Spark to Spark, Dust to Dust

by Cyclone

Reposted from Spacebattles. Barely a month into her time at Beacon, Yang Xiao Long made a fateful purchase. Little did she know that this would lead her into a war fought in the shadows and a life in which everything is more than meets the eye.

56. V3E15: All Out in the Open

Volume III: Episode 15: All Out in the Open

---

Velvet sat in the darkness, staring down at the blood-stained bayonet, the gift she'd gotten from Lavi - from Laserbeak - oh so long ago. She'd never gotten around to renaming it, and now...

Deep inside, a part of her raged. It screamed at her to discard it, break it over her knee, something, and yet... and yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it, to sever that last link to such happy times.

Her vision blurred. She blinked, then noticed two droplets of something had splotched the blood on the blade. It took her a moment to realize they were tears, and as if a dam had broken, she began to sob, letting them fall freely, splashing the blood and making a terrible mess. She didn't care.

As she cradled the token of friendship - of love - in her hands, all she could feel was the bite of a cold, northern wind.

---

Nemesis glided through the darkness, deep beneath the waves. Down here, far beyond the reach of their prey, there were no Grimm to witness the alien vessel's passage. That might change, but for now, the Decepticons remained hidden, out of sight.

And within the slender hull of the titanic warship, Megatron glowered over his people, those that could fit within the dimly-lit cargo hold, at least. It was the largest compartment aboard Nemesis, glowing with the dim purple of the emergency lighting to conserve energon. The silence in the room was only broken by the low thrum of the engines, the faint scuffle as Decepticons shifted uncomfortably, and the dripping of a minor leak into a well-placed bucket.

"Prime lives," he declared, "and the years have been kind to him." An uneasy murmur washed across the room. "I have met him in battle myself."

"And yet, Prime lives!" screeched Starscream.

"Indeed he does," Megatron confirmed. "Tell me, Starscream, when you prepare to go to war, which do you send in first? The flag bearers or the scouts? This was a reconnaissance in force. Without knowledge of our enemy and his strengths, defeat would be certain. But with that knowledge, victory will be ours."

He let that sink in for a bit.

"As for the secondary objectives," he continued, "the Autobots' allies, the White Fang, were crippled in the initial stages of the operation."

"Thanks to my Seeker Corps, Lord Megatron!" Starscream boasted.

"Yes," Megatron murmured, "your Seekers performed very well." His optics drifted over to his most loyal subordinate and the quartet of MiniCons around him. "Though I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the intelligence provided by Soundwave's operatives. Without that, such a strike would have been impossible."

Soundwave bowed. "Thank you, Lord Megatron."

"But Lord Megatron," Starscream protested, "that fool Soundwave utterly failed in his mission to disable the CCT."

Megatron smiled and turned his attention back to the Seeker. "Ah, thank you for bringing that up, Starscream, for you see that all our failures tonight have one thing in common: you."

"WHAT?!" the Air Commander sputtered. "How could I possibly be responsible for the failures of all these fools?!"

"I'm glad you asked," Megatron sneered. "For Soundwave's attack, the answer is simple: you ordered a retreat when victory was still achievable. Likewise, Thundercracker's alleged defection was obviously something you pressured him into as part of one of your overly elaborate schemes to try and overthrow me."

"Lord Megatron, I would never-"

"Silence!" Megatron cut him off. "Did you think you could hide your ambitions? I'm no fool. As I was saying, Thundercracker will no doubt defect for real now, once he's heard that your little scheme has been exposed, which has cost us a valuable asset that proved its worth that you so repeatedly denounced when it prevented the Constructicons from completing their objective at the wall. Perhaps they would have been able to call for help that would have actually been helpful had your jamming not prevented anything but laser comms from getting out unless it went through you. Tell me, Starscream, how many clearance requests went unfulfilled, like the request for reinforcements at the breach inside the city, because you had abandoned your command to pursue a delusional grudge against a human you thought would take your job?"

"How-?"

"Ha! So you admit it then!" Megatron shook his head with disappointment. "Once again, Barricade's predictions came to pass, just as his predictions which anticipated the entire roster of our foe's forces." He turned to the former CySec officer. "Good job."

"Thank you, sir," Barricade said. "It was easy, once I knew the natives knew about magic."

Megatron's gaze swept back to Starscream. "Unlike you, he knows to finish a job before going after personal grudges."

"But my jammer-" Starscream tried weakly.

"Ultimately turned out to be a self-defeating failure, just like everything else you do, Starscream," finished Megatron.

Starscream scowled and squared his shoulders. "I deserve better than this disrespect. I am the leader of the Seeker Corps."

"Not anymore," Megatron declared. "You're being reassigned from the Seeker Corps - and demoted - immediately."

"Wha-I-no-how-?" It seemed Starscream's vocalizer was malfunctioning, judging from his incoherent blubbering that was changing into strangled coughing.

Megatron turned to the most recently reformatted Seeker present. "You're in command now, Air Commander Skywarp."

Startled, the new Air Commander stood still for a moment, then bowed, fist to his chestplate. "Thank you, Lord Megatron."

Thunk!

Megatron glanced back over to see Starscream on the floor, unconscious.

"Pitiful," he sneered.

---

The morning after the attack on the city of Vale, the rebuilding began. After the Decepticon ship had rocketed into the sky and arced off over the sea, forces were redirected to sweep away the Grimm and leftover drones still menacing the giant metropolis. Alongside the combat, firefighters and rescue workers, mostly volunteers, had worked to save people and prevent further damage to the city.

It was a grim reminder that life on their world was nasty, brutish, and short, but nevertheless, those same lives had to go on.

"I'm telling you, that was some incredible work you pulled at the breach," declared Lennox as he walked along the dusty sidewalk with his rifle slung across his chest, squinting in the early sunlight.

"I could say literally the exact same thing to you," replied Adam as he walked alongside the NEST soldier with an identical rifle slung across his chest, the morning light glinting off the sunglasses Lennox had given him.

"But you won't, because all I did was make a few phone calls," quipped Lennox self-deprecatingly.

Adam shrugged. "Well, if you say so. I, on the other hand, am going to enjoy being treated as the hero I am."

Lennox snorted. "Oh, I can believe it, just like I can believe that you're going to be eating those words soon enough. Well, soon in the grand scheme of things."

"Sounds like a lot of second-rate comfort to me," preened Adam.

The destination they were walking to was the Do Tell Hotel, which had been converted into an aid station at some point in the night to free up space at the nearby hospital for more serious injuries. Whether or not it was necessary, Lennox couldn't say, and he suspected that neither did the people who set up the station in the first place. However, he also thought the old adage stayed true that it was better to have something and not need it than need it and not have it.

"Okay, so Ruby's message said that they'd be here by now," announced Taiyang, speaking up for the first time in a while when they had gotten across from the building.

"And we are!" announced the crimson-themed Huntress that was Ruby Rose with a petal-filled leap to their side.

There was an exclamation of surprise from someone nearby, but the three Huntsmen were too seasoned to jump. After all, it was hardly a surprise if one was keeping an eye on their surroundings, and it wasn't like she had just appeared out of nowhere. The trail of petals leading to a blonde running towards them was clear proof that she was hardly that stealthy.

"Hey, kiddo!" greeted Taiyang, taking his daughter into a hug that she evidently could not escape from.

"Ack! Dad! No!" whined Ruby.

Lennox chuckled and glanced at the clearly offput Adam. "Your sister's pretty excitable, isn't she?"

Adam looked back at him with what was probably annoyance. "She's not my sister. She's my half-sister's half-sister. We don't share a drop of blood."

"Want my advice, Swordsman?" inquired Lennox, still trying to keep his voice low while the Xiao Longs did their thing.

"No," replied Adam.

"Smart move, but unfortunately, you're still getting it," shot back Lennox, and he could tell his opposite was rolling his eyes. "Don't throw this away. There's too many people who lose their families and then spend the rest of their lives pining for them back or a new one but getting neither. You got a chance many would kill for, and only you can make use of it, so don't waste it."

Before a reply could be made, Yang Xiao Long turned her attention fully onto the scene. It was a good thing that Lennox had caught their match in the Vytal Tournament. Identifying the two sisters would be a lot harder if he hadn't.

"Hey, Bro! How was your night?" asked Yang chipperly with an arm still around her father. "We fought Megatron and lived to tell the tale, so I'd say we're doing pretty good."

"I'll believe it when I see it," quipped Adam.

"Pft, give it time, and I'm sure someone will have it uploaded to the 'net," dismissed Yang with a wave.

"Where's Bumblebee and Hot Rod?" asked Taiyang. "Didn't you say that they were with you?"

"They sent us along ahead while they helped with some big clean up project," Ruby informed them. "And I mean really big. Huge, in fact. There was no way either of us could have gotten our arms around it."

There was a crash in the distance.

"That probably wasn't them," insisted Ruby instantly.

Lennox looked around. "Well, I certainly can't find any evidence disproving your theory there, but I still think we should look into it all the same. Later, after we get some rack time."

"I don't need sleep," declared Yang with dark rings clearly visible around her eyes.

"Yes, you do," Lennox said flatly.

"He's right, girls," agreed Taiyang. "Come on, the battle's over, and we've been awake for at least twenty-four hours. Let's get some sleep while we can."

"There's still work to be done," protested Ruby.

"It can be done by others more qualified than us," answered Taiyang.

"There could still be an attack," objected Yang.

"The front line forces can be people more rested than us," insisted Lennox. "Come on, there's an entire city of people ready to stand watch."

"Not a whole city," said Yang somberly.

"Bloodied though it may be, this outpost of civilization still stands," insisted Taiyang.

"And we should be there to clean its wounds," deflected Ruby. "We don't need to sleep now. Come on, Adam, back us up."

"Power naps," said Adam, seemingly out of the blue.

Taiyang blinked. "What?"

Adam explained. "I can teach you how to take two hour power naps so that you don't need to sleep anymore."

Taiyang looked at him as if his words had turned to babble. "What? No! That's crazy."

"It's perfectly sane," insisted Adam, looking at Taiyang in a much more focused way. "I've used it plenty of times, and I can tell you right now, the reported side effects of obsession, a fixation on fear, and dressing up in a costume and claiming to be the night are completely exaggerated."

"But Adam, you are obsessed, fixated on fear, and dress up in costume," pointed out Yang, clearly falling into an old habit. "Well, a mask, at least."

Adam's sunglass-covered eyes bore into her, but he avoided the obvious rejoinder. "But I never claimed to be the night."

"Didn't you call your semblance 'Moonslice' though?" asked Ruby curiously.

"Ugh, not you too," groaned Adam.

Before the conversation could continue, though, they were interrupted by the squealing of tires as a police car came to a roaring stop barely feet away from them. There was a loud thud from inside, and two cops could be seen scrambling out of the front seats. The driver got out first, a surly-looking lady faunus who looked like the demented fusion of a coast guard yeoman and an army drill sergeant; she was followed by the literal cowboy cop in the passenger's seat.

The driver had her body ready to spring into a combat stance when she started speaking to Adam. "You're under arrest."

Yang stepped protectively in front of her brother. "On what charge, donut dame?"

The officer seemed to boil with rage at those words. "'What charge'? What frakking charge?! How about we start with aiding and abetting terrorist activities and then work our way through 'til we reach frakking murder?"

Even Lennox was taken aback by the language, but the Xiao Longs seemed rather more incensed by it. Well, okay, Yang was incensed by it, Ruby looked worried, Taiyang looked stern, and Adam seemed to be sliding into some sort of angry bad boy persona. Then again, he was probably very angry, and he was definitely a bad boy, so maybe it wouldn't technically classify as a persona.

Still, things were bound to blow up, and that wasn't good.

Lennox stepped in between the two officers and the family. "Officer, I think you might be overstepping your authority."

"That's Lieutenant," growled the brown-haired horse faunus. "Lieutenant DJ Martinez, VPD."

"Greetings," he replied with a great deal of well practiced cheer. "I'm Captain Lennox. I'm with the National Emergency Strike Team, NEST. Don't know if you've heard of us or not; we're kind of the new kids on the block."

"I've heard of you. Now what the frak are you doing interfering in my job?" asked Martinez with narrowed eyes.

"Trying to help you," answered Lennox… mostly honestly. "I don't think you've realized that we're still under threat of Grimm attack, and that means, until the senior defense officer on station - which I believe is the Grand Marshal right now - puts an end to that state, you can't go and arrest people involved in the defense unless it's for a crime that they're actively in the process of committing."

Martinez got very close to his face. "If you think for one frakking second that I'm just going to let that murdering piece of shaz walk around like-"

Her partner put his hand on her shoulder. "Deej, let it go. Let's just do what we need to do and get back to the Forty-Seventh."

