Sorry for the delay. This is a hard one to write.

I'm used to having a lot more to work with. On the other hand, this is AU, so that gives me some more room to manoeuvre. I still don't think I got the characters down, though. Again, I have some room to manoeuvre since this takes place two years later, but the RWBY characters still aren't ones I can write well. And the writing style is inconsistent.

Well, just try to enjoy it.

Chapter 2: Opening Doors
Beacon Academy

Lydiya Irina Lysenko was displeased.

The plan was to grab a team from the ranks of experiences huntsmen and huntresses. They had a group picked out, and a few backups in case the first group didn't work out. They were skilled, their views aligned with their goals, and their backgrounds were perfect. And now they were throwing that all away and hiring some kids that resolved one major crisis. She admitted (grudgingly) that they were good- but they were missing a lot that the original candidates had.

She knew the entirety of the plan, of course. This alteration was a tiny piece in a massive puzzle, but it was still significant in her eyes. And if there was one thing that bothered the tall, lithe brunette with a face that might be described by one from another planet as Slavic, it was a change in plans. Her world was immaculate, precise, and perfectly ordered. Anything out of place bothered her. She was definitely a lot more tolerant than she used to be, having learned to tolerate her boss's oddities, but it still irked her to no end.

Becoming executive vice president of Clarke Group- essentially John's second in command, was without a doubt the best thing that had ever happened to her. But damn, did he annoy her sometimes. She'd objected, of course, but he was the boss, and in the end it was her job- her duty- to follow orders.

And she would. She adjusted the hem of her pantsuit and stepped into the nearly-deserted classroom.

"Hi," greeted a red-clad girl- she couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen. "You must be from Clarke Security."

"That is correct," Lidiya replied coldly. Her eyes scanned across the four girls in the room. There was the girl in red and black, the girl in white, the girl in all black and the girl in, well, mostly yellow. She knew that the first and last came from a family of renowned huntsmen and huntresses. The girl in white was the heiress to the Schnee enterprise. Or rather, a reluctant heiress to a corporation that would soon collapse. And the one in black was a Faunas and one of the first members of the White Fang, back before they turned into terrorists.

"I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose-"

"I am aware of who you are," she snapped, perhaps too harshly. She covered, identifying the other three by name. "You are Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long."

Without waiting for a response, she laid her briefcase on the table, snapped it open, and handed each of the girls a single sheet of paper, Clarke Group letterhead prominent on the page.

"On behalf of Mister Clarke himself, I am offering you employment with the Clarke Group."

"Clarke Group," Weiss muttered, scanning the page.

"I understand you may have reservations, Miss Schnee, given your heritage."

"It's not that," the girl admitted. "I'm not... loyal to the company- the family- anymore. I'm just not sure I trust Clarke Group any more than I trust Schnee Dust Company now. What makes you any different?"

Yang offered, "They're really big! Like, they're into everything."

"That's an understatement, Miss Shaolon," Lidiya replied, habitually mispronouncing the name. She recited, "Clarke Group and its subsidiaries operate in many different sectors, including transportation, construction, electronics, materials technology, defence, and private security. If you include all wholly- and partially-owned subsidiaries, we are the largest corporation on Remnant."

"Because you're willing to build and exploit even in Grimm territory," Blake noted cynically. "I guess risk doesn't matter a lot to you."

"Believe it or not, Miss Belladonna, Clarke's sites are safer than Vale City," she replied icily. It was actually true. The security forces were much more effective than the police at preventing and responding to crime, and their defences were even more sophisticated- and expensive- than those around the Kingdoms.

"According to Clarke Statistics and Analytics," the Faunas muttered. Which was also true.

"We're not even finished school," Blake persisted. "Why would you hire us? What makes you think we even want this job?"

"What is this job, even?" Yang asked. Lidiya noticed that she had only given the page a brief scan.

"Unfortunately, I cannot disclose the full details of your potential employment-"

"What does that mean?" Ruby asked.

She forced herself to simplify, which did not come naturally to her. "It means I can't tell you, not everything, not yet."

