live there… sometimes."
The guard looked down at Kitt, who shrugged as well. "I mostly looked over the supplies part of the brochure, not the government section."
The guard shook his head. "Ghira Belladonna is the chieftain, which means he's in charge around here."
Before either could form a response to that, the massive doors to the house opened, and out stepped a big man wearing a form of purple robe and sporting a bare furry chest that looked like it came straight out of a body spray commercial or some woman's romance book. A full, thick beard and matching black mane completed the 'manlier than you' look. His height - or rather, his abundance of it - helped that impression along a fair bit, not that either Bear or Kitt were intimidated by it at all. No siree...
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" asked Ghira calmly and somewhat curiously.
Bear strode up to him and offered the letter with a flourish. "Here you go, Mister Belladonna. One letter. You would not believe what we had to go through to get this to you."
"Yeah, I can barely believe it myself, and I lived through it," said Kitt as he crossed his arms. "Just thinking about how to explain it makes me sound like a crazy person."
Ghira took the letter from Bear. "We all have times like that, but the important thing is that you followed through."
"Thank you, your chieftain-ness," replied Bear, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a multi-tool. "Need any help with that?"
"No need," said Ghira with a smile before deploying from one finger a single claw that he used to slice open the envelope.
Bear repocketed his multi-tool as Ghira brought out the letter from the envelope. "Well, alrighty then. I'll be off. Pleasure doing business with you."
Bear and Kitt had just turned around when Ghira held up a hand and spoke again.
"Just a moment," he asked. "Before you go, might I ask who gave you this letter?"
Bear blinked before giving a confident smile. "Why, Pyrrha Nikos, of course, the greatest champion in Beacon Academy. She said a friend of hers wrote it. Not that I was too keen to pry."
"I see. Thank you for delivering this, and safe travels," offered Ghira.
"Anytime," replied Bear easily before walking off.
"Finally," said Kitt in exasperation when they were back on the street. "Come on, Papa Bear. Let's get back to Vale. If we're lucky, we should be able to get there just after commencement."
"Ha! Want to make a bet on that?" offered Bear. "I think I can be there before the big parade."
"Without a navigator?" asked Kitt sarcastically. "I'm in. I mean, who would want to be stuck watching the parade on TV?"
"Again, limited activity, Lord Megatron," stressed Ambulon as he walked alongside the Decepticon leader.
The two of them were walking through Nemesis's dimly-lit corridors.
"Don't worry, Ambulon," Megatron assured him. "I'll keep your advice in mind." His optics narrowed lazily. "Besides, it seems the humans have some local festival going on. I could do with a little... entertainment."
At that, they emerged onto the bridge of the grounded starship.
"But first..." he said, leaving Ambulon at the hatch as he climbed into the throne-like captain's chair. "Megatron to Soundwave."
A holographic comm screen flashed into existence in front of Megatron. "Soundwave receiving."
"Report."
"As you command, Lord Megatron. The space bridge is nearly complete. Substitutions for some components were required. Sideways warns that reliability is not guaranteed."
"Unfortunate," Megatron acknowledged. When one was working with such a primitive technological base, compromises had to be made. "Our energon supplies?"
"Adequate."
"Hmm," Megatron mused. "With the increased scrutiny the SDC will be under in light of recent events, it seems this partnership is beginning to outlive its usefulness. Intelligence gathering on the Autobots and their allies?"
"Proceeding," Soundwave reported. "Field operatives expect new breakthroughs soon."
"And our newest... ally?"
Something in Soundwave's optics glittered with interest, for those who knew what to look for in his otherwise expressionless faceplate.
"Miss Fall has proven useful in acquiring additional... resources and has been quite informative about events on this world," was the intelligence officer's reply.
"Events our... 'partners' have omitted?"
"Events they are largely unaware of."
Megatron's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Even better. And how dependable is she?"
"As dependable as Starscream."
"Ahh," Megatron said, nodding in understanding. "Very dependable then."
After all, one could always depend on Starscream to be Starscream.
"Shall we begin preparations for counterstrike operations?"
"Yes," Megatron ordered. "But execute on my order only." He leaned back. "I'm feeling... nostalgic. Let's not interrupt the festivities just yet."
"Understood."
"Megatron out."
As the screen dissolved, Megatron turned to Demolishor and gave a smile. "Send me all the data we have on those participating in the tournament and bring up a selection of broadcast channels that will have coverage of the events."
"You got it, Lord Megatron," declared the lower-ranked Decepticon as he went about completing the given task.
Megatron sat back in his throne as the holographic screen appeared again and split to show a variety of human news channels as they prepared for one of the many parades scheduled, this one featuring all the academy students that had successfully qualified to participate in the Vytal Tournament through means unique to each school.
It was not dissimilar to the celebrations that preceded some of the higher-end gladiatorial tournaments he'd either watched from a distance or even participated in before the revolution. He just wished he had some Chase Chips handy, or even some basic energon goodies, but now was not the time for such frivolous waste.
Instead, he simply settled in to enjoy the show.
"Now, let's see just what these vaunted students are truly capable of."
As she marched behind Pyrrha and between Weiss and Yang, Blake couldn't help but feel annoyed and restless. The parade was meant to show off the Huntsman students who would be participating in the Vytal Tournament, marching down the streets, four abreast by teams. As first-years and the representatives of the host kingdom's academy, Team RWBY was up front, right behind Team JNPR, whose recent exploits had added to Pyrrha's existing fame to make them a crowd favorite. She suspected that Weiss - and herself, Blake reluctantly admitted, given what she'd learned about how paper thin her disguise had actually been with older generations - had earned Team RWBY the second spot. Behind them was Team CRDL, and behind them - just in front of Team CFVY in the lead of Beacon's second-years - was Team SHDW; she hadn't even been aware Team SHDW existed and suspected they might have some ninja training. Somewhere behind the second years was a float carrying a replica of the Empty Throne, with the third- and fourth-years behind it to complete Beacon's representatives in the parade. Behind them would be Haven's - as the next host for the Vytal Festival - then Shade's, then Atlas's.
She couldn't help but feel like the whole exercise was a waste of time. With the greater threat of the Decepticons looming over them, the White Fang's betrayal of Cinder, and the recent reminder from the SDC of what she'd joined the White Fang to fight in the first place all those years ago, she'd been willing - albeit reluctantly - to leave the White Fang on the backburner, following leads only when they presented themselves instead of actively hunting them down.
And then Team JNPR dropped the bombshell of what they'd uncovered under Mountain Glenn: an abandoned White Fang base with an extensive and functional underground rail network and hints of plans for a major operation and a promise of vengeance... a ticking countdown to something terrible, if she knew Adam. And she knew Adam.
She should be out on the streets, hunting them down, not in the street, marching in a parade.
Blake's mind wandered as the parade continued. She'd thought she might have had a lead with the rescue of the kidnap victims. She of course knew Maple, but she also recognized Vix. He was White Fang, and not just support like Maple, but an active member, in the thick of operations. She'd tried to question him, but...
"You think I'm gonna talk to you when I didn't talk to that psycho who did this to me, princess?" He snorted. "That's a good one."
Vix was always a hard man, dedicated to the cause, but he'd also been one of the... pricklier members Blake knew. His dislike of humans wasn't quite as virulent as Adam's raw hatred, but it seemed more... ingrained. Adam's rage ran hot and cold, but Vix's sneering disdain was ever-present.
"You're in custody right now," she pointed out, prowling around his hospital bed. "You think they'll let you go if they found out you're a member of the White Fang?"