"Forty-Seventh, huh?" asked Lennox. "Now, how did you end up all the way over here?"

"The flow of battle, and arresting one of you're oh so great defenders for public drunkenness, indecent exposure, and other crimes," explained Martinez.

It was at that moment that the back door on the police car fell off, and out fell a disheveled man in cuffs and clothes that clearly weren't his own.

"Uncle Qrow?!" gasped Ruby in shock.

"Hey, guys," said the so-named Qrow with clearly far too much liquor in his tone.

"Oh no, not again," lamented Taiyang.

---

"When's the memorial?"

There were two orderlies in the morgue at that moment. Both were looking over at the drawers in which the two new famous additions to the Choir Invisible lay. They were at the end of their shifts and were already packing it in to head back onto the streets of Atlas.

"Next Wednesday. I hear an aurora's forecasted for that night. Rest of the week is supposed to be a time of mourning."

"So we got to keep these two stiffs on ice that whole time?" complained the first orderly.

"Dude! Have some respect!" hissed the second. "These are the two who saved Atlas."

The first orderly rolled his eyes as he grabbed his jacket. "Dead is dead." He glanced back at his coworker. "Gonna hit the bar. You coming?"

"Not tonight," came the reply. "You go on ahead. I'm going to do one last check and head home."

"Suit yourself," the first orderly said with a shrug and headed out.

Once alone, the other orderly turned to the two drawers, his face twisting into a scowl. He reached over and pulled one of the drawers open, revealing the still face of General Flagg.

"Ssso disssappointing," Pythona hissed, looking down at him. "Replacsssing you would have been invaluable, and you jussst had to get yourssself killed in public."

Straightening up and shoving the morgue drawer closed, she turned, schooling her disguised expression again, and began to make her way out of the building. She'd needed to make sure this wasn't some grand ruse, after all.

Pity about the man she'd replaced for such a brief infiltration, but his death would be overlooked and written off. After all, in light of recent events, he was hardly the only one who was going to drink himself to death this night.

She never noticed the rifle trained on her.

Peering through his scope from the rooftop opposite, Agent Novo - a man with no connection to the current First Minister of Vale, so far as he knew - kept tracking the target. It wouldn't be hard to put a bullet in her from this range, and it was unlikely she had her aura up, but that wasn't the mission. Silas had been very clear. The mission was to track her, sniff out her network of contacts and compatriots, and once that well of intel was finally wrung dry, then... then would be the time to strike and snuff out this little cell of Equestrian invaders.

---

"-imm activity remains at record lows as reconstruction continues. This morning, relief supplies and volunteers from Patch and Griffin Rock have arrived, including a shipment of Starhead Industrial robots for excavation, reconstruction, and security. In other news-"

Arslan heaved, sending the chunk of concrete that had once been part of the southeast middle wall sailing over the outer wall to disappear on the other side. Clean up and repair at the wall was moving in stages, from the innermost to the outermost, much like how civilization had first expanded into the wilderness against the Grimm, and they'd no doubt have to clean that same piece up later when they began rebuilding the outer defenses, but until they could get trucks through the roads, it would have to do.

She forced down the urge to issue a challenge as one of the Atlesian students proceeded to chuck an even larger chunk over the wall with a bored expression; the small cloud of smaller debris that followed made it clear it was some sort of semblance, assuaging her competitive streak.

"Arslan?" a familiar voice called.

She turned, then glanced at the supervisor overseeing the clearing work, who glanced over at the person who had called her name, then looked back at Arslan and gave her an approving nod.

With that, she jogged over to her old friend.

"Hey, Pyr!" she greeted cheerfully. "How's the heroine of the hour?"

Pyrrha blinked like a deer in the headlights. "'H-heroine'?"

Arslan nodded and pointed to where the portable radio set was still playing news and updates. "Well, yeah. I mean, most I did was kill a King Beringel in front of the cafeteria. You and your boytoy helped Adam Taurus seal a breach in the middle of the city. News has been talking up you three a lot."

"But... I didn't actually do all that much," protested the Vytal Champion. "I didn't even kill anything more dangerous than an Ursa Major." Her eyes widened, and she ducked her head apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"And that's why you two are the sidekicks in this particular story," Arslan teased. "So, what's up?"

Pyrrha looked down and began fidgeting with her sash. "I, um, I know we're not close-"

"'Not close'?" Arslan interrupted incredulously, arching an eyebrow. "Pyr, we're best friends. What the hell are you talking about?"

Pyrrha looked up. "We... are? I thought we were rivals. Well, friendly rivals."

Arslan nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes, Pyrrha," she said slowly, enunciating her words like she was talking to a small child. "That's what 'friendly rivals' means: rivals who are also friends."

Pyrrha looked at her, dumbfounded. "Oh."

Arslan snorted and shook her head. "You know, I hope you do realize what Jaune being your fiancé actually means." She paused for effect. "You do know what that means, right?"

Pyrrha blushed. "Y-y-yes. In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was, um, I was wondering if you'd like to come to our wedding."

Arslan considered that. "Do I get to be the Maid of Honor?"

---

Coco could feel her heart clenching as she and her team stood in team name order across from Headmaster Ozpin in the remarkably corporatist office that he had been stuck with since the start of last semester. With everything that had happened… well, they knew why they were there. It was pretty hard to miss the inquiry or its purpose.

"To begin, I must commend you for cooperating with the investigation," said Ozpin as he stood on the opposite side of his desk.

He was alone for now; Professor Goodwitch was packing her bags for Atlas if she wasn't out in the city fixing things, and Coco was glad for that. She had always admired the older woman, even over the headmaster himself, but at that moment, she didn't think she could look her in the eye. She just didn't know if it was out of fear or shame.

"Optimus Prime has informed me that things have already been resolved for the Autobots, which just leaves you as the loose end," Ozpin informed them coldly, his voice lacking any of the usual warmth it had. "Now, if I was to mirror what was done on their end, it would be tantamount to a death sentence. After all, you'll be lucky to reach a hundred, never mind the hundred million it would take to complete such a punishment. Nevertheless, punishment still needs to be given out, as you four bungled a first contact situation and then covered it up by falsifying both your written and verbal reports."

The headmaster's words were as unto thunder in Coco's ears, each syllable hitting like an artillery strike.

Ozpin picked up a large folder marked "Confidential" in big red letters and began to flip through the pages. "Failing to communicate with mission control throughout the mission, opening contact with an alien lifeform with hostile displays, escalating tensions, opening fire first on the agent of an unknown faction, and that's just the highlights of what happened during the mission. When you returned, all of you lied to my face and told me that Cliffjumper opened fire first, when in fact, the complete opposite was true. In your written report, you further implied all manner of further crimes on Cliffjumper's part, from brainwashing and intimidation to slavery and kidnapping, all in a deliberately misleading manner, such that you might be able to claim any position you might like that could explain why the people of Lower Cairn have ceased all communication with Beacon and refused to allow any investigation of the town by our representatives, a situation, by the way, that is only now beginning to resolve itself with the personal intervention of Optimus Prime."

Coco knew what he was talking about, who he was talking about. The teams might have gone along with things, but she had been the one who had originated them. It was her fault; it was all her fault. People were dead, and a war had nearly started because of her.

Ozpin swept his gaze across them, judging them, his expression stern and disappointed. "It seems you have failed to learn any of the most important lessons we have tried to teach you since coming to this academy. This is the sort of behavior I might expect of first-year students; therefore, that's what you will be. If you feel that you would not like to proceed in your current configuration, then report to initiation in one week. Otherwise, you're dismissed."

With that, Ozpin sat back down in his office chair and put their case folder away in a drawer before taking out another piece of paperwork entirely.

Coco felt like the floor had just opened up under her. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. I don't understand. That's it?"

Ozpin looked back up at her. "Yes, Miss Adel. You're dismissed, which means that you're free to return to your dorm or do anything you like so long as you remove yourself from this office."

Coco could feel the eyes of her team looking at her like she had lost her mind, but she didn't care; her mouth was running on autopilot. "We lied to you about abandoning the matter too. I did. I pushed for an infiltration of the White Fang that led to the locations of their hideouts being tagged. Hundreds of people are dead because of me!"

"Miss Adel, on that matter, you are guilty of nothing more than trusting Team Ruffle and believing them to be your friends," explained Ozpin, his voice seeming to become compassionate and understanding in contrast to its previous tone. "They're spies; it's their job to do what they did. You should not feel guilty that they happened to be good at it. This is a school, Miss Adel, and you are still students."

His words were meant to alleviate her guilt, and in a way, it did. A sense of peace descended over her. She knew what she needed to do.

"Not anymore, sir," she said with finality as she reached inside her clothes and pulled out her Beacon-issued scroll and, more importantly, the Huntress Student ID on it to put it down on the table. "I'm... withdrawing from Beacon, sir."

She pivoted around and strode towards the exit without a second thought. If she still needed the scroll, Beacon could mail it to her parents for all she cared. The important thing was that it was done, and she finally felt that weight leaving her shoulders with the knowledge that she had done the right thing.

The elevator doors closed long before she found the moral courage to look anyone in the eyes again.

---

As Team BLDM stood over the lounging forms of three-quarters of Team DSST - where Sunburst was, Bonbon didn't know, and he wasn't a part of this anyway - in the common area of the guest dormitory assigned to Haven students, Bonnie "Bon Bon" Bonaventure wished she could be somewhere - anywhere - else right now. Well, technically, she could be, but she hadn't abandoned Lyra when things were against her; why would she now, when the tables had turned?

Well, sort of.

"~Say it,~" Lyra sang as she danced between Lightning Dust, Sunset Shimmer, and Trixie Lulamoon. "~Sayyy iiit.~"

Bon Bon couldn't blame her. A lot of people had bullied and teased her over her... unorthodox beliefs, once they'd come out, and these three had been among the most vocal of them.

"You called me mad!" Lyra happily declared with a manic smile as she moved about the room, gesticulating wildly. "You called me 'half-baked,' and 'out to lunch.' Which weren't particularly good insults in retrospect, but they hurt all the same! And they made me hungry!"

"Hey!" objected Trixie, affecting a wounded tone. "The Grrreat and Powwwerful Trixie did not call you any of those things!" She paused. "She merely observed that your theories were a little... improbable."

Lyra paused, then gave her a half-lidded look. "Ohhh, like your theory about a magic-using precursor civilization is oh so much more probable? I, at least, have evidence!" She glared at all three of them, even the pouting Trixie. "Say it."

"Fine," Lightning growled reluctantly, then her expression brightened, setting off warning bells in Bon Bon's head. "You... were..." - she smirked - "...almost right."

"Excuse me!" Lyra sputtered indignantly, hands on her hips as she rounded on Team DSST's leader. "The giant alien robots, the ancient conspiracies, the immortal queen of the Grimm! I had it all right!"

"Uh huh, right," Sunset said lazily from the loveseat she had commandeered. "Talk to us again when our 'magical horse counterparts from a parallel world' show up," she added with an infuriatingly smug smile.

"Lyra," Bon Bon said, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Let it go."

"Oh no, we're getting this in writing this time," Lyra insisted.

"What?!" Sunset barked.

"You heard me. We're getting this in writing, so that when our magical pony counterparts do show up, we'll have incontrovertible proof that you said what you just said," proclaimed the mad mint maestro. "In fact, let's make it more interesting. I bet you a thousand lien - or whatever equivalent amount in a currency or precious mineral of the winner's choosing - that it'll be your pony counterpart who shows up, and she'll do it within the next year."

"Okay, you're on," agreed Sunset. "Get me a pen. I'm about to make some free money."

As the two went off hunting for stationary, Ditzy murmured, "I'm glad Lyra's feeling better. At least the secrets are all out in the open now, right?"

"Uh huh," Bon Bon lied with a nod.

Yo Joe.

---

Cinder Fall nursed her wounds. Lugnut, the simpleton, had been easy enough to slip away from, begging off for some privacy before she quietly made her way here to recover, to find the Seer and report to Salem... but the Seer was gone.

She hungered. The hunger had plagued her since she'd accepted Salem's blessing.

Briefly, in her naïveté, she'd thought it had been a mundane sort of hunger, but it was not so. Food and water tasted like ashes in her mouth, and once she'd seized half the Fall Maiden's power, the hunger only grew.

She'd thought it was the price of the Grimm implants she had accepted, exacerbated by the Fall Maiden's power seeking its other half, a hunger for completion.

But even now, with the full might of the Fall Maiden at her command, with that light having burned the Grimm infection from her, she still felt the hunger.

