So so glad everyone's still with us (I think/hope!), despite how long we took with the Dream (a note we've made for the rewrite/revision, don't worry) and still enjoying it!

Hmm... not sure if it's spoilers to mention, but we are going to try cover seven or so years of Winter's life pre-canon. It's not like one month of shenanigans will lead to every mishap RWBY went through, right? :P We're in it for the long haul!

~Angel and Hel~

Chapter Twenty Three: Revelations Part III

-.-.-

Somewhere, out there, lies your fate.

Sometimes you are the victor.

Sometimes she is.

But you never make it out alive.

Run, run, as fast as you can.

Destiny has a funny way of tying things together, after all.

-.-.-

Ironwood folded his arms, and sighed. Which wasn't, in Winter's opinion, a good way to begin giving answers.

"I will start by apologising. This - action I have taken, this Dream you have been through is - crude. Barbaric, even. But, it is the most effective way to show you what it means to be a Hunter. When you came to this Academy, you likely had notions of heroism, of fame, of a certain measure of doing good and notoriety." His arms crossed behind his back.

"This is not the case. Being a Hunter is - mind wrecking decision after mind wrecking decision. The ruthless calculus of human lives. And knowing that whatever you do, some day something worse may come along and you will not be there to stop it. But you have to try. No matter how many you know, or love, have fallen, you have to press on. As soldiers. It's a hard and cruel lesson to learn. But you have to understand it. Hence - this."

A large red-headed woman strode up next to the General, one hand resting on a large, vicious looking sword at her hip. She nodded to him respectfully, as though seeking permission to talk.

Ironwood dipped his head slightly. "Go ahead, Valkha."

"Thank you, sir." The clanking of her armour was deafening in the silence. "To be a Hunter is to give up civilian life. While I am sure many of you know this already - some of you even counting on it - initiates never truly realise to what degree this matters. The Dream is to show you what happens if you fail. If the Hunters out in the wild exterminating Grimm fail. If the Kingdom's defences fall. You will be Humanity's first, and last, lines of defence against the Grimm. You will only achieve this by dedicating your entire lives to your work. Have you ever heard of a retired Hunter?"

Some heads shook. A negative whisper or two.

"That's because there are none." Valkha's face hardened. "You either die in action, or you live long enough to raise the next generation. Neither Humanity nor we have the time nor dedication to spare to anything less." She took a deep breath. "Hunters will never know peace. We take this burden to ensure that others do not need to."

Ironwood stepped forward again. "Not everyone can handle that. Not everyone should be able to. If the Dream, if this knowledge is too much, you can leave. No-one will fault you for that. No-one." His voice was soft. "Should you choose to depart or not, you will have full access to medical treatment before your departure. Therapy, anything else should you need it. There will be a full week of recovery before classes begin, should you decide to stay. And - one last thing." Ironwood frowned again. "I do not necessarily endorse this, but the method we use to share the Dream will make it… difficult to speak about to those who do not already know about it. If you leave this Academy, it is likely that your memories of it will fade within a month. This is preferable in a number of ways. We would be grateful if you would not even try to speak of the Dream to others, and must insist you sign documents to indicate this."

"What the public knows of a Hunter's life is not the reality of a Hunter's life." Valkha stated. "The glamour, the heroics, the flash, it is all designed to desensitize the public. The Grimm feed on despair. Have you ever wondered why we turn them into board games and action figures? Ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. The Grimm aren't attracted to bliss. It is a delicate balancing act. Do not break it."

Ironwood sighed. "This is, in the end, what you signed up for. I know it's not what any of you expected, but I can't accept anyone not knowing what it is they're getting into."

TSO's were moving through the crowd, holding out scrolls or data pads of some kind for everyone to sign. One was approaching this little group.

Winter was - she didn't know what to think of what Ironwood had said. It made sense. The same kind of cold hurting sense Father used sometimes. She buried her face in Helia's shoulder instead.