"Who's going to tell them?" he countered. "You? And how are you going to explain that? You gonna tell the Vale PD that Beacon's recruiting from the White Fang now? Can't imagine how they'd take that."
Blake felt a chill run down her spine at the thought, but then again, she was beginning to learn that her identity wasn't as hidden as she'd thought.
"Besides," he continued, "you narc on me... you just prove the bitch who did this right, and while you left us, I don't think you've actually given up the cause. Your move, your worshipfulness."
And Vix... had been right. She hadn't given up the cause. Her threat had ultimately been a bluff, even though she hadn't considered it one when she delivered it. Not until he'd pointed out the likely consequences. She had been willing to turn herself in to expose him, but not if it meant proving the SDC right.
The SDC's kidnapping and interrogation spree didn't make sense if Sunfire worked for them. It had cost them so much for essentially nothing Sunfire couldn't tell them already, a poor return on investment indeed, and regardless of how Blake felt about the SDC, she was willing to admit that they were very good at getting a return on investment. Which meant Sunfire worked for someone else. But who?
The most likely thing that seemed to fit was if Sunfire worked for Salem, the whole betrayal of Cinder an elaborate scheme to ingratiate herself deeper into Adam and the White Fang's confidence, perhaps also to bring Cinder down in the eyes of the Queen of the Grimm if they were vying for power and position.
Or perhaps there was something to the conspiracy ramblings from Penny's teammate. Maybe she was working for this "Cobra."
Or maybe it was MECH. Adam had mentioned Primus, and MECH knew about the Decepticons, had clashed with them at times, if Starscream's rant to Barricade was to be believed.
That's right. Adam had mentioned Primus, which meant whoever Sunfire was working for, she knew about the transformers.
Was she working for the Decepticons, perhaps? General Ironwood seemed convinced that the Decepticons would betray Atlas and the SDC. Was this their opening move on that front? Was the SDC's abduction and interrogation operation done in fear of that?
Then again, there was that "Cliffjumper" that Teams CFVY, RRFL, and JNPR had run into. Could Sunfire be working for his faction? It made a certain amount of sense. He considered the White Fang "half-measures," after all, but that didn't mean all of his faction necessarily agreed with him.
There was also the more... convoluted possibilities. Sunfire's Grimm mask matched that of Raven, Yang's mother. And Raven had once worked for Ozpin. Raven had saved Ruby during the raid on Starscream's lab and certainly knew about the Decepticons. Sunfire had gotten the White Fang to betray and expose Cinder. Was Raven Sunfire? Was she actually still working for Ozpin? Was this all some bizarre chess game by Ozpin?!
Sunfire had to be working for someone, though. Adam had confirmed that much, had in fact claimed that he knew who she worked for...
...unless, of course, Adam had been lying. It wouldn't have been the first time. Except if he was... then where did he hear the name "Primus"? If it even was a name.
A shock, like a bucket of ice water tossed upon the head, ran through her. That complex that they had discovered all those months ago had been destroyed, and some of the battle damage looked familiar... like it might have come from Moonslice, Adam's semblance. She'd almost forgotten that detail. It was entirely possible that he knew about the Decepticons, then, and was actively fighting against them; he might have even rescued the prisoners and formed an alliance with these "Autobots" that Cliffjumper was a part of, but if that was the case, then...
Blake resisted the urge to panic as her eyes began to dart all around her field of vision.
Adam would never work with anyone unless they were as committed to the destruction of the Four Kingdoms of Man as he was, and if he had been exposed to what had happened in the factory they had discovered... then he would have become even more uncompromisingly fanatical. Cinder was destructive, yes, but she was still human. The Autobots, on the other hand, would decidedly not fall into that category, and if Cliffjumper was anything to judge by, then they were just as fanatical as Adam was. If they had destroyed entire worlds in their war, then they would not stop at Remnant, but they might settle for only part of a world if they could gain an ally in their fight, an ally who would just need help fulfilling his own ultimate goal.
Adam Taurus was planning to wipe mankind from existence, and at that moment, Blake Belladonna was the only person on the planet who could stop him.
Unfortunately, saving humanity had to wait until she was out of this accursed parade.
She tried not to fret as the parade crossed the last of the Bifrost Bridges and began the final stretch toward the city's central square where the two rivers met - in front of what had once been the Royal Palace of Vale before it was converted into the Parliamentary Building - which had been cordoned off for family and other guests of the tournament competitors.
Blake couldn't help but smile at the large gaggle of blonds waving eagerly at the team in front of her. Oh, and the other blond - Mr. Xiao Long - waving at her own team. She noticed a frown on Weiss's face, and as she glanced out and noticed a distinct lack of any snowcapped heads in the crowd, she unconsciously reached out to clasp the Atlesian girl's hand comfortingly, a grip her friend returned, along with a faint smile.
Blake wasn't exactly surprised at the lack of Schnees. Weiss had last parted with her sister on poor terms, to say the least, and from what she'd said, it seemed her brother was turning into a clone of their father. And the less said about their parents, the better.
She was aware of Ren and Nora's situation. But where was Pyrrha's family?
As the parade broke up, and the two teams approached the blondageddon, she couldn't help but nudge Pyrrha, who glanced at her and, seeing the obvious question, explained, "My family won't be attending, I'm afraid. Mother is ill, and she hates flying anyway."
Now that they had closed the distance, Blake could see there were six of the blonds, seven if you counted Mr. Xiao Long, who had engulfed his daughters in a big hug. In the lead were obviously Jaune's parents. His father was a middle aged heavyset man with a paunch that she could tell hid a lot of power underneath, the build of a weightlifter or a wrestler gone to fat. His hair was greying significantly, though the golden streaks that persisted proved where Jaune and his sisters got their blond locks. Jaune's mother was of an age to match her husband, plump with lines appearing on her face. Her hair was sandy, rather than gold, with streaks of grey sprinkled in, though her eyes matched the rest of the family's.
To Blake's eyes, Weiss seemed positively transfixed by the sight of the Arc clan. Was the idea of such a happy, loving - and large - family that novel to her? The thought made Blake want to pull her into a hug.
"Mom, Dad, I'm... surprised you made it," Jaune said hesitantly.
"And miss our son and daughter's first Vytal Tournament?" laughed the older man, vibrant blue eyes twinkling.
Jaune froze at that. "Verte's here?"
"HAHAHA! Hey, there, little brother!" another blonde cheered as she bounded into the gathering, colliding into the Arc family, trailed by three other people moving at a far more sedate pace. Blake stared. The girl was about Ruby's height and wore a pair of goggles strapped to her head, putting some semblance of order to the chaotic mop of golden hair that matched most of the rest of the Arc family. Her outfit consisted of tactical webbing over a long-sleeved olive green ribbed sweater... over a pair of fiery red short-shorts and black combat boots. Blake couldn't even begin to figure out what the monstrosity of a weapon on her back was.
Jaune gave her a flat look. "Verte, I'm older and taller than you."
"So?" she sniffed. "Who had to save you from-?"
"Ah ah ah!" protested Jaune. "What are you even doing here, Verte? Isn't Team Vantablack supposed to still be back at Haven? Banned after burning down the gym?"
Blake blinked. She'd burned down the gym?
"That building totally wasn't up to code!" came the huffed reply as Verte crossed her arms and turned her back on him. "And for your information, Team Vantablack's punishment was cut short due to a..." - at this, her voice dropped sadly - "...a sudden shortage of faculty at Haven."
Oh. That explained... well, not everything, not even remotely close to everything actually, but it did explain why they were here now when they hadn't been all semester.
