Sergeant Arc

by Doltish Dust

All Jaune Arc ever wanted to be was a hero. But when Ozpin gets wind that Jaune faked his transcripts and he is forced to leave Beacon, Jaune Arc must find another way to do so. That means joining the Valesian military as an army officer. However, darker forces are at play, and soon Jaune finds himself fighting not just for his own survival, but for that of his entire Kingdom.

27. Chapter 27 - Last Stand

Bugger me, long ass chapter ahead. You know, you don't realise just how many villains RWBY has until you try to kill them all. It's a bloody nightmare. Anyway, enjoy.

---

"The enemy is at the gate. It is a question of life and death"

Andrei Zhdanov

---

Chapter Twenty-Seven—Last Stand

The bullhead ride back to Beacon was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences Pyrrha had ever had. The pilot had taken their orders to get them back to the school asap to the letter, throwing the bullhead into a soaring race for the growing spires in the distance. But the lurching sensation in her gut was only part of the problem. Their destination loomed large in Pyrrha's mind as well as in the cockpit windows.

Somewhere out there, was Cinder. The woman who had started the whole Breach, who had fought Pyrrha almost to her death. The raw skin on her back, freshly heal thanks to her aura, was a testament to that. The thought of facing that monster a second time was almost enough to bring Pyrrha's empty stomach to her mouth. She'd thrown everything she had at Cinder, and it still hadn't been enough. Now she was going to be facing her again with barely enough aura to heal a papercut. The realisation of that sat stewing in Pyrrha's stomach like a poisoned broth.

A hand came to rest on her knee. "It will be alright," Ren assured her, immediately picking up on her apprehensions. "We will not let her hurt you."

"Yeah," agreed Nora, "we'll keep that witch off of you."

Pyrrha smiled tightly, noting with a certain irony the fact that she of all people needed protecting, yet thankful for their presence nonetheless. They didn't have that much more aura than her, but fighting with her team felt right. They would look after each other. They had each other's backs.

The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. "We'll be coming in to Beacon soon. Kit up."

Pyrrha gripped her weapons, and Ren and Nora did the same. "When we land, we'll engage Cinder first," Ren told her. "Hang back unless we're in trouble." Pyrrha felt a pang in her stomach at that, but she nodded her agreement. It was a solid plan. Her aura was too low to allow her to safely engage Cinder directly, and she could still do some damage from afar with ranged attacks. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was being benched, and after everything she'd been through, that didn't feel right.

"We're coming in hot," the pilot informed them. "I won't be able to land. You'll have to jump." Ren replied his confirmation, and a moment later the side door of the bullhead hissed open. Wind tore at the newly-formed breach, screaming into the cargo bay and yanking at Pyrrha's hair and clothing. The gap widened, orange light streaming in from the outside. Initially, Pyrrha assumed the light was coming from the sun, but then the door opened fully, and Pyrrha's gasp was torn away from her by the howling wind.

There, standing on the quad of Beacon, engaged in a full-on war, were two lone figures. One held a cane, the weapon little more than a toothpick from this distance. White hair glimmered in the orange light, confirming that this was Ozpin. Floating before him, the source of an illumination brighter than the sun itself, was a blazing phoenix.

Cinder.

She hovered above the ground, bathed in fire, so bright Pyrrha could barely see her, a burning goddess brandishing two swords of magma. Ozpin faced against her, all alone, the only shield between Cinder and the school. Pyrrha's home.

When Pyrrha looked away, Cinder continued to blaze before her eyes, the afterimage burnt into her retinas. But more than that, she blazed in her mind. Cinder, the woman who had tried to destroy everything she'd ever loved, who had come to reduce the city she'd come to call home to ash. Who had tried to burn her. Who had failed.

Who would now pay for that mistake.

"Go! Go! Go!" yelled the pilot. Ren and Nora leapt from the open doors, falling about ten meters to land on the ground, their aura's absorbing the impact, before rushing to their headmaster's side. Pyrrha glanced over the side of the bullhead, feeling her stomach churning. Any other day the fall would have caused no more damage than a paltry pressure on her legs, but today…

She turned back to the pilot. "Do you have any rope?" she asked tightly. The pilot glanced back, his eyes widening in surprise at finding her still there, but then he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and mumbled the whereabouts of some rope she could use.

Fifteen seconds later, Pyrrha was falling from the bullhead, albeit in a controlled descent at the end of a piece of rope. She hit the ground, knees bracing to reduce the impact, before cutting through the rope tied around her waist. The pilot was gone a moment later, bullhead screaming off before Cinder decided to make it a target.

Miló came swinging upright, clicking into rifle mode. Pyrrha sighted down the barrel, the gravity of what she was about to face weighing heavy on her shoulders.

One way or another, this ended here.

---

Winter wasted no further time. She turned and jogged down the passage, leaving Bea standing there, forgotten, as if she hadn't just tried to murder her. That arrogance still managed to tick Bea off, but she shoved that resentment down. Now wasn't the time for petty grudges. A quick glance out a nearby porthole proved her words all too true. Vale was closing. Fast. Bea had already lost too much time fighting Winter, and now every second took them closer towards the Atlesian airships' optimal firing range. Time was slipping away, leaving her to grasp at its granules of sand as they gradually slid between her fingers and were lost forever.

So without giving herself time to second guess asking Winter of all people to help, she scrambled after the disappearing white figure. The two women jogged down hallways and past other crew without so much as a glance in their direction, forging their way towards the bow. The stern of the dreadnought was where the docking bay was situated, complete with a number of sleek fighters. The lower decks of the middle part of the ship housed the massive engines that pulverised refined dust into granules of fuel, then blasted it out the back of the ship, to provide thrust. Bea had toyed with the idea of sabotaging the engines but had soon dismissed it. Not only would she not have a clue as to what she was doing, but the engine levels were crowded with dozens of engineers and mechanics, any number of which would have immediately identified her as having no reason to be down there. Besides, even if she scuttled one ship, Watts would simply transfer to another. She would only be delaying the attack, not preventing it. No, if she wanted to ensure the safety of Vale, she needed to take out the head of the operation.

Hence why they were travelling to the stern. That part of the dreadnought housed the bridge and, more importantly, the general's private chambers. It wouldn't do to have the general integrating with the common soldier by sleeping in the same quarters, now would it? No doubt Watts had been very coercive in ensuring he lived separate to the other crew on the ship, but that egomania might just play into Bea and Winter's hands. If Watts was isolated, it would make bringing him down all the easier. If they were lucky, they would catch him unaware, perhaps relaxing in his quarters, allowing them to quietly apprehend the general and take control of the ship. That was the plan that Bea had formed anyway. But if her years as a Huntress and then later as a military officer had taught her anything, it was one thing:

No plan survives first contact with the enemy. And today was no different.

Just as they'd rounded the last corner to Watts' personal cabin, Winter came to a jarring halt. Bea almost ran straight into her back, just about managing to skip to the side in time. As her eyes came up, she spotted Watts in his usual immaculate attire, talking to someone large and hairy next to him. It was the man who always followed Watts around. His bodyguard? Bea couldn't be sure, though the man was easily large enough to be, and the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt told Bea he was no stranger to combat.

Both men stopped the moment the two of them came into view. Watts' eyes narrowed, taking in the un-uniformed Bea, the hostile glare Winter gave him, the air of confrontation that had crashed onto the corridor the moment the two women had rounded the corner. His eyes scrutinised the two of them, his focus landing on Bea's with enough force to almost make her back up a step. But she didn't. Instead she stared back, refusing to be cowed, to be bullied, her piercing gaze slicing into Watts' soul just as hard as his did hers.

"What is this?" he interrogated, his usually smooth voice as hard as ice.

"What did you do to me?" Winter demanded, tone equally froze. "You made me follow your orders. You forced me to help you invade Vale."

Watts laughed. Actually threw back his head and laughed out loud. Winter eyed him suspiciously, hand inching towards her cutlass. "Is that what think I did," Watts mocked, "turned you into my slave? My powers are far more subtle than such barbarity."

"You control people with your semblance," Bea accused, earning another chuckle from Watts.

"Wrong again. I don't control anyone. All I do is present to them a case they simply can't disagree with."

"Lies," growled Winter.

"Believe what you will. The only thing I do is convince people that I am right."

A hand came down on Watts' shoulder. It was the large man. "You're telling them too much," he rumbled, his voice resembling that of a bear's. "You're giving up an advantage."

"I don't care, Hazel," replied Watts. Hazel: so that was his name. "I want them to know exactly what they've done." Cruel eyes turned back to them. "I don't force anyone to do anything. I simply tell them what I want them to do. They could resist if they so pleased, but you see, humanity wants to be told what to do. They want to take orders. There are so few who actually have the wills to follow their own intuitions."

"Persuasion," Bea realised, finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "Your semblance is persuasion."

"Bravo," Watts mock congratulated, "though it is even more sophisticated than that. I merely plant a thought in a person's mind, the first hatchling of an idea. Then, even when I'm not in contact with them, that thought continues to worm its way into their mind, combining with their own thoughts, until they come to the same conclusion I wanted them to, all on their own. I don't force anyone to do anything. Everything that you have done, all the crimes you so desperately want to blame on me, deep down, you wanted to do them. You are as much a villain as I am, and you know it."

Bea took a step back, Watts' words hitting her harder than any blow possibly could. She understood Watts' power now: it was like hypnotism, putting the seeds of ideas into her mind and then allowing them to grow within her, developing into her own thoughts. But hypnotism could never force you to do something you would never do; it couldn't make you break your own morals. That meant that everything Bea had done whilst under Watts influence, all the times she'd stood by and done nothing as she'd watched people die, that was all on her. Maybe Watts had pushed her aside whilst he went for the gun, but she still stood and watched as he used it.

