AUTHOR'S NOTES: Whew! Making up for the long delay in the last chapter, so here's the next one, with Pyrrha taking Ruby's place in the speech. The chapter hopefully doesn't seem too rushed, but there was a lot of ground to cover.

This will be the last talky chapter for awhile, as we move into the last few chapters of this story arc, and the conclusion of Season 8. Yep, the fight between the heroes and Cinder and Neo is about to begin. What will happen to Ruby and her flight? To Pyrrha? To Penny? Guess we're going to find out. And with RTX this weekend, I might just figure out where a potential "On RWBY Wings VI" will go...

SACEUR Forward Headquarters

Near Zielona Gora, Poland

5 September 2001

"It's kind of a bad time, yes," James Ironwood answered Rissa Arashikaze. "I'm dealing with a nuclear detonation, one of the people I trusted the most lied to me and disobeyed an order, and I've got backbiting among what subordinates I have left. So yes, if this could wait, that would be wonderful."

Arashikaze hesitated, and Ironwood was surprised to see reluctance on her face. "I'm afraid it can't."

"Fine," Ironwood sighed. "What is it?"

"I need the Commando Solo."

He laughed derisively. "Why didn't you just take it, Rissa? That's what you do, right? You bring in Team Metal to recover JINN and Oscar Pine without even informing me, you allow Colonel Higurashi to release Yang Xiao Long, Lie Ren, and Pyrrha Nikos from custody—and allow Yang to go on the mission. For all I know, you ordered Winter Schnee to release Qrow Branwen from prison!" His voice rose to a shout. "Why don't you just take the Commando Solo, Rissa, like you've taken everything else!"

She withstood the tirade without a word, then waited silently for him to sink into a chair. "Are you finished?"

"Fuck you," he snapped.

"If I had time and I thought it might help, I would," she replied. "First of all, James—"

"James is what my friends call me," he interrupted her with a snarl.

She ignored him. "First of all, General, I did inform you that I was bringing in Team Metal. We stood in this very tent, in this very spot, and you agreed it was worth a try, since the alternative was sacrificing both JINN and Pine by using either the Winter Maiden or your own nuclear weapon. Don't you remember?"

Ironwood rubbed his eyes. He did remember, now. "Yes…of course."

"Secondly, Colonel Higurashi made the call to allow Xiao Long to go on the mission—I would've preferred she not go, though I will admit that she conducted herself admirably."

"Then Higurashi made the decision to release the prisoners?" Ironwood asked.

"No. That was my decision."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. What was your logic behind that, Rissa? Or for that matter, you consorting with a bunch of mutineers and helping them, when they deserve to be behind bars?"

Arashikaze walked forward, grabbed a chair, and sat down. "James," she said, and this time he didn't correct her, "when was the last time you slept? Truly slept?"

He was quiet for awhile. "I don't remember," he said with a tired grin. "Probably the night before Salem invaded."

"Had a decent meal?" Ironwood glanced at the remains of his breakfast, but Arashikaze shook her head. "Not something taken between briefings and such. An actual sit-down meal."

"I don't remember," he repeated. "Rissa, I've been very busy—"

"So you haven't slept, and haven't eaten well. You've been surviving on involuntary naps, snacks, and coffee."

"I haven't had time for much else."

"James," Arashikaze sighed, "you're SACEUR, yes. You're a four-star general, the highest ranking American in Europe. That means you can delegate. You have some very good divisional commanders. You have excellent troops that have been fighting their hearts out. Yes, Salem has been pushing you back, and yes, we're probably going to lose Poland through a combination of hesitant politicians and overwhelming numbers—but you've made Salem pay for every inch of ground. Even she can't replace this many GRIMM; that's why she planned on using that nuke. You've done well, considering everything you've had to deal with. And yet, you won't delegate…and you've allowed yourself to obsess over two flights of fighter pilots."

"They lied to me," he growled.

"And that was wrong," Arashikaze agreed. "There were mitigating circumstances—"

"There are never mitigating circumstances when it comes to loyalty," Ironwood corrected her.