Jaune looked pensive. "How are you holding up, Verte?" he asked.
"I'm fine," his sister insisted, hugging herself defensively.
"Anyway," Mr. Arc interjected, "Rouge and Saphron couldn't make it, so why don't you two introduce us to your teams?"
With that, introductions were made all around. Verte's team - Team VTLK - consisted of an imposing young man with dark curly hair and a full beard that made him look much older named Hector Troy, an androgynous... person whose gender Blake was unclear on who wore a mischievous smile and a confusing array of sashes and banners named Lauren Fey, and a female faunus with horse legs and dark hair partially hidden behind impressively embroidered clothing named Alkim Khojaeva. Each of them had their weapons strapped to their backs: Hector a simple-looking spear, augmented by a long dagger at his hip, Lauren a staff, and Alkim a bow.
As for the Arc family, Jaune was apparently the third-born, with the absent Rouge and Saphron older than him. Verte - who had devolved into some complicated engineering discussion with Ruby - was a year younger and apparently a prodigy who got into Haven a year early, with Bleu next, then the twins Celeste and Marie who were playing with Yang, and then finally the youngest, Violette, who was currently getting a piggyback ride from Nora. The sisters all had the same golden blond hair and bright blue eyes Jaune had and were thankfully color-coded in their attire.
"And of course, this is my mom, Isabelle," Jaune said, "and my dad, Jacques d'Arc."
"Jacques d'Arc?" Weiss sputtered, finally coming out of her seeming stupor to jab an accusing finger at the older man. "I thought you looked familiar!" She whirled and glared at Jaune, a furious look on her face. "Why didn't you tell us you were the heir to the Empty Throne?!"
Blake felt her eyebrows rise in surprise, and she wasn't the only one to shoot Team JNPR's leader a questioning look.
"Weiss," Jaune said with a tone of long-suffering patience, "House Arc renounced any claim to the throne long ago."
"Actually, the Regency Council could still nullify our renunciation with a unanimous vote," Mr. Arc corrected. "Lord Winchester actually approached me, hinting at such an offer, shortly after that silly documentary aired."
"What did you tell him?" Blake found herself asking.
Jacques gave an unrepentantly cheerful grin and replied, "Why, I told him to stuff it."
Weiss's eyes bulged incredulously. "You- you-?!"
"Hey, hold up!" interrupted Nora, Violette still riding her shoulders. "Would someone mind filling the rest of us in here?"
Weiss drew herself up primly. "On a lark, I once decided to do some research on my father's side of the family when I was a child," she narrated. "I didn't find anything noteworthy about them, but I did stumble across a documentary while looking into East Valish history. Technically, the Regency Council is only holding stewardship 'temporarily' until a legitimate heir can be found, and the documentary included an interview with the man who would theoretically have the strongest claim to the Empty Throne: Jacques d'Arc."
"It's not really any big deal," Jaune insisted, scratching the back of his neck in obvious embarrassment. "There are a lot of cadet lines from House Zoroaster, and we split off, like, ten generations ago."
"Yes," Weiss agreed, "but that's still closer than any other extant line, and unlike you, they've all been disowned in disgrace at some point." She shook her head. "All that history... I just want to know why you didn't tell anyone."
Jaune sighed and closed his eyes as a pregnant pause fell on the group. He reopened them and asked quietly, "Do you know House Arc's family motto, Weiss? It's 'c'est la seule vertu qui donne la noblesse.'"
The snowcapped girl's forehead wrinkled in thought as she tried to translate the Old East Valish.
"In modern Valish," he continued, "it means, 'virtue alone confers nobility.' It's why I came to Beacon, Weiss. I want to actually live up to that legacy, be remembered for what I've done, not what some dead guys have done just because I happen to be related to them. Why do you think I dropped the traditional 'd' from my name?"
"Oh." Weiss seemed to deflate at that. "I suppose... I suppose I understand that."
Blake found herself nodding in agreement as Pyrrha, interestingly, did the same.
"The traditional Arc lands are still recovering from the damage done during the Great War, and the royal line is defunct. None of that matters. " He smiled and added, "Besides, the press would hardly be calling us 'the Pride of Mistral' if I was a pretender to the Valean throne, and that's a title we earned."
"Wait," Verte said, raising her head. "They call you what?"
"The Pride of Mistral," Jaune answered, a little smugly, if Blake were to judge. "Since we're all from Mistral, and-"
"Why do you get to be the Pride of Mistral?!" Verte shrieked. "You don't even go to Haven, and you get an awesome nickname like that?!"
"Yeah," Lauren said, mischievous smile growing broader. "That's not what they call us."
"What do they call you?" Yang asked, looking up from the game she'd been playing with the Arc twins.
Verte buried her face in her hands. "Please don't," she begged.
"Haven's Shame," was Lauren's unrepentant reply. "We picked it up, oh, around halfway into the first semester, after we had an incident in the chemistry lab that forced them to evacuate the whole academy."
"That. Is. Awesome!" Nora cheered.
As she let the comfortable, friendly chatter wash over her, Blake couldn't help but feel a pang in her heart. She hadn't spoken to her parents in almost six years now. She wondered what they would think of her now.
Ghira turned the letter over in his hands again, then unfolded it and laid it on his desk, staring at the immaculate handwriting inside. It certainly looked like the kind of handwriting he'd expect from who it claimed to be from. The stationary looked like it came from Beacon.
But it couldn't be real. What it was claiming was... nonsense. It had to be a forgery, no matter what the spark of hope he felt thought.
The only question was... why?
He clenched his hands. Real or not, he needed to have words with whoever had sent this. Yes, that plan of action would do. Go to Vale, find whoever sent this, and feed them their entrails for trying to use his daughter's memory to trick him.
"No," his wife's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Ghira blinked and looked at her. "No, what?"
"No," she repeated. "You are not haring off to Vale to hunt down whoever sent this letter. You are needed here."
"But-"
"I'll go," Kali interrupted walking up to him. "I can take one of the Night Ravens, make a refueling stop at Ana's, and be there in a day or so. It'll also give me a chance to ask about that bomb we've been hearing about. I'll bring back a souvenir. And maybe their spine if it turns out to be a trick."
"But-"
This time, she didn't bother using words to interrupt him, as her lips met his.
An hour later, Kali Belladonna was walking over to the main military airstrip, pulling a suitcase along behind her. Menagerie might not officially qualify as one of the great kingdoms, but it was hardly defenseless. MARS had been quite accommodating, willing to offer significant discounts to Menagerie for their latest products... which in turn increased demand from the more paranoid members of the other kingdoms' governments for MARS's products.
It was a cold, ruthlessly calculated policy, aimed at increasing revenue. It also helped ensure Menagerie could defend itself from raiders and Grimm, while discouraging... less enlightened members of the human race from any aggressive adventurism in their direction.
She paused at the gates for a quick - but thorough - security check. Semblances being as wide and varied as they were, certain measures had to be taken every time for everyone. Once that bit of necessary unpleasantness was done, she passed through the gate, under the wrought iron reminder of what the Army for Defense of Menagerie fought for: "Never Again."
'Our hope is not yet lost,' she thought as she stepped into a locker room to change into a pressure suit before continuing on toward the Night Raven waiting for her. Menagerie was a hard land, a hostile land, a land surrounded by enemies, both Grimm and other creatures nearly as deadly and hostile. But the people of Menagerie were a tough people. They had endured much, but they still had hope. Menagerie, Kali thought, was a testament to just how far hope could carry you.
"Dainty," she greeted the pilot.
