Life and Death, to most people who looked into those matters from a spiritual perspective, they arrived at the same conclusion, they were two sides of the same coin. They were obviously connected in more than basic themes than just creation and destruction, connected deeper than the concepts of the beginning and the end.

All living things died, that was undeniable, and yet people refused to accept that. They spurned death by saying that it wasn't the final outcome, but simply a step in the process by which the Soul traveled somewhere else.

They said that after a living person died, they moved on to the afterlife, an existence after death, the resting grounds of souls. Many cultures and philosophies offered their own speculations and interpretation of it. A myriad of ideas had been born from the residents of the living world. A paradise for the saintly, a prison for the wicked, a gathering of warriors, or even a void of nothing.

Others would claim that the soul merely started anew in a different body. Reincarnation, the process of rebirth.

Yet, for all the ideas people had, none had been proven. Regardless of what they thought, death didn't allow for anyone to communicate what happened afterwards.

However, there was someone who could shed light on the matter. He had died before and had seen the afterlife. He had been revived and killed in a feud, and then he had been reincarnated. After dying he had been given a new life, again and again, over and over.

Death was something he, even as an immature warrior, had begrudgingly accepted. He had been prepared to lose his life in battle, but it wasn't steel or magic that took his life, instead it had been an illness. By now, he couldn't even recall what it felt like to fear death. To him, it wasn't all that different from a long nap.

He was immortal, and no matter how much he suffered and failed, he would never truly die. His curse had been gifted to him alongside a mission to defeat another immortal. He couldn't do it, nothing he tried successed. The most he could accomplish was halting them for a while.

Life, he was only alive to kill. Death, something far out of his reach. The balance between those two was something he had a firsthand account with. It was supposed to be undeniable, and even though he was an exception, he still had faith in its absolute order.

Undead, it was an umbrella term that referred to beings that were neither truly alive nor dead. The magic used to reanimated corpses and spirits only existed in fairy tales, however, the means by which loopholes were found to trap a soul between the two states of beings existed.

What could be said to truly qualify life and death? Where was the line that separated the living and the dead? People who relied on cold logic determined it by the body's state of being. However, that was more of a spectrum. In order to understand, first they must define what constitutes a living person.

Would a functional brain in a jar be considered life? Would a headless body with a beating heart be considered life? To most, the answer is clear upon a material inspection, however, to those who consider the spiritual angle, they have trouble deciding.

It was an ethical debate and discussion that stretched far back in history, however, it only became a matter of cultural importance when a king sentenced an entire village to death. The initial reports omitted the fact of an undead infection plaguing that village. The outrage was quelled soon afterwards, however some people would come forth and claim that the inhabitants of that village were still coherent at the time of death.

No further information has survived from that era, but its effects on similar matters could be felt even now.

"They should be put down!" That was a sentiment shared by a few others, who half heartedly voiced their agreement with the councilman.

"The reports indicated that most of the infected showed signs of still being aware." Some people mumbled and whispered, a few had switched their stance on the matter, more people sided with another councilman.

Politics wasn't something he enjoyed, especially not with people who cared more for their public appearance than anything else. Aside from a select few leading the debate, most were sitting back and waiting for matters to settle between those who actually cared. Then they would suck up to the winning side.

"Regardless! We don't possess the capabilities to cure them and the longer we hold them, the larger the risk of a complete outbreak!"

"This isn't just a small backwater village on the line, it's our citizens! The people who elected us to protect them! It's our duty to-"

"Cut the crap. The cameras aren't rolling! This isn't the time to care for public approval, this is a matter of national safety! If you want to protect our people, then we must eliminate the threat!"

"The threat is our people!"

"Ahem," another councilman interrupted the debate, "I can see that how we will handle the infected will need some more discussion, however I believe we should also be focusing on where the infection originated from." As he was met with no objection, he shifted the focus of the council, he nodded towards someone else.

"Yes well," a councilwoman looked down at the papers in her hands, "our exact first case remains unclear, however it was around two days ago, on Saturday, at noon that we started receiving calls regarding the matter. As of now, we have managed to keep a lid on it and no media outlet has broken the story yet. Among the first batch of the infected included both humans and faunus, and even…" she paused and seemed to struggle to read further, "and children."

Some people who had been for eliminating the infected had switched after hearing the report.

"And how many more children will be infected if we don't deal with this immediately!?" He managed to regain a portion of followers.

"Excuse me," Ozpin had finally had enough of passively observing, "I have also read the preliminary reports from the officers and the lab. So far none of the infected have displayed an active violent urge. Even those that are no longer conscious have yet to be aggressive unless provoked. I'm not saying we don't have an issue, but it seems we don't have an urgent problem that wouldn't allow us to communicate a solution effectively."

Ozpin didn't really have any stakes in this discussion. Aside from his influence as the Headmaster of Beacon he had largely been ignored because of his age compared to his peers. Perhaps if they knew he was older than every person here combined, he might get some respect, as it was now he was only truly allowed to contribute when Huntsmen were involved.

