Weiss stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was her outfit really presentable? She checked and double checked. Making sure all of the buttons were done up properly. Making sure there were no folds or wrinkles where there shouldn't be. Was her hair done up at the exact angle it needed to be? She stared at it, turning her head this way and that just to be certain. She touched up her make up for the third time, wanting to wash it all off and redo it, just to be sure. It had to be perfect. But she hadn't the time.

The pale woman took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her nose immediately wrinkled in distaste at the smell. While Beacon kept their public bathrooms clean and sanitary, it could never combat the subtle stench that came with all public restrooms. She glanced down at her scroll for the time again. She was still had two minutes and thirty seven seconds. She looked in the mirror again, just to be absolutely certain, before she squared her shoulders and left the restroom.

The air out there wasn't nearly as unpleasant, but it was hot and humid. Nothing like the cool, dry air in Atlas. She moved through the hallways with a sense of purpose and direction. There was no room for weakness here. Not with so much competition. If they could even be called that. She practiced and practiced everyday. She was not happy with anything less than perfect. Her studies reflected that. Her appearance reflected that. Everything she did, she did without question or wavering. She was never one to leave something half done. If the others had anything less than complete dedication, they were no match for her.

She arrived right on time. "Weiss Schnee!" The attendant announced. She stepped up to the door and showed the man her ID. He waved her in without a second thought. The rhythmic 'click clack' of her heels on the hardwood floor served to calm her nerves with their steady tempo. 'one, two, one, two...'

When Weiss walked out onto the stage, she was greeted with bright lights and a mostly empty auditorium. The ceilings were high and it looked to be able to seat a few hundred people. The walls were a muted brown and the seats were made of something that looked very comfortable. Her footsteps sounded throughout the entire room. As she reached the microphone, she looked at the judges closely. To her surprise, there were only two.

The first was the musical prodigy, famous for his hauntingly beautiful piano pieces and heart wrenching operas, known only by his stage name. Ozpin. He had clawed his way to fame by the age of sixteen, blowing the competition out of the water with hard work, talent, and a passion none would suspect from the stoic man. By the age of twenty five, he had become a teacher at a wealthy and prestigious musical academy to share his grasp of musical theory with all who could afford it. At thirty five, he opened a record company by the name of Beacon. Since then, he had made many passionate and gifted artists into stars. Now, at the ripe old age of thirty seven, he sat in a chair with his chin resting in his hand, staring up at Weiss with a blank face.

While he was famous beyond all reason, the woman that sat beside him equalled that with her infamy. The critic and talent scout for Beacon records was known by her sharp tongue and even sharper eye for music. Glynda Goodwitch. She had been by Ozpin's side throughout his career and, though she couldn't even play a tambourine properly, she could tell if your instrument was off tune by one hundredth of an octave. Her judgment was swift, harsh, and honest. She would tell you how it sounded, what you did wrong, and how much of her time you just wasted in one sentence. Like Ozpin, Glynda was always sporting the same expression. It was a scowl that politely, but firmly, informed you that your mother should have swallowed you. Like her partner, her gaze was also focused on the pale woman.

Weiss' confidence faltered slightly under their eyes. She had expected a panel of judges. Not a musical genius and a vicious critic. She had to force herself to keep her back straight and her chin up.

"Miss Schnee, I am glad you could make it." Ozpin said, his voice a monotone. "What will you be performing for us?"

Despite her nerves, the edges of her lips twitched in a faint smile. The pride and joy of her singing ability was her impressive vocal range. She could reach notes high enough to shatter windows (something that was found out in a rather unfortunate incident during her teenage years) without the strain that most other singers experienced. She wouldn't suppress the prideful urge to show it off when she had a chance such as this. "I will be singing 'Der Hölle Rache'" She felt that if anyone could appreciate her love of opera, it would be him.

He simply nodded and sat back in his seat. "You may start when you are ready."

'It has to be perfect.' She thought, taking a deep breath. And it was. From start to finish she kept a close eye on her voice. It rose and fell exactly where it needed to be, not a single note out of place or held too long. She timed each syllable to perfection. She was panting slightly when she finished, but didn't feel nervous about it. She knew it was perfect.

What did make her nervous, were her judges. Their expressions had not changed in the slightest. They did not clap or praise her or even criticise her. They simply sat and stared. The silence was maddening to the heiress. Painful seconds ticked by and she counted them, uncertainty and anxiety building.

"That was perfect." Ozpin finally spoke up. Glynda nodded her agreement. Relief exploded throughout her body, making her knees weak. She felt them shake, but forced herself to maintain her posture. Her confidence, however, was short lived. "We are not looking for perfection, ."

Weiss' jaw dropped, her eyebrows knit together, "W-What do you mean?" She asked, silently cursing her traitorous voice for stuttering. He finally moved, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. "Perfection is not what we strive to achieve here." His eyes narrowed slightly, "Perfection is cold and hard. If every song we produced was like that, we wouldn't make people feel anything. Our music is about passion, Ms. Schnee, and in that respect, I find your performance tragically lacking." He said, his voice lacking in the very thing he spoke of.