"There can be. There can be when you yourself have been lied to—or not told the whole truth. But even if Ruby Flight was wholly in the right, they should not have lied. Yes, that's true. And while they disobeyed a direct order to leave Europe, that order never should have been given, James. All of you-you, Ruby Rose, Qrow Branwen-should have found a different path that we could all live with."

Ironwood stood up. "I don't need to listen to this!"

Arashikaze sighed. "No, you don't." She looked up to him. "James, you're exhausted. You're exhausted, and it's showing in this obsession with punishing Ruby Rose and her bunch for defying you. You've always been singleminded—it's your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness. You aren't able to personally lash out at Salem, and your efforts in Poland haven't been quite able to stop her. So you chose a target you could hurt, even if it was without meaning to."

"Spare me the Freud," Ironwood shot back. "If you're done, take the goddamn Commando Solo and get out of my CP. I have a retreat to plan."

"I'm not done, James." Arashikaze got up and went to the tent's entrance; he heard her unzip the tent flap. That confused him, because she had sounded more sad than anything else—her words hadn't been a threat. A few minutes later, she returned, with Penny Polendina, Winter Schnee, and the major that was his chief of staff in her wake. "I am sorry to do this," she said, with enough conviction that Ironwood believed her. "General James Ironwood, by the power vested in me by the President of the United States of America, you are temporarily relieved of command. Colonel Schnee, Major McNair, Miss Polendina, you will witness this." All of them stared at her, then at Ironwood.

Ironwood blinked. "Are you…are you serious?"

"Yes," Arashikaze said firmly. "I am relieving you under Article 134 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. General Calavera will assume your duties." She glanced at the clock. "You are relieved as of 0831 Hours Local, 5 September 2001. Major, please make a note of this in the daily log."

"You're not in the chain of command," Ironwood protested. "You're the DDI of the CIA. You don't have authority over me."

Arashikaze pulled out her cell phone. "Do you want to know how fast I can call President Shawcross and have him confirm this?"

"Do you know how fast I can call for my guards and have you arrested, Rissa?" Ironwood looked at Major McNair. "Place Miss Arashikaze under arrest, Major."

McNair hesitated. Penny looked very confused. Winter took a step back. "On what charge, sir?" McNair asked.

"Article 94—Sedition."

"Sir, I don't think—"

Ironwood put a hand on his holstered pistol. "I said arrest her, Major!"

McNair hesitated, then pulled his own pistol and turned towards Arashikaze. "Ma'am, please don't make this—" Arashikaze touched a button on her phone. Everyone froze in place as they heard the number dial. Ironwood stepped forward, as if to knock the phone from Arashikaze's hand, but then they heard a voice they all recognized from television. "Shawcross. Good evening, Rissa—what can I do for you?"

She lowered the phone so that the President of the United States could hear her better. "Mr. President. I'm sorry to disturb you. Circumstances have shifted here very quickly. I need your authority to temporarily relieve General Ironwood of command."

There was a pause. "Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately, Mr. President. General Ironwood is exhausted and badly needs rest. It is affecting his decision making and he is no longer fit to command." Her voice softened. "Sir, James Ironwood is my friend. I don't want to do this, but I feel that I no longer have a choice. I don't want this to become a court-martial. Just…he needs rest."

"Who would take over?" the President asked.

"General Miguel Calavera of the 1st Armored Division, sir."

"Calavera? Hmm." There was a pause. "Very well, Rissa—relieve the son of a bitch." Ironwood's jaw dropped at the President's vehemence. "Is there anything else? How's the nuclear bomb situation doing?"

"We're dealing with it, sir. Organizing an evacuation. I'll fully brief you tomorrow morning."

"Very well, Director. Good night." The line clicked off.

The tent was silent. Arashikaze met Ironwood's eyes, and he was surprised to find tears in them. "I'm sorry, James."

Ironwood glanced at Winter. "Do you concur, Colonel Schnee?" It didn't really matter if she did, but Ironwood was grasping at anything now.