Now, with a sudden clarity of thought she'd lacked before, she understood. It was a hunger for power in its purest form, one that went beyond the psychological to the metaphysical.

And she knew how to feed it.

"Fall..." Cinder's head snapped up at the sound of her name. "Fall!" the gravelly voice called out again.

Staying in the shadows, she crept out until she saw who was calling for her. It was a transformer, colored in shades of gray, with a squarish body and a cannon mounted to his arm big enough for a person to climb down if they were feeling particularly suicidal. The distinctive purple Decepticon symbol was emblazoned proudly on his chest.

"Die!" she roared, conjuring a massive gout of flame. The attack on Vale had failed. The Decepticons had failed, had caused her to fail. That was unacceptable!

The Decepticon reflexively raised a hand to shield his face, but otherwise seemed unbothered, and as he turned his attention to her, she felt an oppressive weight fall upon her, a presence that filled her with a sense of dread she had felt only in the presence of one other before, but she forced herself to ignore it, to stand tall and proud in the face of such terror.

"Why throw away your life so recklessly?" the Decepticon asked, shaking his head, almost as if in disappointment. "You haven't even heard my offer yet."

"Who are you?" Cinder demanded.

"I... am Megatron."

"And what could you possibly offer me?"

With that, Megatron looked down at her, a knowing smile on his face, and raised a closed hand. "The only currency worth bartering in." He opened his hand, revealing syringes filled with a glittering amber fluid. "Power."

"...I'm listening," Cinder allowed, barely restraining herself from lunging forward to seize the energex - the power - in his hand.

"You have talent, Cinder Fall," Megatron said. "We could use someone with your skills among our ranks."

"I'm afraid I already have an employer," she deadpanned.

"Hmm, yes," Megatron acknowledged, "but I wonder... how will your master reward your failures?"

"And yet you want to poach me?" she retorted, suppressing the flinch as his words struck home.

"You failed through no fault of your own, to forces and machinations you had no way of predicting," Megatron reminded her, voice smoother, almost... silky. "You had what you wanted, the power of Autumn, but you followed your orders and suffered for it: your eye, your arm... other, less visible injuries, I'm sure."

"And you have use for a cripple?" she snarled skeptically.

"We can rebuild you," he assured her. "We have the technology. Can your master offer the same? Will your master recognize your loyalty in light of your failure?"

Cinder scoffed. "Salem has little tolerance for failure… but even less for traitors, and there would be no escaping her wrath. Even if she ignored the insult, with the Fall Maiden's powers, there would be no escaping her private little war with Ozpin. As far as I can tell, they're both immortal, and they've been fighting for millennia. They would hunt me down until I either died or chose a side... and then I would die anyway."

Megatron reached up and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, yes, that does complicate things slightly… I've some experience dealing with immortals. Starscream, for one." He shrugged. "Still, so what? Our space bridge is nearly complete. There are many worlds out there under Decepticon rule, Cinder Fall, quite a few with species like yours on them, where your talents would be appreciated, and not a one of them with these pesky Grimm."

Cinder froze as the implications ran through her head. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying, let your mistress and her rivals bicker over this pathetic little mudball," he declared. "I can take you far beyond the reach of this petty skirmish. After all, why settle for a mere planet when I can offer you the stars?"

Cinder considered that. Salem offered her power, both the personal power of the Maidens and dominion over what remained of civilization after she burned the world.

But... what Megatron was offering... indeed, why settle for one world when she could have dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?

"...where do I sign up?"

---

Thundercracker had expected many things when made his departure from the Decepticons. What he hadn't expected, but probably should have, was the paperwork. Mounds and mounds of paperwork.

"Okay, so, it's asked me this question already," he noted in confusion.

"They probably want it repeated to see if you give the same answer every time, or it's actually different in some way, or they just want the answer repeated in triplicate because they're bureaucrats," suggested General Clayton M. "Hawk" Abernathy, the officer who had flown all the way from Atlas with the paperwork to make sure they were all square before returning.

Thundercracker nodded in reply before going back to filling out the application for political asylum, having already filled out the other forms involved in defecting. "Yeah, it's probably the bureaucrat thing."

"Just be thankful you're not defecting to Mistral. It's a full twenty-step process over there," said Hawk in what was hopefully a joking tone. "I've heard about people going mad trying to complete it. Then again, there's a lot of people who apparently go mad while looking for forms over there, so who knows?"

"That sounds terrifying," commented Thundercracker as he continued along.

Eventually, though, the forms were completed, and Thundercracker was able to hand them off. It turned out to be just in the nick of time.

There was a knock at the hangar door.

"Come in!" declared Thundercracker. "We just finished up here anyway."

The big doors opened just enough to admit Ruby "Snapshot" Rose, who poked her head in to look at them. "Are you guys finished?"

"I did just say that," confirmed Thundercracker.

"Oh," replied Ruby, stepping fully into the room. "So, that's it then? You're part of Atlas Academy?"

"As soon as this paperwork is filed, yes," confirmed General Hawk as he put the comically oversized folder that the forms were in on a hover trolley. "He'll need a specialized curriculum, but that's easily manageable. This is hardly the strangest case that Atlas has handled. Three more years of legal training, and he'll have his Huntsman license. After that? Well, it's his life to live however he sees fit."

"That's… huh," Ruby started with a blink. "That's not at all how it usually goes in the movies."

"That's why they're the movies and not reality," commented Thundercracker. "They have to be interesting and make sense, after all. Real life doesn't play by those rules."

"Very true," agreed General Hawk, who then took a second look at Ruby. "Hey, I know you. You're that girl who ran into the middle of a three way firefight and got shot, right?"

The bloodcrowned girl let out a long-suffering groan and dropped her head. "Yes. Yes, that's me."

General Hawk chuckled. "Well then, I guess I better be off. Don't want to have this paperwork be out of order when you return."

With that, Hawk made his way to the door and exited out into the sunlight, pushing the hover trolley the whole way. Snapshot had stayed by the door, evidently so she wouldn't get in the way. The reason why was plain to see when the general got out, as she had her own trolley piled high with packages.

"Gifts for the road?" asked Hawk.

Snapshot nodded. "Mhmm. Team Apricot are my friends, and I wanted to get them something to remember me by, since there's no guarantee that we'll ever see each other again."

"A wise move," complimented Hawk, who continued after a brief pause. "Snapshot, I know the fact that everyone recognizes you as the girl who got shot wears on you, but that isn't the only thing you're known for."

"Well, yeah, I was on worldwide television during the Vytal Tournament," answered Ruby.

"Oh, no. When people see that match again, they're going to be looking at Miss Belladonna, not you," corrected Hawk.

"Oh."

"I'm talking about that mission you went on with Targeter and Apricot that found General Colton," he continued. "Do you realize what that means? For as long as there is a Kingdom of Man on the continent of Solitas, people will learn your name and speak it with reverence. You're one of the heroes of Atlas, or at least you will be, once the names of the team are released. Surely, that should be a salve for your ego."

Snapshot put out an upraised palm. "With all due respect, sir, I'd prefer to remain anonymous. The mission should stand on its own. I would just be an unnecessary distraction."

"Just like Farsight. She said something similar to Headmaster Ironwood when she got her chest full of medals. Instead, she had a private ceremony, and nobody told the press about it," Hawk informed her. "Though I do suppose I should give you the heads up that some people are pushing to give you some awards too, Snapshot. So do keep your schedule primed for a trip to Atlas in your future, will you?"

"Heh. Heh," Snapshot chuckled weakly as she scratched behind her head. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good enough for now," Hawk said before walking off. "Take care, Snapshot!"

"You too!" she called back.

Promptly, social niceties having been completed, she pushed the trolley into the hangar. Thundercracker didn't seem to have minded the delay and was cleaning his weapons. Proper maintenance was key, and that was something Ruby understood well.

"Hey, Thundercracker! How are you doing?" she asked in a chipper fashion.

"Restless. I'd rather be out there helping people than in here resting. Or at least flying," complained Thundercracker as his eyes traced over the lines of his weapon. "But they pulled me off rotation and told me to let others handle things for now. I've been through worse, and I can certainly keep going here."

"I feel exactly the same way," agreed Ruby with a smile. "I keep telling people I'm relief-ready, but they keep turning me away while telling me that I've been awake for three days straight. Pfft! As if I can't keep up with that."

"Ruby," Thundercracker began, pointing at her with his finger, "I'm a Cybertronian. I'm literally ageless. You're human, a young human; you need sleep to reset your brain module, or you'll go crazy."

"Bah!" dismissed Ruby with a wave. "I'm not crazy; that's crazy."

Thundercracker raised an eyebrow as a rear door to the hangar opened and the rest of Team APRC(T) filed in.

"Friend Ruby!" greeted Penny with a wave, though with slightly less enthusiasm than she normally had. The cane in her left hand she was leaning heavily on was a visible reminder of why.

"Friend Penny," replied Ruby. "Ciel, Aska, Rufus."

"Hey, you remembered my name," complimented the aforementioned red-headed young man.

"Of course I remembered your name," Ruby stated. "After all, you guys are my friends and, if I'm being completely honest, my reprieve from how crazy my life usually is."

Close enough now, Penny reached out and put the back of her hand to Ruby's forehead. "Hmm. You aren't running a fever, and my sensors aren't picking up anything unusual, but I'm still a novice when it comes to medicine. We should get you to a doctor right away, just to be sure."

Ruby brushed the hand away. "I'm not sick, Penny, I'm serious."

"And sleep-deprived," interjected Thundercracker.

"Hahaha, oh you," Ruby said crossly to Thundercracker with narrowed eyes before switching focus and expressions to joyfully address the others. "Anyway, I'm here because I got gifts for you guys! You know, to remember me by, since there's no guarantee I'll ever see you again."

"You needn't have done that, Ruby," insisted Ciel, but then noticing Penny's increasingly lamenting expression, she added, "however, we would not be adverse to receiving them."

Penny smiled cheerfully. "Thank you, Ruby. I am very pleased with… well, whatever you've gotten me. After all, it's the thought that counts, and I'm thinking positive right now."

"Well, hopefully, you'll still like your gift after you get it," said Ruby as she went to the trolley and began taking off a box. "I'll start with Thundercracker. Thundercracker, I got you a collection of classic Remnant movies and a projector to play them on. I figured that since you're joining us, you should know the story of people you're signing on with. You know, culturally, I mean."

Thundercracker gently took the offered gift. "Thank you, Ruby. That was very thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome," replied Ruby before moving on to the biggest box there, which she was almost able to get off without looking incredibly awkward. "For Mad Dog, I got you a new set of tools."

"Awesome!" cheered Rufus as he took the package from Ruby with a fair bit more skill then she had managed. "How did you know that my old tools were getting worn out?"

"You're an engineer," answered Ruby simply. "Also, I noticed the smoke when you tried to use them."

"Fair," Rufus conceded with a shrug.

Ruby got a locked long suitcase and a large ammo canister off next. "For Farsight, I made you a rifle and the ammo for it. It's a design my mom created called the XLHR-3, chambered for the .345 Rose cartridge. He doesn't have a name yet, so that's something you'll have to come up with yourself. Also, don't worry; the instructions on how to make the ammo are included."

Ciel gingerly took the cases. "Thank you, Snapshot. It's been a long time since I used anything in close to that caliber. It is sure to be an experience."

"Don't feel like you have to use it in combat or anything," offered Ruby. "After all, this is a gift; have fun with it."

Ciel nodded. "Very well."

"Bladerider," began Ruby, addressing the ginger gynoid who, by now, looked ready to vibrate through the floor with anticipation, "I made you a cloak, like mine."

Penny let out an exaggerated gasp as she took the box from Ruby's hand and opened it, swiftly taking from the container a thick and insulated cloak of a beautiful emerald green like the forest in summer, her cane clattering to the floor, forgotten in the moment. "Thank you, Ruby! Now I won't have to borrow someone else's when we practice cape dancing in etiquette class!"

With that, she immediately donned the cloak and proceeded to swing it about in a fluid and billowing manner that was clearly from a well-practiced routine. That lasted until she came upon Rufus, at which point, her left leg gave out, and she stumbled into his arms. Rufus caught her, concern growing in his eyes when she didn't step away.

"Well?" she prompted. "You're the guy. Lead."

Rufus blinked for a moment, then, with a shrug, began leading her into the dance even as Ruby handed out her last gift.

"And for you, Shadow, I got this book," explained Ruby as she handed the last box to the ninja.

Aska took the box and opened it to reveal the hardcover copy of My Life and Ventures Aboard Ship by… by Horatio Ironwood.

