The Girl From Atlas

by ElCuervoBorracho

This story is a sequel to my fan fiction "The Girl From Mistral". Summary: For half a decade now the CCTS is down, and the android army has belonged to the Grimm. Atlas is now an enemy of mankind, one that would have horrified the likes of Nicholas Schnee, one that disgusted the heiress Weiss. The SDC must die!

17. Wander

Chapter 17: Wander

KINGDOM OF ATLAS ARMED FORCES

PERSONNEL DOSSIER

NAME: Winter Schnee

ASSIGNED UNIT: Special Operative; ID W-WSAF 117.34-A

CURRENT SERVICE STATUS: Inactive

BIOGRAPHY

Born December 22, first of three from the Noble House Schnee. Younger Sister Weiss Schnee, youngest brother Whitley Schnee. Parents: Jacques and Willow Schnee. Enlisted at seventeen years of age, already expressing Aura and Semblance abilities. Qualified the same year. Assigned Special Operative alongside Mika Amas, Alex Rajah, Ashton Tenne. Brought down a rampaging Goliath in Mantle. Seven subsequent elder Grimm kills.

Battle commendations for efficiency in AN-71 and SOL-35 engagements.

During engagement in battle with android echelon KN-735, permanently disabled when caught in the blast zone of an unrelated airship crash. Survived in a coma. Moved to recovery bay indefinitely.

COMMAND ASSESSMENT

Skillful and efficient with no lapses in judgment. Respectful of command structure. Tenacious. Force multiplier due to Aura and Semblance.

NOTES

Body fully recovered from wounds within seven days of admission to Recovery Bay. Expected to regain consciousness within the next month.

ADDENDUM

Candidate for Dragonflight? — A.W.

—❖—

There were reasons behind the formation of teams. Winter used to tell Weiss how the Huntresses who'd spent long periods of time side-by-side would eventually know one another's thoughts. A deeper degree of understanding than met the eye. Was that why it'd been so easy for Team Ruby? Sure Weiss might not have known that at nine years old Yang had already started building up an impressive effort to find her mother, but she knew the rough edges around the ordeal. And now she'd fought an illusory pack of Ursas. Blake had never said anything about the times she secretly followed her father into White Fang meetings, but it was one of the many experiences that followed logically. A group so close-knit could handle greater stress, even the shocking revelation Ozpin brought upon them, about the gods and an old world, when experienced by their shared consciousness it was somewhat bearable.

And so migrating from mind to mind, finding the spell and ending it was that much easier when done together, Weiss considered it almost trivial. It meant facing their fears, their flaws and shortcomings, but what was a bit of a scare to women who were supposed — no, expected to face fear itself and its hundreds of hordes on a daily basis?

Only one question hung on her mind.

Why am I still here? Weiss thought. The test shouldn't have lasted this long.

She remembered what Ozpin told her before the ritual. "This is completely experimental. Breaking the spell is a consequence of diving into that imaginary space. The difficult part is getting you all out of there. Performing this one by one would be much easier, but Amber needs time to rest, and we might not have the time". It was a sensible plan by all the metrics Weiss cared to consider, and Ozpin seemed in control, yet given how Weiss still found herself inside the illusion and standing in one of the Schnee manors she was forced to consider it may have been one of many hurried assumptions.

Peering out the windows she couldn't make anything out, it was a dark void, only broken up by the occasional green nebula. Stuck somewhere in-between, maybe? Perhaps something had gone wrong in waking them.

Somewhere down the hall she heard the clash of sword against summon, a sound she'd not soon forget. Every blow was followed by a flash, then the snapping and ringing of shattered ice. It came from the training room, one of the many unfurnished, vast rooms of the manor. A loud buzz later, there was the sound of machinery moving into place.

Against all of her instincts Weiss looked inside, only to see a completely different scenario than she first imagined. She was looking at the atlesian military training room, a monumental if featureless arena. Its floor could break down into several cubes that either fit themselves seamlessly into the ground or raised through the help of gravity Dust to mimic terrain, obstacles or even the odd floating landscape. Somewhere in the middle was her sister, flanked by Specialists Weiss was completely unfamiliar with.

