Chapter 80
She stared out over the river, breathing in the cool autumn air as the sun cut sparsely through the clouds. She leaned her elbows onto the bridge railing, resting her chin in her left hand and sighing herself down. This was a beautiful time of year for Mistral, as all the trees were changing colour to reds and oranges, shining brightly from the palisade on the south side of the river. This certainly wasn't her favourite town, the capital city of Haven, but it definitely was a pretty one.
Anfang never had a changing of the seasons, since it was effectively always winter and it snowed most of the year round. And Vale and the rest of Sanus were often too temperate to really have a defined autumn season, coupled with the vast forests of evergreens, there wasn't a lot of colour to be had other than green. The worst of the bunch were Vacuo and Menagerie, and their constant and extended summers that never ended, and their tropical and harsh climates that didn't lend themselves to this kind of ambient staring and appreciation.
So it was nice, this quiet serenity of the city, devoid of the cacophonous hustle and bustle of metropolitan Atlas. It gave her reprieve to reflect, and to just enjoy the sanguine breeze that drifted across the river and cut up over the bridge. The air was a lot fresher here than back home, thanks to Mistral's Green Planet initiative that had an emphasis on clean energy in the city, greenspaces everywhere, and one of if not the leading garbage and refuse disposal and recycling programs. She remembered reading something about how there was actually ten percent more greenery inside the city limits than there was commercial property, since every building had a green roof terrace, some even having multiple. This city was a testament to the beauty of nature. She loved it.
The warmth in the air was fading, as the day wound to a close, but Saturdays tended to do that in a town that self-sustained so well. Most of the inner city was fed and corralled by underground trains and above ground MagLev trolleys that were all effectively silent, so there was very little ambient traffic to keep the air hot with exhaust and noise. She always assumed that Atlas was the leader in technology, and statistically it was, but it didn't have as poetic an affliction with quality of life the same way that downtown Mistral did. It spoke to a deeper part of her soul that craved peace, artistry, and that wholesome feeling of doing good for the benefit of others. Because even the sombre wind through the trees wasn't something she could replicate at home with all the wealth in the world. Which, coincidentally, she had.
A scoff escaped her lips, bringing a dull half-smile with it as she stared the fifty or so feet down to the calm waters of the river. A boat trundled by beneath her, disrupting her reflection in it's low wake. A party boat, filled from brig to deck with eager and likely inebriated wedding-goers, all dressed in their finest suits and gowns. Jazz music floated up to her from below, sounding very live and sharp as if performed by a real band and not some uppity disk jockey getting paid far too much to be pushing buttons and eat free food. She smiled down at the boat anyway, catching sight of the two men who had sealed their vows hours before doing the full Titanic at the bow, as most couples tend to do when given the opportunity and watercraft to do so. She waved down at the people on the upper decks, receiving a few sloppy waves in return, and a rather enthusiastic blown kiss from what she assumed was one of the groomsmen, dressed in a rather distinctive lemonade pink suit.
As the boat passed by under her, the water rippled itself calm again and reflected her own smiling face back up to her. She shook her head and turned it sideways, staring down the edge of the bridge to the north shore of the river, subconsciously examining the perfectly straight concrete edge of the railing. The Gakushu Tower pulled her attention for a moment, and honestly she didn't blame it, with how the glimmering glass structure carved a neat and distinctive figure on the riverbank. It's tall, almost egg-like curvature being so different than the very square and postmodern good looks of Jigyo-Sha Plaza just one block to it's left.
The city skyline was almost an art in itself, she figured, with how each building and street had its own character and style, reflected and complemented by every other. It still had its ups and downs, as the consensus was that the oddly-shaped Gakushu Tower was an eyesore of a library, but honestly she liked it all. It was a stark contrast to the ultra-modern, almost sci-fi cubism of downtown Anfang. Her hometown almost seemed like a stage out of a parkour-platforming video game that her and Ruby used to play back at Beacon, trading out controllers and chips as they played into the night. She wasn't very good, but she admitted once to only liking it because the main character kinda had the same hairstyle as Ruby. The remnants of the old city still remained here in Mistral, causing the occasional colonial-era building to grace a city walk like an errant chocolate chip in a bowl of ice cream, serving to only enhance the experience and provide a subtle reminder of days past. Not something that could be said about Anfang, as the only 'original' building that remained was the three-hundred year old capital building in the centre of the city.
She stood straight again and put her hands in the pockets of her coat. She paused a second as her fingers bumped into her phone, deep in the suede-lined pouch. She thumbed it absently for a second as a gust of wind danced her scarf loosely on her shoulders before gripping it around the case and pulling it out. For the longest while now she had been using her work phone for all of her personal business, as the thick black-cased Scroll Model II was both more useful and more robust than the all-glass Model IV prototype she used for her personals. The heavy Model II had been a nice reprieve from all the worrying about breaking the fancier one, and the simple elegant architectural homescreen picture always kept her at ease. But today, wearing the styling and expensive white suede overcoat she hadn't seen since the fateful trip she had taken with dear Ruby, she had found her Model IV still in the lower left pocket, still with a half charge in it.
So it was a bit of a surprise when she caught a glimpse of the picture of her and Ruby she had been using as her lockscreen picture. It was… risque to say the least. She chuckled for a second down at the picture. Who was she to be chastising Sun for having his wife as his phone background when this was what she kept as hers. To be fair, there wasn't anything explicitly explicit about the picture, the phone had cropped it just right so that it had a little decency. The high resolution of the screen's organic light-emitting diode display meant she could see the fine detail of the freckling on Ruby's collar and the intricate depth of her one-sided dimples in her cheeks. She sighed as she unlocked the phone, taking away the picture and letting her heart rate slow down a little. The last application she had open had apparently been the text application, showing a few names of her recent communiques. Top of which was Ruby herself.
