A/N: Sike. I did chapter 18 before Godfrey's.

So! Guess who's back? It's been a wild ride up until now, and things are shaping up to be interesting. Thank you all for sticking with me until now. As for the chapter, I suppose we're marching towards an interesting climax, after all, you know what happens after the calm, right?

As for me... Look, things have been rough. It's day 8 and there is NO OUTIS. I CAN HEAR HER VOICE INSIDE MY HEAD. AAAAAAAAA-

RhoMarck: The machine will be playing a major part on the upcoming event. Penny though... I mean, the one who's fitting in is Francisco, not Penny.

Updogg332: No comment.

Needless to say, Cinder was very, very happy with her new ally's little contraption, so much so that she had to hold herself back from skipping away to her dorm room. There was still much work to be done, but the fact that she had already secured a possible replacement for the Wyvern and an ally deep into Atlas' clearance, was almost enough for her to burst out singing.

Beacon's corridors echoed with her child-like humming alongside the clicks of her heels, creating an eerie atmosphere for the almost empty academy. "Hmm..." Skipping her way to her dorm, Cinder's eyes were naturally attracted to the windows leading to the outside, where the few remaining Teams loitered with nothing better to do other than to talk amongst each other, since classes would return in a few weeks from now.

"Hmm?" Curiously, however, far away, near the cliffs, Cinder noticed a most essential team getting off a bullhead alongside a professor. Distance made it impossible to discern their expressions, but their general silhouette told her that they were an important team to her. "JNPR. Already back?" She couldn't help but wonder if their mission was successful or not. She hoped for the better, after all, if anything happened to them, it would mean that she would have to come up with yet another plan.

The door's hinges creaked as she entered her room. Inside, her two partners, or rather subordinates, waited for her return. First to react was the male one, Mercury is his name, wearing a tight gray and black shirt and a gray pair of pants that went well with his short gray hair and eyes, "Hey boss! Did it go as planned?" Mercury kept himself busy with a comic magazine as he laid belly down on his bed, but the very second he noticed Cinder getting inside, he put down the book and waited intently for her answer, rising to a sitting position.

The other one, with deep red eyes and lime green hair with a contrasting darker skin tone, Emerald, did not open her mouth, instead waited patiently for Cinder to deliver the news. "He exceeded my expectations, Mercury." Emerald sighed with relief, good news meant she would have to spend less time inside of Beacon's halls. "The Doctor showed me something truly special. Given time, it might just be as crucial as the Wyvern."

Mercury smiled with wicked relief, "Finally, some good news for once!" The sentiment was shared by all in the dorm. "I'm not gonna lie, that thing gave me the creeps the first time I saw baldie inside of it, but since it's on our side now, I suppose all's fine!" Cinder nodded her head. "Indeed." She then looked at the two, narrowing her amber eyes. "So, what have you two gathered so far?"

The atmosphere inside the dorm room changed. Mercury swallowed dryly. "So, with Watts' help, we got information on who were the... Culprits of Mount Glemm." Ah yes, team RWBY was sent to that general location, but Cinder knew very well that those teenagers would not kill that many people. "It was those two, from team PBFF. I'm impressed that they didn't get expelled, especially after seeing the footage for myself." Mercury said as he showed a video in his scroll of a security camera.

The video depicted Bemaia mercilessly executing the White Fang lieutenant in front of Team RWBY and Doctor Oobleck, the Faunus' head exploding upon being fired at with his Honestus Finis. "Very good," Cinder spoke, taking the scroll from him and browsing through more of these recovered videos. "Who else knows of the existence of these?"

"Us, The Headmaster, The General, The Two, and likely Team RWBY. Apparently, the Council has seen an edited version." Cinder smiled as a devious idea popped into her head. "Send them to me. I have a friend who would love to know what happened to his dearest Lieutenant." A particular person came to mind, but Mercury wouldn't say that name aloud out of disrespect for the man. "I overheard that the Heiress and the executioner would go on a trip to Atlas together. Imagine his happiness knowing he could ambush two of his worst enemies at once..." Mercury liked the idea, nodding with his leader.

"Anything else that's worth mentioning?" Cinder asked her subordinates, prompting Emerald to speak up. "A few days ago I overheard a fight in front of our dorm early in the morning, but I figured it was irrelevant since we hadn't set our sights on the two yet." Cinder tilted her head to the side, not knowing where this was going. "Is this gossip, Emerald?" She shook her head in denial. "No ma'am. This fight was between Baldie and Blake from team RWBY."