"Well, what can you tell us?"

"You were selected for this job because of your fighting skills, because of your coordination as a team, and because of your ability to think and act under extreme conditions," Lidiya replied carefully. "This job will require similar performance to that you demonstrated during the crisis. It is extremely dangerous."

"So why would we take it?" Blake asked.

She knew exactly what they wanted to hear, but instead recited the details of the offer. "Two hundred thousand. Plus expenses. Plus the benefits package, which is the same one I get. Plus a signing bonus, which is negotiable."

"I don't care about the money," Ruby replied, as expected, though her voice wavered. Almost certainly surprised by the numbers. She turned to her teammates. "Do you?"

They all shook their heads. She expected that, too. Although the change was last-minute, Lidiya still had a week and a half to do all the research she could on those four.

"The mission of huntsmen and huntresses is to help people, especially by fighting and defending those who cannot defend themselves, especially against the Grimm. I can't give you any details, but I can tell you that you will accomplish more to help the people of Remnant by taking this job than by taking any other action you may take. That's not corporate rhetoric, either. It's a personal assurance from John Edward Clarke himself." This part was carefully rehearsed, though she was a good enough actress that nobody realized it.

"What about Juniper?" Lidiya knew that Ruby was referring to JNPR, one of the other promising teams at Beacon and the one that had accompanied RWBY through most of the crisis. Ruby's tone gave away that she already intended to take the offer, but of course, it was never a sure thing. Maybe one of her teammates could talk her out of it, or she could have a change of heart.

"At the moment, we only intend to hire one team," Lidiya replied, tone businesslike. She snapped her briefcase shut. "I will return in two hours. I hope you will have made your decision by then, but the offer will remain open."

Site Romeo

"Welcome to Site Romeo," the man in the front of the room began.

Colonel (retired) Douglas Mason had joined the Royal Vale Army nearly forty years ago, serving as a rifleman during the Faunas War. He had been in the army for most of his life when a wealthy businessman had approached him and given him an offer he couldn't refuse. Well, he could, and he did- once. He told himself that it wasn't about the money, it was never about the money.

No, it was all about ideology. He reminded himself of that every day. He had thought throughout his career that the Army should be equipped to fight the Grimm and should be deployed to do so. But no, that was the job of hunters. The organization whose stated goal was the defence of the realm had no part in it. Just before he'd made Colonel, he started pushing his ideas. Why were they letting those amateurs take their role?

That was probably why he had never made general, he often remarked. There was a lot of opposition to his proposals, both within the Army and without. The Army had been built to fight peer opponents, opponents that barely existed and certainly weren't in any position to start wars. They sure as hell weren't. The politicians had slashed and burned, pumping money into the hunters. The Grimm were the threat, weren't they? Yet against that pressure, there was hundreds of years of institutional inertia. Hunters for Grimm. Armies for armies.

So one day he handed in his resignation- technically a retirement- and taken the offer. Now he was the head of security for Clarke Innovations. He knew that Clarke himself had all sorts of ambitions of a wonderful new world. He didn't care. His soldiers were fighting the Grimm, defeating the Grimm. He had the best men and women Remnant had to offer under his command and he had the best equipment that money could buy (and some that money couldn't buy). Even the crackpot tactics Clarke proposed often worked out.

His audience was the latest batch of recruits to the Clarke Security fold. In front of him were fifty men and women, about two thirds of the former. They wore civilian clothes, but almost all of them had all the other little indicators that shouted military. Indeed, most of the Clarke Security personnel were ex-military: retired, finished their service, or left of their own accord. They were a mix of soldiers, pilots, and sailors. Most were combatants- support staff received a different presentation from Major (he still thought of his people as having ranks) Greene.

They had gathered at a private Clarke airstrip just outside Vale City- the only facility of its kind in the area. Then they were ushered on to a C.11 Stratocruiser. For many, it had been their first time on an airplane. Airships, tiltjets, and ornithopters, sure, but not airplanes. Some had enjoyed the thrill of the takeoff run and some had not, but none of them showed it. They were given some information and served prepackaged snacks during the three hour flight before the plane landed at Site Romeo's long Runway 17.