With her allergies, it was no surprise the pilot was already wrapped up in her own pressure suit, the wings that sprouted from her back folded up into a special pouch built into the back of it. Standardization of equipment wasn't really possible for the ADM, which tended to hurt their budget, but needs must.
"Ma'am," Dainty Dish returned the greeting. "We're fueled and just about ready to fly."
"Then let's get going."
They walked out to the waiting black aircraft, sleek and deadly-looking alongside its three fellows, and as they did, Kali felt somewhat self-conscious about her luggage rattling along behind her. She had tried to pack light, but she wasn't precisely sure just how much weight the speedy vehicle would be able to take before it was a problem. She wouldn't voice her concerns, though, trusting in Dainty Dish and the numerous support personnel working on the craft even to that moment to do their jobs well.
The allergy-prone pilot stopped and talked to the crew chief, and Kali held back just far enough to be polite. Soon though, they were finished, and they would be cleared for takeoff just as soon as Dainty finished her systems check. Remarkably, Kali had learned long ago that this was in fact normal for pilots, and it was part of the reason why air accidents were so low once one removed Grimm from the statistics.
While the check was going on, Kali gave her luggage away to be stored in the correct compartment and then sat down in the rear-facing gunner's seat of the command sled that was hanging under the nose of the aircraft. In case of Grimm pursuit, the pilot would accelerate the craft to Mach 3.5 and climb to the very limit of dust, somewhere around 80,000 feet, while the person in the gunner's seat would operate the two .80 autocannons in a concealed turret and the targeting for the all-aspect missiles. On that day, it would be Kali herself who operated the weapons systems, and it was perhaps one of the reasons she was nervous.
It certainly wasn't that she would be having six steely-eyed missile men - and Dainty Dish - watching after her for the next few days. Night Raven crews were trained for VIP protection as a precaution for just these sorts of situations. It would be no different than relying on the house guards for protection.
No, it was the possibility of what she might find at her destinations, either of them. The bomb that everyone had heard about, the explosion that tore an Atlesian cruiser apart and set a forest aflame… she had a pretty good idea of where it came from. The very fact that no one else seemed to know, though, made it abundantly clear that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Then there was what she might find at Beacon. Either she would find her daughter alive and remorseful, or she would find a young heiress too broken to realize just how wrong what she was doing was. The truth was both hard to discern in this matter and largely irrelevant. She would be at the Vytal Tournament before the first rounds were finished, and all would be revealed then.
"Ma'am, the aircraft is good to-aaaah, aaaahh, achoooo!-go," reported Dainty Dish with a quite terrific sneeze that she bent over to direct onto the pavement. That finished, and wasting no more time, she sat down in the pilot's chair and began to buckle herself in. "Helmets, please."
Two of the ground crew came up and gave a final check on Kali's suit and restraints before attaching a large helmet to her head. Likewise was done with Dainty Dish. Their tasks completed, the support personnel retreated as the bottom half of the cockpit raised itself up into the body of the Night Raven.
The rest of the take-off procedure was a blur to Kali until it got to the part where she had to participate in the checking of her systems. Soon it was all finished then. The only thing left to do was take off.
"Control, this is Crucis Two. Engines online, sensors online, weapons online: all systems nominal. Ready on Runway Two," reported Dainty Dish.
A chorus of similar lines from the other three Night Ravens came in, and then the air traffic controller cleared them for takeoff. What happened next, she didn't see, as she closed her eyes and refused to look out, having already grown to dread the takeoff procedures. Perhaps it was more pleasant for the pilot, but that was something she was unable to fathom. Even so, she still felt the harness holding her in her seat dig into her shoulders as they picked up speed.
Then, suddenly, they were in the air, and the powerful engines were driving them off to both the familiar and the unknown.
Life for the COPS was not easy. For decades, organized crime had held an iron grip on Mistral's underbelly. After the Great War ended, the defeated kingdoms of Mantle and Mistral had been thrown into chaos. Mantle had been gifted with the firm hand of General Joseph Colton to guide them, but Mistral had not been so lucky.
Bereft of the privileges and comforts they had been accustomed to, Mistral's former nobility had responded in different ways. Some chose to cling to the past, meticulously holding to ancient traditions and reliving old glories. Others accepted the new situation, adapting and moving on, but never forgetting. And still others simply turned their resources toward other means of maintaining the lifestyles they were used to.
And with the well-entrenched nobility stripped of their titles and the occupation forces' leadership unable or unwilling to connect with the people, Mistral had been left rudderless and discontent, a prime brewing ground of opportunity for those willing to seize it, noble and commoner alike.
After decades of this situation festering and law enforcement barely able to keep up, Mistral had gained a reputation as a wretched hive of scum and villainy, even moreso than the literally lawless Vacuo. This had come to a head with the ascendance to power of the criminal mastermind Brandon Babel, whose fingers reached into so many pies that he became known simply as "Big Boss." The Mistrali populace had reached a breaking point and demanded of the Mistralian Council a final end to the banditry and extortion that ravaged them all. In response, the council called upon the most upright lawman in the land, who formed the Central Organization of Police Specialists, an elite law enforcement organization dedicated to bringing order to chaos. They'd recruited the best of the best from the world over.
The COPS were fighting an uphill battle from day one, issued code names to protect their identities and shield their families from reprisal. The criminal underworld was as deeply entrenched in Mistral as the noble hierarchy of old. Bribery and corruption were endemic across Anima; only the wealthiest of houses clinging to long ago days of honor and glory, the most insignificant of settlements, the Atlesian-patrolled streets of Argus, and the halls of those following the noblest of callings were free of it.
Or so it had seemed, at least.
Baldwin P. "Bulletproof" Vess watched the bullpen where his people worked. Headmaster Lionheart's assassination had cast a pall on much of Mistral, and what they had found was disturbing. They had yet to break the news of the mysterious Grimm they'd found in the secret room adjoining the headmaster's office, not until they had a better grasp as to why.
"This is getting us nowhere," muttered LongArm, running a hand through his short-cropped blond hair as he tossed another distressingly incomplete file from the late Headmaster Lionheart's office on his desk. "I could be visiting my sister in Vale, enjoying the Vytal Festival."
"I've never been too fond of paperwork m'self," agreed Sundown, stroking his handlebar mustache and paging through another folder, "but this is ridiculous. Even back on Patch, we kept better records than this."
And that was saying something. The Patch Rangers were combination lawmen and Huntsmen, given a lot of individual latitude, and their disdain for paperwork and record-keeping was second only to Vacuo's.
"Look at this," Mirage said, holding up the file she had. "Three faculty recommendations for Nadir Shiko to be named team leader, proposed team name Sapphire, but instead, he names Arslan Altan leader of Team Auburn. There's definitely something fishy here."
"There's nothing on that mystery Grimm in the computer records," reported Mainframe, the young blonde computer expert shaking her head in frustration.
"Yeah, but... I swear, that thing looks familiar," mused Hardtop, dark eyes glued to the photograph taken of the unidentified floating Grimm found in the secret room off of Lionheart's office before it had been slain.
"I ran the photo through the interkingdom Huntsman database," Mainframe disagreed. "There's nothing like this on record in the last thirty years."
"So..." Hardtop said, "maybe we should be looking back further." His eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers. "That's it!" He bolted from the bullpen.
The other COPS looked at each other in confusion before bolting after him.
Several minutes later, they were crowded around Hardtop in the break room, who had pulled out a book of mythology, of all things. "The Tale of Two Princes," he explained. "I heard it when I was a kid, supposedly happened before Mistral was founded. Two brothers, Prince Mongkut and Prince Narong, were out hunting Grimm when they encountered one that spoke, naming them each king and father of the king hereafter. It bargained with them and prophesied a great victory against the western kingdom at the cost of their father's life. When the prophecy came true, the two fell into civil war, paving the way for Mistral to emerge from the ashes."