Cinder struggled to understand why Emerald was telling her about a fight between the two, but she knew Emerald knew better than to waste her time, so she listened patiently. "Things seemed to get pretty heated, considering that one of them was thrown into our door." Cinder sighed, this happened when she was away. "This is what I get for sleeping away..." She murmured to herself. In truth, she hated spending her nights at Beacon, preferring to spend her night at a hotel in Vale since she would wake up already close to her main concern at the moment, the White Fang's morale and trust in her. With their newest defeat, morale was at an all-time low, but that was bound to change with her newfound evidence.

"Right when I decided to interfere, I overheard Blake calling him a 'monster' and a 'murderer' and other things in those lines accusing him. The thing is, he did not once deny any of these claims he said that it didn't phase him." Cinder was beginning to paint the picture of what Emerald was trying to tell her, and not without proof since she had evidence to support the claims of the man being a monster. "So maybe we could use him to our advantage? As unhinged as he is, he is bound to make some mistake we could capitalize on."

The False Maiden let the information sink in. "Maybe... Only time will tell." Whatever the case, plotting things was her favorite pastime, and with these two in Beacon, Cinder smiled as endless possibilities flooded her mind. "Of course, Ma'am."

The afternoon fell over the academy, the blue skies slowly turning orange. A cold breeze buffeted against the trees atop the great mountain that housed the academy, allowing the old dying leaves to un-attach themselves from their branches, painting the once-green grass fields of Beacon orange with an endless stream of dead and dried leaves. Down below the Academy, the City of Vale prepared itself for one of, if not the most important holiday for the general populous, the Vytal Festival, which occurs at the start of fall once every two years.

In other words, this was a merry time. Many students returned home so they could see their parents or even bring their families to experience the many attractions the festival provided. Everyone was excited about it.

Everyone but one man.

Jaune Arc sat alone on a bench with nothing but his thoughts to occupy himself. When this happened, it normally ended in a bad spiral of self-depreciation, and this time it was no different. Down in the dumps would be an accurate way to describe his current mood. The rest of JNPR went ahead of him to deliver the mission's results to the Headmaster, opting to stay behind with the excuse of feeling unwell. Not a lie.

The blond sighed, sinking his head into his hands, passing them through his hair in an attempt to calm his nerves. The reason for his sadness? His glaring lack of skill and strength during his first mission became quite literally a deadweight to his own eyes. A feeling of being impotent, of being not enough. A feeling that wouldn't be shaken no matter what others told him. No m-

"Huh?" Jaune was pulled from his self-damnation state by an unknown voice, his head looked around but found nothing but falling leaves and trees. "I swear I heard someone..." As if his mental state couldn't get any worse, now his mind was playing mind tricks with him.

"What?" There it was again, a murmur originating from deep within his mind, a sweet and alluring voice, murmuring things he already knew. "My friends...?" Jaune stood up from the bench with wide eyes, scanning everything around him to make sure that this voice was indeed coming from inside his head. "S-shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Jaune yelled, reaching for his newly repaired Crocea Mors, holding it tightly as he desperately investigated the source of the voice.

"...Being a h-hero?" With nothing to lose with this madness, Jaune decided to talk with this mysterious voice, whom he deduced to belong to a friend making a practical joke or simply a prank. "Hero... I don't have a choice. I have to become one!" He shouted once again. He would have been instantly depicted as a madman by anyone passing by, thankfully there was no one in sight.

"My father, my Grandfather, My entire family tree are heroes! That's why!" His voice seemed to echo throughout the empty courtyard, reverberating through the trees. "What can I do though? I keep getting outperformed by everyone..." His tone finally softened, lowering to a more controlled volume. "I'm not even supposed to be here..." His voice cracked as he spoke with this unknowable voice, his true feelings uncharacteristically showing. "Maybe I should just-"

"Oi! Shut up back there, I'm trying to concentrate on somethin'!" A voice that Jaune did not expect to hear, screamed behind him, making him jump in place. "AAAAA-" The manliest scream exited through his mouth. His body became as stiff as a plank, making him land butt first on the floor, his back hit against the edge of the wooden bench. "Gah!" Jaune grunted, his body instinctively contorted painfully as the upper part of his body finally landed on the floor.

"You okay there?" The voice approached Jaune, extending a helping hand to him. "Here..." Jaune took hold of the helping hand and rose to his two feet, sitting back on the bench again. "Sorry." The blond said, looking up at the person that helped him. "Just... Stop yelling all by yourself, okay?" The person said, Jaune quickly recognized the voice. "Sorry again, Francis..." Oddly enough, Jaune could not hear the voice anymore.

The former librarian observed the blonde with questioning eyes. Since he was in Beacon, he just returned from a mission, and from the looks of it, it didn't go as well as Jaune had hoped for. "I see that you got Crocea Mors with you. Did the repairs hold?" Francisco asked in a sympathetic tone, feeling slightly ashamed for damaging Jaune's sword. "They did..." Jaune said, clumsingly unsheathing his sword and resting it on his hands "Feels like it never happened."

