AUTHOR'S NOTES: Getting back into this requires me to kind of reset everything from writing silly stuff. Anyway, here's Chapter 2. The Geist fight isn't as long as I'd like, but it was tough adapting that fight to this AU.

Mount Yamantau

Ural Mountains, Russia Dead Zone

30 May 2001

"I can't believe this place." Mercury Black looked out of the huge picture window. Below, in the open bowels of Mount Yamantau, was a gigantic production line that stretched nearly out of sight, four across. He could see at least thirty Beowolves in various states of production, worked on by human beings and robots. Sparks shot up into the air as the latter welded wings to fuselages.

"It is rather impressive." Both turned to Arthur Watts, sitting across the chamber and a long table from them. "Considering the technology that Salem found here, she's done quite the job over the past forty years. It's become more automated and computerized, of course. The power is drawn from various hydroelectric sources." He smiled beneath his impressive mustache. "Clean energy. Must not harm the planet, eh?" Neither replied, and neither looked impressed. Somewhat disgusted, he pointed to two chairs. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Mercury shrugged, not in the mood for an argument, turned, and nearly fell off his crutches. Emerald Sustrai, who had been standing next to him, reached out and caught him. He thanked her with a smile. His legs were still healing, and still swathed in plaster after being shot in both of them during the Battle of Beacon. Both of them walked over and sat down next to a wheelchair; Emerald made sure she was the closest to Cinder Fall.

Cinder was dressed in a long, flowing cheongsam, which looked a little out of place among the more functional outfits around the table. It was for comfort. Her black hair was combed down to hide the ruin of her left eye, still bandaged, but although it covered the unsightly bandage, burn scars wound their way out of the eye socket to the bridge of her nose and up her forehead. Her hair also hid the scars across her cheek. The right side of Cinder's face was still stunningly beautiful, but Emerald knew the left side was a horror of skin grafts and scarred tissue. Her left sleeve hung loosely and empty. She should still be in bed, but Cinder had insisted that she be here. She lay back in the wheelchair, her remaining eye closed, breathing shallowly into the oxygen mask, the hose disappearing behind her to an oxygen tank.

Watts regarded Cinder with a mixture of pity and contempt. Her injuries were terrible, and he supressed a shudder at the thought of being on fire from jet fuel; Cinder was lucky to be alive at all. On the other hand, he couldn't help feel a little bit triumphant. His part of the mission had succeeded, after all, beyond expectation: he'd destroyed Project Paladin, unleashed the Black Queen computer virus, and gotten the White Fang to Beacon. Before the mission had begun, Cinder had been overconfident and arrogant, and it was icing on the cake to see her brought down a peg. The eye suddenly opened and she glared at him, as if she'd heard him thinking. Watts casually returned the stare. "Hazel, what's your favorite Depeche Mode song?"

The big man sitting next to Watts had also been sitting with his eyes closed, but now he opened them. He was well over six feet, with the muscle to match, the black hairs on his arms like steel wires. Hazel Rainart gave Watts a glare of his own.

Watts smiled, still returning Cinder's stare. "Mine's 'Enjoy The Silence'." There was a faint growl from the oxygen mask, and Watts waggled a finger. "Now, now, Cinder. Don't hurt your throat. Your lungs are still scorched as it is." He twisted the knife a little more. "I still can't believe that Ruby Rose—ramming your fighter."

"Oh, I've done it." They turned to look at the sixth person in the room. Tyrian Callows nodded, his feet up on the table. "You just aim your plane at the other and bam! Much easier with bombers and airliners; not so easy with fighters." He grinned down the table at Cinder. There was no love lost there either, but then again, no one at the table liked Tyrian. True psychotics had that effect. Most fighter pilots played the game of pretending they shot down aircraft rather than other human beings, and rare was the pilot that wasn't at least satisfied that their opponent had bailed out. Rarer still was the fighter pilot that gunned down their opponents in their parachutes. Tyrian did it with such regularity that his so-called compatriots considered him more of a serial killer than a fighter pilot.

Cinder leaned forward towards Watts and tried to speak. Frustrated, she pulled down the mask, taking a breath of untreated air and coughing. She tried to speak again, but only coughed once more, and this time a bit of blood flecked the table in front of her. Emerald grabbed the mask and put it back on, and Cinder took deep draughts. Watts leaned over the table, cupping a hand to his ear. "What's that? What were you trying to say?" Tyrian dissolved in laughter, Emerald threw Watts a look that promised death, Mercury sighed, and Hazel ignored the entire scene.