"But the historical records don't exactly line up with the tale," pointed out Mainframe.
"Yeah," he acknowledged as he found the page he was looking for, "but listen. 'And the Seer floated on the wind, as if by magic, anchored to the ground by long tendrils.' See?" He flipped it over, showing an early drawing of the Grimm. It didn't quite look like the one they'd found in Haven, but the resemblance was uncanny.
"Isn't that the symbol that Grimm cult we busted a while back used?" LongArm frowned.
"Probably based off the legend," Hardtop agreed. "But... what if it wasn't just based off the legend?"
The streets of Vale were nice this time of year, reflected Twilight Sparkle as she explored the city with her team. Fall was in the air, the water was clear, and it looked like the whole world had turned out to see it.
It reminded her of Atlas. Not the Atlas she lived in most of her life and called home, with its stark beauty and hidden warmth, but the Atlas that had come alive during the 39th Vytal Festival just two years ago. An explosion of sound and color had turned a city that might seem cold and austere to some - even with the MARS-brand Weather Dominator ensuring more temperate weather conditions - into something much more warm and inviting to people of all walks of life.
She missed those Atlases. Even without the festivities, Atlas had been her home. But now, that home was tainted. Now, she felt the chill that foreigners spoke of when visiting Atlas. It didn't feel like home anymore.
Her scroll buzzed.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Twi."
"Spike!" she cheered at her favorite cousin's voice. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," he replied. "But I was in the area with some friends from the Oktober Guard and decided to check out the Vytal Festival. Figured I'd say hi."
"You're here?!" she squealed excitedly. "You're in town? We have to meet up! I have to introduce you to my team!" She paused. "And you'll have to explain this 'Oktober Guard' thing to me."
Shortly after that, Team FIST found themselves by the Indigo Bridge, an area that was relatively calm and peaceful, considering the celebrations going on elsewhere... in that people on the bridge were more focused on getting across than seeing the sights, as there were no stands, carnival games, or other shows on the bridge or in its immediate area to hold their attention.
"So where's the Mini-Me?" Spike asked with what seemed like forced cheer. "You didn't leave him all alone in Atlas, did you?"
"Of course not!" Twilight retorted. "He's back at the dorm. I couldn't exactly bring him with me on the parade, after all."
"You have no idea how hard it was to convince her to leave him behind," Indigo deadpanned.
Twilight pouted, feeling betrayed. Rather than complain, however, she decided to move forward, introducing the rest of her team to her cousin and vice versa. It really was good to see him again. Talking on the scroll was just not the same.
"Come on," Sunny declared, "there's a wonderful food stand near here, serves the best fish skewers."
"All right, all right," Spike chuckled. "Lead on, milady."
As the five of them began to thread their way through the crowd, Twilight was startled when Spike placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, Twi," he said. "How are things going in Atlas? Everything okay up there these days?"
"I... haven't exactly been up there since, you know, the bomb..."
"Right. The bomb."
Something about that bothered Twilight. He'd almost seemed surprised at the reminder of the bomb. She wasn't exactly the most socially aware, but... but Spike had been talking to her about this new "petroleum" thing they were working on in Vacuo, had invited her to get in on the ground floor, so to speak. Which would have required moving to Vacuo. And he'd been getting strangely insistent on it...
"Things have been... changing, up in Atlas," she admitted warily. "It started a year and a half ago or so. I'm not sure what, but... people are scared. I think- I think even General Ironwood is scared." She looked over at him, her eyes searching. "But... you already knew that, didn't you?"
He flinched at the accusation. "I can't... I can't say much-"
"How?" she demanded in a hushed whisper. "You live in Vacuo! How could you possibly know what's going on in Atlas?"
He was saved from answering when they caught up to the rest of her team at the fish stand. Her team... who didn't know about her own poking around with her old friends on Team JSPR. As her teammates took turns getting their delicious fried goodies, Twilight chewed her lip thoughtfully. So much had changed, and despite their best efforts, she and Team JSPR had made little progress.
"Spike?" she asked quietly. "What do you know?"
"I know enough that I know I don't want you going back to Atlas."
She considered that with a sinking feeling. It was confirmation he knew something... and that what was going on involved some very dangerous people. People in Atlas.
"Tell me what you know," she hissed.
"I..." He averted his gaze. "I can't," he said. "Not without checking in with some people first."
"Hey," Indigo said, looking over her shoulder at them. "You guys gonna get your fish-on-a-stick or what?"
"Sure thing," Spike said as if nothing was wrong, and the two cousins stepped up to the food stand.
Shortly thereafter, the five teens were walking aimlessly through the crowds, consuming their piscine packages of grease and cholesterol, chatting amiably among themselves. Twilight, however, wasn't much of a conversationalist. She never had been, even on the best of days, and today definitely wasn't the best of days.
Whatever it was... it was big. Bigger than her. Bigger than Team JSPR. Bigger than General Ironwood.
She looked around at them. Spike was her cousin. Team FIST was her team. More than that, as much as her friends on Team JSPR disliked it, they were her friends too. Without them, she wouldn't be here, training to be a Huntress. She wouldn't be competing in the Vytal Tournament this week. She'd probably just be happily walled up in some lab in Atlas, researching while the world passed her by.
While this thing with Teams RWBY and JNPR and General Ironwood and Park Place went on without her even knowing about it.
"Guys," she said, her voice breaking into the conversation. She looked up at each of them as they turned to her with curiosity clearly evident. "I need to tell you something."
Silverstream could barely contain her excitement as she vibrated through the grounds of Beacon, her little brother and parents in tow.
"Slow down, sis," complained her little brother Terramar. "Things aren't that exciting."
Not that exciting? Not that exciting?! Was he insane? He must have been, because there was no way he could be saying at that time that there was no reason to be excited when the Vytal Festival Tournament was in Vale, and Weiss Schnee, the most amazing and awesome singer to have ever existed, was going to be competing.
Oh, she was just so cool, literally! She specialized in using ice dust perfectly to control the flow of the battlefield, and she did it all with a calm and grace that put everyone else to shame. Not that she would ever publicly shame someone, of course, because she was one of the kindest and most generous people on Remnant, which was only to be expected of the granddaughter of the great Nicholas Schnee! ...oh, and her father too. He was all right, she guessed.
But that wasn't all! Weiss had teammates! According to the brochure for the tournament, they were Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long. Together, they formed Team RWBY, and… oh, how they qualified for the tournament was so incredible that Silverstream didn't even want to think about it.
So instead, she switched topics. "How can you say that, Terry?!" she demanded. "You, of all people, should be able to understand that. I mean, you met Weiss Schnee, for goodness' sakes."
"Sis, it wasn't a big deal to me. I'm not the one carrying a bag full of seven snowflake shirts... while wearing one," protested the little scoundrel.
Silverstream resisted the urge to flare out her wings, barely, something which was only possible because her mother had been forced to cut two holes in the back of the limited edition Weiss Schnee variant Team RWBY jersey for the 40th biennial Vytal Festival Tournament that she had been given. She needed every single one! She almost spent her whole allowance for the last year on it, but it had been worth it.
"Easy, you two," interrupted their father, looking quite proper in his uniform of Vale's Royal Air Lancers. "After all, there's no reason to fight. This is supposed to be a celebration of peace."