Then that wasn't why he was feeling bad, Francisco deduced. 'Well, not like it's my problem...' Francisco nodded and turned his back to Jaune. "Good. I'll go back to the forge then," He said walking away, waving his good hand. "Try not to scream too much."

Jaune did naught but looked down at his blade. Crocea Mors was in pristine condition, not a dent on its edge, not a scratch on its flat. The silvery blade faintly reflected back his face, blue eyes narrowed upon seeing their own self. "Yeah..." He lazily spoke, his hands sheathing the sword as his eyes looked at Francisco walking, but focused mostly on the librarian's sword, Downpour. 'Must be great being you, strong enough to do whatever...' Unlike his weapon, Francisco's Downpour was damaged in a few parts, the edge had a few dents from clashes and deflections, and the blade was damaged due to the use of many Dust variations for long periods of time.

The blond clenched his hands into a fist. 'What if...' He stood up, raising his head and staring back at the bald librarian. "Wait!" He shouted again, earning Francisco's attention. "Hm?" The librarian lazily looked behind his shoulder. "Can you teach me?" Francisco stared blankly at the boy, and upon realizing the weight of the situation turned his full body towards him. "Care to run that by me again?" Francisco said, not understanding if Jaune was serious or if he heard something wrong.

"Can you teach- No, can you train me?" Francisco blinked twice, still not believing in what was happening. "I know that you and Team RWBY aren't in the best of terms... But still! You're the only one I can ask this." Jaune said, hoping that his words would reach Francisco. "Why not Pyrrha? She's more skilled and is also your partner." A good question, but one that Jaune blushed as he struggled to piece together a good answer. "Well... As a man, I can't ask that to the girl I like."

Francisco, surprised by the honesty behind Jaune's words, nodded. "I don't think that applies in this scenario..." He muttered, low enough that Jaune wouldn't hear him. The Librarian had close to no interactions with Pyrrha after their fight, so he couldn't say for certain what kind of person she was, but that straightforward nature of hers would likely appreciate Jaune's need for aid.

But, It could be that Jaune didn't want to look worse in front of the girl he liked by asking her for help... Francisco was no expert in relationships, going as far as to never once have even a crush on someone so he had no clue how those things worked, so he went with the most obvious theory in his mind. "So that's it? You want to get stronger so you can get the girl?" Jaune defiantly shook his head. "No. I'm doing this for my team. Because, as it stands, I've become the most-known joke on campus... And during our last mission, we were ambushed by Grimm near a village in Mistral... I was dead weight."

The librarian sighed. Then this wasn't about relationship dynamics. "I see..." He considered his options for a moment. He could simply deny Jaune's request, make him search for another answer, and get back to his business, standing to gain nothing by helping him, aside from maybe his companionship that Francisco didn't need. However, Francisco also had nothing to lose, so why not? "Sure, I can teach you a thing or two in swordsmanship, maybe work on that attitude..." Jaune sighed in relief. "But," Jaune stopped mid-sigh, closing his mouth and staring at Francisco patiently. "I'm tinkering with Dust at the moment, so how about you meet me at Beacon's gym tomorrow morning?"

Jaune could not ask for more, so he nodded his head. "Yes, we can!" Francisco smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. "Very well then. Bring your weapon and whatever is it that you use to train normally." The bald librarian said, returning to his tinkering and leaving Jaune to his own devices.

Beacon's forge was silent, a steady breath was the only thing heard in the room. Once full of life, now only one person kept the forge busy. "Where was I?" Francisco asked himself, on the table in front of him lay a few key tools that should help him in his research. "Right..." A sewing kit neatly packaged rested atop the workbench, and next to it was a myriad of Dust, all in crystallized form. His objective? To create a cloth made from Dust, City style.

"This would have been so much easier if I had two hands... But it is what it is. At least now that there's no one screaming below the window I can focus." Why would someone like him, straight out of the backstreets, be researching something of such a high concept? Francisco would answer: 'It just doesn't feel right not to.' And his fellow former librarians agree with him wholeheartedly. Since they didn't understand the limits and potential of Aura, Francisco felt that the safest option would be to stick to what he knew, clothing made from special fabric.

"Remember your training. You got this." Though it wasn't his field of expertise, Francisco had some experience dealing with some damaged uniforms from when he was a part of the Index, so he at least knew the basics. The problem housed itself in the Dust part of things, the material was completely unknown to Francisco. Sure, he used it on his sword, but that's because of Ruby's meddling. What's worse is that no metal available would be of much use, all too fragile when converted to strings and sown into clothing, so he had to make a new thing altogether.

Was there a chance that Dust Fabric already existed? Yes, but it's not like Francisco could look it up on his scroll. And even if it did already exist, the librarian would not buy the thing outright due to possible unwanted costs, he wanted to make it himself and he doubted that whoever invented it first published the means to do it on the internet. Plus, this was Dust practice for him.