Besides her, Winter didn't look to be taking the news any better. Her pale complexion was ghostly, her mouth a pencil stroke on her face. Bea could imagine why. Every time she left the Schnee manor, she'd be surrounded by people who hated the Schnee name, who called her father a murderer, a thief, a bad man. All that time she must have fought to silence the doubts within her, that gnawing fear that maybe, just maybe, a part of her father lay within her too. And now Watts was forcing her to confront that part, revealing the festering cancer inside her. Winter was many things, lots of them unpleasant, but Bea didn't think her a bad person, not truly. She wanted to comfort Winter, tell her that the bad in her was only one side, only one tiny aspect of her soul that Watts had laid bare, and that that didn't have to be all that she was.

But when Bea opened her mouth to offer those words of comfort, she felt like a fraud. She was no better than Winter. Maybe she was worse. At least Winter could blame that dark side of her on her upbringing, on the toxic family she'd been born into. But Bea… she'd been raised with love, surrounded by good examples. Yet she'd still forced Ralph, her own partner, away from her. She'd still left her twin brother behind for a fancy job in Atlas, falling out of contact with him for over two years. That dark side of her was her own doing, her own selfish ambitions and desires. How could she possibly reconcile with that?

Surprisingly, it was Winter who provided the answer.

"I've done some things I'm ashamed of," she admitted, "but the very fact I feel ashamed of them is what separates me from you. I regret the bad I've done; you relish in it. And I'm going to put right the wrongs I've made." She fell into a battle stance, sabre shrinking out of its scabbard in one smooth motion. "I'm better than you." Winter's eyes flicked towards Bea, and maybe, for just a single moment, they softened. "We both are."

Bea was too stunned to reply, too dumbfounded to even utter any thanks. She knew it wasn't needed anyway. So instead she simply reached behind her back and pulled off the cylinder resting there. She twisted it down the middle, and the two halves came away. From one would extend her electrified sword; from the other, her whip. Bea put the whip back behind her back. It wouldn't be much use in the narrow confines of the ship's bowels, and she could engage with her sword just fine on its own.

Watts scoffed as he saw the two of them ready their weapons, but the man besides him, Hazel, seemed to take the threat seriously. "Walk away," he warned. "This doesn't have to end with your deaths."

"Actually, it does," countered Watts. "They've tried to depose me of my rightful claim to the Atlesian military. For their pitiful coup, I sentence them both to death." Watts' hands slipped into the pockets of his waistcoat. "It would be my pleasure to be their executioner." Hazel growled in displeasure, but otherwise didn't refute Watts.

Bea crouched into a fencer's stance besides Winter, eying their opponents. One big, but probably slow, easily countered by someone faster; the other an anomaly, but judging by his personality, someone who would rather outwit than outcompete their adversary. That would require someone with a more level-head.

She leaned over to Winter. "You take the one on the left, I'll take the one on th—"

Zoom!

Wind tore at Bea's clothing as Winter rocketed towards Hazel, an acceleration glyph flaring beneath her. She lunged for Hazel in what should have been an unmatchable feat of speed and skill, but somehow, using more agility than Bea had assumed was humanly possible for someone of that size, Hazel sidestepped out the way, missing the tip of Winter's blade by a hair's-breadth. If Winter was surprised by Hazel's speed, she didn't show it, sweeping her arm back across and jabbing for him again. Hazel dodged again, staying ahead of the blade by less than an inch each time, backing away down a corridor perpendicular to theirs.

Bea cursed and charged after her, weapon extending before her, arcs of blue electricity jumping to life across the foil-like blade. Watts only smiled.

Bea struck for Watts' midriff, arm jerking forward to impale him before he could bring his guard up. Watts merely took his hands out of his pockets, now wearing a pair of gloves.

And caught the blade in one hand.

---

Yang growled in frustration as a foot cut her off yet again from her sister. She blasted it out the way, only for Mercury to use the added momentum to spin around and send it crashing into her back. She hit the floor, angry tears blurring her vision. Her sister needed her. Ruby needed her.

She rolled to the side as Mercury axe-kicked the position she'd just occupied. She managed to get her knees underneath her, but Mercury was relentless, his legs becoming two blurs of molten silver as they swung and fell and pounded into her. Yang threw up block after block, trying to fight her way back to her feet, but the sheer intensity of Mercury's attacks kept her pinned to the ground.

With a roar, Yang blasted her gauntlets at the ground, propelling her upwards into Mercury. She made to tackle him around the waist, fully intending to wrestle him to the ground and then pummel him into oblivion, but at the last second he lifted his leg, planting it between himself and Yang. Directly in her face.

The shot was deafening, the pain instantaneous. Bits of buck rocketed into her cheek, whipping her head back and reversing her motion. She was sent sprawling straight back into the dirt, hard concrete slamming into her cheek. She grounded from the heap she lay in.

"Not gonna lie, blondie," smirked Mercury. Yang lifted her head to watch him. "I expected a helluva lot more from you. Oh well." Mercury raised his leg, preparing to stomp her face through the floor. Yang gritted her teeth, muscles screaming as she tensed, ready to throw herself out the way. Mercury's foot reached the height of its rise, an arrogant smirk splitting his face.

When a ribbon wrapped itself around his other leg and dragged it out from under him. Mercury cried out in shock, suddenly finding himself plummeting towards the ground, his support snatched out from under him.

Straight towards Yang.

"Oh shi—!"

Yang exploded upwards, fist tearing up the distance between them. There was single moment of contact as fist hit flesh, an instant of satisfaction as Mercury's face morphed into playdough, before physics caught up and the air was rent with a wet crack! Mercury went flying, his body dragged after his head as he lifted clean into the air, before gravity claimed its prize and he smacked into the ground.

Yang pushed herself to her feet. "I had that under control," she mumbled.

"Looked like it," replied Blake dryly, pulling Gambol Shroud back to her hand. "No doubt getting your face pummelled was also part of your brilliant strategy?"

"We need to get to Ruby," Yang said, ignoring Blake's last snipe.

"Don't worry, we've got her covered," Blake assured her.

"Qrow?"

"Even better. Besides, it looks like you didn't hit him hard enough." She indicated Mercury, now struggling back to his feet, holding a hand to his head and spitting obscenities. "Care to fix that?"

Yang's eyes met her partner's, and a smile that would have made a Berserker drop his axe and cower in fear split her face. "It would be my pleasure."

---

Ruby spun her scythe before her, knocking back the hooks that shot for her chest. They collided with a clang of metal on metal, before snaking back towards Emerald like chided dogs.

Ruby gaped at her green-haired opponent. "Why are you doing this? Don't you care about all these people you're going to hurt?"

"All I care about is Cinder," Emerald replied. "Nothing else matters to me."

"What a pitiful excuse for genocide," chided a familiar voice. Ruby's heart leapt as a white-haired figure appeared beside her. "Trust you to need saving," she muttered.

"What about the Breach?" Ruby asked.

"Coco is managing it. Beacon is slowly, but quite surely plugging it." That made Ruby's heart flutter in relief. She'd been so sure for a time that they were doing the impossible, but now it looked like they were going to pull through. Weiss now raised her voice so Emerald could hear. "You've lost. The Breach has failed, and Cinder has abandoned you. If you give yourself up, I promise you'll receive a fair trial."

"We don't want to hurt you," added Ruby.

"You're wrong!" shouted Emerald. "Cinder will be back. She'll save me, just like she did before."

Weiss sighed. "Then you've brought this fate upon yourself." She turned to Ruby. "Care to help me with this one?"

"Tag-team! Yeah!"

"We are not calling it that."

Ruby grinned to herself as she and Weiss readied their weapons. They were totally tag-teaming.

---

Bea's eyes widened, staring at the fist gripping her blade. Trails of blue electricity jumped from Bea's weapon to Watts' hand, but they didn't electrocute him. Instead, they seemed to skip and jump over the fabric of the glove, playing with the white arcs that Watts' own glove produced.

Watts inspected the weapon in his grip. "What a pretty toy." Then he slapped her in the face with his free hand. Electricity jarred through her from the point of contact, amplifying the blow tenfold. Bea took the hit full on the face, head snapping around. She sprawled over the floor, slamming her head against the hard metal panelling of the ground. She gingerly touched her cheek, feeling only numb skin. "But whilst you are merely playing at scientist, I am the real thing. My weapons are decades more sophisticated than yours."

Bea spun onto her back, scrambling away from Watts, but he didn't make to follow up on his attack. Instead he merely watched her disdainfully, as one would a bug with enough aspiration to try to climb his leg. In his hands, the gloves crackled with electricity, as if hungry for more. Her eyes darted over them as she got back to her feet, trying to discern what the hell they were. She'd never seen anything like them. Probably because Watts had built them himself, if his gloating was anything to go on.

Each glove was crisscrossed with a series of wires that connected to a small, humming box strapped to Watts' wrist. Dotting the gloves in multiple places were little diodes, from which arcs of electricity sprang into existence; but whereas Bea's produced soft, blue lightning, the colour of warm skies, Watts' was a harsh, spotless white, the colour of interrogation rooms and military uniforms. In a way, his weapon wasn't so dissimilar to her own, except instead of charging a blade, he'd charged a set of gloves.

That meant she couldn't let him touch her. Fine then: she'd just keep him at a distance.

Bea launched herself back into an attack, sword chopping for his head. Watts raised his hand, and just as he was about to grab her weapon, she pulled back a half step, then lunged forward. Her blade skimmed past Watts' reaching hand, then shot towards his chest. His second hand came around and knocked it out the way, then he stepped forward, reaching for Bea's face.

Bea dodged back, putting her weapon between them to give her time to recover. Watts merely slapped it aside, then thundered towards her, hands crackling. Bea's eyes widened. She stumbled back, trying to bring her weapon back around, but Watts was too close. It bit at his shoulder, earning a grunt of pain from him, but not enough to stop his attack. He slammed his palms into her chest, throwing her against a wall and pinning her there. Pain erupted across her torso. She screamed. Watts' grin was pure malignance.