"Yes, and Weiss Schnee is going to totally kick everyone's stupid butts!" agreed Silverstream dramatically with a fist pump.
Her parents shared a look and shook their heads. They didn't understand, they couldn't understand just how great Weiss Schnee was. Still, they had helped her build her collection of Weiss Schnee memorabilia, maybe...
Her heart stopped. She was frozen in place as she saw her idol, Weiss Schnee herself, sitting at a food stand with one of her teammates and some redheaded girl. Her outfit was black and more casual, but that white hair was unmistakable. How… why… what should she do?!
Her father crouched down and handed her an envelope and pen. "Want to ask for her autograph?"
With shaking hands, Silverstream took the items carefully, and then she began to walk towards her idol. Her heart was hammering in her chest, she could feel her wings twitching, and it felt like she could just explode. Suddenly, of their own accord, her legs were moving, and she was in a sprint.
Crash!
Then, just as suddenly, she was on the ground in a tangle of limbs.
"Ooof! Get off of me!" cried someone.
The two of them were untangled, somehow, and then they were looking at each other.
Whoever she was, she was a little younger and had bear ears on her head. Behind her was a woman who was obviously her mom, a man who was probably her dad, and a boy Silverstream's age who was almost certainly her brother. Clearly. She must have also been trying to get Weiss's autograph, hence the notepad and pen.
"Oh, I am so sorry. Silverstream was just a little excited," offered her mother.
"Oh no, I'm the one who should be sorry. Molly came in from a blindspot," countered the girl's mother.
"Ah, Bear, we meet again," said her father gravely.
"Hey, hey, me and the RAL are cool after that time with the pirates, buddy," said the other girl's father.
While that was going on, Silverstream sized up the other girl: Molly, she guessed. She hadn't seen her at the meetings of the Weiss Schnee Fan Club. Maybe she was from out of town?
"Hey, sorry about that," began Silverstream. "Do you want to go and try to get Weiss Schnee's autograph together?"
Molly just cocked her head. "Who's Weiss Schnee?"
Silverstream's mind came to a shrieking halt. That… that… what?! How could anyone in the world not know who Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, Huntress-in-training, chart-topping singer, and all around amazing person was?! That was like not knowing what breathing was!
"I'm going to try and get Pyrrha Nikos's autograph," explained Molly.
"Who?" gaped Silverstream.
Molly blinked in shock, and then got rather peeved. "Pyrrha Nikos! Four time Mistral Regional Tournament champion, greatest fighter ever, one of the saviors of Vale! Her face is on every box of Pumpkin Pete's!"
Silverstream shrugged. "I don't eat non-Schnee brand cereal."
Before things could escalate further, there was an intervention. Not from their parents, as might be expected, but from the two people neither of them expected.
"Is there some sort of problem here?" asked the majestic voice of Weiss Schnee.
The two young girls turned to look and saw their idols standing above them.
"Oh, hello, Molly," said the redheaded girl. "Becky, Bear, Kitt. How are you all?"
"Same as always, Miss Nikos," said the other girl's brother.
"Oh my," said Pyrrha Nikos, her palm going up to her face.
"And don't you worry," the other girl's father said, "I got that letter where it needed to go. Put it right in his hands m'self."
"Hello again, Miss Schnee," said Terramar from behind.
"Oh, hello, Terry. It's wonderful to see you and your family are in good health," replied Weiss Schnee in that melodic voice of hers, though she seemed briefly distracted. "I hope you're all enjoying the Vytal Festival."
"We are, Miss Schnee," said her father.
"Please, call me Weiss. Miss Schnee is my sister," corrected Weiss in a calm and informative manner before looking down directly at Silverstream. "Were you looking for an autograph?"
A stunned hiss escaped her throat at that. "I… I mean… yes!"
Weiss held out her hand. "I'd be happy to."
With a hand that was only somewhat shaking, Silverstream handed over the envelope and pen. A wondrous smile decorated Weiss's perfect face as she signed her name to the paper. Then, when it seemed she was done, she looked up thoughtfully.
"Actually, would it be all right if we all signed this?" asked Weiss carefully.
"'All'?" asked her mom.
"I mean all three of us. Myself, Blake, and Pyrrha. They're my best friends, and this isn't something that comes along every day," explained Weiss, looking at Silverstream. "I mean, if that's okay with you."
"Yes!" answered Silverstream without hesitation.
After all, getting a personal autograph from her idol was something beyond reckoning, but autographs from her best friends too? The other girls in the fan club would explode! Why, Silverstream was about ready to explode too, and she was living it.
Then Blake and Pyrrha both signed the envelope, and then Weiss handed it back to her. With trembling hands, Silverstream took it. She almost wept tears of joy at it.
They had all signed it with plenty of space between: Blake Belladonna with a flower-flamey symbol next to it, Pyrrha Nikos with what looked like a spear and shield symbol, and then in beautiful calligraphy was written the name Weiss… and then under it was a message, "You are much more than the sum of your parts."
This… this was a treasure, an artifact, something to be preserved for future generations.
"Thank you," said Silverstream breathlessly.
"You're welcome," replied Weiss with a smile that lit up Silverstream's world. "I'm just sorry I won't be able to spend more time here, as we have an urgent matter to deal with. I hope you all have a wonderful day."
They all waved goodbye, and when Weiss had departed from view, Silverstream looked over at Molly, who was still holding her notepad. "I'm sorry you weren't able to get your autograph."
"Oh, I got it while you had your head in the clouds," replied Molly, flipping over her notepad to reveal her own set of autographs from the three friends.
It was then that Silverstream decided that she really didn't like Molly.
Weiss accompanied her friend up to Ozpin's office. Blake had been insistent about meeting the headmaster as soon as possible, though Weiss and Pyrrha had been able to convince her to stop to at least get something to eat first. Though Pyrrha had been swept away by the blond tide known as the Arc family after they finished eating, Weiss had decided to go with Blake. It wasn't like either of them had family attending the Vytal Festival, after all.
She thought that was just a little bit sad, at least for Blake's sake, but she supposed Blake was right. There was no way the Belladonnas could possibly believe the substance of the letter she'd sent with Bear so long ago.
Ever since they'd gotten back from their relatively peaceful, if often hectic, mission to Griffin Rock with Professor Greene, though, she'd been hit with one surprise after another. General Ironwood had single-handedly led a gigantic Grimm Wyvern away from Vale, which had countered much of the negative press he'd been receiving... in Vale, at least. Some elements of Atlesian society seemed determined to use it as another reason to question his loyalty instead. Team JNPR's discoveries about Mountain Glenn had given them some celebrity status of their own, if on a bit more somber note.
But today's revelation, though, blew all of them out of the water, and Weiss couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite for those early days at Beacon. She'd come here to get out from under her father's shadow... and then been offended when Jaune failed to recognize her or Pyrrha. She'd dismissed him, disparaged him, insulted him...
A wry smile crossed her face. Maybe that was why he'd been so persistent. Like herself, he hadn't wanted to be judged by his family, and she had certainly made it clear she'd known nothing of his lineage. If she had known... no, actually, she probably would have been even more vehemently opposed to ever going on that wonderful date with him. After all, that was certainly a match Jacques Schnee would have approved of, and the idea of gaining her father's approval made her skin crawl.
Speaking of her father, her discreet inquiries into StaffNet, wholly-owned subsidiary of the Schnee Dust Company, was slow-going. The trickier part was getting info on Epsilon Holdings. The evidence they had so far was all circumstantial, but she could feel it. They were close to the smoking gun they needed to blow the whole thing wide open.
