The new suicide squad is really dope, def recommend. Just fair warning that it certainly deserves its R rating for violence.

Bishop did not want to admit it, but if he was going to win—or survive—then he would need to confront the truth:

He had met his match. Or worse.

He barely managed to block in time as Cinder slashed down; the hungry flames that coated her sword fell upon and engulfed him. His fire-retardant suit kept back the burns, but he was still sweating like a pig in the summer sun beneath his armor.

Around them the ruins of the headmaster's office smoldered. Cinder's flames and even his own launched from Rubra Mors had scorched and blackened every surface. The ash crunched under their feet with every step.

Breathe deep. Hold.

It felt like his eyeballs were being burned by lit matches.

Release.

He launched himself forward and swung more quickly than just about any human could hope match. Cinder Fall, however, was not any human. She raised her blades in time to deflect his swing.

Just as Bishop had planned. Only a few seconds into the fight he analyzed her abilities and tailored his counter. His semblance gave him all the time he needed for that—so long as he could concentrate through the quickly growing pain in his eyes.

When Cinder tried to deflect his strike, he followed through, pivoted and jammed his knee into her gut with enough force to twist a steel beam like a plastic straw.

She gasped and flew backwards, crashing into the wall. Bishop raised his sword into a guard position—

Just in time for her to rocket back out and slam her own blades against his own. Bishop grimaced as he held back her new attack. Cinder smiled.

There was something wrong with her. He had never sensed this kind of raw power from her before. Whatever it was that she found here…

"Ha!" Bishop shouted and threw his weight into a frontal push, sending her careening back once more into the wall. She smashed into and cracked the cement there. Bishop growled, having hoped she would have shot through the wall entirely.

Cinder quickly hopped forward and, in one fluid motion, she turned her sword to dust, reconstituted them into a bow and arrow, notched the arrow, pulled back and fired. All in less than a second.

The arrowhead slashed through the air, heading directly for the bulbous eye socket in Bishop's mask.

Bishop caught the arrow midair in one hand. He gripped it hard and shattered the obsidian-like projectile, then angrily threw the scraps aside. "Just tell me what I want to know!"

Cinder scoffed. "You're wasting your time."

"Stop resisting!"

"How pathetic," she said with a sneer. "You really can't handle when things don't go your way, do you?"

"Rah!" Bishop swept out with Rubra Mors, cutting a line for her stomach so he could gut her like a fish.

Cinder summoned an obsidian dagger and deflected his attack.

"Rah!" Bishop followed instantly with a downwards chop, like a butcher cutting off a pig's head.

Cinder raised the dagger and blocked his attack. Rubra Mors imbedded itself into the blade, which cracked under the power. For a moment, Cinders arms shook as she held back his strength.

She kicked Bishop firmly in the gut, throwing him back.

He was starting to get angry.

"We could have done great things together"– Cinder summoned another curved and barbed sword –"but I suppose you can't be friends with fanatics for long."

Bishop raised his sword. "God I hate you," he spat.

The two combatants circled, both with weapons raised, glaring at one another. They each made their plans, thinking how they could end this fight quickly.

Cinder needed him dead, or at least maimed enough so he couldn't follow her as she accomplished her next objective. Her eyes glanced past Bishop for a second, to the very edge of their arena. The ruined headmaster's office had been surrounded by large windows. Those were now well and truly shattered, exposing a drop of many stories.

Bishop needed her dead. He needed to kill her. He could figure out her secrets somehow else. He was going to kill her right here and now. Because she dared to defy him like this, in a way that no one else on Remnant thus far had. He could not handle the concept of one random person standing in the way of his crusade.

"Come on," Cinder said. "I though you were the best?"

Bishop wasn't stupid. He knew that she was just trying to get on his nerves.

"Didn't you tell me once that you were inspired on your path by your father? By the gods, it's a good thing he can't see you fail here."

Breathe deep. Hold.

Time slowed for Bishop. His vision blurred both as his strained eyes got watery and as he furiously focused on her and her alone. He had nearly cut through her dagger, a fact that now stood out to him as the key to victory. Her swords could not possible match his own durasteel.

Release.

Bishop shot forward with all the strength he could muster. It was a reckless, brutal, mean, fatal attack.

This was a strike unlike any other he had unleashed on her yet. He channeled a frightening and furious blast of aura into his dark blade. He drove his muscles to their aching limit. He swung the blade across as she tried to block.

Her sword shattered.

Even as Cinder bent back, the sword flashed up to her face. Her eyes widened. For the first time in a long time, death came near.