Her thumb hovered over the name, aching to press the call button. She sighed, and put the phone back into her pocket. As much as she wanted to, this wasn't the time to put herself through that kind of emotional event. And would Ruby even want to be called at this time? She had neglected her for so long, it wouldn't be right. That was the whole point of this endeavor, wasn't it? To find something, anything that might bring peace back to her fading relationship with her best friend. As her hand landed in the bottom of her pocket, she found a coin stuck into the fabric folds, out of sight. Her hand came out with the coin, a particularly shiny quarter, in her fingers. She rolled it over her knuckles twice before grasping it between her thumb and index finger.
With a flick, she tossed the coin over the bridge. It sailed upwards, arcing elegantly and catching the sun like a disco ball might, glimmering brightly. As it fell towards the river's surface, she sighed again and watched it disappear beneath the blue waves with a tiny splash.
"For Ruby, eh?"
She smiled down at the water. Today would be a hard day. But a worthwhile one, she certainly hoped. She pushed off the banister and turned around, striding back across the sidewalk. The brawny red SUV that waited for her sat patiently, up against the curb sitting pretty in the sunlight. She slowed and put her hand on the parking meter, leaning onto it for a moment. It claimed she had eight minutes of parking left, which was understandable since she had only put in a quarter twenty minutes before. She tapped her hand twice on it and stepped off the curb, strolling around the wide, glimmering chrome front end of the truck with her hands in her pockets. There was no traffic out at this time of day, thankfully, meaning she was the only person out on this bridge, partially because it was after business hours and partly because not many city-dwellers wanted to afford the steep vehicle taxes required to have a car within the city limits. As a foreigner, in a car with Atlas plates, she didn't need any sort of permits, and that meant she basically had her pick of parking around the city.
She grabbed the polished chrome handle on the door and gave a hefty yank, pulling open the door. It didn't creak or hiss the way the original vehicle did, but it was just as heavy and authentic as the real deal. She put her boot up on the running board and levered herself up and into the soft, plush bench seat the truck was so famous for. The heavy door fell shut behind her with a resounding thud of old Valean steel, dampened by a set of aftermarket door latch silencers. She fished the key out of her inside right pocket of her coat and pushed it carefully into the slot on the dash, just next to the column. With a short huff, she twisted the key all the way over. The starter whined a few times but lit off without major incident, and the big eight cylinder started to greedily suck air through its trio of whistling carburetors. She smiled as the truck thundered gleefully beneath her.
She pulled the well-restored truck back out into traffic and pulled it patiently down the bridge, enjoying the smooth acceleration that nearly four-hundred horsepower provided so humbly. The sun started to beat in through the windshield as it set slowly over the skyline to her front. It had this halo effect on the buildings so they were almost glowing down on her as she slowed to a stop on the north side of the bridge, preparing to turn left to drive along the tree-lined promenade in front of Gakushu Tower. A few cars passed by, nothing of particular value, just a usually collection of grey, appliance-like blobs of corporate automotive desperation. One particularly exquisite red Milan Tipo 952 trundled by, catching her attention with its inverted triangle-shaped grille and little green clover badge up on the fender. She smiled, taking mental note to have a look at one once she returned to Atlas. It would make a fitting addition to her garage.
The light went green, with an advance left-turn arrow, and she proceeded onto the wide and smooth promenade that carried her swiftly along the riverbank with the smoothness of a runway. She pushed the big truck forward, the sound of the archaic engine reverberating off the buildings to her rights with an almost glass-shattering gurgle. It really did break the serenity of Haven, and that's why she liked it so much. Her automotive obsession would be considered abnormal if she was a regular middle-class person, but since she had the economic fortitude of an entire nation, she was a collector, not a lunatic.
She reached for the radio dial flicked the vintage radio on, turning it up so she could hear it. After a moment of fiddling with the tuning dial to drown out the static, she found a local station playing some classic rock and roll, specifically the opening to Stairway. She smirked, remembering being in a music store one and watching some poor kid get ejected for starting to play Stairway on a test guitar. That was the one rule that most Atlesian music stores had. No Stairway. Which was a shame, it was one of the few songs she could play front to back. She slowed the big truck, tapping her fingers to the beat on the steering wheel, and turned right onto the cobblestone street that led into the old city centre. The moment the tires hit the old brickwork, the whole truck started to vibrate, turning Led Zeppelin into Jello Zeppelin very quickly, and surprisingly on-beat.
Just up ahead on the right side of the road, she caught sight of a particular trailer end-reflector, glinting back at her from the parking space at the side of the road. She slowed and put her turn signal on, pulling into the parking spot right behind the white, unmarked camper trailer. She paused a second to read the license plate idly before lifting the transmission lever up into park and shutting the rumbling engine off with a twist of the chrome key. She shouldered her way out of the truck and jumped the long way down onto the cobblestone street, slamming the heavy steel door behind her with a hearty and meaty whump of old iron. She spun on place and walked around to the far side of the truck, where the parking meter sat waiting patiently to take her money. She put her hand in her coat pocket and searched for some change.
"Oh, bugger, that's right."
She smirked and shrugged her shoulders, remembering what she had done with her last quarter. She had been assured that the traffic police weren't exactly as anal as those in Atlas, and the possibility of getting a parking citation would be low. She turned and started to move up the street, along the side of the camper trailer she had parked behind. It was hers, actually. A recent purchase from a local RV dealership just outside of Anfang, that had been trailered all the way to Mistral, putting something to the effect of twelve thousand kilometres on the axle odometer. It's resale value might be hindered, she figured, but she didn't mind. The vast number of satellite dishes and radio antennas on the roof of the camper probably did more than the milage had with just how many holes had been drilled in the roof. It had a very 'Flowers By Irene' look to it, but to the layman it just looked like an average camper trailer with great T.V. reception.