The encounter with that lovely bird faunus has been a moment to treasure, though. It was nice to have a reminder that her father hadn't poisoned the well with all faunus.
The elevator doors slid open, and Ozpin smiled. "Welcome, Miss Belladonna, Miss Weiss," he greeted them. "How can I help you?"
"I think the White Fang are working with the Autobots," Blake blurted out.
Ozpin blinked once and set his hot chocolate down. "Explain please, if you would, Miss Belladonna."
"That first site we examined, the one that had been abandoned," she said. "We saw footprints outside, big ones, even if we didn't recognize them at that time. And inside, some of the damage... it looked like the result of Moonslice, the semblance of Adam Taurus, leader of the Vale White Fang."
Ozpin nodded. "Go on."
"I know Adam," she continued. "He's a fanatic, a zealot, and if he saw what was there?" She shook her head. "He'd only get worse. He doesn't understand compromise. According to Team Juniper, Cliffjumper basically admitted the Autobots had wiped out whole worlds in their war. I think... I think they're planning to wipe out humanity. For real, I mean. Betraying Cinder was a choice made to eliminate a human who had sought to control them. They're just laying low until they can strike."
"That's... an interesting theory, Miss Belladonna," allowed Ozpin. Which was more than Weiss could do, as she was too busy staring incredulously at her friend.
"You don't believe me."
"I believe, Miss Belladonna, that the White Fang is most certainly a threat," he said, "that their recent drawdown on illegal activity is almost certainly intended to lull us into a false sense of security. What I do not believe is that your theory - right or wrong - materially affects our approach. Whether the threat is to a single person, a city block, the whole kingdom, or the world, we can do nothing until we find them."
"Then we need to find them," she insisted.
"Indeed," he agreed. "I already have people working on that. I need you, Miss Belladonna, focused on the Decepticons and the Vytal Tournament."
When the parade had ended, Velvet and Lavi had quickly sought each other out and were aimlessly walking hand in hand through the city's main thoroughfares, just enjoying the sights. With the Vytal Festival, the city had turned into a riot of colors and celebration, with food stands and small carnival games having seemingly sprouted from the sidewalk overnight.
"Oh, this looks fun!" Velvet said, pulling Lavi along to one of the carnival games with a pellet gun and a moving set of steel targets.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the man running the shooting game said, pushing her lien back to her, "but people like you aren't allowed to play."
"What?!" Velvet shrieked, fuming furiously, just about ready to trash the stand then and there. Wordlessly, the proprietor pointed at a sign on the sill, and Velvet deflated, her anger draining from her as she read the sign.
It read: "No Huntsman."
"All the Huntsman-friendly games are set up at the Beacon campus," the proprietor added helpfully.
"Oh," she muttered. "Thanks."
"Come on, Velv," Lavi said, tugging at her arm. "Let's move on."
"Right, right," she said as she let him drag her along. She sighed dejectedly. "Sorry about wasting your time with that, Lav."
"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "Time spent with you is never wasted."
Velvet felt her cheeks burning at that and coughed. "I just wish I could show you some of the other festivals we hold here in Vale," she said. "Everyone always talks about the Vytal Festival, and it is nice and all, but the local festivals have a certain charm of their own. They're not so..." - she paused to search for the right word - "...glitzy. Or in your face. At least, not in the same way."
"A bit less chaotic, huh?"
"Yeah," she agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "Valic traditions are just... wonderful. There's so much to see and do, but it's hard to show it when there are people from all over the world shoving things in your face, competing for attention."
"That's... really important to you, huh?" he asked, his voice gentle as he moved his hand from her arm to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
"Well... yeah," she confirmed, leaning into his shoulder. "I love all things Valish, Valic, and Valean," she declared passionately.
"And what about Lavi?" came Coco's teasing voice from behind.
The two shutterbugs flushed at that and quickly pulled away from each other as they turned around to find the rest of their teams standing there, annoyingly smug looks on their faces.
"I see you managed to ditch your family, Coco," Velvet observed.
The fashionista gave a simple shrug. "I'll be having dinner with them later, but for now, we've got a bit of time to ourselves." She jerked her head to an alley. "Let's have a chat over there, mmkay?"
Once they were in the relative privacy of the alley, Coco looked at the other seven members of the combined Teams CFVY and RRFL. "So," she said, "we got any leads?"
"Yeah," Lavi said. "The fake out last week was easy enough to sell with these two louts playing racist bullies," he added good-naturedly, gesturing at the Rogue twins, who grinned and waved cheekily.
Finding leads on the White Fang was a tricky prospect. Of the three faunus members of their little conspiracy, Velvet was a native of Vale, so someone might recognize her, and if someone did, well, a sudden change of heart would be suspicious. Rain was under a bit more visibility as Team RRFL's leader, and his position and stoicism would make it less convincing. Meanwhile, Lavi... Lavi's general shyness and unobtrusive nature made him the perfect candidate.
"So what did you get?" Coco asked eagerly.
"An invitation to meet," he said. "Someone approached me, hinted that I could find a place with like-minded people and that an Atlesian Huntsman would be highly valued."
"Gooood," cooed the leader of Team CFVY. "Now, did they say you could bring a plus one?"
Lavi blinked. "Well, yes, but I don't think-"
"Velvet, you're up!" interrupted Coco, not even allowing the Atlesian to finish.
"W-what?" stammered the rabbit faunus girl.
"We can't just allow Team Ruffle to steal all the glory," explained Coco. "Besides, it'll give you two a chance to spend some time with each other, and people find public displays of affection uncomfortable and so will naturally look away. It's a fantastic defense mechanism."
"That… makes sense," allowed Velvet, blushing furiously as the others slowly nodded. "So, Lav, where's the meeting taking place?"
"That's... complicated," the bird faunus replied.
"Explain," rumbled Rain.
"Well, it turns out, there's a whole lot of hoops to jump through just to find out where to go. They're... really paranoid about something."
"You know, I think my roommate might be a racist," announced Yang out of the blue as she and Bumblebee drove into town.
"What? Why do you think Weiss is racist?" asked Bumblebee in surprise.
"I don't," corrected Yang. "Why do you think Weiss is racist?"
"I don't!" defended Bumblebee. "Just… nevermind. But if not Weiss, then... why do you think Blake is racist?"
"I heard from Chief Burns back at Griffin Crest that her family history was its own explanation on why she would hate the White Fang," Yang answered.
"But I thought she grew up on the streets and fell in with a gang?" asked Bumblebee. "That's the impression she's always given to me. Also, isn't she dating Sun, a faunus?"
"Well, I also learned there that Blake is apparently an heiress just like Weiss, but unlike her, it's up in the air whether or not she'll inherit anything," recounted Yang.
"Wait, that doesn't track."
"No, it doesn't," Yang agreed, "unless something happened to put her out on the street. Like, say, a White Fang attack. And maybe while she was there, she ran into some like-minded people for a while. It's probably why she reacted so hard to Weiss's books. At least Weiss seems to have gotten her to separate the White Fang's ideals from their tactics. As for Sun..."
And here, Yang paused for the words as a thick blush came to her face.
"...well, she's not dead."
"I think you're a bit biased there," summed up Bumblebee. "Nevermind though. So what are we going to do with this information?"
"Nothing," answered Yang.
"'Nothing'?" quoted Bumblebee incredulously.
"Nothing," repeated Yang. "It doesn't affect me, it doesn't change anything about how I could act in other situations, and I would prefer to respect my roommate's privacy. After all, they've respected mine, haven't they?"
"So why are we talking about this then?" asked Bumblebee, and Yang had to admit that it was a pertinent question.