It did not come close enough. Rubra Mors scraped by her cheek, momentarily cutting through her aura and puncturing skin. Blood was drawn, but it was far from fatal.

Bishop stumbled past, unable to halt his own momentum.

"Bastard!" Cinder yelled as she summoned a ball of flame in her bare hand. She clenched her fingers into a fist around this flame, and she threw out a fire punch directly into his face.

Glass shattered, plastic smoldered and metal warped as his helmet crunched before her knuckles. An acrid smoke fumed out as it all burned.

Bishop careened back as her punch smashed into his mask. He flew back, crashed into the ground and tumbled away—right out of one of the windows. Below him suddenly there was only air, and he plummeted.

When Ruby found Blake, she nearly had a heart attack. Her friend had been crouched behind a tree, taking cover. Scratches, grime and bruises covered her.

"You!" she yelled, slamming into her teammate. Blake gasped as Ruby flung herself into her, plowing both of them down to the ground.

"You! Stupid!" Dealing with a confusing mix of anger and relief, she was not very eloquent.

"Ruby! I—"

"Come on!" Ruby threw herself back up to her feet and dragged Blake with her. "Stupid! We're getting back to the others! Now!"

"Yes, but—"

"No buts!"

"The Enclave!" Blake said. "It's them, they're here."

A ghostly, cold hand wrapped its fingers around Ruby's heart and squeezed.

"It's true," she said. "Shouldn't be surprised, considering they bombed the stadium…"

"They…"

"But they're not working with the White Fang," Blake said. "At least not anymore."

"I…" Ruby rubbed her face with her robotic hand. The hard metal felt uncomfortable, but it helped wake her up a bit from her stupor. "How do you know? That they're not working together?"

"Because one of them literally stabbed Adam in the back," Blake said, casting her eyes aside. "He… he's something else now. Maybe dead."
"Maybe?"

"He got ganged up on by some of the Enclave, and I'm not sure if he can beat them. It might be fifty-fifty, but I can't be sure." Blake stumbled towards the wall and leaned against it. "I… I really thought that one last try… or if not, then maybe I could be the one too…"

"It's…" Ruby took a deep breath. She held it for a second, then a second longer. She let it go in a long, tired sigh. "We just have to focus on what we do now, alright?"

She ran her hand back through her sweaty hair and considered things.

"Okay… we just need to get back to the airfield. I told the others to go there, too. We get back there, tell Miss Goodwitch and everybody that the Enclave are here and that we should really just go now."

"Sounds like a good plan," Blake said. She stepped forward and winced, placing a hand over her side. "Think I might have a cracked rib or two…"

"I'll help you get back," Ruby said, supporting her friend by an arm. "It'll probably hurt if you're injured but with my semblance we—"

Ruby's scroll buzzed aggressively. She had changed her notifications back on the bullhead ride for this emergency, meaning she would only be alerted if it was a call or text from someone in RWBY, JNPR or Qrow. She slipped out her scroll and answered the call from Pyrrha.

"Hey Pyrrha," she said, "something wrong?"

"Is Jaune with you all yet?" she asked.

Ruby's heart skipped a beat.

"What do you mean?"

"What?" Pyrrha asked. "Jaune said he was going to meet with you guys, didn't you get his call?"

"No," Ruby said. She hastily checked her messages on her scroll and confirmed that nothing had come her way from Jaune. "No, no he didn't call."

"Well he told us he was heading over to you guys!"

"Where are you? Where are you right now?"

"Nora, Ren and I are waiting at the airfield, where Jaune told us to fall back to." Now Ruby could hear the panic begin to slip into her voice. "If he's not with you then—"

"I'll be there in a sec!" Ruby said, then hung up on her. There's was no time to waste.
"Come on!" She said as she got hold of Blake.

"What? What's going on?"

"I've got to get you somewhere safe first," Ruby said. Her heart beat in her chest, swelling with fear. She forced herself not to think of all the awful possibilities. That what's he would do.

"Then I need to find my stupid boyfriend."

Jaune was in a predicament. On his back was strapped an extremely powerful rifle that harnessed the power of lightning bolts. In his hand was two of the most powerful weapons on the planet. Neither, however, could he use.

He dodged back as Arthur swung his hammer at his head; one good hit with that would crack open his skull like a can of dog food.

The problem was that he had no time. Arthur's aggression forced him into an active defense of dodging and deflecting. He could not spare a moment to take Crimson Arc off his back or to unlock and reach into the box in his off hand.