She moved astride the car that the trailer was currently hooked to, a crystal white Hunter Range-Cruiser. Her father's, specifically, and borrowed. Well, 'reappropriated' was probably more correct. With who she had driving the SUV, she wanted them to be comfortable with the size of vehicle, instead of lending them the grotesquely large Commander pick-up she had also recently acquired. As much as she didn't particularly want to associate with her father, she couldn't exactly fault his choice in automobiles, as there were almost no production SUVs that could match the Range-Cruiser's on and off-road performance, save for the Klasse-G she drove back at Beacon. But that bank vault of a vehicle was basically just an Atlesian army truck with a leather interior, it almost didn't qualify as an on-road vehicle. She ran her fingers along the shiny chrome trim that ran the length of the truck's beefy shoulder, slipping her hand into the shiny chrome handle of the front passenger door, also trimmed in shiny chrome. With an easy pull, the door swung open and she slid into the incredibly plush bucket seat.
"Good afternoon. Sorry I'm late, I was contemplating modern architecture."
Blake briefly lifted her face out of her phone, her ears flicking over.
"Eh, don't worry about it. I have the massage seat going."
"You know, as confusingly nice my father has become recently, I'm sure he'd still throw a fit with a faunus sitting in the front seat of his favourite car."
"I'll keep his seat warm then."
Weiss chuckled, reclining her power seat. Blake was right, the massage seats were where it's at.
"Great idea. How'd you make out with getting us a comms expert?"
Blake gestured to the back seat.
"Better than you think. I got the best in the business."
Weiss sat up straight and turned around, directing her attention to the person in the back seat. Her darkly-freckled olive skin was quite familiar, as was the absurdly long brown hair, done up in a high ponytail. She was fiddling with what looked like a small, hearing-aid sized earbud with a set of precision screwdrivers in her mouth. As soon as she caught the woman's eye, Weiss squinted.
"You seem familiar…"
The woman removed the screwdrivers from her teeth and squinted right back. Blake turned in her seat.
"Weiss, might I introduce Ilia. Best hacker I've ever known. Unfortunately this… did get her in with the wrong crowd when we were kids."
Weiss stared for a moment. It clicked in her head.
"Ilia… Amitola?"
"Was ist dir wichtig, Schnee?" The woman nearly spat.
Weiss's eyebrows threatened to become one with the plush headliner. Blake leaned in.
"You two know each other?"
"Yeah, we uh, went to Atlas Prep together. She was my neighbour in the dorms."
Blake nearly choked on her tongue.
"You what?"
"Yeah, she was a redhead then, though. Majoring in computer science, I thought."
Without a word, the woman's hair shaded itself lighter, settling into a ginger-red shine.
"Ist das besser, Abschaum?"
Weiss turned to Blake.
"She lit off on me one day and shoved me in a locker. You know, one of those electronic code lockers? She re-programmed it to change the access code every second so nobody could get me out. They had to cut me out with a torch."
Blake turned an eye to their backseat passenger.
"Wh- why?!"
The faunus sneered.
"Sie weiß, was Sie Tat."
Weiss rolled her eyes.
"I was twelve! I can't be held responsible for the actions of my family from when I was a child!"
"Mein Eltern sind tot, Schrott."
"That wasn't my fault! I'm sorry that happened! I've been trying to make it up to you and your species for years!"
"Es ist nie genug."
Weiss sighed.
"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I really want to do something about it, but you have to understand I'm just one person. That's the whole fuckin' point of me being here, isn't it!? To prove I am capable of helping?"
Ilia scoffed.
"Ganz wie du willst."
"Look, I know you don't like me, but today's not about me. It's about Ruby, a pure-hearted human who never hurt anyone, and someone I love. Can you help me with that? Just for today? You can burn effigies of me tomorrow."
The woman rolled her eyes and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Fine."
Weiss gave her most honest smile, which was not returned, and turned back to Blake.
"So where the hell did you find her?"
"The White Fang."
"Ohhyea. I forgot about that."
Blake shrugged her shoulders.
"Yeah, she was originally enlisted as Sienna's handmaidens. Then Adam murdered Sienna, took over, and decided to blame it all on humans… like your father. And Ilia seemed to appreciate Adam's sensibilities, so she sided with him, attacked the school, and then got arrested and charged with civil terrorism, and was in the process of serving a life sentence."
"Not a lot of good decision making structures in her life, huh."
"Yeah, not really."
"Ich kann euch immer noch hören."
Weiss ignored the criminal in the back seat.
"So if she was charged, what is she doing in the back of my father's truck?"
"Well, you said to get the best comm tech in the business, and unfortunately that's her. I had to… excuse me, she was released from prison just recently, and I went to pick her up."
"Why was she released?"
Blake shrugged again.
"Some evidence went… shall we say 'missing' and since that was the evidence that proved she was guilty, she was let free."
A sly smile crept across Weiss's face.
"Detective Belladonna, you sly dog, you. Tampering's a crime, isn't it?"
Blake gave her best innocent face and fluffed out her hair.
"I'm a cat, and I don't know what you're talking about."
"Well, if she's the best, then I don't mind helping her gain her freedom."
"Abschrauben."
"Yeah, yeah, you too. I'm glad you're here. It's good to see you again."
"Leck meine fotze."
Weiss's thoughts caught in her throat for a second. Blake sighed and leaned over the back of her seat.
"Man, I wish I could speak Atlesian."
"Ohhh, Blake, sweetie, no you don't. You really don't"
They were interrupted by a whistling from way behind them, steaming up the street at quite a pace. The telltale whistling of one particularly large diesel pickup spooling it's ostentatiously huge turbocharger as it fired up the street. Well, more turned the planet beneath its wheels as it came up behind them. Then, like a glimmering black monolith, the massive chrome-appointed soot-spewing pickup trundled by, pulling slowly into the parking spot in front of them. It sat idle, puffing little rings of exhaust out of its bed stacks, before shutting off with a deep, bassy rumble. The truck's front door swung open, and out dropped her brother, clad in his usual blue argyle sweater and black dress pants. They watched as he adjusted his tie, rolled out his shoulders, and reached back into the cab, pulling out a long, skinny pole and a small styrofoam tray with four cups in it. He closed his door with his hip and moved carefully around to the back door of the Range-Cruiser. With a flourish, he pulled the back door open and slid onto the back seat next to Ilia.