She shrugged. "Because, sometimes it's fun to gossip about others instead of always obsessing about your own problems. Things have been pretty wild with me. Talking about others and their problems make mine seem smaller."
"In that case, I got something that's been on my processor for a while," began Bumblebee. "You remember me telling you about Maccadam?"
"Yeah," Yang said. "Ran that old oil house on Cybertron." Her brow furrowed. "Speaking of which, Prowl said-"
"Yeah," Bumblebee interrupted. "Had another memory pop up earlier."
"What'd he say?"
"He said..." Bumblebee hesitated. "He said to tell the yellow rose to remember that there are two kinds of families."
Yang blinked at that, tilting her head as she tried to parse it. "Okay, that's freaky, but... what does it mean?"
"Heck if I know," her partner replied. "It's just- doesn't this freak you out?"
"Maybe it should," she admitted softly, "but it's not in my head, and... and maybe I'm just a bit more open to strange things since I met you guys. I mean, if giant alien robots older than the most ancient civilizations we know of are real, why not a prophetic bartender?"
"They're not prophecies!" protested the Autobot.
"Aren't they?" she fired back. "Cryptic but helpful messages that only make sense if you can see into the future. What is that if not a prophecy?"
"Well, I suppose that's... technically correct," Bumblebee allowed reluctantly.
"The best kind of correct," crowed Yang with a triumphant grin.
"That- that's not how that works!" he sputtered.
"Sure, it is."
"Well… well… well, we're here!" declared Bumblebee out of the blue. Though, not quite out of the blue, as Yang had been watching the road and where they were going.
The blonde let out a laugh, and they pulled into the secluded warehouse complex. The setting sun was shining, the fall air was beautiful, and there were a few of her fellow White Fang members unloading a truck in the courtyard. Things were looking great.
"Sunfire!" greated Brock Megadermati, coming over to shake her hand as she exited Bumblebee, her mask catching the light just right.
The Vacuan native had come a long way since the night they had first met almost a year ago. He was hardly recognizable as the worn down escaped slave; now, he was a strong and able soldier. He had changed a lot, and she wasn't afraid to say that it had been for the better.
Of course, Yang had changed too. She had changed… more than she ever could have imagined. Somehow, though, she was okay with those changes. They felt right.
They had both changed so much for the better, and they had each other to thank for that.
She was just about to voice that opinion when there was a bright flash, and Brock's head exploded.
"Sniper! Get down!" ordered Bumblebee suddenly, transforming into his bot mode and taking aim at the sky.
Yang obeyed and hit the deck, her mind in shock and barely noticing the red on her skin. They were all moving to cover, some faster than others. No one had time to figure out what was going on.
Then, suddenly, like the frost of an early winter, Cinder's voice came over her ear piece… and the scrolls of the other White Fang.
"Oh, tough break for that poor little slave. I guess he really lost his head when he ran away from home."
"Cinder," growled Yang. "What have you done?!"
There was a "tsk" over the line. "I go through all the trouble of finding this emergency broadcast frequency, and that's what you have to say to me? Oh, well. I shot him. With a rifle. Not my usual choice in weapon, but this thing practically aims itself. I want you all to understand that all your accomplishments, all that you are, all your ideals, are worthless."
Come on, Bumblebee, trace the signal, thought Yang desperately.
"You tell Optimus Prime that there is nothing you can build that I can't tear down, no one you can save that I can't kill, nothing you can protect from me. You of the White Fang, I once told you that you could achieve your dreams only through me, but you betrayed me, and in so doing, chose your nightmares instead."
"We'll stop you," Yang declared. "We'll stop you permanently."
"You'll try," came the condescending, mirthful reply.
Suddenly, the line was filled with a horrible static, and Yang yanked out her own ear piece to let out a wordless scream of rage.
Author's Note 1 (Cyclone):
So, first of all, credit where credit is due. Dainty Dish is taken from AdmiralTigerclaw's 'fic Higher Flier. I hope we've done her justice, especially since we've had to tweak things, what with this being essentially an Equestria Girls-style human (faunus) counterpart of her rather than the actual character from Higher Flier.
The concept of Jaune being related to the old Vale royal family comes from the brilliant one-shot 'fic The King and I by Selene Sokal. Given I had recently read it when Cody told me about Pyrrha's lineage in SAPR, I had a silly idea I may one day write involving the heir to the Empty Throne, the granddaughter of the last emperor of Mistral, the heiress of the SDC, the princess of Menagerie, the daughter of the bandit queen Raven Branwen, and a hilariously-timed paparazzi picture.
The names of Jaune's parents were borrowed from the real-life Joan of Arc's parents, but unfortunately, we couldn't actually figure out a good joke or gag referencing the fact that his father has the same name as Weiss's. Her stumbling across the documentary while looking into her father's past was the best we could come up with.
So many people are so close to the truth here.
The Team FIST scene was a pain to write. We were originally going to have their discussion actually occur on-screen, possibly with a member of the Oktober Guard present, but it just wasn't gelling. And besides, none of what they'd say is really new information to the readers.
Author's Note 2 (Cody MacArthur Fett):
If you're wondering why Kali closed her eyes during the launch sequence, it's because of the time crunch and an inability to figure out a way to do what I actually wanted to. That is to say that what I wanted to do was recreate this launch sequence from this Star Fox fic I had read a decade ago where fighter would be loaded onto this catapult system like on an aircraft carrier and then raised at nearly a 90 degree angle to launch into the sky. I always thought it was impractical, but AWESOME, and I wanted to do that here. However, I ran into the issue here of, well, Kali. She's a VIP with luggage traveling between continents, not a trained WSO assisting on an interception mission, but I didn't want to just give up the idea in favor of the Night Ravens just rising into the air on gravity dust. So instead I invented the idea of Kali having a phobia of take-offs to justify not having to make up my mind.
Speaking of the scene with Kali, it was originally going to be in the Interlude, and before that volume 2. However, the scene kept getting moved forward because, well, Night Ravens. Their cruising speed is Mach 3.3, which means they should be able to traverse the world in hours. That's not the sort of thing that justifies a long wait between scenes. An expy of TaleSpin's Baloo, however? Oh, he'd be able to stretch things out for a while.
Oh, and because I know someone is going to ask, Kali showing up at the Vytal Tournament was actually something decided on before she did the same in SAPR. I'd like to say it's a bit of convergent design, but it's most likely because it was I who suggested that Kali would do such a thing in the SAPR thread months before it happened. Though I did consider briefly going with Ghira instead of Kali for this just to mix things up, but ultimately decided against it for the simple reason that he's got a job to do and no way to call home.
Speaking of SAPR though. The different perspectives on the Vytal Tournament was one of those things I loved in that story, and as soon as I saw it I knew I wanted to replicate it in StS. That's why we had so many different characters being introduced in this chapter: they're going to be the peanut gallery. This is something that should be a little more possible thanks to the arrangement that we've done to make writing the tournament actually feasible for us.
As Cyc said, the Team FIST scene was originally much longer, but we decided to split it up and have things continue into the next chapter. Now, why are we focusing on them? Well, they're participating in the tournament, they star in the side stories, they're going to be part of the peanut gallery, and we've got plans for them later as part of [CLASSIFIED] which I think we can all agree is super cool.
Notification:
Since this is the start of a new volume - indeed, the very chapter with which we first announced our Discord server on other forums - I figured this is a good time to remind people that we do, in fact, have a Discord server dedicated to this 'fic (and SAPR) if you want to hang out and talk about the 'fic here: discord dot gg slash acKKNXR