Then the door opened. "All rise!" Hazel barked, and all but Cinder stood, coming to attention.

Salem walked in, covered neck to unseen feet in a black cloak. It hid her body, though the cloak clung to a figure that belied the fact that the woman who wore it had to be pushing sixty years old. Her gray hair was the only indication of age, pulled back into six braids that surrounded her head like a halo; her face had no wrinkles, the lips full and bloodless. It was always the eyes and the skin that took people aback: the eyes were a blood red, the skin alabaster. No one knew why Salem looked like this; closer inspection revealed it was not makeup or contacts, but her natural features.

She glided around the table to the head of it, where a more high-backed chair than the others awaited. Salem sat, and the others followed. She folded her hands in front of her and faced Watts. "I heard your words in the hall." Her words were accentless English. "Do you find such malignance necessary?"

Watts hesitated, then backed down. "I apologize, ma'am. It's just that I'm not fond of failure."

"Nor am I. But no one failed, did they, Comrade?" It was one of the few holdovers from the Soviet Union that Salem favored.

"She didn't recover the Fall Maiden," Watts argued.

"True, but I anticipated that the Fall Maiden might not be recovered. It was enough that it was used, revealing that the United States has orbital weapons—an acute embarrassment for the nation. Even now, other nations of the world are demanding an explanation from President Shawcross. All this in the first year of his Presidency." Salem shook her head with mock sorrow. "And it's all hypocrisy. The other nations have their Maidens, but of course they cannot and will not reveal them. After all, we can't have a reprise of Mutally Assured Destruction, can we?" Watts noticed a slight tremble in Salem's fingers. It was quelled in a moment, but it was there. "So our poor Cinder did succeed, even without retaining control of the Fall Maiden. And of course, she also ensured the death of poor, sweet Ozpin." Despite the affectionate words, Salem's voice was pure venomous hatred. And like the tremble, it was gone as soon as it arrived, and her voice returned to its normal, even friendly cadence. "So what failures, Doctor Watts?"

"There is Ruby Rose," Watts said.

"What about her?"

"She has silver eyes."

Hazel spoke up. "We've dealt with so-called silver-eyed warriors before."

Salem shrugged. "She's merely a child."

"Still, she is a threat," Watts insisted. "There was a reason why you sent out bounty hunters to kill the others."

"I am quite aware of that," Salem snapped. "And I am quite aware of what silver eyes means." Watts opened his mouth, but Salem raised a hand. "Enough. Cinder—and Mercury and Emerald—" she nodded at the other two "—did well enough for me, which means they did well enough for you, Doctor. Now, let us move on to other business." Salem leaned back in her chair, resting her head on a hand. "Cinder, you will stay here. It will be some time before you can travel, let alone get back into the cockpit. And we must fit you with your new arm." Cinder shuddered. That meant yet another session under the knife, and more pain. Emerald quietly reached over and put her hand over Cinder's remaining one.

Salem glanced at Watts. "Doctor, you'll take Cinder's place for Phase Two. I want you in Japan to meet with our informant."

Watts knew he'd hit the limit on far he could push. He'd wanted to return to Europe, but Japan was good enough. For now. "Very well," he nodded.

"Tyrian, you'll return to the Remnant to continue your search for whoever possesses the Spring Maiden."

"If it works, or even exists," Hazel put in. The Spring Maiden was one of four orbital weapon platforms, each codenamed for a season. The United States possessed the Fall Maiden, the European Union the Winter, and Japan the Summer. Israel was supposed to have the Spring Maiden, but it malfunctioned. For the handful of people in the know about the Maidens, the Spring Maiden was assumed to have burned up in the atmosphere years previous, but Salem was convinced it still existed, and someone had access to it—and it wasn't the Israelis.

"It exists," Salem said. "Tyrian?"

He grinned maniacally. "Gladly, Your Highness." That was yet another disconcerting thing about Tyrian Callows, Watts reflected. Salem did not stand on titles, and never insisted that anyone call her anything by her name or ma'am. Tyrian regarded her as royalty, and his loyalty was fanatical.

"Hazel, you'll go to Menagerie. Adam Taurus has arranged a meeting between you and Sienna Khan. He's proven to be quite loyal to the cause." Salem smiled. "Ensure that Miss Khan feels the same way."

"All right." Hazel looked less than happy, but none of them in the room had ever seen him smile.