"Hey guys. I stopped at Coffeehaus on the way in like you asked."
Weiss chewed on air as she was handed her cup.
"Thanks."
"Be careful with that."
"Wh-why?"
He shrugged and handed another cup to Blake.
"Well, that cup is basically just espresso. I figured it might help you run a little faster."
"I'm plenty fast."
"Sure. This is for you, ma'am."
Blake smiled sweetly at him.
"Thank you."
"Shit, I should do introductions, shouldn't I?, Uh, Whit, this is Blake Belladonna, one of my roommates at Beacon and a capable and conniving police detective. Blake, this is my brother, Whitley."
Blake stuck out her hand and took Whitley's, shaking it firmly.
"Doctor Whitley Schnee, Atlas Aktiengesellschaft, hybrid engineering."
"Charmed."
Weiss coughed into her hand.
"Hey, uh, you realize she's married to the sexiest man alive, right?"
Whitley didn't even flinch.
"Oh, I'm not interested in that, Weiss. I just like rubbing my doctorate in your face from time to time."
"Oh, get bent."
Weiss rolled her eyes and sipped her dangerously caffeinated drink. Her brother shrugged it off and handed the last cup to his backseat companion.
"Sure. And for you, I wasn't told what you wanted so… milk and sugar?"
Ilia stared at him for a second, before taking the cup and sipping from it.
"Danke schön."
"Oh, uh, Würdest du lieber Atlas sprechen? Wenn Ihnen das so lieber ist."
Ilia shook her head behind her cup and turned away, ignoring him. Weiss leaned over the back of the seat.
"Yeah, you're barking up the wrong tree. Also, you're a Schnee, doesn't help your case. I see you brought your sword."
He nodded.
"Yeah, it took me a while to find it. It ended up being under the secret panel under my bed. You know, the absolute last place I looked after like, a week."
He lifted the sheathed sword up into his hands. With a delicate pull at the hilt, the blade came free of the sheath, revealing a carefully engrave sigil just above the crossguard. He eyed it for a moment, before snapping it shut again.
"Happens to me too, sometimes."
"Yeah, but it shouldn't happen to me. This sword is priceless, and thirteen-hundred years old. It is not something that should go missing. It's an original Amakuni, crafted for the ancient Vacuan warriors known as the Samurai. By the way, where is your sword?"
Weiss shrugged.
"Can't remember. Somewhere."
"I'd tell you the story of how I got this sword, but it's incredibly long-winded, and there's a lot of human suffering involved on my part-"
Ilia interrupted him.
"Erzähl mir die Geschichte."
Whitley shrugged.
"Na schön, wenn Sie darauf bestehen."
"Wha-, no Whitley, we don't have time for that, we have important things to do."
"Okay, okay, jeez. Do you want to get started, or what?"
Weiss sighed, reclining in her chair.
"I suppose we should. I didn't spend all this time training to sit in a comfortable leather seat and argue with my sibling. Blake, what do you think?"
"I think you're right. It's about time to get started. Did you bring everything you needed?"
"I certainly brought a lot."
"What do you mean 'a lot'?"
Weiss gestured to the door.
"Perhaps I should show you instead. It's quite a lot."
"Sure."
Weiss elbowed her way out of the truck and back onto the sidewalk, shutting the door behind her with her hip. Her new associates stepped out as well, congregating with her on the sidewalk in the shade of the big camper trailer. She sighed and rolled out a kink in her neck. She'd been putting off the inevitable for too long now, and it was time for action. And as she looked at her collected crew of a very corrupt cop, a criminal faunus, and her well-meaning brother, she figured that perhaps this was as ill-prepared as she was ever going to get, so she might as well grit her teeth and get it over with. She wiped her nose.
What she had set out to do was going to be a task of monumental proportions. She had trained, tortured herself within an inch of her life, learned to shoot better than a military marksman, learned to fight like a Mistrali bear, and learned to appreciate vintage automobiles to the point of bald tires and burst shock absorbers. It had been difficult, it had been harrowing. But this challenge she faced was different. It would literally be a matter of life and death, and this might not be the most efficient way of dealing with the problem Ren had assigned to her. But what did efficiency matter, anyway. This whole plan was a stupid idea. Hairbrained, even. Colossally, otherworldly unthinkable and completely a bad idea. It sounded like a great idea. All she had to do was extract a confession from someone who had so harshly wronged her dear Ruby. Then everything would be alright.
She hoped.
"So, what did you bring?"
Blake swung around to her, her rather fabulous navy overcoat swaying along behind her. Weiss shrugged.
"Just the basics." she pulled off the white jacket and slung it over the SUV's mirror, revealing the long unworn black and red combat skirt and utility belt. "Magnesium explosives, a combat knife, some snacks, Crescent Rose…"
She reached behind her back and grabbed the folded-up weapon out of its clasp just above her butt and slung it around to show. Blake and Whitley ooh'd in unison as Weiss continued.
"... night-vision goggles, bandages, armoured bracers… uh, some heat…"
"What do you have in the way of heat?"
Weiss slung the big sniper around her back and reached for the leather holster on her left hip. With a practiced flick of her thumb, she unclipped the little snap button and lifted the firearm up and out of the leather pouch, cradling it in both hands to show it off. The evening sun glinted off the beautifully machined slide and fabulously varnished grip plates.
"Well, this little number. It's a Kort PSR, chambered in Forty-Five Auto on a six inch barrel."