Jaune threw said box behind him and held Crocea Mors in both hands. The important thing for now was to survive the threat before him. Arthur was one of the deadliest foes he had faced on Remnant; this fight, however, would not be so one-sided as the one at the docks.

For starters, Jaune had not recently awakened from a concussive nap. He also had months more training.

Arthur swept up with his hammer, breaking Jaune's guard for a moment; he then geared back his left hand, preparing the power first to strike him right in the gut.

As he punched however, Jaune drew his right hand back down—tentatively holding Crocea Mors in his left—and caught the punch dead on. The power fist rammed into his palm with a meaty thwump. He winced from the pain, knowing his aura was the only thing stopping every bone in his hand from shattering (although his wrist would be sore and his hand would be stinging for days). At least now had a brief advantage.

Jaune gripped the fist he had caught and pulled. Arthur stumbled forward just as Jaune ferociously brought up a knee into the man's gut. He let out a raspy gasp as Jaune pumped out all the air in him.

Arthur would not let himself be slowed down. He took another step forward and drove his head into Jaune's own. His metal helmet crashed into Jaune's forehead, bruising and cutting open skin. Jaune stumbled away, bleeding with a fresh wound.

"Rah!" Arthur fought through the pain in his abdomen and send his hammer in an upwards swing, aiming to smash Jaune's jaw.

His target, however, stepped back just in time and clumsily swung Crocea Mors at his arms. Arthur in turn pulled away before the saw blade could hit him.

Jaune backpedaled more, mind whirring with ideas. He would need to get crafty, just as the Wasteland had taught him. The Wasteland. The environment. One's surroundings can be surprisingly deadly, especially when utilized by a foe.

Jaune deflected every swing while retreating. While he focused on Arthur's attacks, he glanced to the sides, searching for possibilities.

Arthur stepped back and wound his hammer behind him, preparing for a wide-sweeping horizontal swing. The attack was obviously choreographed.

Beacon had not taught him this, but it was something he had picked up. When people who are very skilled and know better than to make obvious and slow attacks do prepare to make those attacks—they're faking it. They want you to do the easily predictable response to their attack, for one reason or another.

So instead, of dodging further back and getting breathing room like he had just been doing, Jaune took his finger off Crocea Mors's trigger. He grabbed the blade with his left hand and pivoted sideways to face the attack head-on.

He held his sword up and and blocked the head of the sledgehammer. The direct hit sent shockwaves up his arms, which almost buckled from the force that put a jackhammer to shame. Jaune kept just firm enough a footing not to fall but otherwise let the attack's momentum send him retreating in a new direction.

When that happened, he realized Arthur's plan. Jaune had been merely a few feet in front of the garden's pool, which was ringed with a low wall of bricks about a couple feet tall. Had Jaune dodged back from the attack, he surely would have tripped over the wall and sprawled out on his back in the pool. He would have been a goner.

Arthur growled and hefted his hammer, reorienting himself to attack again. Now there was some distance between the two, giving them each a moment to prepare.

From this new angle, however, Jaune noticed something. He glanced past Arthur and saw something not too far away. Beyond the garden, a couple of beowolves were playing tug-of-war with a corpse; in their squabbling, they hadn't noticed two duo's vicious fight.

Jaune kicked the pool's brick wall, shattering a few bricks and dislodging several from their mortar. He picked up a brick and threw himself back as the ever-aggressive Arthur charge him again.

Jaune hefted the brick and hurled it at Arthur's head as hard as he possibly could.

Arthur jerked his head to the side and the brick whizzed by, tumbling through the air far past its target. Arthur gave it no attention, instead taking advantage of how Jaune had left himself open.

He swung at Jaune's sword as he raised it, aiming straight for the hilt. The attack hit home before Jaune could pull back. He only held Crocea Mors in one hand, while Arthur used both of his and his body weight to power his swing.

Jaune's chainsword flew right out of his hand.

"Fuck you!" he screamed, trying to make himself as loud as possible. "You bastard!"

"Ha!" Arthur barked out a laugh and swung for Jaune again, not letting up the defensive. Jaune made sure to keep retreating straight backwards.

"You bastard! I'll kill you!" Jaune shouted at the top of his lungs, running his throat raw with how loud he tried to be.

He kept loudly cursing and yelling as stepped back and dodged Arthur's swings.

Arthur gripped his sledgehammer near the head and unleashed a short swing, which jaune avoided. However, that swing proved to be nothing more than a wind-up for a punch from his power fist. He let go of his hammer with his specially-armed left hand and swung back, now sending his fist straight out. He overextended, hurling himself forward and off balance. But it worked.

