Chapter 4: King Takes Pawn


Taylor

I felt everyone around me; thousands under my control.

They moved in perfect, harmonized coordination. A slave march.

Hundreds attacked, hundreds supported, hundreds defended.

I stood in a dome of hexagon portals, conducting them all in their funeral song.

Scion waved his arm.

The sparks in my mind were snuffed out in droves—


I shot up and regretted it instantly.

My previous exhaustion and the pains from the battle had cozied up to my senses while I was unconscious, ready to wake up with me in full force.

Bile sat in the back of my throat, either from the explosion or the nightmare.

I didn't realize I had slumped back to the ground until the slight sting of the impact hit.

A piercing white noise rang in my ears, drowning out the world. Thoughts slipped through my fingertips, and my body was unresponsive, trembling and twitching instead of moving.

I waited. It was all I could do, besides worry and panic.

It didn't feel like a concussion, but after being rag-dolled by an explosion, I didn't trust myself to accurately tell how bad my injuries were.

A part of me started planning my response if one of the gang members walked over. Another part, the broken piece that pressed into my mind like sand against skin, thought it would be better if they killed me before I recovered.

What was left of my swarm thrashed and buzzed in a cacophony of what I felt.

There were only twenty-two bugs left, mostly flies and gnats.

The explosion and heat must have killed—

The explosion.

My bugs surveyed the devastation around me.

The leader was dead. Half his side felt like burnt flesh.

Same with purple hair. Pieces of the chainsaw had been launched from the explosion like grenade shrapnel. Several small pieces stuck out of her torso and one large one protruded from her neck.

The grunts I had first knocked unconscious were the next closest and had been thrown from the force of the explosion, but both still lived. I was glad.

Thankfully, the rest were alive as well, also unconscious.

The one who I had slammed into the warehouse door frame had also caught some shrapnel, though the bleeding was minimal.

Slowly, the world gained clarity.

One of the warehouse roofs glowed with embers that wafted a gentle stream of smoke. A large black detonation mark stained the burnt ground from where the gem exploded. Broken bits of concrete and shards of warehouse wall littered the area.

My stump throbbed from the heat and fire.

The ringing in my ears eased, only to be replaced with the faint groans from some of the fallen gang members around me, along with a distant jet engine hum.

The authorities were coming. Not surprising. That last blast hadn't been subtle.

I needed to leave.

Two people were dead.

I fought with clenched teeth to a sitting position.

The chainsaw teeth bit into the muscle every time my leg moved. It would get worse if I left them in.

I tugged the cloth over my face free, balled it up, and bit it.

One, two—

My jaw clamped down as I ripped out the first chainsaw tooth in my leg.

I hissed around the gag and gripped the second one.

My vision went red, a cloud of dizzy nausea storming in, but it cleared quickly in the clarity of pain. Every part of me felt like it was being poked by needles, except for where I pulled out the teeth. There, I was being stabbed by knives.

I spat out the gag and used it to wrap the two gouges. It was the best I had. They would have just cut into my leg with every step, and this way my glow would be able to heal them when it returned… whenever that was.

The explosion hadn't hit me as badly as I thought. I wasn't burned, at least.

I dragged my feet under me, inhaled, then forced myself to stand.

A choked cry bounced in my throat from the effort, but I was up.

I looked at the damage around me.

Two dead, several hurt, one possibly crippled. All to stop a robbery.

I turned, ashamed, from my hollow victory and limped away.

Each step was a battle against pain, dizziness, and exhaustion.

I was so tired, physically and mentally. More than any time I remembered.

Then again, my jumbled thoughts weren't exactly reliable.

My gun was gone, thrown from my hand in the blast. Baton was too far away to grab and unusable anyway. The dragline had been burned to cinders.

All I had left was the nano-thorn dagger, which I doubted would ever start up again, and an empty magazine for a gun I didn't have.

Defenseless.

The sound of engines grew louder despite the distance I had hobbled. Though, that wasn't very far.

The salt of the ocean was even crisper to my nose after the traces of gunpowder and ash were gone. It was too dark to see the waves, but I heard their gentle rhythm against rocks and sand accompanied by the metal of the docks groaning in the breeze. Nostalgic.

A large maze of shipping containers lined my path. Lanes marked with signs to catalog them seemed to go on endlessly down the coast.

My swarm guided me through the darkness. I slowed to a silent shuffle, trying not to aggravate any wounds.

Suddenly, the glow of two flashlights danced through the space between the crates, and a bombastic voice echoed down the corridor containers.

"Hello! Are you there? Hello? We aren't here to harm you! We just want to talk!"

Shit, they know about me being here and are already searching.

The meager number of bugs I had picked up on the way went to scout.

"Peter… I don't think shouting like that while having your weapon out will help us…" an older female's shy voice began but faded into an almost inaudible murmur.

"NONSENSE!" the male bellowed, sounding like he was boasting to a room full of people as he spoke. "My voice embodies inspiration! There was one time I was able to encourage a whole battalion of troops to…" I blocked out the long-winded story of supposed heroics the man spouted.

My bugs found them, though, his voice made their location easily noticeable. Two lanes over to my left.

I turned right at the next corner and hurried down a farther lane, disappearing around the corner before they spotted me at the crossroads.

Honestly, the babble made the man seem comical, but no trap worked if it was obviously dangerous.

A bug found two soaked paths running down my leg.

Fuck.

I was bleeding from the chainsaw wounds.

Thin droplets trailed behind me from my leg. An easy path straight to me.

My eyes closed in resignation as the plan popped into my mind.

This is going to suck.

I slipped my hand under my makeshift bandage and pressed down.

Hot agony flared out, shadowing everything. Warmth drained with my blood.

Ragged gasps and a dizzy spell were my reward, along with a hand dripping crimson.

I flicked my hand down a lane of crates, sending a red splatter down it. Not too much to seem deliberate but still noticeable. Then, I smeared a bloody handprint on it, like I had stopped and used the wall for support.

Bugs lapped up any droplets that marked where I was actually going. I used my sleeve to absorb a bit of the wet blood where it was dripping from, before scurrying in the opposite direction of my false trail and around a corner.

None too soon.

"O-ho! See this, Peach!

"Oh dear! She must have been injured in the Dust explosion!" 'She'. They knew it was me? How? Also, Dust?

"Indeed, it was a rather harrowing scene."