Bea gripped Watts' wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He was too strong. She reached up to his torso, slapping her fists against him, but she'd never had much physical strength. He ignored her pitiful beating, continuing to apply pressure to her chest, ramping up the pain to another level.

She gritted her teeth, feeling her muscles spasming as electricity coursed through her nerves. Any more of this and her heart would simply stop. To a normal person, that should have already happened. Only her aura working overtime to dissipate the current was keeping her alive. But it wouldn't last forever. Watts was going to electrocute her to death.

That left her one option.

She didn't like it. It drained too much of her aura, but she was out of ideas by this stage. So Bea dug down inside herself, burrowing deep into that well of power within her that she privately thought was her soul, and activated her semblance.

Tingling began in her finger tips, like pins and needles. Her hair stood up on end, but that had nothing to do with Watts' attack. The air thrummed in anticipation, tasting of ozone as she charged up the power within her. Watts' leering face turned to one of confusion, suspicion. He reached up with one hand, perhaps hoping to knock her out with a shock to her head, but it was too late. Bea took a deep breath.

And a blue lightning bolt erupted from her chest.

Watts didn't even have time to widen his eyes. From so close it was like getting hit with an electrified sledgehammer. The stream of ionised air slammed into his torso, lifting him clean off the ground and hurling him away. His body slammed into the opposite wall of the corridor, and he slid to the floor, dazed.

Bea's semblance: potential difference induction. Or throwing lightning bolts, as Phil had liked to call it. For reasons she still didn't fully grasp, she was able to spend some of her aura to create a large enough voltage for a spark to jump from her to a nearby source. She could vaguely direct it, but it got less accurate the further away her target, making it a good thing Watts had been so close. She didn't like to rely on it though; it was too much of a clutch, and it ate through her aura faster than most other semblances did. Though given the circumstances, she felt she could be forgiven for it this once.

Watts growled from the heap he lay in on the floor, pushing a gloved hand against the metal floor to push himself up to his full height. But that wasn't what caught Bea's eyes. What did, was the way the glove sparked as it came into contact with the metal, the arcs of electricity flaring for a moment before disappearing completely. Watts saw her gaze, following it down to his right glove and the suspicious lack of sparks there.

He had discharged it.

Too late Watts realised his mistake. Bea was already upon him, hacking for his throat. Watts blocked it with his left hand, but wasn't prepared for the kick that followed, slamming into his chest and propelling him back into a wall.

Bea followed, refusing to allow him even a moment to recover. Any moment his glove might come back on, and she'd lose her advantage. Watts ducked her next attack, trying to slip past her, but a well-placed boot from Bea forced him back into his corner. Watts reached for her face, electrified glove spitting sparks, but Bea was faster. Her left hand latched onto his wrist, pulling it out the way as her sword came thundering down. Watts, left arm pinned by Bea and with his back against the wall, had nowhere to run. He threw up his free arm, blocking the strike for his head with his forearm, but his aura paid dearly for the move.

Bea continued to move, jerking the wrist she held to her left, dragging an unwilling Watts after it, just as she drove her elbow into his stomach. Watts' breath exploded out of him in a great rush, eyes bulging as Bea pulled back and flicked her blade at his face. He just about manged to jerk his head out the way, the weapon coming close enough to fry his immaculate moustache.

Tired of being beaten upon, Watts sent a punch at her face with his discharged hand. Bea blocked it with a forearm, smiling grimly to herself. She was winning. Watts wasn't a fighter; he was a planner. A thinker. He gave the orders whilst others did his bidding. His position had made him complacent, and now Bea was punishing him for it.

Watts pulled back his fist again, about to throw another ineffective punch. Bea had had a brawler for a partner—she could take a punch. Watts' fist reached the apex of its swing. The little black box on his wrist hummed in anticipation.

The glove crackled back to life.

Damnit.

The punch was as feeble as the last, but that was hardly an issue as several thousand volts shot through her body from the point of contact. Now it was Bea's turn to go flying, colliding with the unyielding ground and rolling across the floor for a few feet. She put an unsteady hand underneath her, dragging her aching body back up. This fight was taking a beating on her aura. She was down to about a third. Those gloves of his just did too much damage. She needed to find a way to permanently take them out of the equation. It was time to test a few theories she had about them.

---

Pyrrha glanced down the length of her rifle. Even if she couldn't fight Cinder head on, that didn't mean she couldn't help. Her sights came to rest on Cinder's glowing form, finger pressing down on the trigger, but just then Ren and Nora came into view, halting Pyrrha's attack.

Nora came in first, barrelling towards Cinder, hammer held high. Ren followed closely, blades glinting green in the firelight as he rushed her. Despite the distance, Pyrrha swore she could see Cinder smile.

Nora spun in a circle, hammer whistling through the air, racing towards Cinder's side. Cinder merely floated backwards, the hammer blundering past her by an inch. Ren was in there before Nora had even finished her swing, darting to Cinder's side. She swiped for his head with her sword, forcing Ren to slide underneath it. He came up, slashing for her leg at the same time Nora lifted her hammer and jabbed it towards Cinder's stomach. For a moment, it looked like they had her trapped, checkmated between the two of them.

But then Cinder ignited a fireball beneath her, shooting upwards on a jet of flame. Nora's hands were dragged into the fire after her hammer, flames engulfing her wrists. She pulled back, cursing, and Ren rushed to her side, dragging her clear.

Cinder wasn't done. She now came down, a shooting star blazing for Ren and Nora. Ren spotted her, mouth opening to yell something, but it was Nora who shoved them apart, the force of her push sending them both sprawling to either side. An instant later, a meteor collided with the ground, blasting a crater in the asphalt. Cinder rose to her full height as twin jets of blue fire shot her from hands, aimed at Ren and Nora.

Pyrrha's heart jerked in her chest as they scrambled out of the way, the flames chasing them as they struggled to put distance between them. Pyrrha's finger tightened on the trigger, determined to distract Cinder, but in the end, it wasn't necessary. A green figure leapt into the fight, cane swinging overhead for Cinder. She threw up a hand, sword reforming in her grip just in time to block the headmaster's attack.

Ozpin didn't give her time to retaliate. He slid his grip up the cane to about halfway, then reversed its rotation and slammed the handle into Cinder's face. She stumbled, and in that moment Ozpin's weapon swept for her legs. They would have taken them out, had Cinder not ignited a flame beneath them, shooting herself backwards and out of reach.

Ren and Nora struggled to their feet, and Pyrrha could see Ozpin shouting something to them, though she was too far away to hear what. The next second a hailstorm of glass shot towards the three of them. Pyrrha's breath caught in her throat as the tiny daggers speared for her friends.

Once more, it was Ozpin who saved them. He shouted something, and the two of them ducked behind him. The shards of glass raced towards him, but Ozpin merely stood there, as impassive as a mountain. The first shards came within arm's reach of Ozpin, before inexplicably disintegrating. More knives flew towards him, but each and every one of them fell to dust as they reached him.

It was only then that Pyrrha noticed the glass wasn't breaking apart on Ozpin; it was being destroyed. Ozpin was moving so fast that Pyrrha hadn't even noticed at first, his arms blurring into indistinct flashes of green, but there could be no mistaking it; Ozpin was hitting each and every fragment out of the air.

The barrage finally ended. Pyrrha stared at her headmaster, as did Ren and Nora, all three of them dumbfounded by the headmaster's feat. Just how skilled was he?

Ozpin said something to Ren and Nora that had Ren opening his mouth, as if to argue, but Ozpin cut him off again. Begrudgingly, Ren and Nora lowered their weapons and took a step back. Ozpin was telling them to stand down, Pyrrha realised with a jolt. Perhaps he didn't want them to get hurt. Perhaps he knew he didn't need them.

Either way, Ozpin didn't waste another second with them. He shot towards Cinder with a speed that would have matched Ruby's, cane whistling through the air. Hardened wood met burning daggers. Ozpin moved again, the sheer ferocity of his attacks throwing Cinder into retreat. They blazed back and forth, almost too fast for Pyrrha to keep up with. It was incredible. It was terrifying. Ozpin moved like a leopard, lithe and agile, yet with so much power in each attack Pyrrha could have sworn the ground quaked every time their weapons met. Blow after blow rained down on Cinder, Ozpin moving and attacking again before she ever got the chance to counter. He swung and ducked and whirled and jabbed and blocked and fought, weapon becoming a black blur in front of him.

Cinder tried to break away from him. She planted her feet against his chest and blasted backwards, using her flight ability to hover out of Ozpin's range. From there she began to rain fire down on the battlefield, launching fireballs at the headmaster from a safe distance.

Ozpin was having none of it. He knelt down, gripping his cane in two hands, then planted it into the ground. It was only because Pyrrha had been watching so closely, that she noticed the cane quicker slightly, as if releasing some sort of energy. A moment later a translucent orb, tinted green, expanded around Ozpin. Fireballs collided and washed over the shield, but nothing got through.

Ozpin paused there for a second, before launching himself off the ground, forcefield levitating him upwards towards Cinder. Cinder panicked, just as amazed as Pyrrha was that Ozpin could fly. She made the mistake of letting up on her attacks for a split second, and in that time Ozpin erupted out, orb shattering like an eggshell as he collided with Cinder, knocking her downwards.

Cinder hit hard, but still had the presence of mind to block Ozpin's follow up attack. She rolled to her feet, and the two went back at it, cane-to-sword combat. Cinder just about managed to keep up, double weapons singeing the air as they tore through it at unbelievable speeds, halting Ozpin's cane time and time again. But one thing looked clear to Pyrrha as she watched the fight, slack-jawed: Ozpin was winning. Cinder was just ever so slightly slower, just a fraction weaker. A jab managed to get through her guard, bumping her chest. It wasn't much, but blow called to blow, and not long after that another attack snuck past her weapons, and then a another, and then another.

Slowly but surely, Ozpin was draining her aura. He just had to keep doing what he was doing, just keep fighting like he was, and he would win. Pyrrha knew that. Ozpin likely did too.