"... and Winter Schnee, perfect score," someone said from a speaker. "You are all dismissed," it said again, to the team. This was not one of Weiss' memories, she'd only ever seen a training room in news articles. It was… bigger than the pictures made it seem. But then again, most SDC-made architecture was.

And Winter, she looked so different, younger. A foggy memory of it told Weiss it may have been her sister around eighteen years of age, same time she enlisted. By now Weiss had already forgotten what she used to look like back then, was it one of Winter's memories? It was too clear to be something Weiss could imagine, the heavy metallic scent of recently discharged fire Dust, blinding spotlights, the hum of the ventilation systems and even the way that the high altitude and thin air of Atlas could make you easily short of breath, it was all so obvious and sharp. A bit too sharp, something shared by all senses.

As the Specialists moved to leave the training room, Winter passed by Weiss as if she were a ghost. It was frankly expected, even if it really was Winter, that was more or less how the sisters interacted in the past. What really surprised Weiss was when she stopped, then looked back.

"You weren't here," she said, not indignant or surprised, simply stating a fact.

"Yes," said Weiss. The dry answer to an uninterested non-question. Why she even answered it was beyond her, imaginary constructs didn't talk. Winter was supposed to be in her quarters, the ritual didn't include her and at best Weiss was looking at an accidental creation made from her own memories, at worst it was one of Salem's attempts on their minds… Yet it didn't feel that way, sometimes logic didn't cut it.

"Are you really Winter?" She asked, only to realize a moment later that regardless of her nature, friend or foe, she'd answer 'yes'. But so much was known instinctually, and this didn't feel like she was swaying to the symphony of an immortal witch.

"What kind of question is that?" Winter clicked her tingle and turned to leave. Such a weird response, so it was her? As Weiss reached out to stop her, the world around them changed in the blink of an eye. Cubes that formed the flooring of the arena raised themselves from the ground and blocked the sisters, then melted down to the distinct shapes of atlesian nobles.

They wore lavish dresses and tailored suits, held beverages in crystal cups, dressed in jewelry from foreign lands. The pre-war kind of jewelry, that was likely stolen from a tomb and sold as exotic. Some were even accompanied by their faunus maids, women dressed to impress, though their shock collars disguised as ornamental chokers and the eyes that had long lost any hope of escape betrayed their affliction.

Luxurious, corrupt and decadent, all of them. But I already knew this, and so did you, Winter.

Weiss pushed through the crowd of nobles, though none of them seemed to give even a thought to the Huntress equipped in what was quite possibly the opposite of gala wear and more suited for a duelist's deathmatch. Her new outfit would've drawn suspicious looks from them. In a way she appreciated it, the internal knowledge that no matter what blood ran in her veins, she would never be like them.

Then… Then she saw herself at her father's side, still a child back then, still tied to the rituals and rules of nobility. This particular party, it might've been when Jacques announced he'd be making her heiress, she couldn't remember the finer details of it, and frankly, Weiss couldn't find it in herself to care at this point. As the lights dimmed, and Jacques began his announcement, she continued searching the room. Back then, Winter was…

There! Behind and to General Ironwood's right. She was standing tall, in her all-gray Specialist uniform, with her hands crossed behind her back. She stood out from the crowd, same as Weiss, and her expression was a mix of cold and sour, possibly at the thought of having to attend some pompous event that merely served to deliver news she was already aware of for years.

Weiss approached her, and though even General seemed not to notice her presence, Winter's brows furrowed as she squinted. Noticing her sister's presence among the crowd and the center stage shook her momentarily. "How can yo-"

Winter never finished the sentence, as Weiss interrupted her just as she made it close enough to talk face-to-face, "Winter, what are you doing here?"