"It was A TOTAL WASTE! SUCH AN UNREFINED AND NEEDLESS EXPLOSION! THERE IS A RATIO FOR DUST THAT MUST BE KEPT! NOT FOLLOWING PROPER SAFETY PROCEDURE FOR DUST IS THE ENEMY!" the calm voice of the woman filled with fanatic energy as she roared her claim to the heavens. The flashlights illuminated her ominously, her hands curling in an almost maniacal fashion at her sides.

What the fuck?

"Of course! Let us continue our search!" Peter agreed, not seeing anything out of the ordinary with Peach's change in demeanor. "Quickly! The game is afoot! This way!" He took the bait.

Her Hyde serum apparently wore off as her posture transformed back. "Peter, I don't think hearing that would inspire ease—"

"Please, miss! We only want to assist you!" he said as he sped off.

The bug in her hair caught her head shaking before following the man.

I dared a peek around the corner at my pursuers; my bugs confirmed their backs were to me, and their flashlights gave off just enough of a glow to make them out.

The two figures were rounder in appearance, but while I would call the man stocky, plump fit the woman better.

Neither was in a uniform, police or otherwise. Meaning they most likely were independents of some kind.

The man had short gray hair that parted down the middle and wore a burgundy suit with gold trim. What looked like a blunderbuss with battle-ax blades on the handle was strapped at his side..

The woman was in… a lab coat? Her hair came to her shoulders and curled like a single wave around her head. It was also a faint orange, that flowed into pink at the ends. A silver square metal backpack with six black handles piercing the exterior contrasted with the meek presence she gave.

First bright yellow hair, then violet, now orange to pink gradient? Either dyed hair was a popular custom, or their natural colours matched the prominent hues of the world.

Another reluctant squeeze let me repeat my trick down the lane.

Then, I squeezed between two containers and used the bars that marked the container doors to begin climbing.

The progress was slow, but it was better than trying to outrun them.

"How marvelous!" He sounded… overjoyed?

"What is it?"

I was able to just bring my leg up and hook my foot on the edge of the roof of the container, letting me pull myself up and roll onto the surface.

"Why, Professor Peach. We've been bamboozled!" He stopped to laugh heartily. "A false trail! Most impressive."

A large group of bugs managed to pick up the empty magazine I had left, though it was shaky.

"The other way it is!" They turned in my direction.

The magazine fell with a quiet clang farther in the direction of my first false path.

I was worried they wouldn't hear it, but both turned with surprising speed.

"A feint of a trap! Ingenious!" he called out as both ran toward the sound.

He'd called her 'Professor Peach'. So, they were from a school or research group? One that was armed.

The possibility they knew about my bug control shot up. Capture and study were a much more real concern than the police now.

I lay flat on the cool metal of the shipping container, gazing up into the sky. A short rest that I desperately needed.

My mind flashed through images of the gang members, coming up with reasons as to why I'd been right to engage.

All after the fact.

Mrs. Yamada had called me on it before. Post-rationalizing my decisions.

My stomach vibrated with a dull need that echoed the soreness and fatigue I felt.

A shift in the wind and a blinding flash zipped by my bugs. My eyes widened, and I rolled back down between the two shipping containers. I caught one of the bars and felt the vicious tug of holding my weight.

The strain of holding myself up burned. The stars in my eyes faded to black, my head lulling with them.

I bit my lip hard. The pain kept me from fainting.

A moment passed before someone landed on the crate I was on. Heels sent hollow clangs as the woman walked across it.

My breath caught as she stepped over me.

A bug landed on her cape but fell off as she bounded off with another leap.

With that level of strength, they had to be glow users.

Bad to worse. Another group with glow reinforcing their bodies. It was more common than I'd hoped.

I wasn't sure if my glow was returning. There was something there, a paper-thin puddle where a pond had been. My current condition probably didn't help with recovery.

Fighting another person or group with the glow was impossible at the moment. Especially if they had more members that were competent in its use, like the leader and the swordsman had been.

I rolled back up and rested for a few minutes, willing my wounds to clot enough to not leave another trail.

As soon as there weren't any obvious pursuers in the vicinity, I dropped down with a pained grunt.

Airships with searchlights surrounded what I guessed was the site of the explosion. Another was patrolling around, looking for me.

I continued in the opposite direction.

The area that housed the shipping containers made way for factory buildings. I blinked rapidly to adjust my eyes to the streetlamps running down the sidewalks.

Smokestacks with faint wisps of steam towered above the large buildings, and odd steel lockers ran along one of the large walls—fifteen feet long with a futuristic look to them. More tinkertech.

My bugs couldn't find an opening to discover their contents.

I had learned about some of the dangers of the world, but nothing that would actually help me.

Though, with my answers came even more questions. The glow. 'Dust'. The 'White Fang'. Whoever the group currently chasing me was.

The amount I cared about the answers dropped with every moment as pain took the place of adrenaline.

Weights on my eyes, limbs that felt like lead. No place to sleep. Alone. Not to mention—

I turned my head and caught a glisten of light shining off a lens. My sparse swarm had let it slip through the cracks right until it was too late.

We stared at each other before I heard a clinking sound followed by clanks of metal on concrete coming from behind me.

The odd locker had opened to reveal three robots stepping out of them.

They were humanoid, completely dull gray except for very small sections of a deep blue on their legs, chest, and visor. A badge was painted on each of their chests, which was partially blocked by the long sleek rifles they carried.

"This is the VPD. Put your hands on your head and get down on the ground. I repeat, put your hands on your head and get down on the ground. You have been marked as a suspect in an ongoing investigation," a robotic voice faking inflection announced as they raised their rifles at me.

I wouldn't make it to around the corner before they shot me, and I didn't have enough glow to trust taking the bullets.

Too tired to run anyway.

Why should I?

Barely a day with full agency, and I had a body count. I didn't directly kill them, or mean to, but the guilt was there, and the stories that could be spun from my actions weren't pretty.

They never were.

At least this seemed to be some form of police.

I sighed and raised my hand to my head, wincing from sore muscles as I knelt to the ground. I waggled my maimed arm but was too tired to find any humor in it.

In a way, I guessed this was inevitable.

I might have to escape later, but for now, a jail cell was technically a place to stay for the night.

Two of them moved to my sides while the third holstered its rifle and produced a pair of thick steel handcuffs.

"You have been registered as a witness and possible participant to an active crime. Please comply with law enforcement personnel until you can be questioned. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law." The robot's mechanical voice continued to read out an exact copy of the Miranda rights as they moved to cuff me.