Blake whistled appreciatively.
"Stylish."
"And expensive. Like, eighteen grand expensive."
"Holy shit. Are you sure that's appropriate? I'm not sure Ruby would ever use something so… boutique."
"This is actually hers."
Blake coughed into her hand.
"Excuse me?!"
"Yeah, I let her try mine at the range under the house, and she said it was the smoothest firing pistol she had ever shot. But that's to be expected, since the whole thing is titanium-plated and uses a roller-lock delayed blowback like those K&H submachine guns. So, two years ago for her birthday, I bought her this one."
"It looks awfully like a 1911."
Weiss shrugged.
"It ought to, it's basically an Atlesian-made 1911. Same grip safety mechanism, same single-action design, same grip feel. It even takes standard 1911 G.I. mags, though it would be a disgrace to this piece of art to put hundred-year-old surplus magazines in it, don't you think?"
"I-I guess? Does Ruby know how expensive that gun is? You do have a history of not telling her how expensive things are when you give her stuff."
"She knows. I've only ever seen her take it out on special occasions. You know, Military events, the few times I used to be able to convince to come to work socials. She treats this gun like the one piece of jewelry she owns."
"I… see. Man, I wish the precinct would upgrade our thirty-eights to something more powerful like that gorgeous thing. But we have to slum it with these crummy six-shooters."
Blake tapped her left lapel, right over where the silver-plated revolver usually sat.
"Hey, don't knock the Saturday Night Special, they're pretty great."
"Yeah, but I don't know if Ruby would ever use one."
Weiss sighed.
"Yeah, they weren't her style. I think I remember her saying that they didn't make one that was comfortable in her hands. Which I'm not surprised by, despite her superhuman grip, she does have small hands."
"I always found she preferred the Patch County method of justice. Punching and kicking. Which is the reason you came here, isn't it?"
"I get it, I get it. Stop delaying the inevitable."
"Mhmm."
Blake nodded feverishly.
"I know. I'm… ugh…"
"It's not going to get any easier if you wait, Weiss. You're losing daylight."
She shrugged.
"Good thing I have night-vision goggles then."
"Weiss."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm just…"
She paused, holsting her weapon and clipping it back into place. She shook out her hands for a second and sniffled.
"Alright. I can do this."
"Yes, you can."
Weiss sighed.
"Okay. Hand me the cape."
Her brother stepped forward, small cardboard box in his hands, arms outstretched. She took the package from him and turned to set it on the hood of the Range-Cruiser, and lifted the lid. Deep inside the unassuming brown box was the dark red fabric that teased her so. She reached for it, tangling her fingers into the soft, supple cloth and pulled it free from the box and held it for a second, in awe of the subtle garment. She sighed as Blake stepped up next to her.
"Go on. Be careful though, it's loaded."
"Yeah, I know, I know. I'll be careful. Stand back."
With a flick of both wrists, she swung the cape up and around her shoulders, letting it settle and doing up the clasp in the front, just over her collar. She rolled her neck and let the matching cape and combat skirt settle on her body, as a light breeze swept around her borrowed boots. She looked back to her brother and Blake.
"How do I look?"
Blake gave her a thumbs up.
"Perfect, Ruby."
"Woah, don't do that to me."
"Gonna have to get used to it. Put your contacts in."
Weiss fumbled for the pouch just above her right butt cheek on the duty belt, and unzipped it. She pulled out the little plastic two-part tray and unscrewed the pair of lids, revealing the contact lenses that would turn her costume into a convincing facade. As much as she hated the putting in of contact lenses, it was a necessary sacrifice. It made her briefly cringe as she almost poked her eyes out swapping lenses from her regular ones to the custom-coloured silver ones. She blinked away the pain as she put her little lense case away.
"There, better?"
"Eerily so."
"Thanks."
"No problem, Ruby."
"Blake, stop."
The woman smiled a chilling smile.
"No. Let's get you wired up, shall we?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Ilia? Got the wireless?"
The irate chameleon nodded and stepped forward, pulling a small wired device out of the pocket of her hoodie. Weiss did her best to not step backwards as the former criminal stepped way too far into her comfort circle and grabbed at her collar.
"Halt Still."
"Yeah, I'm holdi- hey! Mind your hands!"
The woman ignored her and shoved her hand right down the front of the fairly tight combat skirt, working down to the harsh metal underwire of her bra, anc clipped the little device to it. With two more small clips, she attached a small battery to the device and fiddled with two buttons on the front. After a second, the device beeped quietly as it powered on. Not that she was admitting it, but it seemed to Weiss that the odd criminal was spending an awfully long time with her hands down her shirt.
"OK, es funktioniert."
"You sure you don't want to spend a little more time down there?"
"Mich beißen."
Weiss smirked.
"Mit Vergnügen."
She heard her brother choke on his tongue from off to the side. The spots on Ilia's face briefly flashed a dull pink, before settling back down to their usual sun-bleached brown. Ilia retracted and grumbled something profane under her breath, walking away towards the trailer. Whitley replaced her for a second, reaching down and pulling the cinch ribbons on the front of the outfit tight again. He checked all of her seams with a cursory glance, adjusting her collar so it sat straight again.
"There you go. You certainly look good."
"Thanks, Whit. You still remember how to use that thing?"
She gestured for the sword on his hip with her chin. He sighed and rested his palm on it.
"If I have to. I hope I don't, and that you can resolve this without us stepping in. I'm willing to lay down a lot, Weiss. If I have to."
"Oh, don't say that. I don't think it will come to that, Whitley. Besides, it's me who has to lay it on the line, not you. Not to say this in any kind of malice, but leave this to your much more capable older sister."
"I didn't know you'd invited Winter."
Weiss scoffed.
"Bitch."
"Just please be careful. I don't want you coming home in a box."
She reached over and tapped him twice on the cheek.