She looked up, her eyes, hidden as they were behind her ever-present sunglasses, betrayed nothing. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Well," began Ruby, a nervous blush coming to her, "I know you've had some trouble with your family, and while I heard that you and your dad had made up, I still felt like I should help in some way. So I looked up who Gen- err, Headmaster Ironwood was and who his ancestors were, and I found out about this guy. His life story seemed pretty cool too, at least from the encyclopedia article I was able to read. Left Vacuo before its fall to become an adventurer, ended up a trader, worked in an anti-pirate alliance, and had all sorts of adventures before moving to a town in Solitas that sadly doesn't exist anymore. I just hope you like it."

Aska's fingers brushed across the simple cover. "I have never heard about him."

"Hmm, that's strange," mused Ruby. "Then again, maybe it isn't. James doesn't seem like the kind of person who would approve of people leaning on the accomplishments of their ancestors."

"Must you call him that?" asked Aska. "He is still headmaster. He deserves respect enough for that."

"Oops, sorry. I guess I was just defaulting to what Glynda calls him," apologized Ruby.

"Apology accepted, Snapshot, and thank you," acknowledged Aska. "This gives me a sense of… continuity."

"Any time, Shadow."

---

"Hey, Yang, weren't we ordered to take a break?" asked Bumblebee curiously.

"No, I'm pretty sure we were ordered to fix a break, like in a water main," answered Yang before gesturing out over the river-spanning construction site that was once the Red Bridge, "or a water crossing."

Bumblebee looked at her, shrugged, and then continued on walking over to the site with the pile of girders on his shoulder. "Just as long as we got our story straight."

Yang followed along, her own girders balanced on her shoulders. "Relax. We got this~ We got this together."

A period of silence followed before Bumblebee asked, "Did... you almost break out into song there?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't think of any more lyrics," confirmed Yang. "Song writing on the fly is hard, Bee."

They set the girders down where needed and took directions from the construction workers on what to do next, or rather, how best to step aside to let them work. They were the experts here, after all, and it was important to follow along with those who knew what to do. It… it honestly really surprised Yang to see everyone be so accepting. It was like the idea of giant transforming robots wasn't remarkable at all.

"Wow!"

"Oooh-oh!"

"I can't believe we're getting to see a real live Autobot!"

She stood corrected.

Turning, she noticed three kids about combat school age standing twenty feet away on a sidewalk near the river, looking in wonder and joy at Bumblebee. One was a light-haired and -skinned boy wearing brown shorts, a white shirt, and a blue jacket. Another was a chestnut-haired girl wearing a red shirt and white pants. The last was a darker-skinned boy with likewise hair wearing an emergency yellow jacket with jeans.

"What? As opposed to a fake dead one?" snarked Yang.

The kids focused in on her now.

"Hey, I recognize you!" cried the yellow one. "You're Yang Xiao Long, from the Vytal Festival!"

Yang cocked an eyebrow, but before she could reply, the boy in blue spoke up. "You get to work with an Autobot? That's so awesome!"

Bumblebee looked down at Yang. "It seems our reputation precedes us."

The blonde cocked an eyebrow and replied thusly to the children, "Hey, kids, I don't mind the fanboying too much, but do you mind telling us who you are first?"

The girl shot to a sort of attention. "Oh! I'm so sorry! Please accept our apologies. My name is Alexis Thi Dang, and these are my friends Rad White…"

"Hello," greeted the boy in blue.

"... and Carlos Lopez."

"Howdy!" chimed in the guy in yellow.

"We're students at the Linkin Conflict Resolution Center," continued Alexis, "and we're sorry if we're bothering you; it's just-"

"It's just that this is the coolest thing ever!" cried Carlos.

"I gotta agree," said Rad. "Giant transforming alien robots? What could be cooler than that?"

"Any of the other crazy things that have been happening lately?" suggested Bumblebee.

Alexis sighed. "You sound like our classmates. They're all going on about magic or what's going on in Atlas or the atomic bomb or the queen of the Grimm. What's she got that I don't?"

"You forgot about Cobra," pointed out Rad.

"Come on, Rad, Cobra's not even a thing," complained Carlos.

"Well, I'm just glad that there's some people out there who appreciate the Autobots as much as I do," declared Yang with a smile. "After all, they're the coolest guys around. Well, except for Cliffjumper…"

"I'm tellin' ya, Prime, I'm real sorry about what happened earlier," declared Cliffjumper the previous day. "I get what you're saying, I do."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," replied Optimus Prime before handing him a human-sized broom and dust pan, "and you can show it by cleaning up the kingdom you caused so many misunderstandings with."

Cliffjumper took the broom and dust pan. "You got it, Optimus. I'll have this neighborhood cleaned up in no time flat."

"Cliffjumper," chided Optimus sternly. "The kingdom. Not the neighborhood, not the city. The kingdom."

Cliffjumper looked out across the city and gave a lamentable whimper.

"…but he's been taken care of, and I'm sure he'll get off early with good behavior," finished Yang.

"You have a lot more confidence in Cliffjumper than I do," Bumblebee stated bluntly.

"Hey, he's not a Decepticon, so I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt," replied Yang.

Before the meandering conversation could continue, there was a whining roar as a blue and pink high performance motorcycle came around the bend and slid to a stop not four paces from where they were standing. The beaver-tailed rider quickly got off and reached for her helmet. The kickstand on the motorcycle, not so strangely, went off on its own.

"Yang!" greeted Maple Tapper Bricks as she advanced on her friend and removed her riding helmet to reveal her worried expression. "I'm so glad to see you! And Bumblebee, what are you doing just standing around?"

"What?" asked Bumblebee, strategically leaning against the nearest building in a way that wouldn't actually apply pressure. "Last I checked, this was a free kingdom. Can't a bot stand around without getting any gruff?"

Maple blinked at that response. The kids, however, gave a whoop of joy and rushed over to the motorcycle. They stopped, of course, at a respectable distance.

"Is that another Autobot?!" cried Carlos excitedly.

"It's gotta be," agreed Rad. "Why else would it be able to stand itself up?"

"Oh, she's beautiful," cooed Alexis.

"'She'? How do you know it's a girl?" asked Carlos. "Do Autobots have girls?"

It was then that the motorbike transformed before their very eyes, splitting apart and standing up to reveal the feminine form of the Autobot Arcee. "Bee, what did you do to these kids? And why are you leaning like that?"

"Woman's intuition," bragged Alexis to her friends.

"It's what all the cool kids are doing these days," said Bumblebee smoothly. "Thought I'd better start, since that's what we are: the cool kids."

Arcee sighed and put a hand to her forehead.

"What's… what's going on?" asked Maple, clearly flummoxed as she looked upon the scene developing. "They're taking this so much better than people should."

"Maybe people just had so much happen that it overloaded their usual responses," theorized Yang, looking at the same scene before shifting her gaze to Maple. "Or maybe people just aren't as bad as we thought."

Maple looked back at Yang. "Maybe…" She trailed off before shaking her head. "I'm definitely in over my head."

Then, suddenly, the beaver-tailed mechanic found herself recoiling from a great blonde mass that was now hugging her. "It's good to see you back, Maple."

Maple smiled and returned the hug. "Good to be back, kid."

---

"Raven?"

Raven stirred and tried to remember where she was. She found herself resting her head on her arms on the varnished wood of... a bar, was it?

"Raven?" the voice repeated.

She blearily looked around, seeking the voice. Finally, her eyes latched onto a familiar figure standing a deferential distance from her.

"Vernal?" she queried.

"Yes, Raven," was the reply.

"You're alive," she said dumbly, blinking in disbelief as she tried to wrap her head around that fact.

"Yes, Raven," she repeated. "It was difficult, but I managed." She lowered her gaze. "The rest of the tribe, however..." She trailed off, unwilling to vocalize the bad news.

Raven didn't react for a long moment, just continuing to stare at Vernal.

"Raven?"

The younger bandit's eyes bulged when Raven engulfed her in a hug.

"You're alive," Raven murmured again, holding her close. "You're alive."

"You're drunk," realized Vernal, her nose twitching at the alcoholic smell of Raven's breath.

"You're alive," repeated Raven.

Vernal frowned, then sighed and returned the embrace. "Yes, ma'am, I am."

---

"You know what I hate, Fluttershy?" asked Pinkie Pie as she trudged down the street.

"Uh, soggy cupcakes?" answered the slightly older girl nervously from her left.

Pinkie glared at her. "Don't joke about that. No, what I hate is the Grimm and how we have to keep going out to hunt them because the world keeps going crazy. Why didn't we just go and get our Huntress licenses again?"

"Our friends encouraged us not to, and we agreed that we were better off working at our passions," answered Fluttershy.

"Yes, dearie, but at this point, we do have to acknowledge that volunteering for the local Militz has turned into such a full time activity that we might as well take the, thankfully, metaphorical plunge and get our Huntress licenses," argued Rarity from Pinkie's right.

"You could just say 'militia,' you know," pointed out Pinkie with a raised eyebrow.

Rarity preened. "Yes, but with The General back in command, it's surely going to come back into style to talk Mantellian conversationally, and I want to get some practice in before everyone else catches on."

"Well, if you ever need some help, all you have to do is ask," offered Pinkie with a smile. "After all, I grew up speaking it, and so did Applejack for that matter. In fact…" - and here Pinkie placed a hand to her chin in contemplation - "why do we call it Mantellian at all? They hardly speak it in Mantle, so why do they get to name the language? Sounds to me like it's just more of thieving Mantle stealing and then acting like it was everyone else stealing from them, just like what they did to our defense budget!"

"Well, the kingdom was founded there," pointed out Rarity, "and could we please not get so political so early in the morning? What's gotten into you, Pinkie Pie?"

"Sorry, I guess I was just influenced by the sight of them," apologized Pinkie before pointing at a spot at the end of the street where a number of faunus were setting up a platform for a political candidate.

At least, they assumed it was a political candidate. With the battle and near destruction of Atlas just a few days prior, there were now three new vacancies on the Council that needed to be filled, and General Colton was keen to have them filled soon. It was something that they all agreed needed to happen, but what was confusing for them was that the candidate was coming out to their settlement. Wasn't the fight on the other side of the mountain range?

They got closer and were able to identify, then, a number of things about the rally that was presumably scheduled to happen too. They were representing something called the Truth and Reconciliation Party, which no one had ever heard of, and they seemed rather unsure of their place there. Not exactly a winning combination, as far as political campaigns usually went.

"Hello!" greeted Pinkie Pie cheerily. "Welcome to Canterlot! I'm sorry I don't have my confetti cannons ready, but I expended all my ammunition defending the city from yet another Grimm attack."

"Really, darling, we were taught in combat school that the cold was one of the protections Solitas had against the Grimm, but it's just been awful of late," complained Rarity.

"Um, hello there," offered Fluttershy.

The people who had been working on the stage looked at them as if they were all a little mad. One of them, though, a young woman in a fur-lined brown jacket, turned to walk towards them. She had white hair with purple tips, brilliant amber eyes highlighted by eyeshadow of the same purple as her hair tips, and feather wings of a moderate gamboge color emerging from her back.

"What do you want?" gruffly asked the woman when she had gotten close enough.

Fluttershy perked up at the voice. "Gilda?"

The woman focused in on her in turn. "Fluttershy?! What are you doing here?"

"I live here," answered Fluttershy honestly.

Gilda blinked. "So your family really wasn't from Atlas? You lied to me? How? Literally, how?!"

"Oh, we were from Atlas, but my parents thought that it was a bit too frightful," explained Fluttershy meekly. "We moved to Canterlot here after I came back from summer camp and explained how wonderful the ground was."

The woman seemed to contemplate that for a second. "Yeah. That checks out."

"She's a friend of yours, Fluttershy?" asked Pinkie excitedly.

"Oh no," Fluttershy replied with a shake of her head. "Gilda was always more Rainbow Dash's friend than mine. We met at a summer camp for disadvantaged Mantle children. My, uh, parents didn't want to make a fuss by sending me somewhere too fancy."

Rarity seemed like she wanted to object, but then backed down. "Actually, having met your parents, that makes total sense."

Pinkie did object though. "But Fluttershy, how can you say Gilda isn't your friend? She's Rainbow Dash's friend, and Rainbow Dash is your friend. That means Gilda's your friend too!"

Fluttershy looked quite surprised. "My goodness! You're right!"

"I don't think that's how that works," said Gilda with a hint of confusion.

"Oh, but it is, Gilda," insisted Rarity. "And if you're Fluttershy's friend, then that means you're our friend too, and friends help each other out. So what is it that you're doing, dearie? Tell us so that we can help."