He didn't realize that this would be the last group. Although ultimately responsible for security of all Clarke sites, he still was not aware of the results of the Alpha Concert test. It wouldn't have mattered. Word-for-word, the presentation was always the same.

"Right now, we are approximately two hundred kilometres outside Vale, well within Grimm territory. I know what you're thinking. Why the hell would we build a site of ten thousand people of critical importance to the company out here?"

He paused briefly. "This place is actually safer than Vale City. We've got an air wing and IADS to keep the skies clear. Tiltjets and drones routinely patrol the outer perimeter, armed with both their own weapons and the capability to call in support. Several defensive lines sit between us and the majority of Grimm activity, heavily dug in and fortified. Armed vehicles and aircraft regularly patrol and can close in and engage on any detected threat. Closer in, the area around the site has been cleared for kilometres, giving us clear fields of fire for heavy weapons as well as the security contingent and their crew-served weapons."

One of the men- a soldier, by the looks of it, asked, "Sir, if I may, what's a crew-served weapon?"

He had actually been waiting for that question, having deliberately used significant amounts of terminology he knew the new arrivals didn't know. In fact, he was somewhat surprised there weren't more questions. "I'm glad you asked. A crew-served weapon is exactly what it sounds like. It's a gun- usually a machine gun or grenade launcher- larger than a normal small arm and operated by a team of a few people. We do things differently here. That is one of them."

"Fundamentally, all warfare is an extension of hunting. The first weapons were developed to fight the Grimm, the best weapons are still developed for hunters and given to soldiers later. Tactics are developed by hunters and given to soldiers later. Warfare follows hunting." Mason paused for dramatic effect. He could be dramatic if he so choosed.

"That thinking stops today. You will be introduced to a whole new battlefield paradigm," he continued. "Warfare no longer follows hunting. Hunting follows warfare-" His radio beeped.

"Excuse me." He answered the radio. "Mason here. What is it?... Is an intercept plotted?... Thank you." Mason turned to his audience. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut this introduction short. Mister Yew will answer any questions you may have."

He motioned a middle-aged, balding man in civilian suit and tie toward the front of the room, taking off in a half-run.

Something occurred to Mason halfway through the doorway. "Major Redwood!"

"Yes, sir?" the woman acknowledged, standing up.

"You're the one who proposed an integrated air defence strategy, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

He motioned for her to follow. "Come with me. You'll want to see this."

Solshaven (Vale Outskirts)

Scarlet Morales motioned urgently to her cameraman. An olive-skinned woman nearing her forties, she fought a losing battle against an expanding figure. She prided herself on her manner of dress, which most found slightly outdated and slightly distasteful. Still, her face was considered pretty, especially through the lens of a camera, and her speech on-camera was perfect.

"We're live in thirty seconds, get the thing set up!" Scarlet snapped. She motioned with her hands again. "Where's my microphone?"

"Here," the camerman's assistant replied, tossing her the stick-shaped device. She deftly caught it in one hand, adjusting her collar with her other. The feel of the microphone was reassuring, and she relaxed slightly.

Her tone was calmer when she asked, "Do you have it in the shot?"

"As much as I can get without making you tiny," the cameraman, whose name she never bothered to learn, replied.

It referred to the large complex behind them, known only as Solshaven. The building was largely covered up with sheets of plastic and wooden covers, denying them a clear view of its shape. They did know its size, however, which was similar to several office towers in footprint, albeit much shorter. Apart from the access road and a sign, the area around the fence was clear for kilometres around. And apart from a few workmen, they were alone.

Scarlet put on her practised smile as soon as the light on the camera came on. "I'm standing outside Solshaven right now, on the outskirts of Vale City. Solshaven, along with the other so-called Havens being constructed across Vale, is a project funded and constructed by Clarke Construction.