She was quiet. "All this… for the greater good…"

Winter opened her eyes and looked up at Helia. She'd - she hadn't ever heard her say anything with that much quiet rage, that much sheer venom. "It - it hurts, but it is still good, though. Right? It'll help other people?"

The muscles in Helia's jaw twitched - she was clenching her teeth, starting to shake. The small Faunus pulled away, out of the embrace, clenching her fists. Why would - Winter tried to reach for her briefly, to pull her closer -

"Miss? Sign here please." A pad was placed in front of her, drawing her attention away for a moment too long as she scribbled her signature and pushed it away.

Helia was gone.

What had Winter done? What had she said?

Or maybe - it was just Ironwood's speech. It was tough news to hear, was all. And - and a faunus would want to be outside to think about it, in the fresh air. That was it. Helia would be back.

And even if she wasn't, so what? Winter's purpose here was to help Atlas and humanity. Not worry about some girl. She was being selfish. Yes, she was being selfish.

If only that aching feeling deep in her chest would follow the script.

"Great, trauma therapy." Maverick sighed. "Honestly not what I was expecting on my first day here."

"Ash, are you sure you're sober enough to be signing this?"

"Like… yeah! Probably. I 'unno. Yeah? Not like I've got anybody to talk to about it other than you guys. Aphyyy~"

"Ash, you're - Excuse me sir, but my friend's still inebriated. Can we maybe delay her signing until she's more coherent?"

"I'll have to ask the General but she can't leave Academy grounds until this is signed."

"That makes sense." Slade rubbed his hair. "Is - that okay, Ashlyn?"

"Whatever…" Ash slumped against Winter, obviously giving up. "Hey, what happened to - to… birdiegirl? I forgot her name."

"I'm not sure where she is. She's probably thinking about things. About, um. Whether to continue, or not."

"Are you sure?" Maverick asked, raising his eyebrows in some half-witted display of concern. "She looked pissed."

"Well, the situation is somewhat upsetting. So - anger is understandable." Winter gritted her teeth. "I'm staying, though. I'm staying."

"Same." Maverick grinned. "Whattaya say, Deathstroke, ready for four years and a life of flaming ballistic hell?" he chuckled, nudging Slade with his elbow. Winter honestly had to wonder where a nickname like that had come from.

"I - think so. I understand what they're saying."

"Rockstar? Necro-cutie?" Where did all these nicknames come from?

Ashlyn's… musical methods could lead to Rockstar. Aphoth raised the dead and was… vaguely cute… ish… Winter supposed, so that would be Necro-cutie. She herself was Ice Queen because of the cold associated with the season winter, and her status as heiress. She was sure of it.

Aphoth bit her lip, her eyes flicking across the group, then - "I'm not sure. I need - to think about it. But I think I'll stay. I don't know."

"I'm stayin'!" Ash slurred, trying to throw her hand into the air and only succeeding in falling down behind Winter again. "Mmm, cuddly."

Winter tried to pry Ash's arms off her. "Not right now. And - perhaps you should wait until you're in the appropriate frame of mind to make such decisions."

"But cuddly is a good idea!"

Maverick made some ungodly chortling sound. "And the Ice Queen starts building a harem!"

Winter's eye twitched as she turned to Maverick, hand curling into a fist at her side.

-.-.-

Why why why HOW COULD SHE JUST -

Her teeth hurt. So did her jaw. Her palms were bleeding. She need to trim her nails. They were dirty. If she used her teeth she'd get sick and wouldn't be able to set the path right.

She could start a second path but she'd worked so hard on this one it just wasn't worth -

Make her burn make her SEE why the 'Greater Good' HURTS -

No no no no she - she was on this path for a reason and while yes she had forgotten what that reason was in the heat of the moment it just hurt so badly hearing her just - just - DISMISS every SINGLE THING she - what -

She wished she could stomp down the halls but she didn't have enough weight nor strength for it.

Kill the 'doctor' break his 'science' obliterate his -

She had to -

Tell Ironwood - green - go into detail of the worst things - greenred - tell him what the 'doctor' doesn't want told - black. Black. Why black because you die before he can take action -

Okay so that was a bad idea…

It still hurt.