Cinder raised a hand, tried to speak through the mask, and failed. She gripped Emerald's hand, and the other woman leaned close. Cinder rasped something, and Emerald straightened. "Miss Salem, Cinder wants to know…what about Ruby Rose?"

"What about her?" Salem repeated. "There's no time for vendettas, Cinder, even if you were in condition for it." Cinder gritted her teeth, and the older woman sighed. "But I see I'll get no use out of you until something is done about this. Very well. Tyrian, the Spring Maiden can wait for now. Find this Ruby Rose. Last we heard, she was at Hill Air Force Base in Utah, preparing for transit to Alaska. You should find her somewhere along the way." Tyrian nodded happily. "Shoot her down. She's alone; it shouldn't be too difficult." He clapped his hands. "But first, contact Raven Branwen's pirate band. I want this Ruby Rose alive. Raven can arrange transport for Miss Rose back here. We'll use the same plan we did for the last holder of the Fall Maiden—the Amber woman." She stabbed a finger on the table for emphasis. "Alive, Tyrian."

Tyrian's smile faded. "Why?"

"Because I say so," Salem replied. Tyrian instantly bowed his head. She turned back to the table. "No more recriminations, ladies and gentlemen. Beacon has fallen. Japan is next."

Near Pocatello

Idaho, United States of Canada

31 May 2001

Pyrrha Nikos fought down a yawn. She needed sleep, desperately. So did all of Reaper Flight. Ever since arriving at Hill AFB a week before, it had been one scramble after another. Whereas the Mississippi River Barrier had been breached by one titanic GRIMM attack, the attacks on the Snake River Barrier were nickles and dimes: constant attacks designed to wear down the defenders. The GRIMM attacks here killed by inches, rather than in one big attack. It would not grab headlines like the Battle of Beacon had, it would not cause Congressional investigations; it would achieve the same effect through attrition and exhaustion. They had been supposed to leave four days ago, but the constant GRIMM attacks had caused Reaper Flight's authorization to be pushed back.

That said, this was due to be their last patrol from Hill. As much as the wing commander of the 388th Fighter Wing wanted Reaper to stick around, he'd finally gotten orders from the Pentagon to quit holding the flight up. Pyrrha could not blame him for the delay; she wouldn't let skilled graduates of Vytal Flag to leave either.

It was a repeat of the patrol from the day before: Ruby would go ahead of the flight, operating singly to see if any GRIMM were around. If there were, she'd lure the GRIMM away from settlements and back towards the rest of the flight, where Pyrrha, Ren and Nora would spring an ambush. It had worked before; Ruby had just gotten overzealous the day before. Pyrrha had noticed that tendency in her friend and flight leader. It was something that bore keeping an eye on: she would never admit it, but Pyrrha suspected that Ruby was taking out her frustrations on the GRIMM.

"Reaper Lead to Reapers! I got some GRIMM!" The call broke into Pyrrha's thoughts. "Bringing it back to you!"

"Ruby, Pyrrha," she radioed back. "Identification on GRIMM?"

"Your guess is as good as mine!"

That was disconcerting. They'd run into the Beringal the day before, but that had been seen before. If this was something new…Pyrrha switched on her radar. She quickly picked up Ruby, headed down from the northwest at considerable speed, but nothing else. "Ruby, Pyrrha—where is it?"

"Right behind me!" Even through the radio, she could hear Ruby's labored breathing, which meant she was pulling Gs.

"No joy on the GRIMM," Pyrrha reported.

"Ren here. No joy either." He wasn't picking up the GRIMM.

"Defensive split," Pyrrha ordered. She and Ren broke high, climbing to grab altitude, while Nora descended into low altitude, where her A-10 excelled. "Ruby, we have no joy on the GRIMM."

"No shit!" Ruby shouted back. "I'm not getting anything either, but it's trying to kill me!"

Pyrrha dipped the wing of her F-22, and looked. It was a beautiful afternoon over Idaho: behind her was the city of Pocatello and the Snake River; ahead was the blackened expanse of the Craters of the Moon. It would be the perfect place to shoot down a GRIMM before it reached civilization. If they could see it.

There! Pyrrha squinted. The F-16 flew out of a cloud, twisting and turning. A second later, a Nevermore followed. No, Pyrrha corrected herself, that's not a Nevermore. It's smaller, more streamlined, like a B-1 rather than a B-2. She checked her radar. Her Raptor carried a synthetic-aperature radar, the best available in NATO, but even it was not getting a return. It's like a ghost. "And that's what we'll call it," she said aloud, and switched frequencies. "Haisla, Reaper Four."