Unfortunately, so did Cinder.

When Ozpin next swung for her midsection, Cinder dropped her weapons, catching the cane against her side with a crack. She grimaced but managed to pin the weapon under her arm. Ozpin immediately began to backpedal, but Cinder was quicker. She launched herself at him, hands reaching for his chest. He spun to the side, but at the last second Cinder managed to snag his sleeve.

Pyrrha cried out as fire erupted across Ozpin's arm. He didn't so much as glance at it, blocking Cinder's next fist, before following it up with an elbow to the face. Flames licked up his sleeve, burning at his face, but Ozpin stoically ignored them for the larger threat in front of him.

Infuriated by Ozpin's seemingly unfazed attitude towards being set on fire, Cinder struck for his face with a jab. Ozpin easily blocked the attack, but Pyrrha spotted Cinder's other hand creeping for his chest. She screamed a warning, but too late, for Cinder had managed to plant her palm against his torso. The hand glowed a brilliant white for a moment, before exploding energy outwards in a torrent of power.

Ozpin went flying, his cane ripping out of his hands as he was hurled away. Cinder held the cane in her hands, then brought it over her knee and snapped it in half. Ozpin soared through the air, trailing fire like a of comet. He landed and immediately began to roll, partly to soften the impact, partly to put out the flames that had been steadily consuming his suit. Cinder didn't give him the luxury of time to recover. Before he'd so much as risen to his knees, she launched a beam of fire, so intense it resembled a solar flare, directly at him. It blasted towards the still-recovering Ozpin, incinerating the distance between them.

Ozpin glanced up, saw it coming. That should have been enough. Pyrrha had seen him create a forcefield before; had seen it defend against Cinder's attacks with ease. It should have popped up, fizzing into existence and protecting Ozpin. It was exactly the same as last time. That's what should have happened.

Except for one thing: Ozpin didn't have his cane anymore. And that was not what happened.

The beam collided with Ozpin, slamming him to the ground. Pyrrha only had a split-second to see Ozpin's face—eyes closed, face… accepting—before the fire sealed him within. She screamed, the sound drowned out by the roar of the torrent of liquid fire. It washed across the quad, bathing the area in hideous, orange light. Pyrrha could only stare, her legs jelly beneath her, her stomach a gaping pit as she watched the cremation, Cinder's deranged laughter taking the place of a mournful organ.

A boom echoed across the battlefield, followed a moment later by Cinder's laughter cutting off as a grenade impacted her, blasting her away as it erupted into a fine mist. A fine pink mist.

Oh no.

---

Watts came at her, fists swinging. She dodged left, then ducked under a hook, eyes picking out the tell-tale signs of his attacks before he even started them. Watts seemed frustrated by his inability to hit her, and he launched a blistering offensive that had Bea swerving past blurring fists, close enough to hear the crackle of static and the hum of his bracelets.

Watts lunged towards her, fist outstretched, and Bea finally saw her opening. She leapt to the side and brought her weapon blazing down in an arc of blue plasma. Watts brought up an arm to protect his face, but Bea wasn't aiming for that. Instead her sword smashed down into his overstretched fist, slapping the back of his glove. Diodes flared a brilliant white, then shattered into fragments. Watts stumbled back, glove fizzing. The diodes on his fingers and palm were still working, still spitting out arcs of electricity, but the ones on the back were lifeless.

Bea's eyes narrowed. She'd been right: the gloves could be broken. The circuitry on them was too intricate to be able to survive more than a few hits. But it hadn't worked as well as she'd hoped. The glove was still usable, and now Watts knew what she was trying to do.

It was time to test her other theory.

Bea rushed him, keeping her sword centred so he wouldn't know which way she'd attack. Watts backed up, hands held close to his chest, defensively. That wasn't good. She needed to get to his arms to try her next idea. She had to find a way to make him open up his guard.

She swung low, which he stepped over, then drew her sword upwards across his body, intentionally leaving herself open for an attack. Watts sidestepped, then almost hesitantly reached for her exposed side. As he did, Bea yanked her sword back across her body, slicing for his hand. He leapt back, jerking his hand back towards himself just in the nick of time. Bea's weapon continued downwards on its own momentum, arcing towards the ground. Just as it did, Bea stepped in front of it, blocking Watts' line-of-sight with her leg, and thumbed a button on the hilt.

The blade slammed into the ground, making a loud clanging sound that echoed through the confined hallway. When Bea lifted up her weapon again, Watts' eyes ignited in glee. The blade was a dull grey. Gone was the vibrant blue of the electricity.

It was now Bea's turn to stare in horror at her discharged weapon.

Watts launched himself at her, devious smile splitting his face. Bea backpedalled as fast as she could, trying to keep away from those electrified hands. Gone was Watts' apprehension, his defensiveness. Now he simply threw himself into his assault, knowing he could dish out far more damage than she.

A hand came snatching for her face. She ducked. A jab came thundering for her solar plexus. She jerked her body backwards, but this time her foot caught on the floor. She felt the tug of gravity drag her helpless form downwards, felt the ground rush up and crash into her back, punching the air from her chest. Watts stood over her, relishing his victory. Bea's eyes widened, and she spun onto her back to scrambled away, but Watts was too fast. He latched onto her leg with both hands, instantly flooding her nerves with electricity once more. Bea squirmed on the ground, not needing to fake the pain she felt.

Now.

Somehow, Bea was able to twist her upper half, biting her tongue against the pain juddering through her body. Her arms jerked and shook, but somehow, she managed to bring her weapon about and place it over Watts' wrists, over the two black boxes humming away on them. Watts laughed his derision at her pitiful attempt to stop him, not even bothering to knock her blade off, and why would he need to, when it was no more than an added pressure on his wrists?

Until Bea pressed a button on the handle, that was.

In an instant, jets of blue lightning bounded up the blade, the weapon flaring back to life. Watts had only a second to cry out before the boxes on his wrists exploded. Searing white light blinded Bea, forcing her to look away. The supernova on Watts' hands seared Bea's legs, draining her aura down to its last few dregs, but it still held. Just.

When the mini sun finally died, Bea looked back at the destruction she'd caused. The black boxes had been generators, just like Bea had guessed. They would have contained a store of electrical dust, which would have been annihilated in small amounts to create controlled quantities of energy for Watts' gloves. But super charge those generators, and suddenly the dust in them became volatile. Explosive.

Sophisticated her arse.

Bea eased herself into a sitting position, rubbing her numb legs. Even though they didn't spasm uncontrollably anymore, they still ached. Her muscles were going to be sore for weeks. She glanced up to see Watts on his knees, cradling his hands, his wrists scorched, his sleeves burnt and smoking. Bea noticed with no small amount of relief that the wounds weren't healing; Watts' aura was well and truly gone. She glanced at his hands, at the remnants of his gloves, now no more than shreds of blackened material and loose wires.

Bea dragged herself to her feet, flicking the button on her weapon; the button that turned off the flow of electricity—the same button she'd used to trick Watts into thinking she'd discharged her sword. She stood over Watts, the man not even looking at her as he stared at the shreds of fabric on his hands.

"It's over Watts. You've lost."

If she expected him to snarl at her, or spit in her face, or even keel over in defeat, she was wrong. Instead, he simply looked up into her eyes, letting her see the fire that still blazed there, undimmed by defeat, and said, "Did you know how much longer we had to reach Vale?"

Bea faltered. "What?"

"Fifteen minutes," he answered for her. "Do you know how long our fight was?"

Realisation slammed into Bea at the same time his gloves did, bouncing off her face. They didn't hurt, but for the briefest of moments, Bea lost sight of Watts. When she saw him again he was no longer kneeling, but running away from her.

Towards the bridge.

---

Pyrrha tried to get a shot on Cinder, but she was already moving, zooming towards her friends, murderous intent glistening in her eyes. Ren and Nora didn't flinch as the witch zipped towards them, fireballs blossoming in her hands. Instead they merely crouched down, waiting.

Cinder reached them, two deadly projectiles firing their way. They dodged to either side, then darted towards Cinder. Ren leapt up, his body spinning through 360, blades shrinking as they slid off the sword Cinder had materialised. Ren hit the ground, weapons cracking as they spat bullets towards Cinder. She raised a hand, smiling as bits of crushed metal pinged off the shield she formed there.

But then Nora came in. She charged forward, hopped onto Ren's shoulders, then flew into the air, Ren extending to his full height at the same time Nora jumped, the added force giving her enough of a boost to launch her skyward.

Nora cleared Cinder's height, reaching the apex of her jump, before plunging downwards, hammerhead first. At the same time, Ren struck for Cinder's legs, forcing her to choose between which attack to defend from.

In the end, she chose both. She lifted her leg, dodging Ren's strike by a millimetre, then flicked it out. The heeled foot flung for Ren, forcing him to duck out. At the same time, she flung her hands upwards, dots of light coalescing into miniature spears around her. Pyrrha's eyes widened as a wall of sharpened points shot upwards, straight towards Nora.

Nora, still falling through the air, was helpless to the fate that speared towards her. She managed to put her hammer between them and her, but a number still managed to slip past. Nora was hit. Several times. Her aura glowed a vibrant pink, stretching itself to its absolute limit. Still Nora fell, her gaze laser-focused on the woman below her, hammer screaming through the air for justice.

Cinder didn't panic. Didn't flinch or dodge or attack. She simply held out her hand, and the ground below her began to glow. A whirling pattern of white, gold and red swirled into existence beneath her. Pyrrha cried out, too far to do anything but watch. She knew what that was.

Nora came down, a thunder goddess about to devastate the world. Cinder, with a speed and grace reserved only for the best of fighters, sidestepped.

The ground exploded, just as Nora collided with it. The air shook with the shockwave. Entire fragments of concrete flew up as two unstoppable forces met each other. Nora's body, looking so small among all the carnage around her, was jerked every way which, the explosion wracking her body, shards of rock slicing into her. She flew upwards, hammer wrenching free from her hands, as her aura exploded into pieces. She hit the ground, the air punched out of her chest with the force of a truck. Dust and dirt rained down around her, half burying her body among the ruins of her attack.