And it wasn't going to stop.

Get food - green - avoid her - red -

WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE SO CONFLICTING?! She just wanted peace and - and -

She let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, let her hands fall to her sides, relax. The small swarm of metal slivers she'd accumulated on accident, walking down these clear halls, tinkled to the ground like a burst of rain. She should clean them up. She needed to. Brush them into a ball, compress them into a plate, leave it on the floor.

They'd put it in the vents over an exposed series of wires, preventing a stray, lost Vespyr from crawling through the system and eating them, causing months of security problems as they failed over and over and over to find the solution.

Maybe she shouldn't. Maybe she should let the problem happen, leading to Grimm infestations throughout the city and the Academy. Students dead, staff killed in their sleep, no source found. No source to be found. The doctor would get his due death at the hands of a Beowulf.

But then -

Boarbatusk gets loose from containment in Professor Shroud's laboratory. Winter dies.

She didn't care about that right now. Didn't care about the tusks punching through her chest, out the other side, spitting blood and phlegm, the funeral, the little girl in white crying on her coffin -

A moment. That was aallll it took. She wondered.

Winter didn't matter right now.

Maybe she could corrupt the smaller one. They were similar. Almost mirror images of each other. Her big sister had gotten them mixed up. But her hate of Faunus would run deeper. It'd become a core part of her once she found out it was her fault.

She could just kill them.

But that was no fun.

She held the freshly compacted plate in her hands. Searched through her Semblance - what was the most violent way she could stick it in it's place?

There wasn't one.

A small dent was acceptable. Two deaths. Irrelevant to her.

She screamed, threw it down the hall. The corner folded as it hit the door, falling with a painfully loud metal rattling.

The loud girl would never forgive her if she found out. Winter would notice the guilt eating at her and force her to spit it out. Her sister was dead because of her WHY?! WHY AM I SO CARING?!

It shouldn't matter.

It was for the greater good.

She sighed. Why was she even so mad at Winter for - oh, right, for thinking it was right to do because it helped people. So what if it helped people? They'd put her through years of endless tests. Pain. Torture.

All in the name of the greater good.

The folded corner creaked and smoothed itself out.

No deaths now.

No death.

She was hungry. The kitchens would help her. Two lefts. One right. Straight ahead. Down the stairs. She'd collapse on the fourth flight. Wouldn't be found for three hours. Black path.

Find Winter. Let her grumbling stomach be heard. She'd carry her down, they'd talk it out over food. Fix things. Pain. So much pain. Red. Red. Green. It would hurt but she wasn't sure it was worth it.

Find Ironwood. Bad. BaD IDEA. Black path. She had to - had to avoid the General. He wasn't capable of accepting her words yet. His actions - they wouldn't hurt her. They would help her. But the reaction to them… it hurt her. It hurt her bad.

Find… a staff member. A… TSO? She forgot what they were called. Mixed… mixed path. Too many branches. Her head started to hurt, and she whimpered, sitting down on the cold metal. She could feel it through her robes.

Robes. A fancy name for the first oversized sheets she could find and cut into something vaguely wearable. She felt lucky. But she, of all people, knew luck didn't exist. Coincidences could exist. It was all about opportunities. Observation.

You had to see the chance to take it.

And she saw everything.

Sit here. Do nothing. She'd be found within minutes. Questioned about the metal plate. Suspect - wait this was bad. She needed to move she needed to move now.

But where?! The kitchens were bad Ironwood was worse Winter was -

She hissed.

Too many paths. Not enough time. No good ones.

Winter it is.

-.-.-

You're starting to show your true colours.

Don't.

-.-.-

"Aww, c'mon, why're you so mad?" Maverick chuckled, ducking backwards from Winter's fist. He wasn't going to fall to her again. Through, to be fair, last time he hadn't been expecting it. Blocked the second strike with his forearm, knocked it off course.

She'd over-extended. Thrown too much of her weight into the punch. Maverick quickly brought his knee up and struck her in the gut before pushing her away by the shoulders.