"I won't. I'll be safe."
"Good. I'll be in the trailer, sword at the ready."
"Sounds like we're in good hands, Bruderherz."
"Don't you Bruderherz me, Weiss."
He smirked and poked her in the nose, before turning and walking back to the trailer as well, leaving only her and Blake out in the evening air. Weiss clicked her tongue quietly and spun around to face her former teammate. Blake pulled her hands from her pockets and stepped forward, kicking a small stone into the gutter.
"Well, we're ready on our end. What about you, Rubes?"
'Ruby' sighed.
"I guess I am. Ugh, everything is so hard, Blake."
"You're telling me. It's hard enough for me to just understand the three of you. Why don't you guys speak, oh I don't know, Mistrali, like the rest of us from here. I know you know how."
"Oh, god, my accent in Mistrali is atrocious. Besides, it's fun to mess with you non-speakers."
"Oh, of course it is."
Weiss shrugged.
"Gotta have one last bit of fun."
"Oh, come on. I thought I was the dramatic one. Here, you'll need this earpiece too." Blake pulled out a little device from her coat pocket and handed it over. "Stick it up behind your ear so your hair hides it."
Weiss took the device and did as instructed, hearing the dull radio static start to fade in and out as the speaker powered up. After a moment, there was a dull beep as it connected to the communications tower on top of the camper trailer and to the receiver board inside. She leaned her face down so her mouth was closer to the microphone strapped to her chest, and tapped it twice through the fabric.
"Uh, testing, testing. Can you hear me?"
She could hear the line click on from the other end.
"Leider für mich."
Weiss rolled her eyes.
"Look, there's more than a slim chance that I won't be around to be offended by that very soon, can we put aside our differences for ten minutes? Please?"
After a brief pause, the line clicked again.
"...Okay, Ich werde brav sein."
"Thank you. Your help is very much appreciated."
The line went silent, and Weiss directed a concerned look at Blake, who only shrugged and gave a 'it happens' look on her face. Weiss sighed and stood up straight, brushing off her stomach.
"Right. Well, Blake, it was an honour knowing you, uh, if I don't make it back I want you to set Whitley on fire. Just because."
"Oh, please. You're not going to die. Your melodrama would make an excellent T.V. show, though. Now, gimme the coat, I don't want it getting ruined by the dirty fender."
"Yeah, yeah."
She grabbed the coat off the truck's mirror and tossed it into Blake's outstretched hand, watching her carefully fold it over her arm so it didn't crease. Good thing, the damn thing was notoriously hard to clean. Blake straightened and pulled out her notebook, flipping it open with one hand and clearing her throat.
"Okay. Your target is at the cafe one block east of here, sitting in his usual table right outside the front door, a fresh newspaper stretched out on the table. Do you know your plan?"
Weiss clapped her hands together and shook out her wrists.
"Yeah. Get above his position, drop in, make a spectacle, and get him to a secluded area to extract the confession, using force if necessary."
"Yeah. Specific to that point, I need a solid confession. Not just an 'I did it', I need the whole phrase. Everything. From his mouth. Got it?"
"I… can certainly try."
"You will do better than try. Your best option for a route is down the alley to my right, up the fire escape above the dumpsters, over the HVAC units, and between the two gargoyle statues wearing top hats, and that should put you right above his position for the best drop. You get all that?"
"Uh, alley, fire escape, HVAC, gargoyle. I got it."
"Good. I hope one of your instructors taught you parkour, the fire escape doesn't go all the way up to the roof."
"I'm sure I'll get up somehow."
"Well… I believe in you. We'll be right here if you need us. Radio in once you get to the top."
"Yes, ma'am."
Blake stuck out her hand. After a nervous beat, Weiss reached for it and shook it as confidently as someone could when they were about to stick their head in the mouth of a lion. That was on fire. And they were also on fire. And everything was on fire because they were in hell. After they separated, Weiss turned as confidently as she could, with the previous metaphor in mind, and marched for the alley.
"Hey." Blake called, making her stop and turn briefly. "Good luck, Ruby."
Weiss sighed to herself, tightened up her throat, and did her best Ruby Rose.
"Thanks, Blakey."
Blake nodded with a smile, and turned to the caravan and disappeared inside it. Not wanting to stand and wallow any longer, Weiss spun on the spot and continued into the relatively clean but still dark alleyway they had all parked alongside of, marching past a row of city-marked recycling bins and an emergency exit door to one of the businesses in the block. The level of cleanliness of this city almost made Anfang and most of Atlas look like a pig stye in comparison, if she was honest. It really did seem almost supervillain-dystopian, and that was okay with her. At least someone was cleaning up around here.
Just up one the left side of the alley ahead of her was the fire escape that she was supposed to use. And just like the instructions, this fire escape was suspended above two large, dark green dumpsters, adorned with city markings. Of course, since it was a fire escape, the ladder than would normally lead from the second floor balcony to the ground was in the folded-up position, meaning she couldn't just climb straight up. But this did not hinder her forward progress. With a hop and a skip, she dove for the brick wall the escape was attached to and vaulted herself upward, kicking off and up and reaching out for the railing on the balcony. She caught the smooth, powder-coated bar and hoisted herself over it in one fluid movement, boots landing surprisingly quietly on the treated rubber floor of the fire escape.
With a light foot, she scampered all the way up to the building's seventh floor balcony where the staircase ended. True to her word, there was no way up to the roof from here, only a fairly high wall and ornately carved cornice overhanging by about a foot. Almost like the building had been designed not to be climbed. She peered into the nearby window for a second, seeing only a carpeted hallway with no indications of a way up. She frowned.
"Wait, I'm overthinking this, I can just jump."
She looked up. It wasn't even that high, in retrospect. She spread her feet and bent at the knee a little, bracing herself. Then, with a twist of her wrists, she formed a quick little glyph beneath her feet and jumped upwards, easily clearing the top of the building and landing solid, boots down on the edge of the building. She teetered there a moment, before grabbing balance and standing up straight.