Dust control and usage were almost alien to him since the librarian refused to go to classes on the subject. Why? He wouldn't say it to anyone, but there had been some student-made theories. One example of such a theory was that he had issues controlling the 'parasite' on his neck. Others thought that Francisco was simply too edgy for class, a common commentary if the intent was to degrade him and force a small laugh out of someone. RWBY and JNPR knew that he couldn't write or read, but didn't say that to anyone.

Wasting no time, Francisco opened the package and got to work.

How to transform a crystal into a string you may ask? You can't, at least not reliably and not with his current gear. Thankfully, Dust doesn't exactly work the way one would expect. Dust isn't on the periodic table, for it doesn't follow the rules of chemistry. It can be created and can also be destroyed, It can change but also remains constant, It is universal yet unique, Dust activates when in contact with Aura, but can also be activated via energy conduction. It's a material that makes no sense. If Francisco were to categorize it, he would say that Dust was a Singularity from one of the many corporations.

And Singularities Francisco knew how to use.

Taking a green crystal from the case, Francisco stared blankly at the thing, lost on what his next course of action should be. "Tell me your secrets, Dust." He spoke as he began testing.

First, he tried the first thing that came to his head, melting it like a metal. Lowering the green Dust into a clay cup and into the nearby furnace with a metal clamp, Francisco watched stoically as the Dust heated. He managed to use the clamp by holding it with one hand and pressing it against his armpit to close it. For ten minutes he waited, but the Dust did not melt, nor did it sustain visible damage. Taking it out of the furnace, Francisco dropped a drop of water on top of the Crystal. The water evaporated immediately. "No visible signs of heat... Dangerous."

Taking the still-heated crystal into an anvil, Francisco, despite all clear indications of the danger involving his next action, decided to hit it with a hammer. "Hmph!" Before his brain could register the sound of the hammer hitting against the crystal, an unpleasantly hot gust of wind knocked him five feet backward, the hammer in his hand flew into the wall, making a hole where only the handle could be seen. "Fuck!" He cursed, getting up from the ground and taking in the results of the test.

The entire crystal was gone and the anvil had tipped over. "No hitting it then..." After some struggle to get the anvil up and put in its place, Francisco pulled the hammer out of the wall and put it back where it was supposed to stay. "Right. Next!" Francisco pulled out a red Dust. "Now what..." Another idea came to mind as his eyes fell upon an industrial hydraulic press, and his mouth curled into a devious smile.

"Maybe it reacted because I hit it, me, someone with Aura unlocked. So what If something without Aura interacts with it?" Reaching for a gause located at a nearby first aid kit strapped to the wall, Francisco put them both below the press, gause beneath the Dust. "At the very least this will rip the gauze apart." He muttered as his hand rested on the lever that made the press work.

Upon pulling it, the press slowly squashed both things together. At first, nothing happened, no explosions, no strange noise, no noise aside from the press. Huffing in relief, Francisco then pushed the lever to raise the weight from the objects. "So, what do we have here?" Pulling the gause out of the machine with the metal clamp, Francisco was saddened to notice that the red Dust was gone. "How? Why did that even..." Placing the gauze on the anvil, he reached for it with his hand, only then did his eyes widen with excitement.

"Oh my..." His hand encased with Aura, made the gause glow red with heat. "Did it work...?" Remembering that the red Dust he used meant that the gause now had properties of the red Dust! Which meant that... "It is now on fire." Pulling away from the fiery gause, the fire quickly consumed it, leaving only a charred square of ash that Francisco blew away. "That's progress!" He celebrated, but a few things didn't add up.

Why was it that the Dust instantly activated just by approaching it with his hand, but it didn't while in its crystallized state? Did compressing it make it lose its stable structure? If so, then a stable Dust meant that the Dust wouldn't react by simply approaching it and instead requires direct activation via the user's willingly forcing their aura into the Dust. Odd, but Francisco was used to oddities. So he just shrugged and accepted that as a fact.

Still, progress was progress. "That's good, but not good enough." He figured that the only reason that the gause burnt to a crisp was the fact that he used fire Dust. "Even if it manages to hold, just a strip of cloth is useless." That was another problem, even if he managed to make the press idea work, he would have to invest an unholy amount of dust into making just a shirt, that wouldn't even look good since he would have to then sew down each strip to each other.

"Hmm. What do?" As one last idea for the day, Francisco reached for a skein of yarn and put it near a bench vice. Then, he took another Dust from the case, this time it was a black one, and put it in the Vice, holding it in place. Carefully, Francisco tightly rolled the thread around the Dust crystal. "I hope it works..." In but a minute, the once-white threads began absorbing the color of the black Dust, or rather, the black Dust started to give its properties to the thread, as the crystal grew smaller and smaller, loosening the threads.