Confused again, Winter turned her head to the side slightly, leaned forward to analyze Weiss with one eye only. "I'm clearly here for your birthday party…"

"No, I mean what are you doing here," Weiss said, frustrated and emphasizing the very last word, "In the imaginary space? How did you even get inside here?" She'd only realized as she said it that her sister likely couldn't understand a word that poured out of her mouth. Weiss had never included her in the meeting with Ozpin, nor had she taken the time to explain to her sister that such a thing was possible. Even if the person in front of her was her sister, she'd have no way of knowing what had just happened. Hells, the first time Weiss herself was pulled into such a place it was sheer luck that got her out of there. Everything felt so real.

Slowly, one barrier at a time Winter's composure left her, then her eyes darted from side to side, one hand scratched the other arm's bicep vigorously, trying to tear an invisible coating from it. Before Weiss could utter a word, she turned to leave, and they were no longer in the ballroom.

It was one of the Manor's hallways again, though Weiss recognized the door she stood face to face with. The door to Winter's room. Out of instinct, she banged on the door, "Come on Winter, let me in!". No response, though she couldn't blame her sister, whatever happened here, didn't happen purposefully. In a way it was almost the contrary, the more you wanted to avoid something, a particular subject, the more it was brought to the forefront, made bare, and vice versa.

She banged one last time, then let her fist slide down the door. Why was Winter pulled into one of Weiss' fights, for the second time? Winter was so much more capable, so much better than her, and here, just as she feared, Weiss dragged her down.

Can I even help her at all?

"Oh dear, has she locked herself in there again?" Said a voice from behind Weiss. It was her mother's voice. As she turned to look, Weiss knew that the woman leaning on the wall didn't look the part. Paler than usual, with dark veins running down eyes with no whites in them, filled with the same charcoal-black instead, and the diamond tilak that marked her forehead. She'd only seen this woman once, but the features were unmistakable. Salem held a half full wine glass in one hand, the other occupied by a half empty bottle.

Weiss wasn't one bit amused, "Stop wearing her body."

Salem chuckled once, the sinister smile spreading across her face. "I would if I could, honey. But it seems your little stunt had some unforeseen consequences. To be fair, even I didn't expect this, so congratulations are in order. Cheers!" she took a long sip from the wine as she said it, not unlike how Willow did. The similarity only incensed Weiss further. "Ah, your mother had superb taste in Wine, I must admit. Her little Grimm in a bottle sure never drowned." the witch taunted again.

Weiss didn't listen. It wouldn't be very prudent to discuss personal matters with the one enemy of mankind, especially not in a place where one's mind could, and would shape the reality around them at a moment's notice. She shoulder-checked the door, yet still it didn't budge.

Salem let out a long whistle, "That's a bit rude, don't you think? If I didn't want someone sharing a space with me I sure wouldn't want someone forcing themselves in there either."

We both know that's not how this works, Weiss thought. What a person wants and what the mind conjures are not necessarily the same. Some walls can't be broken alone. But the witch wouldn't leave her alone, would she? Weiss sighed, "What do you want?"

Salem raised a brow, "Same as you, I would very much like leaving this space."

Weiss paused for a moment, "Meaning you can't?"

"Meaning I'd just prefer returning to my mind before your bodies finally give out and die. That could take weeks. Believe it or not I have more important matters to attend to than dwelling on the mind of a Schnee."

"Such as?"

The sarcastic smile never left Salem's face, "Hmpf. That is none of your concern."

Was she walking into a trap? Weiss thought for a moment of the possible ramifications. "So you're just going to help your enemies then? Out of… Kindness?"

In seconds, the smile fell from Salem's face, down to a stoic composure that alone sent a wave of cold down Weiss' stomach. She approached Weiss, her back straight, her stature a good head or two above the Huntress in front of her. Not only did she naturally stare down at Weiss, the way she kept her chin up to do so aggravated the Schnee to no end. It reminded her of nobles before she realized the woman was quite possibly the very first noble.

"Let me be clear. It does not matter to me how strong or weak you are," Salem's voice was even and measured, "I am at the end of every road. There is nothing you, Winter, Ozpin or Team Ruby can do to stop me. Count yourself lucky that we simply share the same obstacle this time."