And Cinder, standing on the rim of the crater Nora had blasted into the planet, smiled.

Pyrrha was up and moving before the last mound of dirt had even landed. Her rifle came up against her shoulder, her finger flying to the trigger, emptying an entire clip at Cinder. She wasn't aiming to hit—she was experienced enough to know shooting and running only worked in movies—she just desperately wanted to drag Cinder's attention away. The demon blocked each and every shot that came close, unfazed by the song of bangs and pops that rang out around her. She took a step into the crater, towards the immobile ginger girl at its centre.

Pyrrha ran faster, head down, feet thundering against the tarmac. Ren shouted in alarm and leapt at Cinder, selflessly putting himself between her and Nora. He raised Storm Flower, body crouched, eyes narrowed. Then he threw himself at Cinder.

Ren fought with a vigour and determination Pyrrha had almost never seen in him before, striking and blocking and dodging in a desperate dance with Death, putting every part of himself into each attack, slashing with every inch of his soul.

But he was never going to have lasted long. He was nothing but a lone man fighting against the goddess of destruction, and though he threw everything he had at her, it wasn't enough. With a casual flick of her hand, a blaze of fire barrelled towards Ren. He tried to dodge, but was just too slow, too tired. The fire consumed him, lifting him into the air like a ragdoll and tossing him aside. Then Cinder continued her unhurried, inexorable strut towards Nora.

Pyrrha was close now. Close enough to spot Nora's left hand inching towards her hammer, splayed fingers crawling across the dirt. But then a heeled foot came crashing down, stabbing into the back of Nora's hand and pinning it to the ground. Nora cried out, her other hand batting at the foot holding her down, trying to pry it off. Cinder seemed to relish the helplessness of her prey, eyes glinting wickedly as she leaned down on her foot and began to twist it. A scream of pain escaped Nora as her bones were ground into the hard floor, pointed heel digging into her flesh.

Pyrrha kept running. Fifty meters. Forty. Cinder's hand began to glow, flames dancing around her fingers. Thirty meters to go. Twenty. Cinder pointed it towards the helpless Nora, trapped on the ground and without any aura, preparing to incinerate the girl to ash. Ten meters.

Too far.

Pyrrha felt the knowledge settle in her like a piece of lead dropped in a pond. She watched, as if in slow motion, as Cinder's eyes burnt a malicious orange, saw the flames retreat temporarily, winding back to shoot out. Noticed Nora's eyes widening, realising that they were looking at the last thing they'd ever see. The tips of Cinder's fingers burnt, the fire washing back down her arm, rushing outwards, orange vipers snapping towards Nora, too far away to reach in time.

Or at least, too far away for her to reach in time.

With a shout, Pyrrha flung her shield towards Cinder's wrist. It connected, throwing her attack wide, scorching the ground beside Nora but otherwise missing the girl. Cinder's gaze flung around, eyes burning with hatred. Pyrrha barely noticed. She ran at Cinder, spear extending before her, jabbing for her chest, then swinging for her leg, before crashing down towards her head. Cinder blocked with a forearm each time, but the strength of the blows was enough to force her backwards, away from Nora.

Pyrrha kept attacking, never letting up for a second, throwing every move she had at Cinder. She moved like she had never moved before, desperation lending her speed and strength, whirling and spinning in a tornado of steel blows.

Cinder was forced into retreat, wrestling to keep her footing as Pyrrha forged onwards, leaping within her guard anytime she tried to get space. She grabbed Pyrrha's blade, metal hissing as it heated up, so Pyrrha headbutted her. She stumbled back, hand to her nose, hissing, "I should have burnt you when I had the chance."

"You tried."

"A small oversight on my behalf, easily corrected."

A fireball blossomed in Cinder's grip, but Pyrrha leapt in, grabbing her wrist and holding it away. Her aura was practically non-existent; just one lucky hit would spell the end of her. The thought only made her fight harder. Cinder had to be stopped. Not just for the sake of Vale, but for the sake of her friends, for Nora and Ren. Speaking of…

A blur of green shot past them. A knife glanced off Cinder's side, sparking her aura. She spun, and Pyrrha struck, driving her weapon into Cinder's chest. Together Ren and Pyrrha whirled around Cinder, leaping in, then ducking back out before she could counter. For a moment, the two teammates moved in tandem, dancing the deadly dance around their adversary, swerving past obsidian blades and ducking under fireballs.

But it couldn't last forever.

Eventually, Ren made a mistake. It was a small one, little more than a misplaced foot, but all of a sudden Cinder's hand shot towards his face. He tried to swerve back but couldn't quite get out of the way. The hand clasped around his throat, lifting him clear into the air. Pyrrha darted in to save him, but Cinder was expecting that. The ground suddenly began hissing beneath her, forcing her to flip backwards or be turned into putty as the floor exploded.

Cinder pulled Ren close, fist contracting, smile wide. "Did you honestly believe you were strong enough to beat me?" she scorned.

"No," hissed Ren, "but she is."

It took Cinder a single second to realise that Ren wasn't referring to Pyrrha. It took half that time for Nora's hammer to wham into her back with a sickening crack!

Cinder may have possessed powers beyond anything Pyrrha had ever seen, but she also possessed a backbone, and after being hit by brute forces—such as those produced by a hammer—bad things tended to happen. For Cinder, that was to be sent soaring through the air like a jet, smashing into the ground and tearing up the tarmac in a long line as she skidded through the dust.

Ren pulled Nora close to him, holding her broken hand, the one that Cinder had stomped on, close to his face. He didn't try to tell her to stand down, despite her lack of aura. He knew what she'd say to that suggestion. In return, Nora gave Ren one of her bravest smiles, slightly more brittle than usual, but there nonetheless, making it clear to Ren that she could keep going. That she would keep going. And judging by the figure rising out of the dirt like an avenging demon, they were going to need all the help they could get.

Nora handed Pyrrha back her shield, and Pyrrha gave her a nod of thanks. The three of them stood together, weapons ready, eying the burning star floating above them.

Cinder's aura flickered, cracking along the seams but just about holding. Cinder was low, but not out. "You think you've beaten me?" she demanded. "You think you've won?! You've lost! Watts is here with his fleet. Your city will be nothing but rubble when he's done. You've saved nothing. Nothing!"

Pyrrha shielded her eyes against the glare of Cinder, squinting at the horizon. The elevation of Beacon gave her a commanding view of the surroundings, but at first, she saw nothing. There was the sea to one side, the deep greens of a forest to the other, a bank of grey clouds to the North, the sprawling city beneath he—

Pyrrha glanced back at the clouds. Except they weren't clouds, she realised. They were airships. Dozens of them, hundreds even, crawling over the horizon like a swarm of locusts. The entire might of the legendary fleet of Atlas lay poised on the horizon.

Heading towards Vale.

"They wouldn't," Nora denied. "Atlas wouldn't."

But deep down, despite how much Pyrrha desperately wanted Nora to be right, she knew that even if Atlas wouldn't, then Watts—whomever he was—would.

They were about to witness the annihilation of Vale.

---

Bea took off at a sprint after Watts, cursing her blindness. Watts had known all along victory was improbable. He hadn't been fighting to beat her; he'd been fighting to stall her. And now…

Watts rounded a corner, Bea following not a meter behind, yet as she thundered around the turn, her shins collided with something hard. She went down, cursing, and Watts widened the distance between them, throwing more obstacles in her path. She kicked away the thing she'd fallen over, shoving herself back into the race.

Portholes whizzed by her, and in one she dared to glance out. Outside, she could make out the rising sun, the emerald meadows, the scenic forests blanketing the land, and in the not so far distance, something that made her heart stop dead in her chest. Rooftops basking in the rising orange orb, towers glinting prettily, pillars of industrial smoke rising towards the heavens. Vale. It was within firing range.

Bea forced herself onwards, pushing her straining body to its absolute limits as she dodged past projectiles Watts hurled over his shoulder. She had to stop Watts. She had to, she had to, she had to.

Watts reached the Bridge, a large room at the end of a corridor. He threw the door shut, bolt thudding into place just as Bea crashed into it, locking her out. Bea put one shoulder to the door, grunting and swearing as she heaved against it. It didn't give. Bea pushed away and took a few steps back. The door was locked fast, but the lock was only made of wood; it wasn't reinforced like the bulkheads down below. That didn't stop a grimace from slipping over her face. This was going to hurt.

With a running start, Bea barrelled into the door. It stubbornly held, hurling her back off. She went further back this time, charging at the door with a shout. For a moment it bent inwards, right on the precipice of snapping open, before it tossed her back yet again. With strength failing her and hope rapidly dwindling, she took one last run up and threw herself at the door.

With a grinding snap of wood, the door flew open. Bea crashed through, collapsing into a heap on the other side. She stared up, and the sight she saw was enough to flood her senses with dread.

The bridge was almost completely vacant, except for one woman manning the weapons station. She was furiously slapping keys in front of her, eyes wide in terror as Watts towered over her. He turned as Bea entered, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Fire on Vale now!" he commanded the petrified woman in front of him.

"But sir—"

"Do it!" he screamed.

The woman threw one, last, desperate glance at Bea, her eyes imploring, before she tapped in the final key and prepared to hit the fire button. Bea knew what would happen next, clear as if she were watching it on a screen. Their dreadnought would fire, giving the signal for every other ship in the sky to do the same. A barrage of death would rocket out of the heavens like a pre-emptive Judgement Day, impossibly fast. The inhabitants of Vale would receive—maybe—thirty seconds max to react, before their entire existence was wiped out in a blaze of hellfire. The stench of horror, of fear and hopelessness and loss in those few seconds would be enough to attract every Grimm for miles around, and the massacre of Vale would begin. Thousands would die. Millions would be affected. And all because of the madman grinning in front of her.