Weiss couldn't help slouching a bit with this knowledge. She looked down at her shoes. If she had failed here, where was she supposed to go? She only had so much time before she was expected to be responsible for an entire company. She only had so much time to live out a dream she's had since she was small. This was the best record company in Vale, she wouldn't have the same opportunities with any other. This was her only chance to be something she actually wanted to be.

"Now, unless you have anything else prepared, I would like to get through the rest of these auditions." Her posture straightened. Even if she had lost, she still had her pride. But, before she could excuse herself, an idea struck her. It was wild and frantic, but it was so much better than letting this slip through her fingers.

"Actually, I do have something else." She hoped that her voice didn't let on to the anxiety she was feeling. "It's a song I wrote myself, but it's not quite comple-"

"Play it." He said, cutting her off. She swallowed hard, but turned and made her way to the piano. She placed her shaking fingers on the keys and took a deep breath. This song was the furthest from perfect she could think of, but she knew it held feeling.

When her hands began to play the first few notes, she couldn't help but let her posture sag even more. This wasn't a song about love or anger or betrayal. It was soft and full of sorrow.

"Mirror, tell me something.

Tell me, who's the loneliest of all?"

Those words felt like sharp knives as they left her lips. It felt as though she were ripping a page out of her diary and handing it over to them. She was vulnerable to their judgement, even if she stopped now.

"Fear of what's inside me.

Tell me, can a heart be turned to stone."

It was unfinished. But only the lyrics. Her fingers danced gracefully over the keys of the piano. She had been playing it since she was much younger, practicing and practicing. She had all of the best tutors. As soon as her father had deemed that she learned all she could from one, she'd move on to the next. She had never had any stable person in her life besides him. And her mother.

As she played, she thought of fake friends and sleepless nights. She thought of being forced into the strict mold that was 'perfect'. She never had an option to be less. She never had an option to be more.

"Mirror, tell me something.

Tell me, who's the loneliest of all?

Fear of what's inside me.

Tell me, can a heart be turned to stone?"

She watched as small splotches of liquid dripped onto her hands, drying quickly. She thought on when she had created this song. How many more tears there were. How much she had missed her mother. How much she regretted not being more careful. More perceptive. More perfect.

"Mirror, mirror, what's behind you?

Save me from the things I see!

I can keep it from the world,

why won't you let me hide from me?"

Her heart hammered away at her ribs as she sang and she closed her eyes tightly. She thought of how many times something had been ripped away from her for it being unprofessional or childish. How she had learned, the hard way, what was and wasn't acceptable.

"Mirror, mirror,

Tell me something.

Who's the loneliest of all?"

Her hands slowed until they stopped altogether. Her arms wrapped around herself as she stared down at the keys, "I'm the loneliest of all." She whispered to herself. Her arms tightened, as if trying to hold herself together. Her breath came in harsh pants as her heart began to slow. It wouldn't stop hurting and throbbing for a few hours, she knew from the other times she had sung that song. It always left her feeling cold and broken.

Clapping resounded around the room, startling her out of her trance. Her head whipped up, slightly disoriented, and turned to her judges. They were walking up on the stage towards her. Her eyes widened. It scared her to know she had left herself so vulnerable in front of strangers. The clapping calmed that fear slightly, at least they hadn't judged her too harshly. A gentle hand grasped her shoulder. It was Glynda. She didn't look upset or annoyed for once, but her expression was unreadable. The only obvious thing that Weiss could see was the softness in the older woman's eyes.

"Consider yourself hired." Ozpin spoke up, a small smile on his face. "Report back tomorrow at two p.m. so you can meet the other new artists and we can go over everything." He handed her a slip of paper. He paused for a moment, "Take as much time as you need here before you leave." His voice was a touch softer than usual.

Without another word, they left. Weiss took several deep breaths until she felt a little less shaky. She forced her arms to unwrap themselves and fall to her sides. 'Shoulders back, chin up. A Schnee never shows weakness.'

Weiss sighed softly, looking on either side of the hall as she walked. Room 212. That was the only thing on the small slip of paper her new boss had given her. The clacking of her heels came to a stop as she found it. She could hear muffled voices coming from inside. She took a deep breath to gather herself and smoothed down the front of her light blue blazer. With enough convincing, maybe Ozpin would let her work on her own like Pyrrha?

She grabbed the knob and opened the door before she had the chance to overthink things as she was in habit of doing. She was two steps in before coming to an abrupt halt. The room went silent. Her eye twitched involuntarily as she gazed at the three ruffians sitting in the room. The room itself was very nice, other than the smoke drifting lazily in the air. There were two expensive looking couches facing each other near the center with a coffee table between them. The carpet was a dull gray and the walls an eggshell white. After distracting herself with the more pleasing observation, she finally decided to inspect the three staring at her.