A robot police force? That was an impressive feat of technology if this world didn't have tinkers. Especially if their programming was sophisticated enough for them to be first responders to potentially tense and dangerous situations like these.

Though, the Miranda rights were what shocked me. Besides the odd coincidence in their wording, it meant I might get a fair hearing.

Then again, Earth Bet had them too, so maybe it wasn't that promising.

The robot froze as he went to grab my missing arm and saw nothing there.

Maybe not as finely programmed as I thought.

After a moment, the robot cuffed my hand to its own and then pulled my hand behind my back.

Well, I guess that works too.

The sound of an airship approached rapidly. A spotlight blinded me as the vehicle's wing engines sent torrents of wind whipping through my hair and buffeting my body.

The aircraft landed in the street intersection, relieving me of the spotlight's gaze.

A long oval cockpit bulged out of gray and black panels, which tapered to a thin tail at the end of the ship. Two plated bars of metal spiking out from the center compartment held long round engines that swiveled for vertical takeoffs and landings. Those were also marked with gray and black panels, along with two long air blades used to direct the propulsion of the engine's thrust as well as stabilize the ships upon landing.

More robots and a pair of officers exited the ship.

The cops were both wearing aviator sunglasses despite it being night, along with light jackets over buttoned shirts with black ties and dress pants.

One had slicked-back brown hair and a thinly trimmed beard, while the other was cleanly shaven with chestnut hair that was a spikey mess. The streetlights danced off the swaying badges on their necks. Pistols on their belts.

"Come on now, Miss, we have some questions for you down at the station." His voice sounded like someone trying to do a Brooklyn accent.

"Of course, Officer," I responded hoarsely. My throat lit aflame from how dry it was.

He and his partner nodded to one another before they headed back to the aircraft they had arrived on. The robot I was handcuffed to began to march behind them, forcing me along with it.

After a few steps, another robot came to assist my struggling pace.

Soon, I was seated in the caged section of the ship.

A nap, even a short one to our destination, would be bliss.

I let myself drift off.


I smiled as the painkillers set in. A blissful numbness for my suffering body, and a band-aid for my ailing mind. They had set a small white patch on my skin before telling me it had administered the drug. I hadn't felt any other effects, so I was reasonably sure it was just painkillers… but time would tell.

Bandages wrapped snugly around my leg and torso. I apparently had cracked a few ribs at some point.

Either my dulled sense of pain from Bakuda's bomb or all the accumulated injuries had masked it. They told me it would heal in a day or so.

A day. All thanks to my glow—or 'Aura', as they called it. It was nice to have a name for it, but regeneration at that level was amazing. It was probably why I wasn't passing out.

My Aura was a steady trickle now, but not enough to bust out of an interrogation room, then a fully-manned police station. Doing so unarmed was even more foolish.

There were cops at desks, some doing paperwork while others were talking with people.

If a picture of the scene was shown to me, I wouldn't have noticed anything different from a police station on Earth Bet.

Well, except for one cop with a lizard tail, sitting alone at his desk. No one spoke to him or approached.

It was a type of isolation that I knew well.

Though, instead of being a social pariah or scapegoat, it was probably because of his animal features.

All the other cops I had seen didn't have animal features, from what I could tell. I guessed that it was some form of racism between humans and 'Faunus'.

The violet-haired grunt's words made sense in the context. Same with how the leader had called me a 'human shit'.

So, the 'White Fang' were some kind of terrorist gang for the Faunus? An extremist group fighting for equal treatment?

Why did people always find a way to divide themselves from one another?

My bugs flew through the vents and parked themselves in another spot to eavesdrop. I only had enough to mark each person and listen to one conversation. It was all I could manage with the bugs I'd gathered from the area around the police station.

I leaned back in my chair, careful not to tug the chain around my wrist, which was bolted to the table. A cautionary measure, since I was sure I could break it with enough glow.

I once again fought the small smile from how cliché the room was. It could have been plucked from any movie interrogation scene.

A single light with a gentle sway in a dimly lit room. One-way glass with someone watching me. Camera in the corner, focused on me. Another behind the glass. Time to let me stew; make me more nervous and pliable.

It was cute but futile. I was used to both sides of the table.

When the two officers who had picked me up finally arrived, I was a little annoyed at the disruption to my rest.

"Hello there, missy, my name is Detective Bruin and this is Detective Dunn. We'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened."

"Ask away," I rasped. They had offered water, but no matter how much I wanted it, I hadn't drunk any. I couldn't be sure if it was drugged or not.

"First off, name?"

So, they didn't have my name, or at least, didn't know who I was yet. I didn't remember this world, though that evidence was suspect, and I hadn't noticed any obvious damage from Scion. And of course, I hadn't been gunned down on sight.

This world might not know who I was or what I'd done.

I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and froze.

Taylor had died a thousand little deaths, until all that was left was for Skitter to walk over the remains.

When all Skitter could do was stomp, through blood and dust and morals, Weaver took her place. A means to an end, an axe became a scalpel.

Khepri ripped through all three, a sacrifice and a cause that stood above all others, even when it should have stood with everyone.

Skitter, a lie from the start, who let the world shape her into its harsh mirror.

Weaver, the embodiment of a goal that had shed itself of everything in pursuit of it.

Khepri. The monster.

Was I Taylor? Could I be Taylor? The girl who'd looked up at the sky and dreamed of flying like Alexandria, back when I'd thought heroes were all I wished they were? Who'd sat with her mom and argued over books, playing at adult's arguments of themes and meanings with a motormouth and starry eyes?

Fuck. 'Taylor' isn't some title to live up to.

Even as the words ran through my mind I wasn't sure if I agreed with them. After all, Taylor hadn't ever hurt anyone.

"Taylor."

"Surname?"

"Hebert."

"Huh, odd name." Was it? Bruin and Dunn weren't totally uncommon surnames. Was 'Taylor' the odd one?

Detective Dunn flicked his hand, and the piece of metal he held snapped open into some kind of tablet.

He typed something before he turned to his partner. "She isn't showing up in the system."

My shoulders dipped a fraction from relief; they really didn't know who I was.

"Are you lying to me, 'Taylor Hebert'?" Detective Bruin asked me, saying my name like he was using quotations.

"No."

"Then why aren't you in the system for any of the Kingdoms. You born in an outside village or something?"

"Yes, I was," I answered, smoothly latching onto the lie.

"Which one?"

Shit.