"Moment of truth..." Approaching the thread with his hand, Francisco was both worried and delighted to see that it didn't react to him. Going a step further, he inserted his Aura into the string, activating the dust properties within. With a faint dark glow, the thread moved on its own, attempting to escape Francisco's approach much like two magnets that share the same charge. "That's mission accomplished." He spoke to himself, smiling.

Now all that was left was to actually make a suit. "I should use something like earth Dust to fortify it... Eh, I'll figure something out later." But the issue was that he had to sew a whole suit by hand, a singular hand for that matter- Actually, more than just one suit due to his teammates. A daunting task awaited him, one that he wagered to take at least a month if he was quick about it, his deadline was the start of the Vytal Festival. "Aight, let's not waste any more time, yeah?" Lucky for him, he was very patient, and had close to no things to do, aside from maybe helping out Jaune.

Preparations for their travel were quickly done. In less than a day of agreeing to go to Atlas, Weiss had already purchased the tickets and already had SDC employees gather her luggage and wait for her with them on the next train out of Vale. Bemaia had little to no possessions, with no time nor money to waste on trinkets and baubles, he was severely starved of clothing and... Everything else.

The plan was simple: Go to Atlas, Get patronage, Invest in self, Get food stand, Profit. A straightforward plan with little to no chance of failure.

Fred declined the invitation to travel to Atlas, so that would mean no assistant for him. Perhaps he would have to find someone else? Francisco was too busy with his own enthusiasm to care whether or not his partner was leaving. Penny thought she was disheartened, feeling betrayed that her teammate would (momentarily) leave the team and travel to another kingdom for a week or two. In truth, she was sad that she was not invited to go to Atlas.

With no one to watch the two leave, Weiss and Bemaia took the first bullhead out of the Academy and down to the city of Vale. "I don't get how this isn't expensive," Bemaia spoke to himself as his eyes darted back and forth inside the aircraft. "It's public transport." Weiss deadpanned. "So? It's a whole bullhead with quality seats." The heiress' eyebrows raised at Bemaia's comment. "You didn't have them back where you're from?"

"I had a car... Which was stolen. And the closest thing to public transportation in the backstreets is some subway metros, often overrun with sweepers." Weiss sighed. "Don't you have anything nice to say about your home?" 'Sweepers' was a word she heard someone say before, but didn't know what it referred to in this context. "Sorry to disappoint." Luckily, the two had the whole bullhead to themselves, since the cockpit was sealed behind a door.

Weiss didn't have to worry about her things, but she did worry about the lack of things Bemaia brought with him. He was wearing his combat gear which consisted entirely of a black business suit and nothing more. Both of his weapons were safely stored inside a silver suitcase he carried with him. And nothing else. No spares, no extra underwear, no extra socks, and no pajamas. "Where's your stuff?" Bemaia stared at her, not understanding her question. "It's all here, What do you mean?"

She felt a small part of her brain shrivel at that sentence. "Are you planning to Atlas and have a meeting with one of the most powerful people in the world... With just that?" Bemaia shrugged, failing to see the point she was trying to make. "Well, I quite literally am going there with everything I have." Weiss's eyes twitched unnaturally. "And you have, and pardon my manners, NOTHING!" She snapped, leaning closer so her words were not lost on him.

Bemaia recoiled slightly. "What do you want me to do about it? I have no money." His very plausible excuse fell on deaf ears, going completely ignored by Weiss. "So? You're a bum! Get a job! You're extremely gifted when it comes to cooking, so why not start there?!" Feeling hurt by being called a bum, Bemaia decided to stand his ground, already regretting coming along with Weiss. "I have a contract with Ozpin saying that I cannot find employment not relevant to my academic activities while I'm a student. I am not about to breach a contract signed by the Headmaster of Beacon Academy so I can appease a spoiled girl's mood." Bemaia said, calmly. "I am trying to get more money, literally right now."

The heiress gritted her teeth, completely ignoring the last comment. "Spoiled?! I'll let you know that I worked hard to get where I am today! I sacrificed many things to join Beacon." Bemaia on the other hand, sighed, knowing full well that he had managed to touch a nerve he had no intention of touching. But, since the shit is already done, why not keep it rolling and see where it ends up? "Did you work hard for the money spent on these tickets to Atlas? I bet you did, It takes a lot of work to get out of the womb." Sarcasm dripped from his soul.

Weiss was not thrilled, she was, in fact, a bit angry, one might say she was furious. But level heads had to win. Swallowing whatever insult she had in store for the winged librarian, she forced herself into a poker face. "Fine. Let's keep it in business then." Surprised by her sudden wash of maturity, Bemaia simply nodded, baffled by Weiss' restrain. "Works for me." And that was probably for the best, if the two were already getting into a heated argument while they hadn't even left the city of Vale, then an approach where no one gets angry was likely for the best.