Weiss glared at Salem from beneath eyebrows, "So I'm supposed to believe you're putting rivalries aside then?"

"Would I even talk to you if I weren't? You overestimate my ability and intention to care, for now I only need to return to my mind and you are a good asset to make it happen. Unless I've grossly misread the situation, it seems to me as if you need the same."

Weiss considered it quietly. She caught on to the fact that Salem had answered her question with another question, but she was in no position to press further. And the witch knew it too. On one hand, she'd be working with someone whom, if the way Grimm behaved was any indication of her intention, was an omnicidal maniac only interested in the genocide of mankind. On the other, Weiss doubted any of them could make any progress alone.

Holding the witch hostage in their minds was an option. She'd refuse to cooperate and hope outside, in the waking world, someone could possibly make a move to capitalize on the temporary affliction, perhaps cripple Salem's efforts for good. It might cost her own life, yet how many would it save? But it was working on a presumption that, she had to admit, wasn't that likely. Willingly letting the witch into her sister's mind however, hardly felt justified.

Back when they were still living under one massive roof, Winter would've been the one to make the decision. She was the one who, little by little, be it by sneaking out or staying up late, rebelled against Jacques and never compromised, even though it cost her the position of Heiress. After Beacon, Weiss would've deferred to Ruby, her fiancé. The world needed people like the Rose, who could see the good in a terrible land and make it a better place, and she wasn't so sure it ever needed a Schnee after Nicholas. But neither of those women were there, they couldn't make the choice for her.

Weiss felt besieged on all sides.

Finally, she relented, "I agree then, but under one condition."

"That condition being?"

"After this you'll leave her mind and never, ever touch it again."

Salem chuckled, "Agreed. But I must remind you again that unlike our last meeting, I never meant to come here. This is nothing but your doing."

Reading the witch was difficult, no, impossible. Was it really as she said, or was it a convenient lie? There was no way Weiss could tell, and she knew it'd make her lose quite a few nights of sleep. "So how do we begin? How do we save my sister?"

That sinister smile spread over Salem's face again, "Ozma only told the basics didn't he? Not surprising he'd still keep secrets at a time like this. I was dragged here by accident, and your sister would only ever open herself to you. But as long as I remain here, on some deeper level she can't risk opening herself to you and risk mixing with my mind. Honestly I admire her perseverance."

"And how does that help us?"

"Because if I share what I know with you, you might just break through to her. And so we return to mark zero, I can only share if you allow me," Salem stretched an arm forward, the palm of her hand facing up, "Place your hand upon mine."

Weiss hesitated, but did as Salem asked. There was no change to the scenery around them, though Salem continued, "Say, you're a Huntress, do you understand the significance of the soul?"

"Our souls create Aura and Semblances..."

A single laugh escaped Salem's lips, "A somewhat shallow understanding but not unexpected from your era. We exist before our souls do, the soul only gathers our experiences, then reflects them back."

It was then that the hallway changed. No longer were they in the Manor, instead, they were somewhere in the ruins of Mantle. To their left, was the wreck of what once was an airship, the scattered, twisted pieces only recognizable because they were painted in the atlesian white. A team of first responders in yellow jackets struggled to move rubble out of the way, until one of them screamed to the rest.

"Survivor!"

The sight shocked Weiss. It was Winter, bloodied and broken. Her uniform singed all over, and the breath was shallow and raspy. Before assessment could be made, it all changed again. They were surrounded by the white walls and bright lights that told Weiss it was a room in the Recovery Bay, somewhere in Atlas. A pair of doctors, one woman and a man, were looking over a heavily bandaged, comatose Winter.

The man spoke, "Third degree burns across approximately forty percent of her skin, yet fluid retention is within normal levels. Six ruptured organs, four broken ribs and currently recovering from a pneumothorax, yet the body functions as normal."

"How is she even alive..." The woman asked.

"Aura. Even now she's recovering at what is, frankly, miraculous pace. We'll continue the treatment and she should make a complete recovery."

The figures started moving, so quickly they were blurs, as if put on fast-forward. When time moved at a normal pace again, they were arguing with a gaunt man, who's most defining features were his General uniform and the mustache on his face.