"I…I am sorry, sir." Winter couldn't look at him.

"Major McNair?"

McNair sadly nodded and holstered his pistol. "I'm sorry, General. The President has given an order." Ironwood opened his mouth, but the major cut him off. "And we both know that order is legitimate, sir."

Ironwood said nothing in reply. He looked at the map table, then unholstered his pistol and presented it to McNair. "That won't be necessary, sir," McNair said.

"He's right. That won't be necessary." Arashikaze inclined her head towards the entrance. "James, get some sleep. We'll work it out. I promise."

"I know what your promises are worth, Rissa." He replaced the pistol in its holster and headed for the entrance, head down. He stopped when the phone rang. It rang twice more before Ironwood spoke. "You should probably get that," he said contemptously to the short woman. "After all, I'm not in command anymore."

It was McNair that answered it. "Command Post, Major McNair." He was silent as a muffled voice spoke. "Er, there's been a, ah, change here, Captain McTavish—yes, she's here; I'll put her on." McNair held the phone towards Arashikaze. "It's for you, ma'am. Captain McTavish of Team Metal."

"Thank you, Major." She took the phone. "Arashikaze." She listened, then her eyes rounded in shock. "What? When?" Another stretch of muffled tones. "Lock down the base! Hurry! Yes—yes, get back to me, on my cell!" She slammed down the phone. "Fuck!" It was the most emotion Ironwood had seen her show.

"Problems?" Ironwood couldn't resist the impulse to be snarky.

"Yes!" Arashikaze pulled out her cell and began dialing a number. "JINN's been stolen. Again."

Ironwood began laughing. It was not a contemptous laugh, or a humorous one, but the laugh of a man who had simply been pushed beyond limits, a laugh at the absurdity of the entire world. He walked out of the tent. The sun was up, and it was a pleasant morning—though he noticed a lack of birdsong. Ironwood also noticed this was the first time he had been out of his command tent in days. The camouflage netting was still rigged over the clearing, and most of his troops were moving around in the bulky MOPP chemical suits. They stopped and stared at him for a moment, but he waved them on. With nothing better to do, Ironwood walked across the clearing towards a barrack tent, where there were cots. Fatigue tugged at him, along with utter despair. Everything was gone, and James Ironwood was well and truly alone.

"Holy crap," Marrow said. From a tent flap, they watched Ironwood trudge across the clearing. "He looks like someone shot his dog. I wonder what happened?"

"I saw that little bitch Arashikaze going in there," Harriet said. "I bet she told him more bad news."

"As long as the poor man gets some rest," Elm put in. She leaned back on a cot. "Speaking of which…"

"It's all a fucking ballocks-up anyway," Harriet snarled, and started headed for a cot of her own, but Marrow stopped her with an outstretched hand. "What, FNG?"

"What's your problem, Bree?" he snapped. "You've been pissy for weeks now."

She slapped his hand away. "Don't you even give a shit about Vine, FNG?"

"This has been going on long before Vine, or even Clover bought the farm." He didn't turn away from her glare. "You screwed over Colonel Schnee in there, Harriet."

"She disobeyed orders!"

"Oh, who cares!" Marrow exclaimed. "Jesus, Harriet. Yeah, maybe Schnee shouldn't have let Major Branwen out of jail, but he helped save our ass last night. And anyway, no one likes a snitch. You know Schnee would've told Ironwood, but you made it ten times worse."

She put a shoulder into his chest. "Fuck off, Marrow."

"Nah, I don't think I will." Marrow folded his arms across his chest and stood his ground, as Harriet gritted her teeth and Elm got back to her feet. "This is about Ruby Rose and Pyrrha Nikos, isn't it? You're pissed at Ruby because she's got more kills and you're pissed at Pyrrha because Clover liked her and not you." Harriet drew back a fist to punch him, but Elm grabbed her arm. "Nah, let her go, eh?" Marrow took a step forward. "Take your best shot, Harriet. You're mad at the whole fucking world, but guess what? The world doesn't revolve around Harriet Bree, like you thought it did."