"Ah, there we go."
She glanced to her right, seeing the maze of large square steel pipes that trapsed across the top of the building, arching between large fan-covered boxes that all hummed and hissed with air-moving power. She shrugged and started to jog through them. It wasn't a hard place to maneuver through, as she vaulted the first ventilator shaft and landed in the gravel on the other side, sliding under the next. She kicked upwards up the front of a large air conditioning tower, grabbing it's upper edge and pulling herself up and onto it quite easily. She skipped over the two huge fan shrouds on top of it and launched herself off the other side, sailing through the air as gracefully as a hawk, cape fluttering in the wind behind her. She landed boots-first and tuck-rolled over her right shoulder, standing upright as quickly as she had landed.
"Oh, shoot."
She pulled the cape around herself and dusted it off best she could, trying to get the dusty gravel off of it. Most of it came off in a little cloud of fine dust, just enough for it to be considered 'clean' again. She sighed. There were less theatrical ways of getting down off the AC unit, sure. And most of them wouldn't have gotten dirt on Ruby's cape.
"Well… here goes…"
She slung the cape backwards again and stepped up to the edge of the building. It was only a short step to the edge of the roof, but her legs nearly refused to co-operate and ached the whole way up. She settled on the edge , keeping her toes just on the edge of the cornice and looked out over the city.
It was a beautiful city. It glimmered back like a diamond ring, worn by an elegant, aging musician still in their prime. It had a heart of pure silver, still polished and shining. Even the marring of a disgraced local headmaster hadn't tarnished the finish on the old and solid city. Nothing ever would. Well, except for one resident. But she was here to change that. To fix a great wrong in the world, both for herself and for her dear Ruby Rose. Today would be the last time she would ever have to worry, to fret, to cry. It all ended here. And it all ended now.
She took a look down, all seven stories to the ground, where the little cafe had its tables set out. She glanced from table to table, looking for her target. It wasn't difficult, especially with just how yellow the hair was on his head. Within moments, she spotted him. Her eyes narrowed down on his table. She fiddled with the inside of the pretty red cape and grabbed the little loop of fabric and slipped her middle finger through it. Inside the cape she had sewn quite a number of fresh rose petals on quick-release knots connected to the loop on her finger. Since she couldn't do the rose-petal trick naturally, like Ruby, she had to settle for some theatre. But theatre was what she was good at. She spread her arms out, and brought her face up to the sky.
"For Ruby. Ich Liebe Dich."
She stepped off the roof, and fell forward.
Wind slapped against her face as the ground accelerated up towards her at an alarming rate. She flipped forward, tucking into a somersault and pulled the loop, releasing the petals. With her other hand, she pulled old Crescent Rose out of it's mount on her back and hit the latch. The huge blade unhooked from its poppets and swung open, clanking and crunching as the old, crusty springs forced the old steel into working positions. The end pike slammed open as well, almost taking the weapon clean out of her hands as it hit its endstops. She flexed her stomach and finished off the flip, forcing her feet down and ready for her landing. She didn't really have a strategy further than 'land'. It was surprising how comfortable the old scythe was in her hand as she descended, pointy-end first. She held her breath as the ground approached.
Crash
She landed through the table, feet first, crunching through the wood tabletop and porcelain dishes. The big scythe dug into the concrete and sank in about a foot, sending dust and chunks everywhere. She didn't look up yet, entirely for effect as rose petals fell softly around her and onto the ground. About the only soft thing about the landing, actually, as her target tumbled backwards off his chair. She finally brought her gaze up at him, firing it through her red-tipped bangs. The man seemed to fumble for recognition and words for a moment, before it all clicked upstairs.
"Ruby?"
She tried not to sneer, and scrunched up her larynx.
"Hello, Jaune. Did you miss me?"
"What- what the hell are you doing? You broke the table!"
Weiss didn't let him get up, diving for her sidearm and lifting it free of its holster and levelled it at him.
"A fair few more important things have been broken, Jaune. Stay down."
"Woah-woah now, there's no need for guns. What are talking about, 'broken'? What's the matter, what happened?"
She scoffed, but remembered to do it with her tongue and not with her throat.
"Like you don't remember what you did. Back at Beacon?"
"What the hell are you talking about, can you put the gun away please?"
She sneered and pointed it more fervently, cocking the smooth, titanium hammer back.
"No. I don't think I will."
He had his hands up in front of his face, as if they would do anything to stop a forty-five auto.
"Ruby, this is insane, we're in public. Why the hell do you have a gun pointed at me?"
"I'm sorry, do you not remember our little 'relationship'? What you did to me?"
"What I-" he stumbled. "What are you talking about, I never did anything to you! What is this about?!"
Weiss narrowed her borrowed eyes.
"Jaune, you raped me. A lot. Do you seriously not recall, you monster?"
"Ra- excuse me?! Are you out of your fucking mind? In what universe have I ever done anything even remotely obtrusive to you?! Where is this coming from!?"
"What you did to me is inexcusable, Jaune. I finally have the courage to confront you, and you just pretend it didn't happen?"
"It didn't happen!"
"Sure. Tell me the truth, Jaune."
He struggled backwards, over the broken chair and onto his knees slowly. Weiss didn't let the sights drift even a millimetre away from the bridge of his nose.
"Is this about that nightmare you had?"
"Nightmare? What nightmare? Don't change the subject!"
He started to stand up, his hands still out where she could see them.
"If this is what you're talking about, and I'm sure it must be, you had a terrible nightmare back in first or second year, I don't remember exactly, but it was about me, and yes I might have taken advantage of you in your dream, but it was just a dream. Ruby, you were in the hospital for a week from psychological trauma over it, is this what's come back to you?"
Weiss couldn't believe her ears.