"General, this is unethical, she's a patient!" a doctor said. They were in between the General and Winter. Weiss's eyes went wide, from the way the man stood, if they didn't get out of his way—

As they protested, the man pulled a revolver from under his coat. With no hesitation he fired twice, once on each doctor's chest, dead center. The blood sprayed behind them, some of it onto Winter. Weiss had to look away, even though the scene did not change.

Salem was the one to break the silence, "You were not aware of this, were you?"

Though Weiss could only shake her head, her thoughts moved at a million miles per hour. Why hadn't Winter said anything? Was really putting that little care into herself? Did she not trust Weiss enough to share it? Or was she simply not affected by it?

"I wouldn't blame your sister if I were you. That might make our situation worse."

After Weiss nodded once, but refused to say a word, Salem continued, "Change the body, torture the mind, and it'll change the soul. I'm sure by now you're aware she was used as an experiment. But have you seen it? The aggression, insomnia, loss of appetite. What happened to her corroded her from the inside, unseen."

Like Vale ice thawing in the summer, the room melted around them, giving way to one in a gray ferrocrete installation. In it, Winter lay inside a metallic chamber, only seen through a narrow window. She was unconscious, connected to a mess of wires, translucent tubes that transported the onyx liquid, likely from a Grimm spawning pool, and a bank of monitors that kept track of various vital signs.

As one of the monitors beeped desperately, Winter spasmed inside the chamber. There was the long, rising whistle of electricity charging up, then a deep pulse beat once, like a drum as her chest arched forward, so forcefully it hit the door of the chamber.

It hurt Weiss, seeing her sister in that state. "How do you know-"

"It is none of your concern. What is, is the fact that this is why we're here."

Again the scene changed, they were in one of the the Mirage's many recovery rooms, Winter now inside a completely different chamber., Bulkier, less cables and tubes.

"What is this?" Weiss asked.

"A repurposed aura transfer machine, from Atlas. Rerouted to cycle the Aura back to the user, modified. In all honesty her plan had a chance of success, if it wasn't for this unfortunate coincidence."

They were out in the frozen wasteland as Salem stopped talking. The midnight sunset hung in the sky, coloring it purple and orange where it would sneak between the clouds. In the distance, Winter alone stood atop a snow dune, facing the sun.

Salem Narrowed her eyes, her expression blank, "Now, it is time you kept your end of the bargain."

Weiss let go of the witch's palm, for a moment expecting the world around her to change again, for Winter to shut her out. When it didn't happen, she walked to her sister.

"Winter," Weiss said, as she approached, though words failed her at the moment. What could she even say? Winter wore her atlesian uniform, and as she looked back, her face was pale, she looked so tired. Ever since saving her, Weiss had, on some level, ignored the signs out of convenience. It was easier to pretend her sister was immovable, and accept the edge in combat, than it was to view her as she was. Human.

Weiss walked to her side, sat atop the dune, "I'm sorry, sister."

Winter looked down at her, "What for? None of that was your fault. "

There was a moment of silence between the two, until Weiss spoke up, "Is it really that bad? Right now I mean."

Winter sighed, "Sometimes I can't feel things. The cold on my skin, or the taste of food, even the sunset right now, the colors are all gone."

"I see."

"But I should be thanking you, sister."

Weiss Looked up at Winter for the first time, confused. Winter smiled, then continued, "I was about to give up you know?"

Weiss laughed "You? Well that's the most shocking thing I heard all day"

"Yes, me. These past hours, looking back at the way things were, how even the military betrayed me… It was too much. I joined on the promise I'd rise through merit. I thought I could make a difference, but nothing changed. Nobles still play with our lives, Atlas is still out there trying to conquer, and now that the veil has dropped it's not even a quiet conquest."

"A lot changed since you went into a coma, you know. We're still trying to make it better, end this before it's a full-blown war."

Winter folded her arms, "I know, I know. Some for the better. I said I almost gave up Weiss. Almost. You changed my mind before you even got here."