Arthur's power fist slammed into Jaune's chest. It hurled him back by several yards and instantly set his ribs aflame with pain. He fell on his back, out of breath and almost paralyzed with shock from the hit.

"Oh how the mighty fall," Arthur taunted, "Now we—"

He was unable to finish that sentence, for a beowolf pounced on him from behind.

Arthur cried out in surprise as the creature threw itself onto him. The monster chomped down on his head, stopped only by the strong steel of the helmet and Arthur's own aura.

"Rah!" Arthur bucked and threw the creature off of him, trying to rise on one knee.

It was then that the second beowolf came upon him. It clamped its jaws one Arthur's arm and threw him down to the ground. Arthur yelled and flailed viciously as his sledgehammer skidded away.

Forced to the ground, Arthur kicked out viciously, sending one of the beowolves skittering away and giving him just enough room to try and get to his feet. "Gah!" he cried out in pain as a beowolf bit down on his shoulder, piercing his aura and armor alike with jagged teeth. He brought his power fist around and finally getting in a good hit on the monster.

Arthur shattered the beowolf's mask with his fist at the same time as he forced himself up to his feet and threw the creature away. The other beowolf lunged for his back, snarling. It tumbled into Arthur, bringing them both down; quickly it reared up on his hind legs and thrust down a paw onto Arthur's back. It broke through his aura and drove vicious claws through his armor and into his skin. The monster draw the claws down, slicing through flesh and leaving deep cuts in Arthur's back.

He screamed, but he wouldn't allow himself to die. He but down the pain, pressed both hands against the ground and pushed back up with all his strength. The beowolf fell off his back and Arthur turned around to face it.

The monster snarled and lunged for him. Arthur brought both hands above his head and slammed them down straight on the beowolf's muzzle midair, pounding it straight into the ground and shattering its skull.

The creature still growled and twitched with life. Arthur forced himself to his feet and stomped down into the thing's head, turning it to mush. It started crumbling to dust.

Arthur then turned to make sure the other Grimm was dead, but stepping to do that made him stagger. He looked down and saw blood flowing from wounds in his leg. Similar slashes covered his chest and soldier. The surprise attack was not fatal, but it was brutal. The real danger was—

He barely registered a flash of bright light before the hot energy struck him in the chest. The bolt of lightning crashed into his aura, charred his uniform and seared his skin. He flew back and tumbled to the ground.

Jaune scowled. This would be it. He knew what he was going to do.

He gripped the dial at the side of Crimson Arc, a knob which controlled the power of the lightning blast. Jaune pressed it in and cranked it as far as it would go.

Just as Arthur forced himself to his feet again, Jaune pulled the trigger once more. This time, he did not let go.

Where there was nothing, there was suddenly light; angry, hot, burning white light. It lit the whole garden clear as day, and a deafening clap boomed through the air. Crimson Arc released from the tesla coil in its heart an attack just as brutal as a true bolt of lightning straight from a thunderstorm.

It hurled Arthur back until he smashed right into one of the smaller trees around the garden. Errant bolts of electricity shot out and singed the tree's leaves and branches even as he was cooked as well. Jaune kept his finger on the trigger. The electricity petered out but persisted after the initial strike, a steady stream of furious energy that ripped Arthur's aura into confetti and forced him to convulse uncontrollably.

It lasted only a few second, as the electric dust in Jaune's last capsule could only fuel so much at this pace. Nevertheless, it did its job.

The electricity suddenly ceased to be as the tesla coil ran out of food and every last speck of electric dust was devoured. Crimson Arc was hot in Jaune's hands, almost scalding. Smoke drifted up from the muzzle, which had turned red with heat.

Jaune strapped the rifle to his back and dashed for Crocea Mors. When he hefted the sword, its chains rattled excitedly. The nasty weapon knew what was about to happen, and it loved it. Jaune himself was not so giddy, but dark resolve filled him.

He stalked towards Arthur. His enemy could not muster the strength even to stand; that did not stop him from trying. He got his knees, wobbled, and then fell face-first.

Jaune approached him in silence. One step after the other. He did not look around him. He did not pay attention to anything else. All the hate, purpose and pain of the Wasteland came back to him.

"You're nothing…" Arthur rasped. "You"- he tried to stand again, only to fall back –"you won't live… another day." His voice was weak, shaky and plagued by panting.

"The mutie will kill you and make it hurt," Arthur said as Jaune stood before him. Then he bowed his head in tired defeat.