"Fuck off!" she shouted.

Marrow shook his head. "I believed in Ace Flight. It was the best day of my life when I got chosen to replace Tortuga. I thought we were working towards something better. But now you and Ironwood are throwing it all away. Pretty sure Tortuga wouldn't have gone along with this bullshit."

"You don't know anything! You take his name out of your fucking mouth, FNG! You don't know anything!" Harriet screamed. "Let me go, Elm! I'll bloody well kill him!"

Elm held her tight. "Both of you, stop! I don't like this either, but the top prority is—"

"Do you believe in anything anymore, Harriet?" Marrow asked, his voice quiet. "Do you, Elm?" He brushed his shoulders, where his lieutenant's bars were sewn. "I used to wear this rank with pride, you know? Now I see it for what it really is." Harriet stopped struggling at the sadness in his voice. "A collar." Marrow turned and walked out of the tent.

"Where are you going?" Elm called after him.

"Where I should've been all along," he called back, and was gone.

Schnee Manor

5 September 2001

It had taken only four hours. Despite Arashikaze's frantic anger over yet another loss of JINN, she had gotten the Commando Solo to fly from Berlin to Zagan, where it orbited thirty-five thousand feet over Schnee Manor. The drawing room had been hastily repurposed to a film studio; the cameras, lights and boom mike had been taken out of storage, where Jacques Schnee had put them after filming his acceptance speech. To Ruby's surprise, the CIA men and women around the Manor had helped quite a bit; a few of them knew how to light a set and what settings to use on cameras. She wondered where they had acquired those skills. A transmitter dish had been set up atop the roof, hastily cleaned again of any radioactive ash that might interfere with the signal. The Commando Solo flew above the radioactive layer, and its powerful communications suite was ready to override every signal in Central Europe.

"Ready?" Ruby asked Pyrrha. A woman in one of the ubiquitous CIA dark suits was touching up her makeup.

"No," Pyrrha replied, her voice slightly trembling, note cards crushed in her hands. "Ruby, this is a bad idea! I hated doing those commercials! I was very bad at it!"

"I saw those," the CIA woman commented. "You acted like you would rather be shot than eat those marshmallow flakes."

"See?" Pyrrha tried to still her shaking hands as a bit of dust was brushed off of her dress uniform. It was actually one of Winter's, also pulled from storage at the manor, and it was tight around the shoulders and loose around the hips—and tight around the bust as well, Pyrrha thought morosely. Naturally, she had not brought one of her own uniforms to Zagan, other than her worn flight suit. The Luftwaffe wings had been replaced by Ruby's silver ones, who somewhat vainly wore actual wings on her flight suit than stitching them on. There was nothing they could do about the rank, so Pyrrha still wore Winter's shoulderboards. "I can't do this!" The CIA woman moved back, and the cameras were switched on. "Ruby, please!" Pyrrha pleaded.

"You got this!" Ruby flashed her a thumbs-up.

"I'm going to be sick!"

Another CIA man stood behind the camera. Blake held earphones to her human ears, coordinating with the Commando Solo. She nodded. "We're ready."

"I can't do this," Pyrrha whimpered.

"Live then, in five, four, three…" The cameraman held up his fingers, and ceased counting out loud as he reached two, then one. The cameras clicked on, Pyrrha gave one last look of desperation at Ruby, then faced the camera. She suddenly composed herself, and spoke clearly, her eyes never leaving the camera.

"Good evening," she said. "My name is Major Pyrrha Nikos, United States Air Force, formerly of the Hellenic Air Force. I apologize for breaking into your broadcasts, all of you that are watching this. However, it is necessary.

"Yesterday, the world was shocked at the detonation of a nuclear device in southern Poland. This device was detonated by none other than Salem herself, in an attempt to destroy NATO forces. She largely failed in her attempt, but the detonation itself was less of an issue than its aftermath—and that is why I am speaking to you tonight.