There was a brief moment of silence, and in that brief moment, a clearly disgruntled worker on the stage unfurled a banner between two poles above it that read, "GILDA SWIFTWING FOR PROVISIONAL COUNCIL."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Pinkie Pie, and then a shout of excitement combined with a jump into the air. "You're running for the council?! That's amazingly awesomely spectacular! I can't wait till I have a friend on the Council that I can complain directly to about their job!"

Gilda blinked at her. "Uhhhhhh…"

Pinkie came down with a smile. "That was a joke, silly. Obviously, I'm not going to pester a friend like that, especially not when she's in such a busy position." Her expression darkened briefly. "Unlike my dark opposite in the valley next door, I actually know how to read the room."

"Your dark opposite?" asked Gilda in confusion before shaking her head. "Never mind. The point is, we haven't won the campaign yet. The Equalists and the Volcanists are both making pretty-"

Pinkie shot over to Gilda like a teleporting penguin going downhill and put her finger to her mouth and an arm around her back. "Don't finish that sentence! You are going to win, Gilda! You hear me?! You. Are. Going. To. Win! More importantly, they're going to lose."

Gilda and the rest of the work crew looked at her like she was mad... which she probably was.

"That's right! We're going to throw our all into it and give it that old Canterlot heave-ho," agreed Rarity with a pump of her fist. "That council seat is as good as won."

"We just met five minutes ago," Gilda pointed out desperately.

"We met a lot longer ago than that," Fluttershy said meekly. "Besides, it's like Twilight always said, 'the magic of friendship is unbound by time and relative dimensions in space.'"

And, just like that, a light seemed to have turned on behind Pinkie Pie's eyes. The other women had been right; she should just call Twilight, and there was no time like the present. They were still friends through and through, even separated by continents, and friends helped each other out. And right now? Right now, they had a friend who really needed their help.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Pinkie said aloud. "We need to call Twilight like right now, guys! We've got to introduce her to her new friend Gilda!"

"But I've never even heard of her before!" objected Gilda.

Fluttershy put a comforting hand on her shoulder to replace the forceful grip of Pinkie Pie as the excitable party planner yanked out her scroll with both hands. "Give it time."

The scroll seemed agonizingly long in its connection, but eventually, it clicked, and Pinkie got the first word in. "Twilight! I've got great news!"

There was a thunderous explosion in reply, and everyone in earshot suddenly crowded around the scroll as the camera on the other end showed the sky spinning around before settling at a canted angle showing the desert sands. There was yelling on the other end and sounds of arcane weapons fire that tore at the senses. More sounds beyond description flowed, like metal against metal, and rolling thunder such that it nearly deafened those watching in Canterlot.

Then, suddenly, a giant of a man with a dark beard and odd hat-helmet-thing picked up the scroll and began running with it - after firing the rocket launcher he held to his shoulder, of course. "I'm sorry! Comrade Magic has dropped her scroll," he said, just before another barrage that sent the scroll shaking just enough to catch sight of a giant robot fighting off a swarm of familiar drones. It came back to refocus on his face quickly though, and he continued. "She will have to call you back!"

"Wait!" exclaimed Pinkie Pie. "Before you go, please tell Twilight and the others to tell all their friends and family back in Crystal City to vote for Gilda Swiftwing for councilor."

The man on the other end blinked in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Yes, dear, why?" agreed Rarity frostily.

"Because she's a friend of Rainbow Dash, and that means she's friends with us, and we're friends with Twilight, so that means she's Gilda's friend too, and our friend needs our help," explained Pinkie quickly.

The man, still in a run, laughed. "Is that so? Well, then she's a friend of Horror Show too, and I'd be happy to help her out. Catch you on the flip side, as you Atlesians say."

The line cut out, and with it, the picture.

"Congratulations, Gilda, you made a new friend," cheered Pinkie Pie, seemingly unaware of the battle she had just glimpsed.

"I have no words to describe this," summed up the befuddled political candidate.

"Anyone else find the name 'Horror Show' really ironic?" asked Fluttershy, and several of the workers nodded in agreement.

"Pinkie, dear, do you really think this is necessary?" asked Rarity with worry. "Do we really want to cross that line of asking for help from those brutes in Crystal City? We may never be able to turn back, once we do."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Rares," swore Pinkie dramatically. "Do you really want to live in a world where you can't get married because Robyn Hill has stolen all the menfolk?"

"What?" whispered Gilda in disbelief.

Fluttershy's reply was also whispered: "You learn not to question it after a while."

"Well, no," admitted Rarity. "Very well. I'm sold. We'll do whatever it takes to win Gilda that seat."

"Yes!" cheered Pinkie. "We're all in for…" - and here, she looked back at Gilda - "uh, what did you say your party was?"

"The Truth and Reconciliation Party," announced Gilda. "Or the Partei für Wahrheit und Versöhnung, if you prefer."

Pinkie cringed. "Okay, first thing we need to do is get you a better name. That one sounds like it came out of a machine translator."

As a discussion commenced, with Rarity joining in, Fluttershy couldn't help but worry slightly. "Oh dear. Here we go again."

---

Verte found her brother in Beacon's courtyard. The academy grounds looked a lot worse for wear after the fighting. She supposed it was a good thing this had happened after the Vytal Tournament, after classes for the semester had ended. There'd be time to fix things up.

He was standing in front of the statue that formed the centerpiece of the courtyard, and as she walked up to stand beside him, he didn't turn to look at her.

"You have anything like this at Haven?" he asked.

She peered up at the statue, a Huntsman and Huntress standing atop a rock - the Huntsman raising his sword in victory, the Huntress resting her axe on the ground - and a Beowolf lurking below.

"Not outside," she said with a shake of her head. "The Grand Hall has a statue of a chained woman holding up a balcony with the sun behind her, though. So anyway, who are they?" Her eyes drifted to the statue's sword. "I mean... that sword..."

"You know, I never asked," he said with a chuckle. "I suppose I didn't want to know. The sword is... probably just a sword. I mean, it's not like Crocea Mors is all that special, really. All the cool stuff's in the shield, after all."

Verte felt her cheeks puff out in indignation. "Not that special?" she objected, outraged. "It's our family heirloom, passed down for generations! Crocea Mors has history, Jaune."

"History doesn't kill Grimm," he reminded her.

She scowled. Nobody appreciated the classics anymore.

"How's your team?" he asked.

Verte felt the anger deflate out of her as she considered the question. "They're doing okay," she said. "A few scrapes and bruises, and Lauren took a nasty bump to the head, but other than that, we're fine." She paused as she considered her next question. "Did you know?" she asked quietly. "About the robots, I mean."

He didn't answer for a long, long moment.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I did. But none of us saw something like this coming. It was all undercover stealth ops until the attack, real cloak and dagger spy game stuff."

She gave him a sidelong glance, studying his profile as he continued to gaze up at the statue. What he saw in it - inspiration, courage, comfort - she couldn't tell, but...

"We never gave you enough credit, did we, Jaune?"

He didn't answer, and for that, she was grateful.

---

"So, that's how the case against you looks at the moment," Colonel-Attorney Cadenza's holographic form reported with a professional smile, "in that there isn't one. You'll be able to walk back into Atlas Academy a free man."

James Ironwood resisted the urge to slump down in his seat in relief or jump for joy. It was honestly some of the best news he could have hoped for: the criminal charges against him dropped completely and no further charges being brought forward. Chrysalis's flunkies that were still left were tripping all over themselves to rat each other out and denounce her in the wake of the revelation that she was herself and not the person she had been impersonating for years - which, really, explained so much about everything that had happened over the last few years - and so, there was no will to continue the prosecutions that she and the deceased members of the council had started against him.

"Thank you, Cadenza," Ironwood said happily, shifting his shoulders slightly. "It'll be good to be back in uniform again."

Her smile cracked. "I'm sorry, sir, but that situation hasn't changed."

The joy that James felt within his heart died at those words. "I… yes, of course. A discharge enacted by the council can only be repealed by the council. I'm sorry; that was a foolish assumption on my part."

"Don't be so quick to throw it away. I'm sure once the new council convenes in three weeks, this will all be resolved within a day," comforted Cadenza. "In the meantime, there's still a lot to do. I… They're all coming back, right?"

"Yes," answered James solemnly. "We've almost managed to recover all of them. It was the third and fourth years that got hit the hardest, but things weren't nearly as bad as they could have been. We're all coming back together, one way or the other."

Except, of course, for Team FIST, given their transfer to Shade.

Cadenza nodded gravely. "Thank you, sir. I'll let you get back to your duties now."

"Good day, Colonel-Attorney," replied James, and the line cut out.

Cadance sighed as the holographic form of Headmaster Ironwood disappeared. He deserved better than what she was able to give him, but it was all she could do. She was just glad Chrysalis's power-mad incompetence and paranoia had resulted in her holding off on removing the headmaster position from him too. Perhaps it might have been better for him, though, if he had lost that position too, because though she hadn't mentioned it, public opinion on the streets of both Mantle and Atlas was still turning against him. She should have been honest, but she couldn't face piling more complications upon the man.

She also should have congratulated him on the engagement; that was just sloppy on her part.

The door to the conference room opened to admit none other than General Colton himself. At the sight of him, Cadance stood up like a spring and saluted. Hopefully, the General would have good news.

"Sir!"

"At ease, Oberstrichter," the General ordered, and she dropped her salute. "How did the meeting go?"

"As well as could be expected," reported Cadance. "I didn't bring up some of the things they're saying about him in the cities."

"The work of these Starlight Glimmer and Robyn Hill characters I've heard so much about?" asked the General as he approached.

"They're the ones who have been getting up on their soapboxes the most," confirmed Cadance. "Hill's been gaining ground stirring up trouble in Mantle, and Glimmer's been in Atlas itself lately, pushing her anti-academy rhetoric."

The General waved it off. "A lot of things have happened lately. Maybe they'll change their tunes once people have had a chance to calm down. After all, we're all in this together."

There was a part of Cadance that felt that such a sentiment was hopelessly naive, that there was simply no way to appease those hooligans, and… and she didn't get any further in her thoughts. Instead, she chided herself for her out-of-hand dismissal. If the General thought that they could sit down again as citizens of the same kingdom, then they could. Her husband always said that her greatest asset was her love and compassion, and for her to instead give in to her demons of hate and fear shamed her.

"It is as you say, sir," she said aloud.

The General looked at her curiously. "You were part of the prosecution on the Xanthi Massacre, right?"

Cadance nodded, the memories coming back to her of that trying time when she bore witness to such horror perpetrated by such people that it made her nauseous. "Yes, sir. I specifically requested an internship with the JAG Corps unit prosecuting the case as part of my studies at Atlas Academy."

"Brave thing that," noted the General. "It takes a lot of guts for someone to go against their own tribe for the sake of a foreigner."

"With all due respect, sir, those scum were not part of any tribe of mine," replied Cadance sternly. "They killed two hundred and twenty-six innocent civilians on the thinnest of excuses, and then they covered it up while trying to wrap other officers up in it. They were a malignant tumor within the military that needed to be cut out, and we did."

"Good answer," confirmed the General with a smile.

Cadance nodded. A test then, and she passed. A fitting maneuver for the man who was once headmaster of Atlas Academy.

"Thank you, sir," she said resolutely.

"'If Mantle is to be great, it must be good,'" quoted the General. "I meant what I said back then, and that incident is what proved to me that it had all panned out."

"Because we didn't just cover it up?" asked Cadance, leaning into the teaching experience she had.

"Exactly. That takes a lot of strength to fight human nature like that, but you did," complimented the General.

"Or it takes selfish actors with political motives just as wicked as those they condemn to act in ways that happen to be honorable," countered Cadance.

"Better a society that brings honor out of wicked men then a society that brings wickedness out of honorable men," replied the General.

"I'm not sure that still applies. We are not the same people we were when I was in the Academy," lamented Cadance, and then she stood up twice as straight. "But don't worry, sir. Even if the cities shall fall, the military will still back you, no matter what."

There was a chirping from the holoprojector, and an automated voice as well.

"Call for General Joseph Colton from Headmaster Ozpin in Beacon Academy."

"And that's my cue to leave," said Cadance with a smile. "Thank you for the talk, sir."

Joe watched her leave and then let out a heavy sigh. "What's a military without a people behind them?"

He sat down at the conference table and hit the command to accept the call. Technology had advanced so far in the time he had been away. So far, so fast, that it seemed like he had woken up on an alien planet, an alien planet where everyone worshiped him.

He'd read a story like that before - Oz had recommended it to him - but he never did get around to telling the Old Man that he didn't enjoy it.

The hologram of Headmaster Ozpin appeared across from him at his own desk with a smile and a greeting. "Well, hello there."