"Reaper, Haisla," responded the controller aboard the E-3A AWACS, orbiting over the Great Salt Lake to the south. "Are you engaged?"

"Roger that. Classify target as new type of GRIMM, codenamed Geist. Does not appear on radar. May be some sort of heavy fighter or fighter-bomber. Reaper is engaged, out."

"Reaper, Haisla, understood, listening." The AWACS would not break into their radio chatter unless necessary, or if Reaper needed help.

Ruby went past her, the Geist still in pursuit, but it had not noticed either Nora or Ren. Nora climbed, rolled out behind the GRIMM, and fired a Sidewinder. Pyrrha watched it sail past. Next was Ren's J-10, diving from above. He fired an AMRAAM, but it too didn't guide. "Missile trashed!" Ren called.

Ruby, now clear from the Geist, climbed and turned back around. "Sorry…didn't have time…" she puffed. "I fired a Sidewinder and an AMRAAM at it, no luck. It's like it's not even there." She paused. "Like what happened to Coco when she fought Emerald back at Beacon."

The Geist suddenly snapped into a hard climb, towards Ruby and Pyrrha. They both saw bay doors open for a second: a launcher dropped down, fired a missile, and just as swiftly pulled back into the fuselage. The missile guided on Ruby, who rolled away, dropping flares. The missile chased a flare and exploded.

It's like Penny's B-1, Pyrrha thought. A chill went through her at that. Salem copied Penny's design, it's like a GRIMM version of her—

"Pyrrha, break!" Ren shouted. "It's coming after you!"

"Christos!" Pyrrha screamed, and dived as the Geist suddenly filled the windscreen. Unlike Penny's B-1, it had guns, and they were firing at her. She rolled underneath it, had a flash of inspiration, and slid the Raptor on its tail, using thrust vectoring to turn within the aircraft within its own length, and pressed the trigger. Her cannon shells mostly missed, but at least two hit the Geist in the belly. Bits of the right wing flew off. She let the Raptor tumble twice more before pulling back out into the dive. "Got a piece of him," she said, feeling like she'd left her stomach about two thousand feet behind her.

"Get it down here!" Nora yelled. "If it bleeds, we can kill it!"

Ruby rolled back into the fight and fired another AMRAAM. It did not guide, but she didn't expect it to; she wanted to get the Geist's attention. It worked, and the GRIMM, which had leveled out, looking with its sensors for the F-22, locked onto the F-16 instead. Ruby dived, with the Geist right behind.

Then the Geist opened fire, letting fly with two missiles. Ruby broke hard to the left, missiles in pursuit. The Geist stayed singlemindedly on her, turning away from the others; it didn't have the F-16's manueverability, but it had plenty of engine power. As it turned, Pyrrha finally saw the Geist's engines: four of them, hidden behind louvers, like on the F-117; it would kill much of the GRIMM's infrared signature.

"Ruby, Ren. I'm on him." Ren climbed and got behind the Geist, firing with his cannon. Pyrrha saw strikes on it, and it broke off its pursuit, turning hard to engage the J-10. Ruby finally decoyed the missiles away, but now she was well to the north. Ren accelerated, overshooting the Geist, and then dived again, now the bait. It followed him down, a shark pursuing a tuna, never aware of the fact that now it was the target, for Nora was finally in position. She swept in from the side.

Nora's A-10 was in her favorite configuration for hunting GRIMM: four Sidewinders, and two SUU-23 20 millimeter gunpods. It was the latter she triggered first, marching tracers into the Geist. As it turned, like an animal reacting to pain, Nora unleashed the A-10's principal armament: the huge GAU-8 Avenger 30 millimeter in the nose. The Warthog staggered in midair, the sheer recoil of all three cannon shedding airspeed as if Nora had hit the brakes on a car. The effects, however, were devastating. The shells did not so much shoot down the Geist as it tore the GRIMM apart, wings separating from the fuselage before they were also broken apart by impact.

Nora stopped firing, now slamming the throttle forward and diving to get airspeed, her A-10 on the verge of a stall. As she recovered, the Geist—what was left of it—went into a spiral and hit the ground; its missile magazine detonated, leaving no pieces larger than a small table scattered across the ancient lava flows.