"It's small. Not well known…"

"Try me." I could feel Bruin's eyes narrow as he leaned forward.

I blinked, and Tagg was there. Pushing me, waiting for Alexandria to come back with the bodies of my friends.

My bugs moved in.

Another blink and I was back. I shook the memory away, moving my swarm back to their positions.

Focus. Breathe.

"W-Washington," I said quickly to cover the shock of my flashback.

There were more than eighty cities with the name, so it was the most generic answer I could think of off the top of my head.

I stifled a grimace and cursed myself for not thinking of a name in advance. I'd been too focused on resting and scoping the place out.

"I see." He wasn't outright denying my claim. So, they didn't have a registry of names from people born outside this kingdom, or a list of towns either.

"Where is this 'Washington', Miss Hebert?"

"I can show you on a map." Officer Dunn flipped his screen over to show me the world map.

Bugs spun and flew in a turbulent dance as I saw the world.

None of the continents remotely resembled any I had known. One of them was even shaped like a dragon. They were named Sanus, Anima, and Solitas. Solitas was painted white and sat firmly in the north; a large dot marked Atlas was the only city listed within it. In fact, there were only five dots named. The smaller villages weren't even on the maps. On Anima, the city of Mistral was wedged between a sea and the ocean. Sanus, the largest continent, was the only one with two dots: Vacuo and Vale. Vacuo was in the middle of a desert, while Vale was by the ocean and hugged by mountains.

No snow or desert, so we weren't in Atlas or Vacuo. The upper half of Anima, just north of Mistral, was covered in snow on the map. The weather was autumn cold, but not snow cold, so I guessed we were in Vale.

Only four main countries with one major town each? There wasn't a distance scale for me to tell how big the world was.

'Remnant' was titled under the compass rose.

Was that the name for the world? A rather dramatic name, though with the moon, it might be both literal and symbolic.

A lone island in the corner of the map was labeled Menagerie, but I wasn't sure if that was the town marked by a smaller dot than the others or the name of the island.

I committed the names to memory and slowly raised a finger to mark my 'village'.

Odd choice of diction; 'village'. The state of populated areas might not be as glamorous outside this city.

My bugs caught a new pair of people being escorted straight toward us. I tensed immediately.

One was a woman with a cape, and my bugs confirmed she was in heels. Just like the one who had been leaping about and searching for me in the shipping yard.

They entered the room behind the glass.

My bugs skittered and danced to my rising anxiety.

I focused again on the map and pointed to an area between Vale and Mistral. The shipping manifest I had seen was for 'V. to Min.'

"It's around here."

My bugs picked up a long "Hmmmmmmm" from the caped woman's companion, the one she'd followed behind—her leader or superior, most likely.

Hopefully, he hadn't picked up on my lie.

"I see, that's quite the journey then, Miss Hebert," Bruin commented, seeming to buy the location I had given him.

Not much knowledge of the towns outside the Kingdoms. Lack of communication? No, they all had wireless computers in their pockets. Probably something to do with the monsters they were walled against.

I should have gotten arrested sooner; I had learned more about the world in two minutes than I had in my one day of clarity.

"What brings you to Vale?"

I hid my relief at my correct guess.

"Sight-seeing. Haven't been to the big city before."

A grunt of confirmation. He didn't really believe me, but there wasn't anything overly suspicious to catch me on.

"Can you give me your account on what happened tonight, Miss Hebert?" Dunn asked politely, finally joining in the questioning.

…They were doing a good cop, bad cop routine.

What was with this world?

"I was taking a stroll down the coast when I came across an armed group breaking into a warehouse. They commented on how they were planning on making another robbery that night after they had dropped off the Dust they had stolen. I decided to intervene," I stated, being as general as possible.

"And you didn't think to contact the police?" Bruin questioned.

"I didn't have the means to call anyone."

"No Scroll?" Dunn asked with genuine confusion and a little waggle of the screen in his hand.

"No. Not everyone in Washington has access to those." I nodded my head at the device.

A moment of contemplation, then acceptance.

"Then what happened?" Dunn asked.

"I fought the group, who resorted to deadly force immediately. I was able to fight them off until one of them got desperate and threw a large chunk of Dust at me." I steeled my face. "They shot at it, which caused the explosion."

"So, you just came across a group of armed criminals and decided you would do a good deed for the day? Trying to be a Huntress? Play hero?" Bruin nodded sarcastically as he spoke, his tone both questioning and disbelieving.

"I needed to help." Dunn seemed impressed with my 'conviction', but I heard the desperation behind it.

My eyes shut for a fraction longer than they should have as I blinked, the only sign of my inner turmoil.

The world and my thoughts swam around me, blended and confused.

I really needed a break, to collect myself. Work through everything.

"Could you give us a play-by-play?"

"Of course."

I summarized what happened, slipping into the cadence of when I gave mission reports as a Ward. It was familiar, calming even.

They nodded along while I went through each action. I was vaguer than needed but wasn't called out on it. They seemed impressed. I guessed they weren't used to orderly accounts like that.

Afterward, a beep sounded from Dunn's computer, which led to Dunn pulling Bruin back and whispering into his ear.

"If you'll excuse us, Miss Hebert," Dunn said before they both left the room.

They hadn't asked why I had weapons on me in the first place. Was it a common practice? Maybe that was why they hadn't confiscated them during my hospital stay.

My bugs hadn't found my flight pack in the hospital. I just hoped it was either broken garbage or somewhere it wouldn't be found. I didn't have an explanation for tinkertech.

I waited with bated breath for my next round of questioning, or my sentence.

Instead, the caped woman's companion entered the room.

He was a silver-haired man with small round shaded spectacles on the end of his nose.

A green turtleneck covered by a black suit that gleamed with bronze buttons hugged his tall frame.

I stood at just under six feet without shoes. This man was easily another half a foot taller than me, about the same height as Brian.

Two mugs were in his hands, steam lightly wafting into the air. He sat down in the chair across from me, looking comfortable and content as he sipped his drink before setting the other mug in front of me.

A waft of chocolate and steam made my stomach rumble and my mouth fill with saliva. I was so hungry, so thirsty, yet I couldn't be sure if the drink was safe.

I forced my eyes away from it.

The caped woman slipped in the door behind him and stood outside the light. She was a few inches taller than me, not counting her heels.

Her stern look was reflected in her outfit; a pleated white top with a black pencil skirt. Her blonde hair was in a neat bun, and her cape ended in swerving tatters that looked purposeful in design. A straight and professional stance, not a hair out of place.