She was a swordstress, not a boxer.

"Uhhh shouldn't you be stopping this?" Rockstar asked as Valkha pulled her stretcher bed away - with her still on it.

"It's a lesson I cannot teach." she replied simply. "Clear a space!" she ordered, grabbing Winter's elbow and hauling her bodily to her feet.

Maverick laughed. "Oh this is gonna be gold." A boxing match with the Ice Queen? He wondered if Semblances would be overkill here. Better to wait until she used hers first.

A crowd gathered around them, forming a little barrier. Just like the underground. Home field advantage, as they say.

Winter wiped a hand across her face, then adopted a loose stance that looked like something out of a shitty action movie. God, this was going to be embarrassingly easy.

He brought his arms up, stayed light on his feet. Dancing, dancing, just like Marcus taught him. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face though. Circle her, get a feel for how quick she could react. "Think you have a chance?" he taunted, unable to keep the giddiness out of his voice.

"Do you think you do?"

Valkha had no problem with this. Everyone around seemed just excited at the prospect of watching another brawl. Maverick just raised an eyebrow at her. "Against a fragile little thing like you?"

"I survived a shot from your dinky little pistol long enough to bleed out."

"FIGHT ALREADY!" Yolona roared, getting a cheer of approval from the crowd. Maverick sighed and rolled his eyes. Dart forward - god, she wasn't even throwing up a defence - he had speed to his advantage.

Keep moving, don't stop moving, hit and run, you can get all of them if you do that just knife and run blood spurting from their throats - he ignored the voice as he pressed his attack.

Which was the moment she ducked low into a handspring kick headed right for his jaw.

Oh, so that's how it was. He cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Foot based. Twist to the side, bring up his knee into the backs of hers and - she was curling up into his strike, spinning round into an axe handed double punch -

He darted back. Kept his centre of gravity low. She was waiting again - better on the defense than the offence, maybe? Or maybe her repertoire of actually good moves was limited. He threw a quick, experimental jab, just to test her response.

She stepped back. A fencer's move. Her footwork was neat, but still too close to swordplay - time to punish her for that.

Cut her legs off, femoral artery better than aorta closer to the surface won't have to cut away as much flesh -

Now, for something he knew was fake that voice was getting real irritating.

Another pair of jabs that brought him in closer to her - she went for a high kick but he blocked it with his forearm, hooking his foot behind the back of her other leg, sending her tumbling to the ground. He stepped forward to take advantage of it, but she was already scrambling back, standing.

How dirty should he fight this? He could probably end this pretty fast if he was a total dick. And it wasn't like the Ice Queen didn't hate him already. But… no, the kind of nasty tricks Marcus had taught him were best saved as a surprise.

She was dashing in again, weaving a little, an almost untelegraphed punch flashing out. It was weak though, and he took it to land two solid blows to her solar plexus. Her response was to use his shoulder for leverage, bringing up a knee strike into his jaw that left his head ringing.

"Heh… you're better than I thought," he chuckled, rubbing at his jaw. "But with expectations that low, it's hard not to be."

Winter simply snorted and adopted that dumb fucking stance again. How she could pull such smooth moves out of it was beyond him. Maybe if he waited a sec - yup, she was going on the offensive.

He blocked her kick - it was a sloppy block, but it was a sloppy kick - tried for a counter, but she trapped his arm, his world going sideways as she tried to throw him. Instead, he put his foot firmly on the ground, adjusted his grip on her, and when they came down she was slammed into the floor, not him.

- crush her into the ground crush her CRUSH HER -

He rolled on top of her almost without thinking, and received a quick knee to the groin for his efforts. It had hurt - he'd forgotten that he wasn't in his combat gear, wasn't wearing the box he normally wore just to prevent that sort of move.

The crowd gave a winced oooh of sympathy for him. Always gotta be on the lookout for someone sneaking in a quick counter.

Okay… maybe she did deserve one of the finishers Marcus taught.

-.-.-

~R&R?~

Feedback is always loved~