All because she had been too slow to stop him.

She couldn't accept that.

Bea summoned every ounce of aura she had left, drawing every inch of her soul, of her very being—all her fear, rage, desperation, pain, hopes, dreams, all of it—into one, last attack. She drained every cell in her body of its strength, sapping every atom of all the energy it offered her, pulling it inwards, storing it, building it up. In less than a heartbeat, the power in her had grown to monstrous proportions, tearing at her insides for release. With a roar, Bea hurled everything she was in one, unstoppable lightning bolt. Watts saw it coming straight at him, too fast to dodge, and his eyes widened fractionally.

But the distance was too great.

The lightning veered off, attracted by the metal frame of the airship all around it. It smashed into the floor, feet from the weapons station, decimating the ground where it landed and rippling out across the metal surface. By the time the electricity reached Watts, it didn't even have the strength to shock him through his loafers. He looked at her, eyes blazing in triumph, the victor of their extended struggle.

The woman hit the fire button…

…and nothing happened.

Watts spun to Bea, his face a mask of fury, to find her pulling herself to her feet, now the one boasting the triumphant grin.

"How?" he managed to spit. "You missed the terminal."

"I wasn't aiming for it," she smirked, pointing to the floor where her lightning bolt had hit. The floor panel had flipped off, revealing the smoking and warped wiring leading from the weapons console, now utterly fried. The woman sobbed in relief.

Watts gave a strangled cry and threw himself at Bea.

---

"Why isn't he firing?" hissed Cinder, glaring at the dark ships swarming over the horizon.

For a moment, Pyrrha dared to hope. The ships weren't firing. Could it really be? "You've lost, Cinder." Pyrrha started. She turned, as did Ren and Nora, to see Professor Ozpin walking towards them. The headmaster had seen better days; his suit was in tatters, his face and hands smeared in soot, and he smelled of brimstone and ash. But nonetheless, he walked tall and proud, unstooped despite the ordeal he'd been through. He made it to the three students, nodding towards them each in turn. "My apologies, children. That hit was harder than I'd anticipated. I assume I have you to thank for it not incinerating me."

Pyrrha couldn't resist the smile that gilded her face. "Eh, it was nothing," preened Nora.

Ozpin now raised his voice to Cinder. "The men of Atlas will not attack. Your invasion has failed. It's over."

Cinder laughed then, rather hysterically. "Over? Over?! I've only just begun! The power of the maiden belongs to me!"

Ozpin sighed. "I know why you want the power, Cinder, and I promise you now, it won't help you."

"You don't know anything about me, old man."

"Don't I?" queried Ozpin. "I know you are in your mid-twenties, born and raised in Mistral, judging by your accent."

"Is that all?" scoffed Cinder.

"I wasn't finished. I also know that a little over twenty years ago, Mistral had one of the highest proportions of waives in recent history. There was no government help for those who needed it then. Orphanages were purely charity-funded, and often overflowing. Many children who most needed help were turned away. Even those that weren't had to fight for everything: food, clothing, space. I know, because I visit during those troubled times."

Cinder had gone very, very still in the air, staring at Ozpin. Pyrrha did the same. She'd never heard about this part of her Kingdom's history, but then again, she'd never really bothered to pry either. She'd lived in one of the nicer parts of Mistral, and in Mistral where you were born dictated where you went. She'd almost never visited the poorer, more derelict parts of her city, though she knew enough to know it wasn't a nice place to live. Especially for children.

Ozpin continued. "It wasn't an easy life. Many children found themselves on the streets, fighting for every scrap of bread they could get their hands on. For some, scavenging and stealing were not enough." At this he sighed again, as if it brought him great pain to recount this aspect of human history. "Many needed to find other methods to earn their food, often in less savoury ways. For quite a lot of young girls, they sold the only commodity they possessed: their bodies. Some did so willingly, whilst others were coerced into it by the gangs that ran the under-streets. It was a pitiful existence, but it was existing, so many remained like this."

"You know nothing about me," Cinder whispered, though now it felt more like a plea, like Cinder didn't want Ozpin to know about her.

"I don't," accepted Ozpin. "But I know about a lot of other girls who were in the very same situation as you. Powerless to their own destinies. And I find it very easy to imagine someone such as yourselves deciding they didn't like being powerless."

Pyrrha stared at Cinder, sensing Ren and Nora doing the same, no longer with hatred, but now with something else. Something that almost verged on pity.

That was a mistake. Cinder saw the looks on their faces and roared in fury. "You think recounting my history is going to magically make he join you now? You think it's going to make me forgive all you've done, sitting in your warm, glass towers whilst others starved?" Fire erupted across her sleeves. "I'll kill you all and burn Vale myself!"

"You can't beat us all," warned Ozpin.

Cinder's eyes flared. "Can't I?"

She rocketed towards them, fire streaming off her. Nora and Ren dove to the side, but she wasn't aiming for them. Instead, she shot straight towards Pyrrha. Ozpin tried to step in front of her, but Cinder snaked around him, reaching for the spartan. She tried to bring her shield around, but Cinder knocked it away, igniting a fireball that sent it careening out of her hands. She grabbed Pyrrha around the waist, dragging her into the air. Pyrrha's stomach lurched as she soared upwards, the ground disappearing beneath her.

Cinder grabbed her wrist, holding her outwards. Pyrrha's legs dangled over empty air, kicking uselessly to try to gain some purchase. Miló came around, but Cinder caught it. She kicked Pyrrha's hand open, then tossed the sword away. Pyrrha made the mistake of looking down after it and felt her mind whirl at the dizzying drop. Her friends were scrambling about below her, little more than ants from this height. If Cinder let go of her now, she'd be nothing more than a red smudge in under two seconds.

Cinder regarded her disdainfully. "I always hated you," she revealed, as if she were sharing a secret with Pyrrha and not holding her a hundred meters above the ground. "Every time I watched you fight, every picture that appeared of you on that ridiculous cereal, I wanted nothing more than to punch your pretty, perfect teeth out. How was it fair that I had been forced to fight my way into the world just to survive, whilst here you were, a pampered little princess, being spoon-fed everything you ever needed and fighting your little fights as if it were a game?"

Pyrrha wrestled against her body's natural rotation, struggling to keep facing Cinder as her body was battered by winds that had been contained on the ground, but which were now able to lash her freely. "You don't have to do this," she pleaded.

"You're right," smiled Cinder. "But I want to." And then she let go.

---

Bea stumbled backwards, bringing her weapon around between them. Watts got in closer, slapping her hand aside and sending her weapon flying. The maroon cylinder shot from her clutch, sliding across the floor and out of view. Watts' hands came up, enveloping her throat in his grasp before she could pull away. Bea's eyes bulged, and she fell backwards, trying to break away from Watts. He simply fell with her, his fingers forming an unbreakable vice around her neck.

Bea slammed into the ground and her head snapped backwards, cracking painfully against the metal floor. Her vision blurred momentarily, and in that time, Watts managed to crawl on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

Bea's eyes widened. Watts, more animal now than man, roared into her face, spittle splashing over her. He leaned down, his hands inexorably squeezing the life out of her. She began to gag, lungs straining for air, hands scrambling to prise away Watts' girder-like fingers. She threw her gaze over his shoulder, hoping to spot the weapon's lady. Surely she would help? But by the looks of the empty bridge, she'd already run off. She was on her own.

Bea slapped her hands against Watts', shoving and straining to overcome him, but it was like trying to topple a pillar. Her nails bit into his flesh, earning a snarl for her efforts but no more room to breathe.

That was when Watts leaned down and whispered, "Sleep."

Instantly, Bea felt his semblance working, so obvious now that she knew to look for it. It coursed through her, a wave of icy water, just as it had done so many times before, and just like before, that water seemed to heat rapidly, becoming lusciously warm, soothing even, enveloping her in its warm embrace. As that warmth permeated through her, the fatigue hit like a brick wall. She was tired. Oh so very tired. She'd been fighting for so long, how could one little nap hurt? She just needed to close her eyes for a second, only a second. Bea's eyelids drooped, even as her hands fell limply to her sides. She just needed to sleep…

No! Bea shoved against the heavy weight of exhaustion smothering her under its suffocating sheets. She couldn't sleep. Wouldn't. If she closed her eyes now, she knew she'd never open them again.

She gritted her teeth and forced her eyelids open, even as her vision began to blur from the lack of oxygen. She forced her hands upwards, reaching for Watts face, fingers becoming jagged claws that tore and rent into flesh, scratching deep gashes across his cheeks in the shape of her talons.

"Sleep!" he hissed, eyes squinted against Bea's prying fingers. Another wall of frozen water crashed through her, but Bea stubbornly refused to give into the well of exhaustion opening up within her, clinging to that hateful face in front of her as she doubled her efforts to gouge out his eyes.

It was all no good. Even without Watts' semblance, she felt her strength fading, her limbs becoming dead weights on tired limbs, her vision blackening as dark spots exploded into view before her. She was asphyxiating. Dying. Watts was going to kill her.

Watts brought his leering face an inch from hers, eyes ablaze with dark pleasure. "You've lost," he spat. "I'll simply transfer to another ship once you're dead. Vale will be destroyed. You've changed nothing!"

Nothing. After all her efforts, after everything she'd done: nothing. Was that to be her legacy? The person who had come close to saving Vale? Who had almost won?

She tried to scramble a few dregs of her semblance together, but it was all gone. Used up when she'd destroyed the weapon's terminal. Her arms were dragged down by gravity, away from Watts face, falling limply to her sides. Watts crowed in victory. Bea's vision blackened.

With the last of her strength she inched her hand underneath her, to the small of her back. Cold metal in the shape of a cylinder greeted warm hands. She was too drained to even pull it out. Instead she simply trailed her finger along its length, the familiar swirling pattern guiding her digit as it came to rest on a button.

Bea pushed it.