She was beautiful in the way Alexandria was—had been. Someone whose strength and presence were what you'd notice before their amazing looks.

Either they were part of the police force, their PRT equivalent, or they were a group with enough connections to get in here regardless.

If it was the second, I would have to be ready.

Break the chain and slam the table into the man while my bugs distracted the woman. Kick open the door with my Aura and get to the armory my bugs had found.

"Cocoa," the man claimed with a small smile that was covered by another sip. "I find it a small comfort to help get through the day."

"Who are you?"

"Oh, of course. Pardon my manners. My name is Ozpin. I am a professor and headmaster of Beacon Academy here in Vale," he recited. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hebert."

A headmaster, as in a principal? Was this man the head of a school and not part of the police? Then why was he here?

He must have noticed my quick glance at the woman as he continued, "And this is Professor Goodwitch." He made a slight gesture, and Goodwitch gave a small nod in response.

"Do you know why I'm here, Miss Hebert?" Ozpin asked. He spoke with a certain authority that wasn't forceful, but rather reassuring. The type that thought they were giving genuinely good advice from a place of thoughtfulness. Arrogant in its own way, yet kind.

"No. I thought I was being held by the police, not a school," I prodded.

"I oversee some of Vale's operations." That felt like an understatement. "Also, any conflict that might require a Huntsman is brought to my attention." There was no indictment in his tone but I still felt the 'as everyone should know.'

A principal and the head of the local elite response team—I assumed that was what Huntsmen were. Not to mention that I suspected he had much more say in decisions than his position implied.

I almost laughed at the irony.

Truly, I had met my arch enemy.

"Also, it was one of my prospective students that found you. On top of the brutal injuries you'd received, it was more than enough to be a situation I asked to be updated on." Another sip from his mug.

So, Ruby was a student of some kind.

"How are you feeling, Miss Hebert?" Concern touched his voice, honest even. Or maybe he was just a good liar.

"I just got blown up. So, okay, I guess." His chest leaped in a soundless chuckle while I saw the scowl on Goodwitch's face deepen for a moment.

"I was referring to your other injuries."

"I'm alive." The weight of the sentence was more than Ozpin could have possibly understood.

"Indeed." Another smile. "Do you mind drawing up your emblem, Miss Hebert?" He pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen that he set beside the still-steaming mug in front of me. "It would help in better identifying you."

A test?

I moved my arm up enough for the chain to go taut, to show off the two inches of movement I had.

"A simple matter." He pulled out the key and unlocked the handcuff without a worry.

He was either careless or didn't see me as a threat. Probably Aura trained then. My bugs hadn't found any turrets or defenses in the room.

I instinctively tried to rub my wrist but ended up waving my stump in front of myself awkwardly. I was trying to be more aware of it being missing, but there was always another ingrained motion or habit that reminded me that it was gone forever.

"I lived outside the kingdom so there won't be any records of me," I responded quickly.

"That's fine, just use the emblem you were given at birth and we'll use it to identify you now."

An emblem… So, everyone in Remnant got a mark or something to I.D. them? I glanced at Ozpin and noted his eyes. There was the barest flicker to acknowledge my glance. This fucker was testing me.

"I don't have an emblem."

He smiled even more. More satisfied than impressed with the answer, like I was meeting his expectations. I didn't like it.

"People with Aura, mostly Huntsmen and Huntsmen in-training, as well as higher military officials, wear a symbol or emblem that is unique to them. This is to help identify them if something unfortunate were to occur, but it is also to help people further identify with their clothing and equipment. Thus, making it easier and more efficient for them to strengthen and protect it with their Aura," he explained, watching my reaction to each bit of information.

There was an efficiency aspect to Aura. Great, another list of questions needing answers.

If identification helped with Aura, then unfamiliar clothes meant it hindered Aura use? Or was it a matter of liking the armor? Or both? Or did Aura have an effect on objects that it was used on enough that made them easier to channel Aura through?

"So, it is not unnatural for you not to have one," he concluded.

I had called his bluff and passed. My mounting dislike for the man spiked slightly, but if he needed to test me, then I would go along with it.

"But I wanted to ask anyway," he continued. "You were able to battle a squad of dangerous criminals by yourself. Days after leaving a hospital with severe injuries." Goodwitch's frown deepened. "Then you proceeded to avoid capture from several of the finest Huntsmen I know. All while injured and without Aura. Thus, I assumed that perhaps you were part of a group, or trained in some way."

"It was just something I picked up along the way." He was fishing, but I wouldn't bite. Besides, there were too many ways I could draw suspicion with how little I knew about the world. Well, any more than what I'd already drawn.

"May I ask why you left the hospital, Miss Hebert?" Ozpin continued, no ire or suspicion in his tone still.

Saying 'I thought everyone around me was an enemy waiting to attack, trap, or kill me, so I fled to heal and to prepare to kill or enslave them' wasn't going to endear me to anyone.

"I didn't know where I was. I'd been shot in the head, so I was understandably confused." The use of my injury made Goodwitch's face falter but not Ozpin's.

Ozpin took a long drawn out sip from his mug, nodding in satisfaction at the drink. "Is that the only thing you didn't know, Miss Hebert?"

"Why do you ask?" My words were slightly too quick and tinged with ice. I was getting tired of this game where he asked questions he obviously already knew the answer to.

He was leading this conversation at every turn, and I didn't have the position or knowledge to turn things around.

"It just so happens that a concerned citizen made a call to the local police, describing a young woman, matching your description perfectly, who was acting strangely. He stated that she was confused by the state of the moon." Damn it. "Not only that, but knowledge of emblems is fairly common."

I sighed. Too many mistakes. How was I going to play this?

"I want you to know that you're not in trouble in any way. Someone shot you, Taylor, twice in the back of the head. Such an injury can cause serious issues to a person if they are lucky enough to survive," Ozpin stated calmly.

Yes, but I don't think those issues usually include 'getting trapped in another universe'.

"Memory loss is one of these issues." It wasn't the comment that froze me, it was the shift in his tone. Like it was a proposition almost. Was he trying to say that I should use amnesia as my excuse for all this? Or was he questioning if I really did have amnesia?

Every answer to the question was bad. For what purpose would Ozpin have to… Unless he suspected me of being from another world maybe? It would be a long leap in logic, unless dimensional travel had happened in this world?