"The nuclear detonation has spread very dangerous fallout across southwest Poland, and into southeast and eastern Germany. While the fallout that reaches Germany will be mostly harmless if precautions are taken, the fallout landing in Poland is not such. In fact, it will likely devastate the area for decades to come. That is the future's problem; our problem now is hundreds of thousands of refugees who must be evacuated. We cannot rely on NATO to do so—they are stretched too thin, and naturally they must devote their resources to maintaining the defense of northern Poland, and withdrawing NATO troops south into the Czech Republic. While these troops will undoubtedly help as they can, there is simply not enough of them. Moreover, the threat of Salem is hardly over, and she will undoubtedly take advantage of the situation."

Ramat David Air Base

Near Jerusalem, Israel

5 September 2001

"Dude, are you seeing this?" Neptune Vasillas called over his shoulder to Sun Wukong. The broadcast had been staticky at first, Pyrrha somewhat indistinct, but Israeli media picked up the BBC feed, and the image and sound smoothed itself out. Sun ran into the ready room, followed by Scarlet David and Dew Gayl.

"Therefore," Pyrrha continued, "we are beginning what we have codenamed Operation Magic Carpet. Already, with the help of the Schnee Company, we have begun gathering air transports from various airlines, grounded due to the embargo. It will take time to get those transports into position where they can be of some assistance, but flights will begin by midnight tonight." She stopped and gave a nod. A few seconds passed, and a scrolling banner began to move across the bottom of the screen. "These are the airfields where they will land. This is being broadcast by radio and television, and simulcast in Polish, so if you are a refugee in need of evacuation, proceed by fastest available transport to these locations. Bring only what you can carry; space will be at a premium. You will be loaded on an aircraft and taken to a safe location, away from the fallout and out of reach of GRIMM. Your transport will be defended by NATO personnel and fighter aircraft."

"That's going to be tough," Sun commented. "Pyrrha's right; they're spread awfully thin up there."

"Shhh!" Dew quieted him.

Sun hesitated, then left the room for the outside, leaving the door open. Night had fallen already across the Middle East; it was still pleasantly warm. He pulled a cellphone from a pocket of his flight suit. What he was doing broke several regulations, to say nothing of operational security, but it had to be done. He dialed a number with one hand, then put the phone to his ear. "Coco? Yeah, Sun. You watching this?"

437th Airlift Wing Headquarters, Charleston Air Force Base

Charleston, South Carolina, United States of America

5 September 2001

"It's on all the stations, Colonel," the airman explained. "Both CNN and Fox broke into their programming about thirty seconds after it started."

"While we are arranging as much transport as possible," Pyrrha was saying, "we can certainly use any help that other countries can provide. We realize that NATO's transports are going to be needed for supplies, medical evacuation and troops, but any excess capacity—we ask, we beg that those be committed to the evacuation of civilians as well."

Glynda Goodwitch watched the television in shock. "James, what is happening?" she whispered. Then she whirled on the airman. "Is the wing commander still on base?"

The Belladonna Lodge

Paisley, Menagerie

5 September 2001

Ilia Amitola had been idly watching reruns of Mr. Bean, but sat up when suddenly the broadcast was broken into by Pyrrha Nikos, who she instantly recognized. "Mr. Belladonna! Mrs. Belladonna! Come quick!"

With nowhere else to go, the Belladonnas had forgiven her and taken her in. Kali came in from the kitchen, drying her hands, while Ghira walked into the living room from his office, his glasses still perched on his nose. "Isn't that Pyrrha Nikos?" he said. He had never met the woman, but recognized her from some of Blake's photographs.

"However, transportation is only part of our problem," Pyrrha continued. "Once the refugees are evacuated, they must have somewhere to go. Therefore, I ask the nations of the world: please accept these people. Do not leave them to die, as has been the fates of so many refugees throughout history. Welcome them as fellow human beings, as fellow Faunus."

Ghira immediately turned and headed for his study, snatching up the phone.