"Headmaster Ozpin, I presume," greeted Joe. "I have to admit, your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours," replied Ozpin jovially. "Though I have to admit that your reputation is a fair bit grander than mine. I'm just a headmaster of a school, but you, you're the General Joseph Colton. I don't think there's ever been any Atlesian living or dead that could possibly be as well-known and well-regarded as you."

There was something in that tone that set Joe off. If you were really my old friend, you'd know I don't like… oh, oh what's that? Is that a smirk? Oh you cheeky little… okay then, so maybe you could be the Ozma I know, or you could just be some jerk who likes pushing my buttons. Either way, this ain't the place to talk about it.

Ozpin's expression shifted. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I should be more considerate, especially given that we have a mutual foe."

"Which one?" asked Joe bluntly.

Ozpin pondered that for a moment. "Fair point. I have to admit that things have got a little complicated of late."

"Yes, and things have also gotten a little eavesdroppy of late as well," pointed out Joe. "Let's not dance around the issue, Headmaster. We have a pile of enemies, and we're pretty sure we're both on the same page about things, but we don't know for sure, and secrecy is of top priority for us. We're not going to get anything done just talking to each other over this fancy pants magic film-o-phone, so why don't you just fly up here to meet us?"

"Why don't you fly down here to meet us?" countered Ozpin.

"My schedule's busy," reasoned Joe.

"So's mine," replied Ozpin.

The two stared at each other for a long moment until they both got extremely bored and started looking at other things.

"So, uh, you got anything else to say then?" asked Joe.

"Not really," admitted Ozpin. "I have to admit that you're right about sensitive information and possible wiretapping by… well, any number of people really. That means we really don't have anything to talk about except scheduling a time to talk in person."

"Sad but true," concurred Joe.

"How about sometime next week?" asked Ozpin.

"Not a chance," Joe said, shaking his head. "Listen, you've got a secretary, right? I'll have mine get in touch with yours, work something out, 'kay?"

"You have a secretary?"

"I have a secretary bot. It's apparently the latest thing," bemoaned Joe. "It's not even a real robot; it's a computer program that nags you on your scroll. The future was supposed to be bright, Oz, not annoying."

"Yes, well, the latest thing in Vale is not to have secretaries at all," admitted Ozpin. "Though I have to admit that with Glynda running off to your kingdom, I might have to get one."

Joe heroically resisted the urge to groan. "Right then, this is going to be a bit of a nightmare."

"Maybe we'll be able to work something out after the election," mused Ozpin aloud. "How's that going, anyway?"

"Fairly well, actually. Thank goodness for small miracles, I guess," replied Joe. "Once I had those damn electronic voting machines melted down for good old fashioned metal ballots, that is."

"'Metal ballots'? Isn't that a bit primitive?" asked Ozpin with a curious note and what might have been humor.

Joe's eyes narrowed slightly. "I know that was a joke, but I still can't accept an insult from the profligate Valish upon my kingdom's systems."

Ozpin blinked in surprise. "Joe, you can't be serious. This meeting isn't being recorded, the encryption is the best we can get- you're Valish, for goodness' sake!"

"Good bye, Headmaster. Hopefully, we'll get to meet in person soon."

And with that, Joe cut the connection and sighed. He really was getting too old for this, too stressed. He was supposed to be holding it together, not lashing out like a damn boot.

Still, he had done just that. At least, it seemed, he had gotten some good information. That tone, that confusion at the end, meant that Ozpin was almost assuredly the same Ozma who had sent him off to war nearly a century prior. He had to be sure though. Really really sure. There was still a non-zero possibility that Ozpin could just be an imposter or a clone or just some random guy with a similar name who had gotten way over his head with the conspiracy nonsense.

Heh. If it was that last one, Joe felt that he could work with him even better then if it was Ozma. At least then, he'd be able to understand things on a more equal footing.

Still, it was probably Ozma, and he was just being paranoid, but it paid to be that way in their world these days.

He noticed a notification on the display in front of him and brought it up. Apparently Targeter was outside the door wanting to talk to him. Still, though she said it was urgent, she had still only opted for a silent notification.

Well, I can't fault her politeness, thought Joe before hitting the intercom for the door. "Come on in, Targeter."

Two guards were briefly visible as the doors swung open to allow Winter "Targeter" Schnee to walk in. She didn't look too different to how she normally did, but that wasn't saying much. The girl kept her emotions on a pretty tight leash.

As the doors closed, she snapped to attention and gave a salute. "Sir!"

"At ease, Specialist," he told her, and she relaxed slightly. "Let's skip to the chase. You're here about the energon you found literally flowing through Atlas's veins. Permission to speak freely granted. Let me have it."

Targeter's reply was simple and flat: "Why?"

"Hmm, guess I should have seen that coming," said Joe before standing up and walking closer to her. "Short answer? Knowledge about Cybertronians isn't exactly new on this world, but it's been a secret more closely guarded than simple things like magic or the living manifestation of every divorced man's fears. A secret research group in Mantle found one of their crashed ships during the last days of the war, and when I took over the occupation, that knowledge fell to me. We used the technology of these Non-Biological Extraterrestrials, as we called them, NBEs, to raise Atlas. It's Cybertronian anti-gravity technology and pure natural energon that keeps this place flying. Of course, it doesn't look like that at first; we spent a lot of effort covering things up so that no one would ever know how, only that the place was flying, which meant they could draw their own conclusions as to how."

"But... why, sir?" repeated Targeter. "Why go to all that trouble?"

Joe allowed himself a bit of a smile. "A couple of reasons. There's the one for public consumption: Atlas was to be a new beginning, a shining city on the hill, except we took the hill with us, a way for the old kingdom of Mantle to leave its dark past behind."

"And the real reason?"

Joe looked her in the eyes with that same smile. "You like fairy tales, Targeter?"

"Sir?"

"Ahh, blast it," cursed Joe, losing his composure and sticking his hands in his pockets. "The old man would ask what your favorite fairy tale was and go dancing around it all day. Straight facts. Salem is the immortal witch-queen of the Grimm. You've probably heard about her on the news, but what you haven't heard is that she's after a bunch of ancient relics created by the gods, one of which is the Staff of Creation. She wants to use it and the other relics to rule the world, or destroy it, or whatever crosses her mind this week to prove how evil and over her ex-husband she is. We had a different plan though. Okay, several plans. Original idea was to use the Staff to lift Atlas to do the whole 'new beginning' symbology I just mentioned, but this tech let us do it with something else."

Targeter looked thoughtful. "So that this Salem would still seek the Staff of Creation in Atlas, thinking that its power was responsible for its ascent."

And now Joe couldn't help but grin openly. "Bingo."

"So where is the Staff of Creation now?" asked Targeter curiously.

"Gone where she can't possibly get to it," answered Joe, not even bothering to hide his smug smile. "We strapped it on top of the biggest column of explosives we could make and set it off."

"What?! ...Ahem. Sir."

---

Whitley Schnee, son of Jacqus Schnee of the Schnee Dust Company, stalked through the dark alleyways of Atlas, his face hidden in the shadows of a hood. His destination was nowhere in particular. She would know where to find him. She always did.

"Whitley," came a familiar voice from behind him.

He turned and found her standing in the place he had just passed. She was tall, taller than him by at least a head or more, though he had never asked specifics. Her skin was a crisp brown, like the finest imported sugars. Her hair was gorgeous shades of purple with aquamarine highlights. And her eyes… her eyes were a strong blue that captivated his dreams, enthralled him, and made him want to follow her every whim and desire.

And she was smiling. By the gods, what a wondrous sight. It lit up his heart to see it.

"Starlight! I have good news!" he said excitedly.

She walked up to him, her shoes not making a single sound as she did so. "Oh, and what is that?"

"I've managed to divert more components for the production of Skylord airships to locations controlled by the Equalists," Whitley reported with the eagerness of a puppy learning a new trick.

"That's wonderful, Whitley! I told you your new position as heir of the SDC would pay off," the older woman huskily complimented him before coming close and grabbing hold with one arm around him and the dominant hand gripping his chin to bring his head up to face her looking down on him. "Now, that combined with my assured position on the council will allow us to do great things and bring true equality to the world. All we need is your father out of the way, and our positions will be secure."

There was some small part of Whitley's mind that let out a note of horror at the implication, that his own father should die by his machinations, but that part was ruthlessly annihilated by the other parts of his brain. There could be no room for doubt. He wouldn't allow it, not when Starlight was involved.

"I'll do anything for you, dear leader," answered Whitley, his voice subservient.

Starlight's smile grew thin and somehow more perfect. "~I know you will, Whitley.~"

There was a short sharp feeling, like something being sucked out of his soul, and Whitley let out a gasp. Starlight moved her hand from his chin, and he followed its very short trip with his eyes. A snowflake glyph appeared just above her fingers.

"Thank you, Whitley."

He blushed. She didn't need to thank him - whatever he had was hers, after all - yet still she did. That meant a lot to him.

He didn't even need his semblance, anyway. It was far more useful in Starlight's hands. She had said so, and she had been right.

Whitley wanted to stay there in her embrace all night, but she had a better idea.

"You need to go," she ordered softly, the glyph disappearing. "Your father's security chief will be back soon, right?"

"Yes, Wishbone will be here within a few hours," confirmed Whitley, his heart dropping.

"Then you better make sure you're not missed," she said as she released him from her grip, making him feel lesser for its passing. "Don't worry. We'll get to meet again very soon."

That made his heart soar again. Starlight Glimmer wanted to see him again. Him! Little unworthy Whitley Schnee! He had to make sure he had something for her next time they met.

After all, they were all in this to bring true friendship and equality into the world.

---

Lemon "Reverb" Zest held on for dear life as the eight-wheeled APC and attached trailer bounced through the forest on the way up to Beacon. The suspension seemed to be holding up quite well, but that didn't mean the occupants inside were. Though, admittedly, the designated Shadowbolt couple seemed to be holding up quite well.

"Eep! Don't let go!" pleaded Seal as she gripped her husband in a completely unnecessary move, considering the five-point harness she was wearing in her seat.

"Don't worry, honey, I got you," assured Maverick as he held under her from the seat next to her in an equally unnecessary move.

Lemon twisted her head around from where it had been glancing at the two lovebirds back to the dirt road they were traveling along, her graze sweeping across where Sour was driving the vehicle. She looked focused, completely in the moment and aware of everything that was happening on the road around her. That, and the fact that the control screens for the remote machine gun turret on top of the hull were still showing a fat lot of nothing for targets, allowed her to breathe a bit easier.

They finally hit a paved road and slowed down before turning onto it. It was a little indicator that Sour was indeed being careful, even if she did drive exceptionally fast. Not nearly as terrifying as Lemon's younger sister behind the wheel of a truck in mud season though. She was good, but Lemon still did not want to be in one of those articulated ore haulers when Pomelo turned them into a death-defying fear machine.

They rushed up along the road to Beacon, passing by several vehicles coming and going, until they reached the end. Driving through the parking lot, they eventually came to a spot where several other vehicles were being unloaded by volunteers and other students. They parked close to the unloading area, and a man in a reflective vest who looked like a civilian contractor ran up to them.

Sour kept the vehicle's combustion dust engine running and hit the emergency brake before opening the door. "One APC and trailer's worth of building material. I hope it helps."

"Thanks, Scarlet. You four better hit the hay while you still can," suggested the man. "Who knows the next attack could come?"

"Whenever it's least convenient. That's when," quipped Sour.

Lemon dropped out of the vehicle, and soon, the married couple followed. The four of them left the workers to their business and proceeded to walk towards the dorms and hopefully a place to lay their heads. Something, however, caught her eye, and she found herself tracking the new sight: a young Huntsman and Huntress - judging from their weapons, at least - stepping out of Beacon's infirmary building. Given their age, they were almost certainly students themselves, probably having just received bad news, considering where they'd emerged from and the way the green-haired Huntress clung sobbing to the dark-haired Huntsman's side.

Lemon felt the urge to help, to turn those frowns upside down. Once, she would have just jammed her headset on one of them with some rocking tunes, but... well... Twilight had been pretty good at explaining the need for a little restraint. Still, she couldn't just leave them like that, could she?

No, she couldn't.

She was already halfway toward them when she'd consciously made the decision.

"Hey," Lemon said as she slowed to a halt in front of them. "Trust me. It gets better."

The young Huntsman glowered at her, his face a thunderous stormcloud, while his companion tore her face away from his shoulder and glared at her with brown eyes, wearing an expression screaming that she had heard the same sentiment a thousand times already.

"What the hell do you know?!" the Huntress snapped. "You don't even know who we are."

"No," Lemon admitted, "but I'd like to. I'm Lemon Zest, from Team Scarlet of Atlas." She offered a friendly smile.