It was stupid to hope. Idiotic. I doubted I would be left on another world if there was a method to travel back to Bet. And dimensional travel couldn't possibly be easy to accomplish, no matter how advanced this world appeared to be. It was a hopeless idea born from my desire to see my friends and my dad again.

And I couldn't let it go.

Was I really going to play at being an amnesiac?

How cliché. A girl, shot in the head for unknown reasons, runs away from the hospital after surviving her injuries, all while lost in an unfamiliar world.

Mom would have liked the story. She loved stereotypical settings that pushed boundaries or tried something new. I was certain that my situation counted as new, if anything.

…Mom. Her grave was gone, along with all of Brockton Bay.

Don't think about it.

"I… I woke up, and I had no idea where I was. I knew my name and basic things. But I can't remember where I came from or where I should go." I grew more confident as I spoke. It was technically the truth.

"I see. May I ask if you have any idea of what it is you would like to do?"

"I…" It was the million-dollar question. Where could I go after giving up everything, choosing death, and then having to live with the guilt of it all? How could I come back from that—how could I give back from that. "I'm not sure. There are no records of me. I don't have any money or other clothes. My first concern was finding a place to sleep. I haven't really made a plan beyond that." I really hadn't.

"We will assist you, provide you with the resources you need to set yourself up in town, if you so desire."

A normal life. I could stop. I hadn't really considered or really wanted it. An opportunity to finally stop fighting. I wouldn't always be thinking of the next battle, the next compromise or sacrifice. Usually it was both.

That kind of peace was tempting. Scarily tempting, like a monkey's paw. I didn't like it. I still had my powers, I could still do things. And I had a lot to make up for.

I waited for the follow-up I knew was coming.

"There are a number of jobs within the city. You've already seen the shipping yard." The lead-up. "There is also the opportunity for someone of your caliber to help fight more crime like you did tonight. To do some good for the world." The magic words. Damn him.

"Does stuff like this happen a lot?" I sounded more hopeful than I had wanted to.

"There has been a recent increase in Dust robbery and smuggling. We didn't know the White Fang were involved until now though." If he noticed my tone, then he didn't show it.

I kept my face blank, the mask that I had developed through countless conflicts and situations more familiar than my everyday expressions.

"Also, we are always looking for able-bodied individuals to help combat the ever-present threat of the creatures of Grimm outside the city walls." Again, he seemed to be fishing for recognition from me to see what I 'remembered.'

Grimm?

"Would those be the black-furred bone armored things outside the walls?" I took a shot in the dark.

"You are correct. I'm glad that they are something you are still familiar with. It is always good to know who the enemy is." He nodded.

Wait. "We are always looking?" I inquired.

"Ah yes. As I said, I am the Headmaster of Beacon Academy. A school that teaches young individuals how to battle the forces of Grimm—a place to train future Huntsmen and Huntresses." Not exactly a subtle invitation at this point.

"What are the Grimm? What do they do?"

He grew solemn and took the chance to empty his mug with a final sip. "The Grimm are monsters." His eyes were distant, cold. "They seek negative emotions and kill. That is all they do. Wander and kill. A blight on all living beings. They are a foe that the world has united against for all of history. A constant threat we fight to push back."

"Are they intelligent?"

"Only so far as how they attack and fight. They are not compassionate or empathetic to suffering of any kind. A true evil on the world."

"What is it that Huntresses and Huntsmen typically do?"

"Here is a brief summary that would probably be more informative," he said while passing me a Scroll.

He already had the document open.

I sped through the words, both to ease my lack of knowledge and to once again indulge in the relief of still being able to read.

After I was done, I read it again, just to make sure the words were real. Then, I tried to do a search—the interface was very similar to Earth Bet's internet browsers—just to see if I could, and to check if this was some intricate prank. It worked, and even more results, all confirming what I had already read, came up. Thousands of them. Too many to fake.

I set the Scroll down and stared at the table.

The Grimm. They were an infestation. A universal foe for all humanity.

A threat where I… where I didn't have to worry about going too far.

There were no rules or games to consider with them, no politics, no chance to fight them in the wrong way.

Monsters. Plain and simple. While Huntsmen and Huntresses were the main bastions against them, providing protection and going out to thin their ranks.

Good versus evil. Almost storybook.

Being a Huntress was a way to help that wouldn't mean making new enemies.

Was this it? Why I was left here?

"May I ask how old you are? If you are unsure that is perfectly fine," Ozpin asked, cutting through a silence I hadn't realized was building.

"Uh, sorry. I turned eighteen just a few days before I arrived at the hospital." An odd question, but I was having trouble focusing on why.

"You would only be slightly older than our first-year students then," he confirmed for himself, abandoning subtlety entirely. I caught Goodwitch rolling her eyes, exasperated.

He didn't inquire about how much I remembered about being shot, though I suspected he wanted to keep me away from a bad mindset for what he was pitching

"Are you offering me a place at Beacon Academy, Headmaster Ozpin?" Best to confirm.

He set his cocoa down and interlocked his fingers in front of his face, his gaze holding a slight intensity to them that hadn't been there before.

"Miss Hebert, after getting shot and losing your memories, you wandered the city and encountered a group of dangerous criminals. Not only were you able to defeat all of them, you then used tricks and distractions to evade professional Huntsmen despite your injuries while leaving a false trail of blood for them to follow. All of this, and you've only had your Aura for two weeks." Two weeks? It was nice to know how long had passed, but it was also disconcerting how the days blurred together while in the hospital. "That speaks of the kind of intelligence and character of a Huntress."

I thought he was overestimating me, but regardless.

My fist clenched as a cold hollow feeling clutched in my chest.

It was too good to be true. An offer like this, so soon after I arrived.

An answer to my worries of basic needs.

…Maybe even a chance to make up a little for what I'd done.

Would I get another opportunity like this if I refused?

Fuck.

"If… If I accepted, does that mean another person wouldn't get the chance to attend?" Maybe it was to give myself an excuse to say no, or maybe it was because I didn't believe I deserved all this. It was too easy, too free. There had to be a cost.

"All first-year students must participate in an initiation, which will be held the day after tomorrow. They must pass that to enroll. There are technically a limited number of spots for entry, but it is just as likely that we could have fewer students who pass than the total available spots."

I would be fighting again. I… I didn't quite trust myself to, but that wasn't important. Not if I could… be better this time, continue helping people.

That also meant being under Ozpin's eye.