Spending the rest of their trip to Vale's train station in awkward and utter silence, both of them walked out of the bullhead while two finely dressed men awaited their arrival. "Ms. Schnee." The two spoke at the same time, bowing their head to the heiress. "Did you two get everything?" The two raised their head, and then one of them nodded. "Yes, chief! All of the selected items are inside the train's cargo compartment." The other approached the two, taking two pieces of paper out of his pocket. "Your ticket, madam."

Weiss took the ticket from the man's hand. "Thank you." She told him. Then the other man walked up and turned to Bemaia, extending his hand and holding another ticket. "Your ticket, chief."

I struggled to breathe.

Running through a seemingly endless corridor, I couldn't bring myself to look back.

What if they are still following me?

My hand hovered atop a rupture in my temple.

Is the nightmare over?

It has to be.

Tripping on a root that protruded from the metal floor brought me back to my senses.

The horrid stench of scorched meat and rot made me wish it hadn't.

I can't take it anymore of this madness.

Hurriedly, I reached for the first solid thing next to me, a pipe protruding from a wall, and lifted myself off the ground.

Though my vision was blurry, I quickly ran towards the end of the dark corridor.

My steps echo as my shoes are moistened by the warm liquid I stepped on.

A light at the end of a tunnel.

An elevator waiting for me.

Once inside I barely managed to press a button with my trembling hands.

A voice called out to me, dictating my next moves.

I am to return to my Team's central room.

The Disciplinary Team.

How? Everything from here to there Is dead, dying, or killing.

Inside the elevator, I gathered myself.

My suit is damaged beyond repair, and my weapon was eaten by that monster, never to be seen again.

The eerie silence did nothing but put me on edge.

I swallowed in a futile attempt to calm my heart.

As the elevator reached its destination, I heard the fluttering of wings.

I took a deep breath.

The elevator door opened and I ran.

Ran faster than ever before.

Screams coming from my every direction were deafened by my desire to survive.

Pleas for help were unheard as someone had their head neatly bitten off.

The creature's yellow eyes urged me to close my own and make it towards the end of yet another corridor.

Another elevator.

This time, the doors were not open for him, and instead, a corpse prevented it from closing entirely.

Though I didn't even pay attention to the body, I knew perfectly how its state was.

Neatly cleaved in half.

As I attempted to remove the obstacle, something took hold of my right leg.

Someone's hand.

"Ticket?" I asked, incredulous.

Why would they be there?

Why did it have to be them?

Why did you leave your station?

"D-Don't leave me... Chief..."

Without a second thought, I ripped their weapon from their grasp.

An E.G.O weapon.

Their weapon.

A voice called out to me once again.

Ticket must be suppressed.

White clouds filled my vision, and within a blurred moment, their head was reduced to a fine paste on the facility's metallic floor under the weight of the oversized hammer.

A partner.

A friend.

My underling.

Now reduced to a memory by my hands.

Bemaia blinked once, shook his head, took the piece of paper, and stored it in his pocket with a blank expression on his face. "Thank you." He nodded at the man. Before moving on, Bemaia heard his own voice echoing in his head, 'Ticket doesn't count.' It said. But that was the end of it, It would do him no good reminiscing like that. "Right, so, what now?" Instead of answering him, Weiss decided to just beckon him inside the train. "Come with me." She said as she walked into the vehicle.

The librarian hesitated for a moment. 'This is just a train, right?' The saying 'Ignorance is a blessing' has finally been understood by him. Not wanting to keep the heiress waiting, he rushed inside. "Huh." Surprise to no one, nothing happened once he entered.

The train was surprisingly spacious. There was a good meter separating the two isles, not to mention that both sides could comfortably support two people sitting side by side with some space to spare. "Hm. Nice." Bemaia was quick to notice a lack of numbered seats on the train, which was odd when compared to the trains he'd used before. Reading the ticket in his pocket, Bemaia soon understood the reason for the lack of numbered seats. "Room 2... Room? There's rooms?"

Weiss didn't care for his confused state and kept on walking toward the back of the wagon. With no instructions to follow, Bemaia caught up to her and tailed her. The wagon next to this was effectively a recreational room. The two passed by a table where three old men played cards, a bar with no one to look after it, and some other tables neatly decorated and organized in a way that didn't prevent an influx of people.

A man in a tuxedo opened the door to the next wagon. "This is the fir-class wagon," Weiss told him. Bemaia nodded, seeing nothing too special. The corridor moved to the left, and to his right were a few doors, some had security staff waiting in front of it. Reaching the door with the '02' atop it, Weiss handed her ticket over to the security member waiting by it. Encouraged to do the same, Bemaia gave him too.