"Bishop? I'll take care of him." For the first time in a long time, Jaune believed himself. Bishop was stronger than Arthur, certainly, but this was proof of his own strength. He glared down at his defeated foe. Dark possibilities came to him. His breath quickened from sheer anticipation and angry excitement. This was revenge. He gripped his sword so tightly it shook in his grasp.

"You…" Arthur feebly raised his hand to point at Jaune.

He pulled the trigger on Crocea Mors, brought the sword up and swung it down all in one well-practiced motion. The chainsword's black teeth tore through Arthur's flesh and bone.

Arthur's hand fell to the ground, accompanied by a spray of blood.

"Gah!" the Enclave monster recoiled, desperately trying to preserve what little pride he could die with and stopping himself from screaming. Shock, adrenaline and the death of hope stomped down on him. All he could do was grab his shredded stump of a wrist and wait for it to end.

"There!" Jaune screamed. A sudden blast of anger overwhelmed him, a mix of hot and violent emotion that had been stirring since the fight began. "You deserve that!"

"To hell with you!" Arthur spat back.

"What was that?" Jaune asked. He knelt down, grabbed Arthur helmet and tore it off, breaking the straps that kept it connected to his armor. He looked down on Arthur's old and battered face. "Say that again!" he said, hefting Crocea Mors.

Arthur scowled up at him in defiance. "Scum…"

"Scum?" Jaune let out an almost hysterical laugh from. "That all you have to say? Huh?"

"You're no better than the rest of the savages," Arthur said, "Just better at killing!"

"Killing? Well yeah, yeah you got that right!" A demented half-smile came on Jaune's face. This revenge and the violence that came with it was proving cathartic. It sucked him in, made him unaware of everything around him and brought about the animalism deep inside each person.

Just as, when one is standing beside a sheer drop and feels a bizarre draw to jump in, so too did Jaune experience a cruel pull. A call to action. It overtook him.

"Yeah, I am a killer! And you know what? You know what?! I'm not going to say sorry for it this time!" He raised Crocea Mors over his head. "I've killed just about everything that's walked or crawled; hell, I even killed a couple of fucking kids! Kids!" He remembered their haunting images perfectly. This time, their ghastly memories did not phase him. If anything, it fueled his anger all the more. "I blew them to pieces! And now—!"

"Jaune!"

He brought Crocea Mors down, finger pulling back on the trigger. Its angry roar was all he heard; Arthur's defeated face, all he saw. He swung the chainsword straight into that face, splitting Athur's head open and spraying blood, brain, flesh and bone all over.

He pulled Crocea Mors away and savagely stomped down into the remains of Arthur's head—once, twice, three times. He made a sickening mush like roadkill. He stepped back. He spat on the corpse.

"Good fucking riddance," Jaune said as he turned around.

It felt like his soul slipped out of his body when he saw Ruby standing there.

She looked at him, eyes wide and full of horror. She saw him, covered in blood, having just brutally killed the defeated opponent on the ground before him.

Jaune could not think of a single thing to say. He could not think of a single thing, period. He himself was hit like a sledgehammer by the awful reality of what just happened. He was exposed.

Ruby shook her head. She could say nothing either. She stepped back.

Jaune tried to step forward.

Ruby turned and ran. In an instant, she became a red blur that streaked away. Impossible to catch.

"No!" Jaune shouted hoarsely.

"No!" he hopelessly repeated.

"It's not what it looks like!" He screamed out that lie as loud as he could, even though she certainly was not listening.

"I…" his voice became quiet as he panted and slowed down to a stop. "I didn't…" He didn't know how he could possibly finish that sentence in way that could be true. "I just—"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" asked a voice. It held a light, menacing and refined tone. The sound of it made Jaune's eyes shoot open in horror.

He spun around and brandished Crocea Mors. Bishop smiled.

"Well, at least I get a reconciliation prize," Bishop said. Despite smiling, his eyes were filled only with focused hate. Those eyes were now completely, painfully bloodshot.

Blood dribbled down Bishop's face from a cut above his temple and mixed messily with the sheen of sweat covering his face. He bled from his nose as well, and that seeped down into his mouth and turned his teeth red, making his smile all the more grotesque. He brought a hand up and rubbed one twitchy, bloodshot eye.

"I hoped this would happen," he said, "fate is one my side…"

Bishop noticed then the dead body behind Jaune. His eye twitched.

"Murderer. Another one of my men fell to a cockroach like you…" his voice trailed off. Awful recognition came to him as he looked at the body.

Bishop's smile fell.