I didn't trust him. There were too many tests, and he seemed too comfortable keeping secrets. Manipulative too, playing to my need for answers, a living situation, as well as my desire to do good.

He did seem honest in his reasons for why he wanted me in Beacon though.

I'd seen the walls and the Grimm, I knew there was a threat. It made sense that he would offer a potential asset a position to help that cause. I knew he had underlying motives. Maybe he liked the control, or he had some hidden agenda. Being at Beacon would help me figure that out.

Then there was school. I didn't want to go back. After everything I had done, it felt... small and unimportant in comparison to what I was used to doing.

Was my path forward really one that meant I would be in what amounted to going to college?

This felt like deciding to join the Wards and Protectorate all over again. Before, I had turned myself in because it was what I needed to do. It was something to help our chances for the end of the world. It wasn't a choice; it was the next step. A position to build and coordinate more assets to better the world.

"You would be provided resources to learn and train yourself. Food and accommodations are included of course. And you would be learning essential skills to help protect the world from the Grimm," he listed, pressing his pitch.

"Do I have to answer now?" I asked.

Everything I had experienced told me this couldn't be real, a pipe dream, a road that would only let me down.

But I wanted it to be true, so badly.

After everything, please let this be real, for once.

"The last group of new students is arriving tomorrow for roll call, while the initiation is the day after, our last one this year. It is the final scheduled time for first-years to enroll and all students are required to participate in both," Goodwitch stated, almost like she was listing out rules to follow.

Meaning I didn't get time to think it over.

An opportunity to change the direction I would take my life, to try and pick myself up after walking out of the grave, and there wasn't any time to think it through.

"What… What is the school like?" I stalled, or maybe it was some niggling worry about going back to school, some attempt to ground myself to something normal or familiar.

"We train our students in a variety of subjects—history, Grimm studies, plant sciences, among others—but there is plenty of free time for them. Room and board are all provided." His tone dropped with his smile into something more directed to me personally. "We make sure of the safety and well being of our students, Miss Hebert. We want them to enjoy their time at Beacon as well as train them to become the defenders of the world."

He must have thought I was worried about how the other students would treat me instead of how I would treat them.

I'd used the Wards as assets; more soldiers for the cause, tools for my objectives. Like Khepri, in a way.

I'd treated them as allies instead of friends. Maybe that was why I'd never got as close to them as I had the Undersiders, despite spending more time with them. I had never really had the intention of being close to them in the first place.

At some point, I must have wrapped my arm around me because I was beginning to feel the strain of my fingers digging into my skin.

Four in. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

I couldn't do better if I didn't try.

"Will there be consequences if I drop-out? Am I allowed to if I feel it's for the best?" I returned my gaze to Ozpin's, matching his intensity if not exceeding it.

"Of course. Though, you would no longer be able to use the resources the school provides. We understand if some feel the need to leave." He didn't react to my stare, outwardly anyway. "No consequences or punishments."

It wasn't a choice before, but it was now. I felt that if I passed this up, I wouldn't get another offer like it again.

I could walk away. Live with the guilt and disappear into obscurity.

I threw the notion away before I finished it.

What I had done had saved lives. That had always been the goal.

Always.

Strength bloomed over the dull echo in my heart with a comfortable warmth. I didn't realize my Aura was out until I saw the gray gleam over my unclenched hand.

This was a chance to help, and hopefully, learn to do it in a way that wouldn't compromise when I shouldn't, that wouldn't give power to bullies.

There was really only one choice.

I looked him over, hunting for any signs that this was all some lie. Nothing.

"Yes. Please. If you'll have me, I would like to join Beacon. I… I want to help." My eyes were wet. Damn it all.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Hebert. I'm guessing you will need some accommodation for the night?" His small smile returned, though his eyes hinted that he was happy with my choice. I was starting to guess that it was his usual expression.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, then yes."

"Then I believe we can set you up for a night at the Beacon dorms. Tomorrow is when the other students are going to be arriving, so you may not be staying in that particular room afterward. Provided you pass the initiation that is."

"I don't know how well I would do on a test without remembering the world that well." I didn't think Ozpin would offer me a spot that I couldn't possibly get. "I'm guessing it is some kind of practical test then?"

"Perhaps. But more importantly, if you aren't going to…" He gestured at the mug in front of me. I was so thirsty, but the part of me that still expected a trap slid it over to him. "Everyone needs a small comfort eventually," he remarked before sipping from the new mug.

"Cocoa isn't my cup of tea… Tea is." I hadn't meant to do that. "Also, am I under arrest or…?" I'd somehow forgotten that possibility.

All of this was wasted hope and useless mental crises if I couldn't even make it to the initiation.

"Your account, the White Fang's recent history, and a review of the crime scene, all have indicated the danger of the situation and given credence"—Goodwitch slowed a fraction before the word, obviously unhappy with the situation—"to how you dealt with it. Not to mention your condition. It has been determined that you will not be charged with anything," she stated with a glare.

It wasn't a hard stare that told me she wanted me in jail. No, she probably thought there should have been some kind of consequence. Frankly, I agreed.

"Two people are dead," I said.

"Both from the explosion," Ozpin countered.

"The one that I caused. I lied before. She threw the gem at me and prepared to shoot it when it was near me. I shot it before it landed." An admission of lying and guilt; a challenge to his offer, character, and the situation. Or maybe I just thought killing someone shouldn't be so easy.

Goodwitch blinked in confusion at me while Ozpin looked into my eyes.

"Your answer is enough for me to not blame you."

"What?"

"Guilt is a powerful, dreadful, cruel motivator. It can break the best of us, and it sadly drives too many of those who don't deserve it. Did you intend to kill those two?"

"No." They were still dead.

"They died as a result of a split-second moment to defend yourself." A statement, not a question. I didn't bother to give a rebuttal. "Legally, you are safe. How you feel about it is what is important now, and what you do from now on even more so."

I opened my mouth and closed it. I disagreed with him.

Adding sins to my tally wasn't okay just because I felt guilty. I needed to change, to improve, to do better, so I wouldn't repeat myself.

A million mistakes with good intentions, and promises not to repeat them, didn't make up anything to the victims. Results did.

He motioned for me to follow and the three of us made our way to the roof where the airships were parked.

"Miss Hebert, while you did a service stopping the White Fang this time, please remember that we are teaching our students how to handle situations like this safely. We do not condone anyone trying to be a hero before they are ready," Goodwitch said as we walked.

To others, it might have sounded condescending or harsh considering what happened, but she was right.