"Jack," the Huntsman said. "Jack Darby. This is Wallflower Blush. We're from Team Shadow."

Team Shadow? Lemon racked her brain, trying to recall if she'd ever seen them before.

"First-year Beacon team?" he added after a moment.

"Oh! Right!" Lemon said. They'd been in the Vytal Tournament, knocked out in the team round by Team JAMM. A ninja team, so she'd heard. She shook her head. "Sorry. You guys are..." - she paused as she considered how to salvage this - "really good at the whole ninja thing."

Jack growled. "We're not ninjas."

"I told you, Jack," Wallflower said. "Nobody cares about us."

"That's not true!" Lemon denied desperately.

"Is it?" Wallflower hissed. "Half our team is dead, and nobody even remembers their names! Come on, Jack. Let's go." With that, she took the lead, pulling Jack along and leaving a mortified Lemon in their wake.

"Well," Sour's voice came from behind her, "that-"

"Save it, Sour," she growled, holding up a hand. "I already know I screwed that one up."

"I can tell you how you screwed it up, though," offered Sour. "With citations too."

Lemon just stalked away in a different direction. "Can it. I don't need an essay from an unaccredited psychologist on how badly I messed things up. I definitely don't need you playing at being Twilight on top of that."

The sound of Sour's steps were shockingly vigorous, in that Lemon could hear her ninjitsu-trained friend at all as she caught up to her in front of Beacon Tower. "Oh don't pretend like if I had bent time to get my certification before finishing school that you actually would listen to me, or that if Twilight was actually here, you wouldn't be cross with her too."

"Come on, guys. Stop fighting!" objected Seal as she closed in on them. "Don't you guys remember? When we fight amongst ourselves in a non-competitive fashion, the Canterlotians win."

Lemon and Sour both turned around to stare at Seal's worried expression, and then they each turned towards the other.

Sour scratched the back of her head. "You can always try again late-"

"No," Lemon cut her off. "No, that's what the old me would have done. That's what Pinkie Pie would do. I'm getting better at figuring out when to leave well enough alone these days."

"Sometimes, that's just the wrong thing to say," offered a voice that Lemon had only heard in Vytal Tournament recaps.

She turned with the others to see a lewdly open-shirted man of blond description - Sun "King" Wukong, of course - alongside the roguishly-dressed visage of his teammate Neptune "Iceberg" Vasilias and their fellow Shadowbolts Blake and Weiss.

"Blake, Firebrand," greeted Sour Sweet, "how are you doing?"

"We just got back from a meeting with Lady Belladonna," answered Weiss primly.

"Oh, wow!" exclaimed Seal. "How did that go?"

"Well..." Blake began hesitantly.

"You're visiting Menagerie," declared Kali Belladonna, arms crossed.

"Yes, ma'am," Weiss responded, nodding agreeably.

"No," declined Blake, shaking her head.

Kali let out an aggrieved sigh. "Blake, why can't you be the obedient daughter for once? Like Weiss."

Blake stared. "Mom, are you... are you feeling well?"

"Better than our search for the other half of Team Sun," Blake finished.

"Oh no..." Seal said, hands going to her mouth in worry.

"I... I'm sure they're alright," Maverick said reassuringly.

At least Neptune isn't here, mused Scarlet David as he and his teammate, Sage Ayana, dangled, bound, over a tank full of sharks, being monologued at by a man with grayish skin, reddish eyes, and white hair, wearing a purple suit, crouched on the catwalk in front of them, knife in hand.

"-and this," the man hissed, "is what you get for messing with my business. Any last words?"

Scarlet's reply was to hock a blood-filled shot of spit into his face.

Seething, the man stood. "All right, then. I suppose you'll be sleeping with the fishes tonight after all." He turned and stormed away, hitting a switch before he left the room. "Ta ta!"

As the door shut behind the criminal, the chain holding the two Huntsman students began to lower them toward the tank.

"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into," commented Sage dryly.

"Sage, for once in your life, will you shut up and let me think?!" shouted Scarlet as they continued on their slow drop to oblivion.

"Sage and Scarlet are tough cookies," King said, waving off the concern. "They can take whatever the world throws at them."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've left us in the lurch," pointed out Iceberg. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Anyway," Blake said, "the headmaster summoned me and Weiss to his office, so we should really get moving."

"Indeed," Weiss agreed. "Another time."

With that, the two honorary Shadowbolts strode into Beacon Tower, leaving their boyfriends and Team SSCL in their wake.

"Soooooo," began Maverick to Iceberg in a tone that was almost confidential, "you and Weiss? When did that happen?"

"What?" asked Iceberg dumbly before shaking his head. "What? No. We're not together like that."

Sour blinked in surprise. "You sure about that?"

Lemon almost wished that her old friend would go and start jabbering about what her analysis of the situation was, just to find out what she thought of things.

As it turned out though, Sour was mostly racking her head trying to remember all the times she had seen Iceberg and Weiss together. It wasn't often, actually. Heck, at the dance, Iceberg had gone with Bladerider of all people. They spent so little time together, and almost none of it was where the Shadowbolts could see.

Still, she had heard things…

"Hey, guys!" greeted a strong male voice of the fatherly description belonging to a blond-haired man walking up alongside a red-haired faunus who was positively broody. "How's it hanging on the fly side?"

"Please stop talking," begged the red-haired guy.

"Haha!" laughed the blond. "No."

"Hey, Mister Xiao Long, and…" King trailed off. "Who are you?"

"The name's Adam," answered the gruff redhead.

"He's my long lost son!" helpfully supplied Mr. Xiao Long.

"I… it's complicated," replied Adam, as if giving up on something.

"Eh, sounds par for the course with the Xiao Longs," commented King with a shrug.

Introductions were quickly made, with everyone in the large group giving their names or callsigns for identification. It was during that time that something notable was realized. Well, it was something notable to some, at least.

"You know, this is the first time in two years I've been in a gathering where there were more men than women," Maverick pointed out with a strange smile.

"Have we really been that bad, Maverick?" asked Lemon jokingly.

"Hey, sometimes you just need some guy time," Maverick defended himself.

"Tell me about it," agreed King.

Iceberg rolled his eyes. "You'd have it if you stopped ditching us all the time, Sun."

"Look who's talking, you... smooth... talker... you."

"Thank you, I try," preened Iceberg.

"That really the case?" asked Adam.

"Well, every lady I've seen him with seems pretty happy," commented Maverick. "Even if, apparently, they don't count."

"Hey, Penny was hurting thanks to the blond dufus here, so I had to do what I could, and Weiss… all I ever wanted to do was make her smile," explained Iceberg with a melancholy note. "And it worked! So ha!"

"Hmm, I might have to ask you about it," mused Adam aloud. "After all, my luck with women has been pretty bad lately."

"Why not ask your old man for advice, son?" asked Mr. Xiao Long.

"Would you have asked your father about this sort of thing?" asked Adam in turn.

Mr. Xiao Long considered that for a moment, but it was Maverick that replied: "I certainly wouldn't have. This is more of a friendship problem."

"Dude, that sounds so corny," pointed out Iceberg.

"See?! See what I mean?! I've been around the ladies far too long," proclaimed Maverick excitedly.

A few feet away the ladies were starting their own conversation, beginning with Seal. "Why aren't they just asking us how to deal with women? I mean, we are women."

Lemon shook her head. "It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" asked Seal pitifully.

"I, um…" Lemon trailed off for a second before picking things up again. "Sakura, analysis!"

Sour looked back at her. "I'm not Sugarcoat. I can't just do that at the drop of a hat."

Seal just gave her puppy dog eyes while Lemon gestured to the guys' ongoing conversation.

"Ugh. Fine, I'll see what I can do," Sour said sourly as she crossed her arms and began to examine the men, particularly the brooding bad boy newcomer who, she wasn't ashamed to admit, looked like the sort of guy who could stumble into a woman and sweep her off her feet.

Maverick was... Maverick. Despite his occasional protestations about needing more male friends, he never seemed inclined to alter that state of affairs.

It was clear to Sour that King was an uncomplicated man. In her estimation, his assessment of Adam was... unreliable, to say the least. His teammate, Iceberg, was a little less of an open book. His charm was hiding something. Perhaps a self-esteem issue? Not relevant.

Mr. Xiao Long was an older man, of course, a Huntsman by trade, judging from how he moved. Or perhaps a Huntsman instructor, through she hadn't seen him around at Beacon this past semester. There was a hint of tragedy to him, though; it was a brave front over a hurting heart. Combined with his age and likely profession, he'd almost certainly lost someone.

That left Adam...

There was pain and anger there, but also regret and a hidden but heartfelt joy at fresh new emotional connections.

She'd seen this before: brooding bad boy criminal who's done some pretty terrible things in the past finds the love of a woman or a long lost family member and through that relationship gains the motivation to turn their life around. Friendship could also be a motivating factor, though, which meant the way he was hitting things off with the other guys was another positive indicator. Ideally, there would be multiple factors stacking on top of each other to make the choice to go straight more likely, but there would also be personality flaws and motivations to stick to the crooked and debauched path.

Something that could go either way though was Adam's clear desire to be lionized. Put simply, he wanted to be seen as a hero, and he could be led down one path or the other based largely on who was heaping praise upon him and who was delivering rebuke. It was an infantile way of thinking that spoke to a malformed childhood, and since his stand-up father apparently had just met him, that meant that his mother - or whoever had raised him - was responsible for that personality quirk and was probably someone who was distant or made her love conditional.

That would come with a tendency to become deeply attached to just about any emotional anchor, likely to an obsessive degree.

"We'd met through a, uh, a political action movement," Blake explained as they left the cafeteria. Somewhere along the line, after they'd settled on Weiss's - Firebrand's - callsign, the subject had turned to boys... and Blake's less-than-stellar history with them. "I thought he really cared about the cause, but then I realized... it wasn't the cause he cared about. It was the recognition. It made him feel good. I made him feel good. And when I doubted him..."

"Holy hammers," said Sour with wide eyes as realization struck her.

"What? What is it?" asked Lemon. "Are you ready to reveal your findings?"

"I think that's Blake's ex," elaborated Sour, nodding to Adam. In light of other recent events, she also had a feeling just which "political action movement" Blake had been talking about, but she could be wrong, and that wasn't important right now.

Seal's eyes went wide too. "Oh no! Didn't Blake say he was evil?" She reached for the concealed form of Close Enough. "We have to save the guys-"

Lemon stopped Seal's hand with her own. "Whoa there. Let's just play it cool."

"Right," Sour nodded, "and I'm all about cool."

"What? No. Sour!" hissed Lemon, but it was too late.

"Adam," Sour Sweet cut into the guys' conversation, her eyes studying him meticulously.

"What?" the redhead asked.

"Blake was wrong about you, wasn't she?" she said. "About your relationship with Yang, at least."

An eyebrow rose. "...what was she saying?"

Sour shook her head. "Unimportant," she said. That mental image was something she wouldn't want to inflict on Mr. Xiao Long. "What is important is that you move on. It would be better for your long-term health if you stopped obsessing over Blake."

Adam rolled his eyes. "I get enough of that from Yang, thank you, enough to get the message. I get it. Obsessing over her will ruin my life."

Sour shook her head again. He wasn't getting it. "No, I mean it would be better for your long-term health in that we won't feel obliged to hold you down while she breaks every bone in your body."

He winced. "That bad?"

"Son, she left you stranded on a train with a large amount of explosives and hostile androids in the middle of a Grimm-infested forest," Mr. Xiao Long said. "Your mother didn't do that to me."

"...point."

"Whoa, hold up," Sun sputtered. "You're Blake's ex? You're the obsessive manipulative bastard she's been raving on about?"

"What of it?" Adam asked guardedly.

Sun leaned in and squinted at him. "I mean... dude, I am not one to talk about 'obsessive,' but... I don't think you could manipulate yourself out of a wet paper bag. You come across as a painfully straightforward kinda guy."

"I don't know whether to be offended by that or to thank you for it," was Adam's stone-faced reply.

Sun glanced over at Mr. Xiao Long, then back to Adam. "And I'm pretty sure you're not sleeping with your sister."

"WHAT?!"

---

Yang felt a little... something, standing with her team and Team JNPR in the room Headmaster Ozpin had set aside as his office for the last few months. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but it felt weird, and she was wondering why Headmaster Ozpin had summoned them all here.

The headmaster walked back and forth in front of them with slow, measured paces.

"Almost a year ago," he began, "I welcomed you and your classmates to Beacon Academy. Some months ago, you - all of you - began planning and executing missions, taking upon yourselves responsibilities far beyond your years and status as mere first-year students."