Checking them, the security guard partially ripped them and handed them both a key that dangled from his belt. "This is the key to your room. Should you lose it, please reach out to the nearest staff and they will assist you." Before leaving the two alone, the security guy bowed his head slightly. "Please, enjoy your stay." Then left.

Bemaia wasted no time and unlocked the door. The interior was perhaps the single best thing he could have ever wished for in a room. Two cushioned armchairs equipped with what he assumed to be massage features, a bathroom so large that they managed to fit a whole bathtub inside, a bunk bed with an added compartment on the wall side to put whatever near it with power outlets near it, a large TV opposite to the seats, a glass table with two chairs on it, a wardrobe caved into the wall, a wall-mounted-phone to call the staff for something, and a thick window that lead into an unobstructed view of the outside that could be covered with a click of a button.

The room even came equipped with a small fridge!

The money Weiss put into such a commodity left Bemaia staggered. 'She's taking this very seriously, huh?' Indeed she was, going as far as to get the most expensive thing she could, a first class ticket, just to show him how serious she was. 'I should probably apologize...' Whenever he had the chance, he would. For now, he knew it would be unwise to try and converse with her.

"How long are we staying here?" He asked with a hint of concern, as the reality of the situation weighed on him. "It's a four-day trip to Ravenna, where we'll take an hour flight to Atlas." Bemaia stood in place for a good minute. 'I might have miscalculated the length of this voyage. Four days? What the hell.' "I see. I thought we would take like... A day? Not four." Weiss shrugged. "Normally, yes, It's one day. Unfortunately, there have been many Grimm sightings in the skies lately, so Bullheads are currently disabled." 'Bummer.' Bemaia thought, nodding at the information.

Night fell and the train started the great voyage. Weiss had no interest in indulging in school normally offered in first class, nor did she have any interest in socializing with the rest of the crew, so she made herself comfortable on the top bunk bed. Bemaia had little social energy, so decided to explore the train in the morning, so he laid down on the bottom bed and closed his eyes in hopes of sleeping away the time.

"Hey." A voice from above called out to him. "Hm?" Bemaia couldn't be bothered to move his mouth when speaking. "This has been in my mind for the whole day now..." Weiss started, which was unexpected after her talk of 'Keep it business' thing. "Couldn't there have been a better alternative for that girl? Maryanne?"

Bemaia silently contemplated the question for a few seconds. "No." He was quick and blunt when delivering the answer, but his voice carried shame. "Why not?" Weiss asked, Bemaia was not thrilled to answer. "This isn't something to talk about before sleeping." He said, trying to parry this conversation away, but the Heiress was steadfast and would not let go. "I don't think I'll sleep without an answer."

The librarian relented. "Just, don't say I didn't warn you." He prepared himself mentally for what would perhaps be the biggest explanation yet. "So, as Francisco had said before, the Red Shoes were at fault for that whole situation," Weiss answered back. "Yes, which is absurd... How did that happen?"

"The Red Shoes, on their own already emit a powerful aura that tempts anyone not mentally fortified enough. She was one of those who were. So long as she wears the Red Shoes, she will act upon all thoughts she has. For instance, have you ever had that want to punch someone for saying something stupid, but wouldn't act on it?" Weiss knew that feeling very well. "Yes?" Bemaia then continued. "The Shoes makes it so you act upon it. She wouldn't normally do any of those things she did, but the shoes made her do it."

Still, something about that story didn't add up to Weiss. "Didn't Francisco say that she went on to kill her son?" The librarian solemnly remembered the moment it happened. "Sometimes, you have thoughts you don't realize you have. Thoughts that get filtered out as soon as they are formed. Though she didn't want it, though she didn't even realize it, she must have thought of a horrible future where the shoes force her to kill her son, and sadly since she thought of it, she was forced to do it with a smile on her face."

"So Francisco killed her afterward... Why not just take her shoes off? I know he said that they dug into your feet and that it would be easier to cut them off... but why not try to save her? Why skip directly to the worse outcome?" A good question, one that no one Bemaia knew would bother asking. He pondered for a moment, thinking of a way to explain it to her that would paint the full picture.

"Say, we cut her feet off. She is now without feet and dies of blood loss." Weiss then counters that with an idea of her own. "Francisco had his arm amputated before, and said he's gotten a new one, Why couldn't she get a new pair of feet?" A good argument, but that too was futile. "Somehow she managed to survive having both her feet amputated. Since she interacted with an abnormality without permission, she breached the contract she had with L-Corp, meaning that she would lose her health insurance, job, and any other benefits that came with it."