Hill Air Force Base Visiting Officers' Quarters

Ogden, Utah, United States of Canada

31 May 2001

Pyrrha slipped on her pajamas and sat on her bed. She felt like she could sleep a week. Getting used to the F-22's vastly different flight characteristics was exhausting enough, but like everyone else, the Invincible Girl of Greece was getting ground down. Invincible Girl, she thought bitterly. Not so invincible now, are you?

But at least they would be leaving tomorrow. When they'd returned to base, they were informed—reluctantly—by the wing commander that they would indeed be leaving the next morning. Their next stop was Vulcan AFB in Alberta, about 800 miles to the north. It should be quieter up there, at least.

The bathroom door opened, and Ruby walked out, dressed in a towel. "All yours, Pyrrha."

"I'll just get one in the morning," Pyrrha replied. "Too tired." She sniffed at her armpits and wrinkled her nose. She smelled of sweat, but her fatigue was worse.

"Okay," Ruby yawned. She sat down on her own bed, across from Pyrrha's. They had a room to themselves; the boys were down the hall. "I need to put on my PJs, but I don't think I can get up. Maybe I'll just sleep naked."

"Doesn't bother me," Pyrrha said, "but what if we get a scramble?"

"Then I'll just do what Yang did and go commando under my flight suit."

"I did that once. It's itchy."

Convinced, Ruby got up, retrieved her travel case, dropped the towel, and got dressed. Pyrrha lay back on the bed; modesty was something one learned to live without in the military. Getting naked in front of total strangers was commonplace. Now in loud heart-dotted pajama bottoms and a halter top with USAF wings on it, Ruby resumed her spot on the bed. "Pyrrha," she said into the silence. "You should be flight leader."

"We've gone over this," Pyrrha told her. "I won't do it."

"But you're a major."

"So?"

"And you have experience."

Pyrrha looked over at her. "Oh yes. And all that experience certainly helped at Beacon, didn't it? I still got shot down. Jaune is still dead." Ruby blinked at the bitterness in her voice. "As you may have noticed, I froze for a second today. If Ren hadn't warned me, I probably would've gotten shot down today, too." She shook her head. "I'm done leading, Ruby. You're far better than I ever was at that." At the crestfallen look on her friend's face, Pyrrha softened her tone. "I'll give you advice, but I can't lead another flight again, Ruby. I just can't. Sometimes it's all I can do just to get into the cockpit."

"Okay, okay." Ruby put her hands up, as if to ward off a punch.

"I didn't mean to snap." She sighed. "Ruby, let me give you some of that advice. You go out there and try to win the war all by yourself every time we fly. I know you want revenge for your sister, and for Ruby Flight, but you can't do it by yourself. We have a mission, and we've barely started on it. If we lose you, we lose everything…" Pyrrha's voice trailed off, and she smiled. Ruby was sound asleep, still sitting on the side of the bed, her head down on her chest.

Pyrrha slid off her bed, walked over, and gently laid Ruby down. The other girl gave no resistance, and Pyrrha rolled her legs onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. Ruby curled up like a kitten, her normal way of sleeping. On impulse, Pyrrha leaned forward and kissed her friend on the forehead. "You're a good person, Ruby Rose," she whispered.

Pyrrha went back to her suitcase, glanced back at Ruby, then opened it. In it was a blue hoodie, marked with the rabbit symbol of Pumpkin Pete. As the (extremely reluctant) spokesperson for Pumpkin Pete cereal in Europe, Pyrrha had contacted the company and had the hoodie shipped out to Hill. It was brand new, and didn't smell like Jaune, but naturally none of their possessions had survived the fall of Beacon. It was the best she could do. Pyrrha got into bed, switched off the light, snuggled up to the hoodie, and looked at her phone. No, she mused, she'd better not; the noise would wake Ruby.

She took a deep breath of the hoodie's smell and hugged it tighter. "I miss you, Jaune," she whispered. "Do you miss me, wherever you are?" She turned over, looking at the ceiling. When she had been delusional in Georgia, she had thought he visited her. He had looked like an angel, glowing from within, his wings made of a shining steel, his smile just for her alone. Now she knew those were hallucinations, but still, she wished she could see them again. Jaune had been so beautiful.

But it would be all right. She had to live, at least for a little while longer. She had to get Ruby, Ren and Nora to Japan, and Salem needed to be defeated. Pyrrha doubted she would live to see that, but it was all right.

She brought up the hoodie to her lips and kissed it. "I love you," she whispered, and fell asleep with a smile on her face.