He paused and turned to face them all.

"I told you then that, in my estimation, you were already Huntsmen, that only the secrecy of your missions held me back from making that step official. The time for such secrecy, however, is now over."

As realization set in, Yang's eyes widened, and she looked back and forth at the expectant looks on the faces of her sister, her teammates, and the members of Team JNPR.

He chuckled. "Yes, Miss Xiao Long, that includes you. From Optimus's testimony, your work with the Autobots has been just as exemplary as that of your teammates... though I'd recommend including them in any future ventures."

Yang flushed but refused to shrink back at the reminder.

"Additionally," he added, "it so happens that you're on record as completing your coursework on contract law through independent study. I highly recommend you ensure that that's true before it comes up in your new career as a Huntress."

Ozpin opened the book he held in his hands, though when he spoke next, it was with a long-practiced ease, the words clearly familiar and comfortable to him, with no need of the book, yet with an inflection that added a weight to his words.

"A Huntsman is sworn to valor,
His heart knows only virtue,
His blade defends the helpless,
His might upholds the weak,
His life shields all others,
His word speaks only truth,
His wrath undoes the wicked."

He paused, and at the cue, Yang spoke, only dimly aware of her teammates echoing her words, "I, Yang Xiao Long, swear by the Huntsman code as my own. I am hereby sworn to valor, to speak only the truth, to use arms to defend the helpless, to use might to uphold the weak, to die so that others may live. My heart knows only virtue. My wrath will undo the wicked."

Ozpin smiled and nodded, picking up again.

"The right can never die,
If one man still recalls.
The words are not forgot,
If one voice speaks them clear.
The code forever shines,
If one heart holds it bright.
'Til all are one."

"'Til all are one."

Ozpin closed the book shut before him, another part of the ritual, as he raised his scroll.

"Please, present your licenses," he instructed.

The eight students held up their electronic student licenses, and with an entered command, the digital documents were replaced with fresh new Huntsman licenses.

Yang looked down, and she saw that her license... looked almost exactly the same. The only difference was that instead of the text at the top saying "STUDENT LICENSE," it now read "HUNTRESS LICENSE," a tiny difference that mirrored the surprising lack of difference she felt. She was a Huntress now. Shouldn't she feel different now? More accomplished? And yet... aside from that banner across the top, her license still had the same text everywhere else. She even had the same Class C restrictions, whatever those were… and that was a terrible thing to forget that moment. She hoped that Ozpin didn't notice that.

She looked up and caught the headmaster's eyes.

He totally did!

Acting casually, Yang slipped her scroll back into her pocket.

"Well, I guess that's my schedule for the next three years freed up," Yang declared with a chuckle as she put her hands behind her head. "That's it, right? No boot to the head or anything?"

Ozpin sighed. "Sadly, the ceremonial giant boot that is used to kick students off campus when they graduate was destroyed in the fighting. Rest assured, though, that it will be replaced, and I will be wearing it in time for the regular graduation ceremony. This time, it will be steel-toed."

It was hard to tell if he was joking or not.

Jaune let out a nervous laugh. "Well, good thing we won't be around for that."

Ozpin smiled. "So that you don't feel left out, Mister Arc, I could-" He was interrupted by a ringing like that from a scroll. "Excuse me for a moment. I need to take this."

Ozpin walked over to his desk and hit a command on his keyboard to reveal…

"OZPIN!"

"Ah, First Minister Novo, what a pleasant surprise!"

The holographic display of the traditional leader of the Vale Regency Council growled. "I thought we talked about doing things by the book, Ozpin."

"I think we'll let you be for now," declared Ruby softly as she directed everyone towards the elevator.

"Who was that?" asked Novo, the camera feed on her end evidently not allowing her to see them. "Is that Ruby Rose? You're that student that ran into the middle of that three-way firefight at the docks and got shot for her trouble, right?"

There was a note of strangled outrage from Ruby's voice, and she started pushing them. "Okay, we're getting out of here!"

"I knew it!" realized Novo. "A word of advice, Ruby. Stop doing stuff like that, or you'll end up just like Ozpin here: a loose cannon on the edge who thinks the rules don't apply to him."

"Listen, Madam Councilor, Grimm hunting is a complicated profession. We-"

The sound of the impending argument cut off with the closing of the elevator doors.

Ruby let out a relieved sigh. "We made it. A few more seconds, and they would have been confiding their deepest secrets with me, and that would be terrible."

"You have an interesting definition of 'terrible,'" mused Blake aloud.

Yang glared at her. Was she still peeved? Yes, yes she was. How could she not when Blake clearly hadn't learned anything?

Blake, as it turned out though, had learned a great deal. She had learned to center herself, to focus, to push beyond the barriers of the mind. It was that keen insight that allowed her to perceive that Yang had been hiding something from them this whole time, and she had been right.

Now, of course, Ruby had decided to welcome her back with open arms, and… well, Blake didn't really trust it. It might have been hypocritical of her, considering her own situation, but she hadn't been literally sleeping with the enemy while at Beacon. And Adam was the enemy; there was no doubt about that.

What they needed to do was strap Yang down and get her deprogrammed. The only issue was broaching the topic in a way that would actually make it happen. When she had asked Ozpin about it earlier, he had just told her to stop worrying so much.

When the elevator finally stopped, allowing them to step outside, she only took a half-step out before instinctively backing up, eyes wide, hand groping for Gambol Shroud.

He was wearing sunglasses instead of his mask. Had the battle gutted their security so much, thrown them into such disarray, that a pair of sunglasses were enough for him to slip through here? Into the very heart of Beacon?

She trembled. Beacon was supposed to be safe.

Blake was distantly aware of a swirl of rose petals bursting past her to impact the blond man standing next to him, but her focus was entirely on him. On Adam.

And even as Yang sauntered up to him, acting all friendly, Blake remembered who was behind her, and that realization broke her out of her paralysis.

"Weiss, run!" she called as she bolted forward, drawing Gambol Shroud and sending the weapon lashing out at Adam Taurus.

She liked to imagine his eyes widening behind those sunglasses as she brought her cleaver down toward his face, but the blade stopped short with a ringing impact.

Blake jumped back and looked incredulously at the betrayal. "Yang?"

"Stop," the blonde ordered, the blade from Ember Celica still extended. "It's okay, Blake. He's my brother."

Are you truly that far gone, Yang?

"Yang," she said desperately, "I know there's a kinship to be found in the White Fang, but-"

"No, Blake," Yang cut her off, "I mean literally, he's my brother. Well, half-brother."

"It's true," the blond man said, shifting his grip on Ruby, who had latched onto his arm.

"They have the same mom!" Ruby chirped.

"Biological mother, anyway," corrected Yang.

Blake tried to wrap her head around the new information as it assaulted her senses. She tried to make sense of it, but nothing was fitting together. It was just... nonsense.

"Your brother," she said finally, numbly.

Ruby nodded emphatically. "Our brother."

"Adam Taurus - leader of the Vale White Fang and my human-hating ex - is your brother." Surely, she was mistaken about what she'd heard.

Ruby kept nodding. "Uh huh."

Blake felt herself swaying slightly before darkness consumed her.

The gathered group looked down at Blake where she lay unconscious on the floor.

"She took that very well, all things considered," observed Adam.

---

Author's Note 1 (Cyclone):

Regarding Horatio Ironwood, Cody chose the name, though he wasn't sure why beyond it sounding "old-timey," but I figured it was perfect that a name that's so associated with the Age of Sail - an age of wooden ships and iron men, as I've heard it called - be the name of an Ironwood.

We've actually had the dialogue for that ending scene written for quite some time. Hope the mood whiplash isn't too bad. It felt wrong to ignore Blake's trauma, but we wanted to end it on a bit of a lighter note, so we went with "overwhelmed with new information" instead. Other scenes that were almost entirely prewritten when we actually started work on this chapter include the opening Velvet scene and the Megatron and Cinder scene.

Something that does seem to continue happening, though, is my tendency to pop out short, snappy scenes quickly, in one or two sittings, while struggling mightily with longer scenes. Quite a few scenes in this chapter were written in single sittings.

One other note, by the way? Just because most of the secrets and lies are finished doesn't mean they all are. After all, everybody lies.

---

Author's Note 2 (Cody MacArthur Fett):

Here's a bit of fun for you readers. Go back check every single instance where Starlight Glimmer and Whitley Schnee have been mentioned before in this story by others, and then compare those to how they are actually depicted when they appear here. Try to figure out which character struck closer to the mark.

Quite a few of the scenes, and even some dialogue, got moved around before posting. For instance, Sour Sweet's psycho analysis of Adam? That was originally from Lennox's perspective. However, we realized that it fit better from Sour's perspective, since she's actually a psychologist, and so it was moved.

Also, at several points we asked the people on Discord what they wanted to see looked in on before the volume closed out, and that resulted in… a lot fewer scenes than we expected, actually. Still, I hope we didn't miss any though.

Not that this is the end, of course. In fact, one could make the argument that this is only the beginning.

---

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---

Standing in the throne room of Evernight Castle, Emerald Sustrai knew fear. It had taken her, Hazel, and Mercury quite some time to return, for the dark continent of Drachyra was not easily traversed, less so for those bereft of resources as they had been when they fled Vale in the confusion of the battle, and yet, they had managed to beat Cinder here. With Hazel bowing and departing, that left her and Mercury to report their actions in Vale to their dark mistress directly. Their actions? No, their failure.

Oh, yes. Emerald knew fear, and its name was Salem.

Finally, fear spoke. "Your reports are... concerning. I am aware of these transformers, of course, but I find it troubling that it is only now that I learn the extent of how they have interfered with operations in Vale. Unfortunate too, as I have a response to them that I would have deployed had Cinder seen fit to keep me properly informed. Follow me." She turned and began walking to a side door.

Emerald glanced at Mercury to her left, and wordlessly, they followed their dark mistress through unfamiliar hallways - past a heated argument between Dr. Watts and an unfamiliar cyborg - until they finally emerged into open sky, but Salem kept walking. There were Grimm, of course - this was Evernight Castle, after all - but when it was clear their mistress had no need of them, they turned back to milling around, all save a particularly large Deathstalker that seemed entirely disinterested in them. Down a winding path they went, descending into a well-hidden cleft into rocky ground. Soon, the cleft became a tunnel, and in the darkness, Emerald began losing all sense of time and direction, only the sight of Salem's back serving to guide her.

Eventually, they emerged into the open again, and Emerald stared.

There were Grimm there. To be fair, there were Grimm everywhere on Drachyra, but these...

"I've... never seen Grimm like these before," she said wonderingly.

"And beyond these, you never will," Salem declared as she reached up to pet the smallest of these strange Grimm on the head.

There were six of them, each different. Though the one Salem was petting was the smallest of them, it still stood as tall as a Beowolf, leaner, but likely just as massive, for its posture had it leaning forward, a tail offering a counterbalance. It had rows of sharp teeth in its maw and claws on its forelimbs, but the huge, wicked-looking claws it bore on its feet were clearly its main weapons. With its build and posture, this was a Grimm built for pouncing on its prey and eviscerating them.

One resembling a Nevermore circled the sky above, but its wings lacked feathers, more like a Ravager's wings, and it had a very long and pronounced beak.

Three others were quadrupedal, each at least as massive as a Goliath. One had bony plates along its back that served no purpose Emerald could see and spikes on its tail. Another boasted a trio of horns and a bone crest that protected its neck. The third was easily the largest, towering over everything, with its long neck and tail seemingly the only weapons it needed.

The last one slumbered. It appeared to be bipedal, with powerful legs and a head easily five feet long. Its arms were short, stubby affairs, but given the size of its mouth, Emerald doubted it needed them.

Mercury scoffed. "They're big, but I've seen bigger. Like that Leviathan at Vale."

"Power is measured in more than size," Salem admonished. "Unlike any other Grimm, these... resisted my bidding." She gestured at the slumbering Grimm biped. "Even now, after millennia of effort breaking down their will, this one still fights my control. Awaken, my titan, and serve."

The sleeping giant stirred, looking around as if to get its bearings, before locking its gaze on the three humans before it... assuming Salem was human; Emerald wasn't sure about that. It threw its head back and roared, the force of the sound itself causing Emerald's teeth to chatter, and a massive gout of flame erupted from its mouth, stabbing into the sky. She jerked back in surprise as the Grimm suddenly lunged toward them with frightful speed for a creature its size. It opened its mouth just long enough to reveal rows of teeth like steak knives the size of bananas before snapping its jaw shut inches from Salem's face. The sheer force of the bite on thin air blew Emerald's hair back.

And then... it spoke.

"You... no... control... Grimm… lock."