Near Tuchola Wola, Poland

5 September 2001

"Cinder, wake up," Arthur Watts said from the backseat of the Night Raven. He had tuned the aircraft's radio to the civilian bands—mainly out of boredom. They had been sitting in the aircraft with the canopy closed for six hours, waiting for darkness so they could take off, protected from fallout by the huge interceptor itself. Watts had been entertaining himself with Armed Forces Network's jazz hour when Pyrrha's broadcast broke into that as well.

"Mmnf?" Cinder pulled herself out of sleep in the forward cockpit, then was suddenly very awake at the sound of Pyrrha Nikos' voice. "What the hell is going—"

"Quiet," Watts commanded, and for once Cinder obeyed.

"Only together can we save these people, and in turn save ourselves. Only united can we stand against Salem and the GRIMM. Poland may be lost—for a time—but we must stand strong," Pyrrha said. "This fight will be a hard one, and we cannot save everyone. But we should save as much as we can."

"Interesting." Watts smoothed his mustache. "This I hadn't anticipated, especially not from her."

Cinder was about to reply when her cellphone buzzed. She took it out of her pocket and strained to read the tiny screen. It was a text message: CINDER, GOT JINN AGAIN. READY FOR ROUND TWO? YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT. LOVE, NEO.

The Xiao Long-Rose House

Near Patch, North Carolina, United States of America

5 September 2001

"To quote the great Winston Churchill, on the occasion of another great retreat to save the world," Pyrrha said, glancing down at her notes for a moment. "'We have before us an ordeal of the most grevious kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: it is to wage war, with all our might and all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalog of human crime. What is our aim? I can answer in one word: it is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory—however long and hard the road may be.'" Pyrrha put down her notes. "People of the world, please hear our call. We must win. This is Major Pyrrha Nikos, in Poland, signing off."

The camera held on Pyrrha for a moment, and she looked to one side of the camera. "Nice job, Pyr—" a voice began, but then it was cut off, and the transmission ended. The anchor seemed stunned, then began to comment.

"Ruby?" Taiyang Xiao Long said. It had been Ruby's voice at the end. "My God, Ruby." Zwei woke up, his ears coming up at the familiar name.

"What? What happened?" Raven Branwen came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her middle, dabbing at her hair with another one. "Is she all right?"

Near the Ruins of Warsaw, Poland

5 September 2001

Salem reached forward and shut off the tiny portable TV. She too had relocated her headquarters, also to a forest clearing, north of the ruined city; she knew that, once the Delta Force operators reported her location to Ironwood, it would only be a matter of time before the Winter Maiden was used on the Palace of Science and Culture. "Hmm," she mused. "What a lovely speech. I'm not sure I appreciate being compared to Adolf Hitler, though."

"What does it mean, Your Grace?" A major stood by her camp chair, under the open sky; there was no danger of fallout here.

"It means that the strategic situation has changed. Ironwood is still retreating in the north, yes?" The major nodded. "We will continue to pressure him, but that's all. We have taken too many casualties to do much else." She stood and stretched, wearing her customary black cloak again. "This evacuation is promising, however. After Nikos' speech, the killing of thousands, and NATO's inability to protect them, will depress morale even further—possibly to the point of collapse." Salem smiled. "The world needs a Churchill, and it doesn't have one. We will see how much blood, toil, tears and sweat humanity has left." She turned to the major. "What are our aerial reserves?"

The major knew Salem appreciated the truth. "Limited, Your Grace."

"I was afraid of that. NATO is indeed stretched thin, and Ironwood will commit most of his remaining fighters to guard his troops. That leaves Robyn Hill's Happy Huntresses, and Ruby and Norn Flights." The smile grew wider, and crueler. "Not much at all, though they have proven a match for even superior forces. Any news from Cinder Fall or Arthur Watts?"

"No, ma'am. Not yet."

"And Neo Politan has disappeared. Oh well; saves me the trouble of paying her more, the little bint." Salem nodded, half to herself. "Very well. We must have more aerial GRIMM. Comrade Major?" The man came to attention. "Get me Ambrosius. Immediately."