Arcs of electricity shot through Bea, locking up her muscles, frying her nerves. She bucked in pain as she was electrocuted for what must have been the umpteenth time, current racing from the electrified whip she'd just extended beneath her through her body. Straight into Watts.

He jerked backwards, crying out and releasing his death grip on Bea's throat. Bea gasped, gulping down raggedy breaths as she relished the glorious taste of air again. She fingered the button on her whip, turning it off. Her throat burned, and she knew she'd have some serious bruises there, but she forced down her discomfort, dragging herself onto shaky hands and knees and crawling away.

"You bitch!" spat Watts. Bea had an instant of warning to flip onto her back and hold out the handle of her weapon, the red cylinder looking so small and pathetic in her hands. Her whip would just as likely damage her as it would Watts if she tried to use it in close quarters, but Watts didn't know that. And judging by the way his eyes widened and he backed up a step, the sting of the weapon was all too prevalent in his mind.

Watts growled his frustrations, eyeing the cylinder in her hand like someone would a box of radioactive waste. Bea had the advantage here. She had a weapon, even if the environment significantly reduced its use. Still, that was better than Watts, who had nothing. She just needed to get up. Just get back into the fight. Yet the simple task of dragging herself back to her feet felt more impossible than human flight at that moment. She was still trying to shake off Watts semblance, and the lack of oxygen for so long had left her brain foggy. Her limbs felt like butter, and her nerves were struggling to reorganise themselves after the most recent electric shock.

For a moment, she wondered if she'd be able to get back up. Watts wouldn't wait for her forever. Already he was inching forward, perhaps hoping to rush her before she could activate her weapon. She tried to force her muscles to contract, but they wouldn't respond. She was just so shattered.

And then she heard a voice that had a crash of frozen water, colder than anything Watts' semblance could produce, rushing through her veins. "Salutations, Miss Bea. I have done as you asked. I estimate this ship to now be eighty-five percent evacuated."

Bea's head angled to the side, down a corridor perpendicular to theirs. There, stood at the end and happily waving to get Bea's attention, was the ginger-haired girl Bea had bumped into before. Penny, Bea remembered. She spotted the girl, standing there alone and unarmed, ignorant to the monster standing not ten meters away.

So did Watts.

"No!" Bea screamed, seeing Watts' eyes ignite in sadistic pleasure. He leapt past Bea, thudding down the corridor towards Penny. Bea somehow managed to find the energy buried deep within her to hurl her body at his, fingers snatching for his leg. They grasped fabric, smooth and slippery, holding for only a fraction of a second before they were torn out of her clenching digits.

No.

Watts thundered towards Penny, an enraged bull on a rampage. Penny's eyes went wide, and she fell back a step, yet still she didn't run, didn't realise the full extent of the danger. Watts collided with her, wrapping the petite girl up in both arms. Penny gasped. Bea cried out. Watts simply grinned in triumph, one arm grabbing Penny around her torso whilst the other pinned her throat to his chest, holding her between him and Bea.

"Here's what's going to happen," Watts smiled, his voice slipping back into that smooth drawl now that he was back in control. "You're going to watch as I get off this ship and fly to another. Meanwhile, you're going to stay here and do nothing to prevent me destroying Vale. Otherwise I'm going to kill this girl."

Bea's throat felt like it was constricting all over again. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Watts had that little girl, no more than a child, utterly at his mercy. He would kill her in a heartbeat if she tried anything on him. He had her hands tied.

"Bea, is this man troubling you?" Penny asked, looking inquisitively up at her captor.

"Be quiet," ordered Watts, and even from a distance Bea knew he was using his semblance on her.

"Do you wish for me to help you?" asked Penny, her voice never once rising in volume.

Bea blinked. Penny had overcome Watts semblance without even a moment's hesitation. And why wasn't she panicking? Didn't she understand that a madman was holding her hostage?

Apparently, Watts was just as surprised as Bea at Penny's unperturbed question. "I said, be quiet!"

"Do what he says, Penny," Bea called. "You can't do anything against Watts."

"Do not worry, Bea," chirped Penny. Then her eyes narrowed as they turned to Watts. "I am combat ready."

Something in that tone had a single bead of sweat trailing down Watts' forehead. His arm tightened around Penny's throat, trying to choke her into submission. "I said be quie—ah, ah, ah!"

Bea watched transfixed as Penny calmly reached up with a single hand and pulled Watts arm away from her throat. For a moment, Watts could do nothing but stare at it, as if it belonged to someone else. Then, with a single, swift motion, Penny broke it.

Watts had barely a second to cry out before Penny had spun and swept his feet out from under him. He fell hard, barking out a cry of pain. Penny towered over him, the previously innocuous child now seeming like some sort of harbinger of justice. Watts scrambling back, broken arm cradled to his chest, legs furiously propelling himself across the floor. On Penny's back, a device that looked like a backpack opened up, and out levitated two short swords.

The sight of the weapons finally snapped Bea out of her stupor. "Penny, wait!" Penny turned and looked at her questioningly. Bea opened her mouth, but suddenly found she didn't know what to say. Why was she stopping Penny? Didn't Watts deserve death? He'd tried to massacre an entire Kingdom. Wasn't his death justice for that? And if they took him in alive, what was to stop him from simply escaping? No, this man would never stop being a threat until the day he was dead. Bea opened her mouth to give the order…

And yet… didn't that make her as bad as him? Killing a defenceless person without a trial, regardless of whether they deserved it, was murder. Was she really willing to go down that path? And if she did kill him, wouldn't that make her the usurper? If Watts died, then the Valeophobes who had secretly wanted the war could brand him as a martyr, the hero who had died for Atlesian sovereignty, whilst her, the immigrant, had struck him down in his prime. She wouldn't help anything by ending Watts here. But if she brought him in, if she made him face justice in front of the entire nation, the entire world, then maybe she could salvage something of Atlas' integrity. Goodwill between the Kingdoms would be vital to preventing a future war. Wasn't this the best way to ensure that?

Mind made up, Bea said, "Don't kill him. He needs to face judgement for what he's done."

"Don't worry, Bea," Penny reassured her. "I wasn't about to." The blades shot towards Watts, earning a shout of fear from him, but they didn't attack. Instead they whirled around him, and it was only then that Bea realised the swords weren't actually disembodied, but rather they had thread-thin strings attached to their ends. That must have been how Penny controlled them.

The blades continued to circle Watts, then began to contract, the radii of their flight paths constricting with each successive lap, pulling the strings ever tighter around Watts' ensnared body. He began to struggle, heaving and pushing against the near-invisible threads that rapidly ate up his freedom, but with each jerk of his body, Penny's wires simply squeezed harder, until eventually Watts was encased in a transparent cocoon of silk.

"Threat neutralised," Penny informed Bea, turning to face her, a pleased smile splitting her face, as if capturing corrupt generals were commonplace for her.

Bea finally found the energy in her to stand, though she did so unsteadily. She stared at the beaming ginger girl, eyeing her as one would a nuclear warhead. "Are you going to tell me what the hell that was?"

"Um…" Penny's smile wilted in the face of Bea's suspicion. "M-my father saw it prudent th-that I should learn how to defend myself," Penny stammered, going red with embarrassment.

"And you breaking his arm like it was nothing?"

"Um, that was… err… my semblance." Penny hiccupped.

"Your semblance?"

"Yes." Hiccup.

"And you're sure there's nothing else to it?"

"Positive." Hiccup.

Bea shook her head, too exhausted to push any further. Besides, Penny had saved her life; the least she could do was give her the benefit of the doubt. "Thanks for the help there, Penny."

"You are most welcome. What would you like me to do with the General?"

"Release me!" bellowed Watts.

"Just stow him somewhere secure," sighed Bea, pinching the bridge of her nose where she could feel a headache forming. "His own quarters will do for now."

"Affirmative," replied Penny, giving Bea an enthusiastic salute, before turning back around and hoisting Watts onto her shoulder like a sack of tinsel. A very loud sack of tinsel.

"Unhand me at once! Put me down! I am the general of the Atlesian military and you will do what I say!"

"Hush now, Mr General. It isn't polite to shout in public." Watts' only reply was to scream in frustration.

Bea watched the two of them go, Watts practically frothing at the mouth, and Penny chatting amiably with him. Bea was so preoccupied, that she almost missed the sound of light footsteps behind her. She gripped her weapon and spun around to face her new opponent. Winter Schnee stared back at her.

"You look disgraceful," Winter noted.

"You hardly look any better," Bea shot back, but the barb was missing as she looked the specialist up and down. Her uniform was cut up in certain places, and her hair was a mess, matted with sweat and with several strands having escaped the tight bun she'd put them in. Fortunately, it didn't look like Winter was injured, and that brought more relief to Bea than she'd expected it would. Regardless, it was good to see Winter in one piece. "What happened to your guy anyway?"

"He fell," Winter stated. He… what?

"What do you mean he fell?" asked Bea.

"He fell," Winter repeated, not a hint of emotion on her face.

"Fell where? And why should that matt—"

"He fell."

A beat passed as Bea thought about it. She looked at Winter again, noting once more the errant hair strands. On closer inspection, they didn't appear out of place because of the sweat or the strain of the battle. Rather, they looked as if they'd been blown about. As if Winter had been standing in the wind recently.

"Holy hell, you threw him off the airship, didn't you?"

"He fell," Winter insisted. Bea could hardly contain the grin creeping over her face.

"Is he dead then?"

Winter sighed, pulling a hand through her hair. "Had it been anyone else, I would have been left in no doubt that they'd fallen to their certain demise. Yet that man… Hazel… now I am not so sure of my previous assumption. Regardless, he won't be causing us any further problems. I take it you overcame Watts?"

Overcame? More like been rescued by a teenager. "Sure."

"Is it over then?" Winter asked. "Did we win?"