"Though the purpose of the sites has still not been stated, even months after the public announcement, speculation and rumours abound. Is Solshaven exactly what it sounds like, a refuge against the Grimm? Is it merely another corporate facility or a marketing stunt? Or is it something more sinister? The recent crisis has made many wary of large corporations, and nervous of Clarke's motivations."

That was pure background. Now was the part she had come here to deliver. "Recently, I was approached by a Clarke employee who did not give a name and refused to appear on camera. Although he refused to shed any light on the purpose of Solshaven, he did say that the reveal would be soon, within the next week or two. He produced what appeared to be confidential Clarke communications confirming his story, though their veracity could not be verified.

"What is Solshaven? Why was it built? Clarke Group has a history of unusual, expensive, and oddly lucrative projects, but this may be the strangest yet. Hopefully, our questions will be answered soon."

The light blinked off, and Scarlet visibly relaxed. She sighed, wiped her brow, and tossed the microphone back to the assistant. What they were doing was risky, risky for what barely qualified as news, more of an attention-getting filler stunt. "Let's get out of here before security decides they're above the law."

Site Romeo

Alexandra Redwood watched intently from the side of the room. She was considered fairly attractive, with a trim figure and soft face. Despite her name, her hair was naturally light brown- she dyed it deep auburn and tied it into a tight ponytail. Her eyes, however, were what Mason immediately noticed. They were aware, they were searching, they were darting around the room. Her situational awareness was excellent.

It had to be. Though she started on ornithopters, she had piloted every type of flying machine in the Royal Vale Army, including the ubiquitous airships and tiltjets. A test pilot until a month prior, her job was to evaluate aircraft before they were purchased and test their limits once they were. She had a not undeserved reputation for the latter, and over time that reputation had caught up with her. Her often dissenting, and very vocal, opinions didn't help either. Despite being one of the best pilots in the army (the best, she thought), she never made Colonel. In fact, she had almost been busted down to Captain twice before she was dishonourably discharged.

The incident that had lead to her discharge was, ironically, caused indirectly by Clarke Group. She was one of the few qualified on aeroplanes, and had just evaluated the F.11 Bobcat the previous year. Her vocal objection to not purchasing the craft, made to a distinguished (but idiotic, she figured) general, was another black mark on her record. Nonetheless, she was first in line to test the B.22 Vanguard bomber.

Her orders that time were vague. The test wing had recently acquired a new commander, one that wasn't aware of her tendencies. She was instructed not to push the aircraft hard, and that was it. Well, that left plenty of room for interpretation. At the forward end of the throttle controls was a region labelled REHEAT, blocked off by a thin wire. The briefing had been rushed (which she didn't like), and though she had been told what REHEAT was, the effects had not been described in detail. She was curious, and pushed the six throttles all the way forward while flying directly over the base. With the engines at maximum thrust, the Vanguard passed through the sound barrier within seconds, and the resulting sonic boom had woken up the base commander (in addition to several others). Though she didn't know it at that time, it was the fastest the plane had ever been flown.

The base commander was not pleased with her performance, which he saw not just as an annoyance but a violation of his orders. It turned out that despite his inexperience, he had connections, and by the end of the week Alexandra was no longer a member of the Royal Vale Army. Horribly unprofessional corruption, she thought, but there was nothing that she could do. Before the weekend had ended, a representative from Clarke Security had visited her. She briefly wondered why it was Clarke Security and not Clarke Aerospace, but the representative had reassured her that she would be flying the latest and greatest aeroplanes, and she agreed quickly.

Right now, she was focused on observing the interception. A computerized tactical map featured prominently in the room, displaying the location of the Clarke fighters and their opponents, as well as other assets. She asked casually, "You're tracking the Nevermores with radar, sir?"

Colonel Mason nodded from beside her. "That's right."

"I wasn't aware anyone had that capability."

"It was developed here. Electronically scanned array, not sure about the details. We've tried to sell it, but nobody saw the usefulness of the system."

"That's damn stupid of them," she snapped.

To her surprise, Mason nodded slowly in response. "That's what I figured, too. But they wouldn't listen."

He turned to a man in crisp Clarke Security fatigues. "Mike, where are we at?"