"How so?"

Calmly, she sat down next to Weiss, "When you're a Special Operative, it's less about teamwork and year long strategies, and more about getting the job in front of you done. Losses are expected, if someone falls behind that's on them. Then you show up and I remember. My squad never cared about me, the military only wanted to use me, but you still care, you're still here. Well if I gave up now that wouldn't be very 'Winter Schnee, older sister and top Specialist' of me now, would it?"

"You're damn right it wouldn't!"

"Stuck in here, I almost forgot about the present. Your team, Penny, she cares enough she's probably really, really worried right now," Winter smiled. For the first time since Weiss last saw her years ago, for the first time since Weiss saved her, Winter smiled.

—❖—

Isabella landed on her side, hard. Though the ejection system was equipped with a parachute, at the height she'd ejected it barely made a difference. She barely had enough time to register the pain before she pulled the handle that disengaged the parachute from her suit. The battle was far from over, and she was still kicking. Metaphorically, because as she got up, Isabella knew she'd fractured something on her right leg. She pushed through the pain.

Marshallers, cannoneers and pilots hurried to their posts, Isabella had just enough time to scan her surroundings to get the bigger picture before she got up: The Grimm threatened to make their way inside.

Manned turrets fired over their heads, into the pack of winged creeps and griffons. The herd was hundreds strong for sure, and even their artillery could barely make a dent in the numbers.

That Dragon! Where is it? They need to know!

She pressed the button on the side of her helmet, to activate the built-in radio, only to hear static. It was fried, maybe broken by the fall. She grabbed the nearest operator by the collar of his green uniform. He was a loader running to get more ammo for the turrets.

"You! Screw the turrets, look at me!," the man looked at her, his eyes wide, "We have contact with an Elder Grimm, a Dragon! You need to run to the bridge right now and let them know! Go!"

The man nodded once, determined. As soon as she opened the hatch door, he ran inside, full speed."

"You better haul ass you hear me?"

As the words left her mouth, a colossal shadow swimmed inside the clouds, too fast for something of its size. Isabella limped as quickly as she could to one of the firing stations, a circular stage equipped with both a manned cannon and a pair of point fifty turrets, guns as long as she was tall. Grabbing herself a turret and disengaging it from the tripod, Isabella ran back to the runway.

The cannoneer stationed there gave her an odd look, "Are you crazy?" he screamed, so his voice could get through the wind and gunfire, "That kicks like crazy, without a tripod one shot and you'll be pointing at the sky!"

His moment of bewilderment almost cost the two of them their lives, as a Creep landed on their platform and threatened to bite a piece of him off. Isabella fired immediately, almost dislocating her shoulder, but blew the Creep's head right off.

"Nevemind, Just don't do anything stupid" The canonneer said, returning to his task of pointing and shooting the long-barreled mounted siege cannon .

Unless there were teams of Hunters coming to the Mirage right at that moment, they'd have to hold out on their own. If her experience counted for something, it wasn't just a possibility that the Grimm would go through the Mirage's hull, it was a certainty. But she knew where Team Ruby was, and they'd trusted her. If they could help hold on for long enough, maybe…

It was then that Isabella, in assessing the Grimm pack, noticed. They were disorganized, unlike any other battle.

Grimm, beasts that they were, usually still had some level of cooperation among themselves. They hunted in packs, intelligently. These Grimm? They were feral, everyone for themselves. They still tried to kill any human they could see, but there was no tactic to it, just instinct. Some would get in the way of others in search of prey, costing both their lives, or rush into battle at the worst possible time.

There was a chance to hold, she could tell. Something happened to them, a one in a lifetime chance.

Operators were still dying. Some gunners still fell, but every operator killed took dozens of Grimm with them.

Isabella was no different. Creeps drivebombed at her, only to be met with high caliber artillery on the way.

There was something through the static on her radio, unintelligible. She hoped, if The bridge could finally hear her on the other side, they'd be listening at that moment.

"They're all feral! I repeat: The Grimm are feral! They lost coordination, we need more guns on the runway now!"