The first had wide silver eyes and brilliant white teeth that clashed with her freckled, sun-kissed cheeks. Her hair was a curious mixture of black and crimson. The black taking up all except the very tips, that just barely touched her shoulders. A matching sweater hung from her, just a couple sizes too big. Black vines were stitched into the red fabric, twisting and curling around her arms and torso before ending in an intricate rose on her back. Weiss could barely see the dark ink on her tan neck, peeking slightly out of her sweater. Her dainty hands fidgeted in her lap. Numerous piercings were glinting at her ears and cherry-red lips. The bright smile and excited gleam in her eyes made Weiss feel as though she did not have enough coffee this morning to deal with her.

Another girl sat on the couch across from her, arms folded as bored amber eyes stared at Weiss. Her skin was a rich mocha color that reminded her of the hot sands of Vacuo. She wore an old looking black t-shirt with matching jeans. Strange hieroglyphic tattoos went up her arms and disappeared under her sleeves and dark bags under her eyes made her look as though she hadn't slept a day in her life. A single loop of metal pierced her septum. Her deep black hair was short and the ends were jagged and messy, as if it were cut recently… and not very well. Twitching atop her head were a pair of cat ears that matched her hair, other than the soft looking tufts of white fur that lined the insides. The most startling (and terrifying, in Weiss' opinion) thing about her was the dark purple bruises that ran along her jaw and cheek.

The last of the group made Weiss' nose wrinkle. She took up almost the entirety of the couch, sprawled out and leaving the excited girl with maybe a fourth to sit on. One of her large boots rested on the table, making the heiress want to give her a lecture and a well made power-point on how terribly impolite it was. A bright orange tank top revealed a not so modest amount of cleavage and muscular arms. Her golden skin was covered in tattoos. Some looked to be complex and elegant while others seemed rushed and impulsive, giving her the impression of a living canvas. A lit cigarette hung from pink lips. Her long, blonde hair ran wildly down her back like a streak of unruly sunshine and vibrant lavender eyes locked to cold blue curiously.

The heiress clenched her teeth and held back a sigh. This was going to be a very long day. She walked over to the only available seat and sat with her ankles crossed. She was used to having all eyes on her, but their stares frayed her already weak nerves. The silence was tense. That is, until the blonde one opened her mouth. Her words, despite the friendly tone, were crude and straight to the point.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Weiss scowled.

"So… you're telling me that you bailed somebody out of prison?" Glynda asked, taking deep breaths. She counted slowly as the man across the desk from her sipped his coffee. They were in his small office. Papers lay scattered across the desk, many of them with large red stamps. Judges were not particularly happy with her and her companion.

"Yes." He stated simply.

She took another deep breath. "And you're going to take her, a temperamental blonde, an excitable guitarist, and an heiress, a SCHNEE heiress, and put them in a band together?" She asked. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. 'Don't worry. He's not that bad. He'll laugh and tell you it's another one of his silly jokes.' After all these years, she still couldn't tell when he was joking and when he was serious. He seemed to take immense joy in throwing her off every once in a while.

"Yes." He stated again.

"THIS IS NOT A FUCKING AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL, OZPIN!" She shrieked, rising from her comfortable chair and slamming her palms on the table. He stared calmly, taking another sip of his coffee. "You can't just shove people together in a 'rainbow of diversity'" She made air quotes with her fingers to further her point, "And expect them not to maim each other within the first week!" She whirled away from the desk, pacing the office like a caged animal.

"We're actually supposed to meet them right about now." He said, standing and striding over to the door. She groaned in frustration, but followed. Maybe it would work out after all? Though he was eccentric, she had to admit he was a genius when faced with a challenge. She had never been so wrong.

The walk through the checker patterned halls was a short one, with the meeting room being so close to his office. As they approached the door, the distinct sound of an angry cat came through from the other side. They paused, their eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I-I'm sorry they just looked so fluffy and cute and I r-really wanted to touch the-"

"Don't touch her, you dolt! Do you know the meaning of personal space?!"

Muffled shuffling could barely be heard through the door.

"Hey, don't talk to my sister like that!"

"Don't come near me, brute!"

"Or what? What's a little princess like you-?"

A sharp crackling noise and high pitched scream were followed by a loud 'Thud'

"YANG!"

Ozpin opened the door slowly as smoke drifted out of the room. Glynda's mood plummeted further as she took in the scene.

The couches were farther from each other than Glynda had remembered. The blonde that she had hired lay motionless on the floor, groaning as her overactive sister worried over her like a concerned mother. The Schnee heiress stood close by, a taser in hand. She glared down at the blonde, disdain obvious on her features. A small fire sprang up near the sisters where a lit cigarette lay on the carpet, causing the smaller one's panic to escalate. From her spot on one of the couches, a disgruntled faunus looked at Ozpin and Glynda, her ears laid back against her head and her arms folded.

Glynda slowly turned her head to look at her friend and partner of many years. Her glare was equal parts disbelief and 'I told you so'.

Ozpin sighed.

AN: Wow! Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows! I appreciate you guys taking the time to let me know how I'm doing.

"Der Hölle Rache" is actually the song that made me love opera. It is usually sung by a soprano coloratura (Someone who's voice goes REALLY high) and I thought it would be the perfect song for Weiss. Not to mention the full name translates to "Hell's vengeance boils in my heart".

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and don't hesitate to ask question or give me some feedback!

Until next time friends.

-Vox