"Banshee Flight is forty kilometres from target, entering missile range."

Redwood was surprised by that. "Entering missile range? At forty kilometres? You're using the A73 missile?"

"Yeah, the Army wouldn't buy those, either," Mason remarked, a slight smile on his face. He reached over and turned the speaker on.

"This is Banshee Lead, we have positive radar contact on target, request permission to fire."

"Roger that, Banshee. You are cleared to fire at your discretion."

"Solid copy. Firing at my discretion."

Several seconds later, there were several radio calls of "Mill Two." At the same time, more blips appeared on the computerized map. They streaked toward the Nevermores, and as soon as they met both blips faded away.

"Confirm hits," Mike ordered.

The fighters streaked over where the Nevermores were, and Banshee Lead reported, "Bravo Control, Banshee Lead. All targets down. Lots of stray feathers, though."

Mike chuckled. "Copy that, Banshee Lead. Try not to suck in too many. Demon Flight will take your station, come on home."

More than anything, Alexandra Redwood was struck by the routine-ness of it all. Nevermores, despite what she had argued, were not something the Royal Vale Army dealt with. That was left to the huntsmen and huntresses. Four Nevermores was a major threat, one that would take multiple skilled hunters to take down. And here, they dispatched them as casually as swatting flies.

She knew that despite any previous misgivings she might have had, this was the place to be. This is where the action is.

Beacon Academy

"It's just, well, I like it here at Beacon," Ruby said to Jaune as they strolled down the path, the same one they got lost on when they first arrived at the academy.

"You were nervous when you first came here," Jaune replied. "I mean, I was too, but-"

"We all were."

"Yeah, you know, we were all afraid, I think, and, well, look how it turned out!"

"We nearly died, Jaune," Ruby replied lightly, but with serious undertones.

"But we didn't. We made it through, and we saved a lot of other people in the process."

Ruby protested. "It's not the same."

"It is the same. You know what you're going into, kind of, but you don't know the specifics. It's risky, but you've got a lot of opportunity. You're even going to be separated from your friends, some of them, but keep some too- wait, that's not a good thing, well, you get my point."

"I guess." Ruby stopped and sighed, adding quietly, "I don't think I'm ready, Jaune-"

He cut her off with a cheerful "Nope!"

"What?"

"That's what you told me two years ago," Jaune explained. "Remember, when I thought I would be a terrible leader, and I wasn't sure of anything?"

"I... guess."

"You're a leader, Ruby. You're confident, you're capable, you, uh, know what you're doing. I don't know what you're going to decide, and it's not my life to decide. But I know that whatever you choose, I know that your team will trust your decision."

"There's so much to think about in two hours," Weiss breathed, standing outside the coffee stand on the other side of the academy.

"Like?" Pyrrha suggested, handing the other girl a cup of coffee.

Weiss took the offered drink and sat down. "Why us? Why now? We've just finished our second year, going into our third. If they need someone now, there are tons of experienced, skilled huntsmen and huntresses out there."

"Maybe they see something in you," Pyrrha suggested. "They want you specifically. I'm not sure I can blame them. You've been all over the news the past few months."

"It's not like they didn't know about me before," Weiss replied. Quickly, she added, "Okay, Ruby, but even she comes from a prominent family. Blake and Yang are pretty well known, too, just by different names."

"Preaching to the choir, Weiss."

Weiss put her coffee down. "Isn't that-"

"Yes, it was coined by Clarke himself. Not sure what to think of the man, but whoever writes his speeches is good."

"It's just, I don't know if I want to give up now," Weiss said, steering the conversation back on course.

"It's not giving up."

"It is dropping out," Weiss countered. "It'll be a lot harder to become a proper huntress if I drop out of Beacon. I'd probably have to redo a lot, and, well, you know..."

"It would be a black mark on your otherwise perfect record," Pyrrha finished.

Weiss nodded. "I mean, they promised something that pays better and supposedly is better for the world... but I want to be a huntress. That's one thing that hasn't changed and probably will never change."