"A… dream? But…" she lowered her voice. "...Blake said…"
Unfortunately it wasn't low enough.
"Blake said? What has she been telling you? I know it was basically only her that you confided in about that dream, I had to hear about it from Pyrrha. What did Blake say to you?"
"Y-you...you violated me, Jaune!"
"This is because I broke up with her, isn't it? And she's still trying to bring me down by manipulating you? It's been nine years, why can't she get over it?"
Weiss's next thought caught hard in her throat. She stumbled for breath and some kind of coherence, but nothing came. As subtly as she could, she coughed into the microphone to grab the attention of her crew.
"Blake?!" she hissed. "Tell me he's lying. Tell me you didn't date him."
There was silence from her earpiece. Then, after a beat, Blake's voice came back through it.
"He's trying to distract you! Stay focussed!"
Weiss ignored the rest of it, lowering the gun, but not putting it away just yet. She couldn't believe it. Blake had lied to her. Coerced her. Deceived her. Arguably, all she knew was that there had been a nightmare, several of them, and that was what Ruby was truly afraid of. And Blake had played it up a little bit in their conversations. But she wasn't willing to admit it. It had to still be all a deception. She brought the big-barrelled pistol back up level.
"Why weren't you at Pyrrha's funeral, then? Trying to avoid justice?"
He shook his head and sighed.
"No, I- ugh." he paused and looked down at the ground, then back up at her. "I didn't want to have my ex-wife break my heart a second time. I- I… wouldn't have been able to deal with it."
The scary part was just how honest his blue eyes were, and how they pierced into her very soul with every syllable he spoke. Her body started to relent, lowering the gun again until the bottom of the grip rested against her skirt. It couldn't be true. Was this another illusion? But, why put her through all that training just to mess with her head at the very end? Why would she have put herself through all this trouble without making sure she was in the right in the first place?
"Jaune, I-"
She couldn't continue. Her whole body failed her as she re-holstered the big forty-five into its leather pouch on her hip. She leaned back and fell into the unbroken chair and sagged into it like an amorphous goo.
"What have I done…"
"Ruby… you haven't done anything. I feel like I should apologize anyways if I've caused you any discomfort."
She dropped her face into her hands.
"You don't understand. I'm sorry, I-"
"There's no need for apologies, Ruby. Tell you what, let me settle up my table bill, that just astronomically skyrocketed, and we can talk about this more over dinner. There's a little bistro just down the road. I remember you like smoked meat and sauerkraut, they make a mean ruben."
Weiss sighed. Ruby did love sauerkraut. It was funny that Jaune knew that. Almost as if he cared.
"I-I guess…"
"He's toying with you! Don't believe a w-"
She reached up to her ear and made like she was just itching it and shut off the earpiece so she didn't have to listen to Blake anymore. Jaune smiled innocently from the other side of the broken table.
"Excellent. We can stop by my apartment on the way so I can get my nice coat. It's literally right across the street, don't worry."
She wasn't worried, as it turned out. She stood out of the chair, her legs shaking but sturdy enough. She put her hand on the handle of Crescent Rose, still embedded in the ground. With an easy yank, she pulled it from the concrete and flipped the release latch, folding it back up to its condensed form and stuck it back up on the latch on her back, hiding it with the cape. Her shoulders sank as the coffee shop owner came out to settle up the bill and table. They shook hands and seemed to have come to some agreement. After a short apology, she turned to go, sheepishly, following Jaune along to the sidewalk.
She shuffled her feet as they crossed the street, the heavy steel-toe boots dragging her ankles almost off her legs. She ignored all the depressive and loud thoughts that threatened to jump out of her head and crack her across the jaw with a baseball bat. The chill of the air almost did it for her hubris, as it cut through her cape and combat skirt. How could she have been so wrong, she wondered to herself. All the training, all the fighting, all the pain and suffering was for naught? Sure, he probably was going to be a formidable opponent anyways, as he seemed to be quite cut under his surprisingly stylish and ironed grey dress shirt, and she knew that he held the rank of Major in the army, so he could more than likely fight like she had trained for.
Should she worry? Of course, there was always reason to worry. She was the wealthiest individual on the planet, currently either in the company of a violent sociopath or a diligent soldier, she wasn't sure which yet. Either way she wasn't entirely prepared for what may or may not happen. The other side of the street was the shady side, so the rays of sunshine only barely crested through the streets and radiated what little heat was left in the day onto the pavement, but left her feeling empty inside. The deep sucking pit that was her heart felt like it was about to implode her ribs as they ascended the five steps up to his front door, which really was just the other side of the street to the cafe, almost exactly parallel with his seemingly favourite chair and table. She was almost sorry about smashing it.
"Sorry, it's not exactly Camelot. C'mon in for a minute."
He opened the unassuming door of his apartment and stepped inside first, flipping on the lights with his elbow. Weiss solemnly followed him inside, wiping her feet on the novelty 'Come Back With Pizza' welcome mat at the door. Every fibre of her being tried to stop her from crossing that threshold, but almost as if there was a force from the universe itself pushing her from behind, she made it inside.
"Okay…" she sighed.
With numb hands, she undid the clasp on her cape and pulled it off, hanging it on the coat rack. She took the big sniper off her back as well and set it on the ground next to the door. Her feet dragged on the expensive modernist carpet as she nearly collapsed into her own shame. He seemed like such an evil person. Or so she had thought. So much time wasted chasing ghosts that existed only in the mind of a damaged girl. She should have known. Ruby's manic depressive disorder could absolutely have caused such a dream scenario that had manifested in this kind of obsession. In fact, if Ruby kept her house any messier she might actually have some form of diagnosable anxiety, she figured. All of this, coupled with Blake's history of playing things further up than necessary out of spite, she really felt like she had gone too far this time. What a waste it all was. She wanted to cry.
And that's when she heard the door lock.