There should be consequences.

Though, every breath I took was in contradiction to that.

I simply nodded at her. She nodded back in understanding, a break in her stern expression.

"Additionally, we are having the other students arrive tomorrow afternoon. So, Miss Hebert, I expect the room you use to be in a respectable state after use," Goodwitch chided.

"Of course, Professor Goodwitch." I almost laughed, going from scolding me about killing people to keeping my room clean.

The lift-off and trip to Beacon were done in relative silence beyond some small talk between Ozpin and Goodwitch about getting me set up, and minor things regarding the ceremony for the new students tomorrow.

I was more than thankful for the reprieve. I had slumped into my seat, and was only moving to stop myself from nodding off to sleep.

Since waking up in that alley, it had been one long struggle—with others, but mostly with myself.

My bugs vanished in the distance. I felt blind and anxious without them around me. I hadn't kept any on me in case they searched me.

A small blip of a bug moved through my range as we flew once or twice.

Nearer to the ground…

I focused on each one relative to my position.

My range hadn't changed since I'd been awake, stuck at around five blocks. My state of mind didn't factor in at all anymore. Lower than the largest I'd had but still impressive.

There just wasn't a reason why.

As Khepri, my range had been fixed, so maybe it was a byproduct of that. But then, how had my powers changed back? Was the connection to my Passenger different now? I remembered times in the hospital where I'd lost control of my bugs for odd periods of time. No apparent catalyst or common factor for each loss of power.

Those occurrences had become less frequent as time went on. Maybe my connection had healed more since then?

I sagged in frustration. There wouldn't be any answers to questions about my Passenger. I was probably the only parahuman on Remnant.

Something caught my nose, and I almost gagged.

"Are you alright, Miss Hebert?" Goodwitch asked, stern even in her concern.

"I really need a shower." My clothes were cut, stained with blood, ash, and dirt. "And some new clothes." An angry, dying growl sounded from a stomach tired of being ignored. I didn't comment on that, but they obviously heard.

"You haven't eaten since…?"

"I've had a peach, a couple of slices of bread, and a single bottle of water since I got out of the hospital."

"Miss Hebert, it's been three days."

"I know."

"We'll have some clothes and something to eat and drink in your room. Though, it'll have to be a bland and small meal so you can adapt to eating again," Goodwitch said.

"Thank you very much."

"As for the rest of your essentials… Miss Adel of team CVFY should be in Vale, if I recall correctly. I believe she would be… eager for such a task as helping Miss Hebert shop," Goodwitch remarked to Ozpin as she looked through a list on her Scroll.

"I agree, she would be… perfect for such a task. She would also make a good guide for the attractions around Vale for someone unfamiliar with the city. If she is willing of course." Ozpin turned to me. "Otherwise, we may have to leave you to your own preparations after we have confirmed your I.D. for the Kingdom of Vale. None of the staff can leave the school while the students are arriving."

"Of course, I understand."

We landed promptly, bugs giving me a general sense of how massive Beacon was.

Ozpin parted with us, saying he looked forward to my initiation, and left my range, as Goodwitch led me through hallways and into an elevator.

A part of me said I should have been scouting the premises, but I didn't. I ignored everything but the steps in front of me, counting each moment to food and water.

"This will be the dorm room you will be staying in," Goodwitch stated.

"Thank you," I murmured, on the edge of passing out.

A janitor, judging by the grayish-green uniform he was wearing, passed Goodwitch a set of clothes that she promptly thanked him for before handing them to me.

"I hope these will be acceptable until you can acquire some other clothes."

"Anything is fine."

"I expect you will be needing some supplies for your stay. You didn't have a Scroll or any other identification on you when you were brought to the hospital. Tomorrow we'll have to get that straightened out as well as gather some things for you."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry for the trouble. And thank you, again." The painkiller was wearing off. At least the pain was keeping me awake.

"Also, the hospital did take the liberty of having you outfitted with a cybernetic neural up-link attachment. It might be a good idea to get fitted for a combat prosthesis," Goodwitch said.

"A what?"

"The metal cap that has been attached to the end of your missing arm. It's meant to act as an attachment port to work a robotic limb. It will take some time to make, but Atlas should be able to send it to Beacon within two weeks."

Now I was attentive. If the robotic limb was anywhere near the level of the robot cops, it would be a massive step up compared to the prosthetic I was expecting to eventually get.

"Not that I would be against something like that but it sounds like a very expensive item for a new student who you just met tonight and hasn't passed their initiation into the school yet." Suspicious too.

"Considering your unique circumstances, Ozpin thought it best to make an exception." More like 'make an investment'.

"I see. I'll think it over, but I'm unsure right now."

"If that is your choice. Feel free to discuss it with Ozpin—after the initiation."

"Alright."

I wasn't going to take the offer. I didn't want to take any more advantage of their hospitality. I also didn't want to be too indebted to Ozpin. He had enough leverage on me as it was, and I barely knew him.

The caliber of robotic limbs was something I would have to look into as well. If I was going to get one, I wanted it to be as functional as possible. I wasn't sure if Ozpin would go for that, and if he did, it would be an even larger debt.

"It is no trouble, Taylor. We will see you in the morning." Her heels clicked down the hall as I closed the door.

It was a simple room, but the things on the desk were all that interested me.

I almost dove for the smoothie, and it was gone too fast. Bland, smooth, and the taste was like porridge, but that didn't matter—it was filling.

In the moment, I would have sworn it was the greatest thing I had ever tasted.

I wanted more, but knew it was best not to push it.

My filthy clothes fell to the floor in a bundle. Probably all garbage.

So much was happening so fast, and I was finally in a safe place to think things over.

I was asleep before I hit the pillow.

Chapter 4 End


Author Notes:

Praise be to Juff, ccstat, Majigah, and Breakingamber!

We still haven't gotten through Volume 1 Chapter 1 technically… so yeah.

Originally, I had Peach's first name as 'Jamie' (though I never used it), for a James and the Giant Peach reference. Since then, it's come out that her name is Thumbelina Peach. She teaches Plant Science canonically, but for this fic, she will also teach Dust Studies… because why the fuck would they mention a Plant Science teacher but not mention having a Dust class at all? Fucking RWBY: After the Fall.

This one got switched up so it was more of Taylor's choice to join Beacon, a way for her to move forward, rather than just as a solution to her current troubles. Also, hopefully, more in-line with Taylor's personality and goals.

Next episode is… shopping I guess?