"You still have connections." Pyrrha paused. "But you want to do it legitimately, don't you. To prove that you can, that you can do it, it's not just your family."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Haven't we had this conversation six months ago?"

"Yes, and we had the same conclusion," Pyrrha replied, finishing her coffee. "Do what you want to do, not what you think others want you to do."

"I'm not sure about this, Nora," Blake said coolly, sitting beside Nora in a tree on the north end of the campus. More accurately, Blake was sitting in the tree, and Nora was jumping from branch to branch with seemingly limitless energy.

"Why not?" Nora replied cheerfully- she was always cheerful, even after what they had been through. "Lots of money, opportunity to travel, perfect fit for your hobbies- sounds like a dream job!"

"It's not the job itself I'm worried about, not really," Blake confided. "It's the company I'll be working for. There's a lot of dishonest corporations out there, Nora. They'll do anything to make a profit."

"Clarke seems okay. They're dedicated to preserving the future of Remnant's inhabitants!" Although she found Nora annoyingly cheerful, Blake had to admit that she did a better job of reciting the company slogan than the actual ads did.

"The White Fang had the best of intentions, and look what happened. It's a fanatical devotion that can easily go wrong. I know that Clarke Group isn't the White Fang, but extremism is extremism. You think you're doing the right thing, and sooner or later you lose sight of what's important. You become the villain."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Blake's head snapped over, staring at Nora. That didn't sound like anything Nora would say, even- no, especially- in that singsong voice.

Nora saw the expression and explained, "It's from a speech by the company founder, silly! I think they know what they're doing. Not going evil and all that."

"Just because you know you're going wrong doesn't mean you can stop it." Blake paused. "I couldn't stop it."

Nora shrugged. "Well, if they turn out to be evil, you have that gun whip thing to deal with them!"

"That's a terrible idea, Nora," Blake chided. "Clarke Group employs thousands of security personnel, including dozens of experienced huntsmen and huntresses. They pay too well to switch sides, too."

"Eh, it'll be fine," Nora finished. "Do you think I should keep wearing these pink gloves or switch to the blue ones with the fingers?"

Blake deftly hopped down from the tree. "You're not taking this seriously, are you?"

"Do I ever take anything seriously?" Nora replied, doing a backflip and landing beside her.

"No, I guess not." But it was helpful anyway.

"What do you think, Ren?" Yang asked, her legs dangling over the side of the main building, the rest of her perched precariously on the edge of the roof.

Ren stayed back, standing two paces back from the edge. "About?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"The job you were offered."

"No, I'm talking about last night's dinner. Yes, the job!"

"I don't have an opinion on the matter."

Yang flicked an errant pebble off the edge, watching it fall and splash in the fountain below. "It's not me I'm worried about, Ren."

"Ruby."

"Yeah, Ruby," Yang confirmed, standing up. "She's only seventeen, you know. She's so young, and she's growing up so fast."

"And yourself..."

"I know. It's just, well, throwing her into all this, I'm just worried that it's too much, too fast. I mean, starting her career already, she's not even finished school. She should be entering Beacon right now, not leaving it!"

"You want to protect your sister."

She nodded. "Yeah. It's a harsh world out there. I guess... I guess I was hoping to spare her from the worst of it. And even through, maybe because of what's happened, I can't help but feel like I failed."

"You did the best you could. That's all you can do."

Yang laughed- a hollow, ironic laugh. "I'm grousing like an old lady. Well, whatever Ruby wants, I'm right beside her. Always."

They met back in the same room they had left from with twenty minutes to spare. Ruby and Jaune were the first to make it back, with Weiss coming in with Pyrrha shortly after. Blake and Nora were next, and they all spent what felt like hours (two minutes by Ruby's scroll) for Yang and Ren.

"So..." Ruby began, tracing a finger on the table she was sitting on. "Okay, either we all agree, or nobody takes the offer."

"Definitely."

"Yes."

"Uh-huh."

Ruby nodded. She'd expected them to agree on that, and was happy that she wasn't wrong. "So, what do you say?"