Bea glanced to the side, to the porthole and the rising sun peeping in, to the city beyond, lying dormant and sleepy. Their job wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot. They still needed to get back to the bridge, send a message to the other ships to call off the assault, then pull out of Valesian airspace and organise a ceasefire with Vale, all the while fighting to plug the power vacuum Watts had left and ensure he wasn't succeeded by someone even worse. It might take weeks, maybe months even until they were finished. But in terms of victory…

"Yes," Bea whispered, "we won."

---

Gravity was a cruel, vindictive thing. Pyrrha had never considered it her enemy though, until the moment Cinder let go of her wrist.

And she began to plunge to her certain death.

Pyrrha's free hand shot outwards, grappling for purchase. It latched onto Cinder's arm, smooth fabric slipping between her fingers until they snapped onto her wrist. Pyrrha jerked to a stop, her entire weight yanking down onto her one arm. Cinder frowned at the move, as if annoyed that Pyrrha hadn't plummeted to her death yet. Her eyes began to glow, and her wrist heated up, becoming searingly hot. Pyrrha couldn't hold on for much longer. She needed to do something.

Pyrrha twisted her wrist, swinging her body towards Cinder and slamming a foot into her stomach. Cinder grunted, grabbing her foot with her free hand, allowing Pyrrha to release Cinder's wrist and latch onto the collar of her dress, before driving her fist into Cinder's face.

Cinder's concentration must have lapsed for a second, because they suddenly plummeted towards the ground. Pyrrha's stomach leapt into her mouth, but then Cinder stabilised their flight. She growled in Pyrrha's face. "Fine, you want to go flying; let's go."

Without warning, Cinder shot sideways, taking Pyrrha with her. Sky became ground and ground sky as Cinder twisted Pyrrha, positioning herself on top. Pyrrha's sight became a blur as the two women shot horizontally, tearing through the air like a blazing rocket. Her breathing became a raggedy pant as wind tore past them, whipping at her face. She'd never been this fast before, let alone with a woman who wanted to kill her. For a panicked moment, Pyrrha could do nothing but bury her fists in the fabric of Cinder's dress, clutching desperately to the only thing keeping her up.

Cinder took advantage of this, raising her fists and pummelling them into Pyrrha's face. The first few blows landed, hard and solid, and that seemed to snap Pyrrha out of her fear. Her instincts kicked in, throwing up one hand and taking the following hits on the forearm. The fists became burning bricks, hammering against her defence. She took them, waiting for an opening. When one came, she exploded upwards, launching an elbow into Cinder's jaw, followed by a punch to the stomach.

The two grappled in the air as the wind howled around them and the sights blurred beneath them. At first Cinder had the upper hand, being used to flying, and having the added advantage of being on top. But Pyrrha hadn't become a champion fighter by not being adaptable. Soon she began to work out the best way to punch without losing her grip, how to sense when Cinder was about to launch a blow. She was able to twist her body around, dragging Cinder's trajectory off course, veering them to the side. As soon as she'd done that, she twisted the other way, jerking Cinder off balance, before wrestling onto the dominant top position. She wrapped her legs around Cinder's midriff, then used both hands to beat down onto her. Cinder grabbed her wrists, hands heating up. Pyrrha headbutted her, then yanked her hands free.

Cinder snarled at her, a blade materialising in her hand. Pyrrha latched onto the wrist, forcing it away from her. Her aura was so low that she reckoned a single stab would finish her. She guessed she had enough for maybe one last magnetic push or pull, but her weapons were too far away. How else could she end this fight then?

Pyrrha glanced around, noticing for the first time the structures they raced past. They were still over Beacon's grounds though far above them. Down below, she could make out the destroyed quad where her friends no doubt were, as well as the main school building. To her side loomed the CCT tower, the only building at their height. The top rose into a peak, tipped with a metal spire. A sickening idea came to her mind, filling her with nausea. It was wrong. It was cruel. But Pyrrha didn't have any other choice. Only one of them were walking away from this fight; Cinder would make sure of that. The only thing Pyrrha could do was ensure it was her.

An elbow found its way to her jaw, and she grunted a reprimand to herself. She couldn't afford to get distracted now. She turned back to her adversary, but ever so slightly, she twisted to the side, angling their flight towards the CCT. Cinder didn't seem to notice, too preoccupied trying to ignite herself and burn Pyrrha off like a fever. The trouble was the wind kept whipping her fire away, otherwise Pyrrha would have been a burnt crisp by now.

Now that Pyrrha was keeping half an eye on their trajectory, she noticed the tower rush towards them. She couldn't let Cinder figure out what she was doing. Pyrrha began to drive her fists into Cinder's face, forcing her to block, covering her eyes. She twisted again, correcting their flight, knowing she had to time this perfectly.

Cinder finally managed to get a flame to catch, the fire racing down her arms and igniting Pyrrha's clothing. Pyrrha pulled in the last few dregs of her aura, not letting it protect her, knowing she needed all of it for what she was about to do.

The CCT raced closer. The tip glinted in the morning light. Cinder glanced up at last, realising where they were. She tilted her body, trying to veer them away, but Pyrrha wrestled back, gritting her teeth as she fought to keep their course. Cinder hissed in her face, slamming a hand against her kidneys. Pyrrha took it. They soared closer, close enough to see the spiked peak glinting wickedly. Cinder saw it at last, and her eyes widened as she realised Pyrrha's plan. She opened her mouth, but whether it was to shout or scream or cry out, Pyrrha would never know. Because just at that moment, Pyrrha wrapped her arms around Cinder's back in a bear hug and pulled.

On the spire.

The two of them shot towards it, even faster than before. Pyrrha spun, angling herself away from the spike. Cinder screamed in her face. Her hands exploded into fire. Too late. Pyrrha threw herself off Cinder, releasing her death grip at last and sending one final burst of speed into Cinder with a double-footed kick. Pyrrha hit the sloped roof, knees buckling as flesh met metal. She slid down, the slope too great to stand on. Her feet hit the edge of the roof, kept going. Next went her knees, disappearing over the edge and into the unknown. Then her waist, then her torso, and finally her head.

At the last second, she spun around and latched onto the metal rim of the roof. She cried out as her body jerked to a stop, arms nearly popping straight out of their sockets. For the second time, Pyrrha's feet hovered in empty space. Far, far below her, the tower stretched downwards, merging with the concrete ground below. She tried not to think what would happen if she slipped now.

With a grunt of effort, she swung her leg onto the roof, then pushed her body along with it. The roof sloped above her, but just before the drop below there was a level rim, like a sort of narrow balcony, which was what Pyrrha lay on now, panting. For a moment, she considered closing her eyes. How easy it would be to just shut down and sleep after everything she'd been through. Her body yearned for it, begged and implored her to give in to that pit of exhaustion inside her. But her mind knew better. She wasn't done just yet.

And so, with a soft moan, she pulled herself back to her feet and began to scale the roof. It wasn't an easy climb by any means, but she soon managed to reach the peak.

There, lying on the top of the CCT, was Cinder. Her eyes were closed, her arms and legs limp. Her red dress seemed darker than usual, stained a crimson by her blood. Through her torso rose the tip of the CCT tower.

She had been skewered.

Red blood dripped down the metal pole that passed through the right side of her chest, Cinder's lifeforce pooling at its base. It was a grotesque sight, straight out of her worst nightmares, and for a moment Pyrrha thought she was going to hurl up her entire empty stomach.

Then Cinder's eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on Pyrrha. Her breathing came out ragged, a wet rasp accompanying each laboured pant. Pyrrha moved closer, drawn inexorably by those amber eyes. They didn't burn now; didn't blaze with fury or hatred. They simply looked scared. They were the eyes of a lost child forced to grow up before her time. And now, staring death in the face, they were terrified. Cinder tried to open her mouth, but only a wet gurgle emanated from her. Pyrrha moved towards her and, not quite sure why she did it, took Cinder's hand in her own. They were warm. Not hot. Just warm, as a human's hand should be. Looking at her now, Pyrrha couldn't find it in her to see this as a monster. This was a human, a person, just like herself, with hopes and dreams and fears and loves and hates and life: life that was now leaking from her because of Pyrrha. Because of what she'd done.

She should have felt contempt. Looking at Cinder's dying form, knowing she'd done it, she should have felt only resentment, disgust, maybe even a bit of sick pride, certainly relief that she'd finally won. But all she felt was pity, and a deep, inescapable sadness. Cinder had tried to kill her, yes, but that was only after a lifetime of the world despising her. It wasn't right that after all she had suffered, this should be her fate. It wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She didn't just mean for her killing her.

Cinder's eyes shuttered, the light slowly leeching from them, but the pupils settled once more on Pyrrha for just long enough to let her know that Cinder knew exactly what she meant. Then Cinder closed her eyes, released one last, raggedy breath, and died.

Atop of the world and utterly alone except for the screaming wind, Pyrrha sat down besides the body of the woman she had killed and wept bitter, bitter tears.

---

I have never liked Cinder in the show. Not even in terms of "she's a bad character/villain", just simply because she's a bitch and I want her to die. But if I'm perfectly honest, giving her a backstory of my own might have actually made me hate her just a little less. Not enough to not kill her in the most gruesome way I could think of, mind you, but still, baby steps guys. I just thought giving her a reason as to why she wants power, instead of it being "mwahaha, I'm evil, so I must do bad things" might actually make her a semi-interesting character to read about.

Anyway, Penny was also here, and this time nobody needed to change their pennies into quarters. Watts' semblance was explained at last, though you could have figured it out based on the clues I sprinkled throughout the story. We got my best guess as to what his weapon would be too, though that's likely to be retconned come volume 6. Oh yes, and I got to throw my hat into the ring of trying to guess what the hell Ozpin's abilities are. Is it time dilation? Shields? Magic? He said his cane had some special abilities/tricks, so I guessed the bubble shield came from that whilst his semblance was time dilation. But hey, volume 6 is just around the corner; who's ready to play the "you were so wrong about x, y and z" game?!

Keep it classy planet Earth (or at least, the English speaking parts of it).