But he wasn't done quite yet, the hole was deeper. "But still, she managed to survive. She is now fired from L-Corp due to breaching the contract, and is also in debt due to misusing an abnormality and causing damage to the corporation and its employees." Weiss was quick to realize the reason why Bemaia took his contract with Ozpin as seriously as he did. "Let's be generous and assume she's saved some money. She has to pay rent on a Nest -which isn't cheap-, has to pay her debt to L-Corp which would be a ludicrous amount,"

The worst was yet to come, and Weiss grew more and more restless with each word that left Bemaia's mouth. "And would also have to get a new pair of feet. And that demands that she pays for the pair, a certificate that she owns the pair of feet she bought, a professional that would be willing to install them on her, and would have to register it in her official documents which is another ordeal on its own." Despair fell upon the Heiress. 'She didn't mean for it to happen though...'

"She would have two options. Pay the debt for L-Corp and be left with no money for a pair of legs and no money for rent, or leave the Nest, find a room with a lower rent, get her feet fixed, somehow manage to find a job and work to pay for the debt for the rest of her life." Bemaia stopped for a moment, letting it sink in. "Since she has her new feet and it's now considered an object she has since it's not natural to her, L-Corp can now force her to sell them to pay some of the debt."

'What a sad place to live in, that City.' She was speechless, 'Why did it all have to be so ruthless yet so real?' This was the worst of capitalism embodied in a kingdom. "She was mind-controlled, and this is what she gets after killing her child without even wanting to?" Weiss could shed a tear for her if she knew her beforehand, but as it stands, all she had to offer was his sympathies. "At least she can still live afterward... It can't get any worse."

"It gets worse," Bemaia said, in an almost comical timing.

"How...?" Weiss was afraid to ask, but much like a tragedy one wouldn't stop looking, she couldn't stop herself from knowing the whole story. "Since she was fired from a Wing, she's going to be ostracized by the Nest, and would be looked with disdain from everyone in backstreets." Weiss could start to imagine why that would be the case, but with enough hard work and the right mindset, surely she would be able to pull through.

"See, almost everyone in the backstreets has the dream of one day becoming a Feather and living in the safety of a Nest, and she would have proven herself either incompetent enough, or whatever label they have that anyone with their wits to them would be suspicious of her..." She didn't know how deep this hole went, but she knew that Maryanne wouldn't go waving around her resume stating that she was kicked out from L-Corp. "But how would they know that she was fired from L-Corp? It's not like everyone suddenly knows what happened."

A fair and well-constructed point. Unfortunately, things aren't that straightforward in the City. "Rats. That's how everyone will know." Now that Weiss didn't understand. "Rats? The rodent?" Bemaia chuckled for a moment. "Ha. No, a Rat is a homeless person who groups with others of his kin. Someone with no money or real worth. That's a Rat."

"Then why would a Rat know of someone like her?" Bemaia hummed, reminiscing about all the times he would interrogate a Rat for information on a random contract he'd gotten. "The only value a Rat has is what's in their head. So they often find ways of getting information from seemingly random people in ways so unorthodox that only they know how to do it so that they have even the slightest chance of selling that information. But it works like a charm." When interrogation didn't work, Bemaia would then offer them food. That usually loosened their tongue.

"Then the news of someone that was fired by L-Corp would spread like wildfire..." Weiss wisely deduced. Sadly, that was the truth. "She would have trouble finding a job even as a whore. Begging for any spare change some random person would give her for nothing but karma." So it was settled. If Maryanne survived the Shoes, she would face even worse... All while carrying the guilt of murdering her child. "That's horrible..." Now Weiss was feeling bad, but somewhat thankful to not be in her situation. "Her fate was sealed the moment the Red Shoes tempted her. Maybe someone could have helped her in some way... But that's too much speculation."

Great, now the already ruined mood was further ruined! The two made little noise in the following hours, though none could sleep after that. 'And that's just one story they have, huh?' Weiss couldn't put a finger on what she felt after hearing that, but it sure felt horrible. Bemaia was in the same boat as her, remembering that part of his career didn't feel really good. 'It is what it is.' He told himself.

"Hey." This time, Bemaia called out for Weiss. "Hm?" She answered weakly, seeming like she was almost asleep. "Sorry about what happened earlier today. I didn't mean it." Weiss was shocked. Shocked enough that she lifted herself from the top bed and peered into Bemaia's bed below to check that it was him saying that. And yeah, he said it. "I had some time to sit on it, and well... I'm used to being like that with the other two. Sorry if it came out in an offensive tone."

Almost a good apology, but Weiss was more than willing to take it. "At least you're honest about it. We're fine" Bemaia sighed in relief. "Thank the Wings. I don't think I'd last four days of seriousness, followed by the time we have to travel back..." Weiss smiled a bit and returned to her bed. "First Class gets boring after a while. Glad we straightened that out."

And what a long voyage it would be.