Fortunately, most of the time, the council was at least competent, so he hardly considered reinstating a monarchy.

The conversation continued on with only a few pointless circles. The origin couldn't yet be pinned down. Although the White Fang was in the news only yesterday, they have yet to come forth and claim responsibility. Other terrorist groups have mostly been dealt already and only gang members looking for street cred mutter their names. No suspicious activity from the other kingdoms has been discovered yet.

And most importantly, no traces of any kind of Grimm influence have been detected inside the infected. Similarly, no traces of foreign chemicals have been found as of yet.

After the overall discussion was put on hold, only stopgaps have been decided on for now. The call ended.

The undead were loopholes in the system created by the Brothers.

Although hesitantly, he began to think of them as a related issue, he couldn't be sure as to what exactly yet, but he knew something was going on. He could feel it. The tension in the air was similar to the previous situations. A sense of impending doom was engulfing this kingdom, and he feared he would be powerless to prevent another civilization from collapsing to a catastrophe.

It was either unfortunate timing, or it was going according to someone's plan. Ozpin was ready yet, his inner circle was only a handful of people right now, and his pieces weren't anything exceptional yet.

'No, that wasn't true.'

He reminded himself as he pulled up a recording of events of this morning, of this year's Initiation. Although not the absolute worst in history, only nine students survived this time, and one had voluntarily dropped out after regaining consciousness. He had yet to announce their teams; half of them couldn't stand straight and were confined to a bed for recovery.

Even though a Bizarre Geist had somehow infiltrated the forest, it was dealt with by only four students. Nearby cameras had been destroyed, however, footage of the fight had still been captured in lower quality by cameras further away.

He had already planned on keeping a close eye on two of the students, and checking in on another one, however one of them had definitely caught him by surprise with their capabilities. The other four remaining students also deserved some attention for their tenacity. He had seen experienced warriors die from less.

'It would've been a shame to lose her so soon.'

Ozpin thought as he stared at the silver eyes on his screen. Perhaps he had been too rash when he invited her. He was familiar with the ideas of not risking everything on the success of one venture, and to not depend on something that has yet to happen, so perhaps he had grown impatient. The near loss and incapacitation of a Maiden hung heavy on his plans.

If he didn't have a General from Atlas in his circle right now, then he would be in his weakest state as a leader in the last century or so. He needed to accelerate some plans.

He was almost in check and he couldn't afford to lose any more tempo against his opponent.

She could feel it. He was here. He was here. She could feel him watching her. His eyes were looking at her. She knew it.

At first, she thought she was mistaken. She didn't believe her eyes at first. There was no way for the boy she had decapitated to be smiling as she took their picture, but he was. His face must have frozen stiff immediately. That made sense, but it didn't help.

Neo had sent the image of the dead drug dealer to Roman. He told her they were doing a favor to Junior. She had been led through the night by a deaf boy. He had black hair, a white left eye and a black right eye, he had also been dressed in black clothes.

If he wasn't deaf or if he didn't have different colored eyes, she would've forgotten about him, but because he was unique, a part of her told her what to do. A way to make him into a fond memory for her. So she chopped off his head and held him up by the stump of his neck with her palm. She smiled and took a picture. He smiled too.

She couldn't sleep that night. When morning came, she decided to return to the scene. She needed to see his body.

He wasn't there.

Even though the drug dealer was still there, he was gone.

As she began snooping around, checking to see if a stray dog had dragged him away, she heard footsteps. She quickly twirled around and she saw it.

The decapitated drug dealer. His body was standing up.

Her brain froze.

The smacking of lips and the chattering of teeth made her look down at its feet. Where the decapitated head of the drug dealer was moving his mouth as if he was speaking. Even though she wasn't an expert, she was familiar enough with lip reading to make out what he was trying to say.

"You can't escape death."

Her brain couldn't comprehend what was happening, so she ran. And spent the rest of the day hiding in her room.

After her confusion and panic wore off, she finally realized that her glove was stained with a dark red thick blood. It was nothing like the fresh blood she was used to seeing. She had thrown off the disgusting glove, but it had seeped through and stained her palm and no matter how hard she washed, it wouldn't go away. She felt nauseous and dizzy, her stomach churned and her brain spun.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but as she felt herself calm down, she blankly stared down at her hand in the sink. Fresh red blood was circling the drain, chunks of her flesh were littering the porcelain.

She was Neo, a confident badass who made her own rules.

'Neo wouldn't do this. Neo wouldn't do this.'

Her brain strained against her skull, and with her bloody hands she clutched at her head.

"What are you afraid of?" A formless whisper echoed in her head.

Neo didn't have fears.

In the mirror, through her blood-soaked fingers, she peered at Neo's reflection as it flickered to reveal a pathetic and weak little girl.

"I don't have fears." The formless voice reprimanded her.

'No, no no.'

She clawed at her head, her fingers dug into her scalp. It was her brain's fault. She just needed to- he was here. Her body froze, her ears picked up on light footsteps behind her. As the sound got closer and closer, the bathroom lights flickered. As he got closer, the room began shaking lightly.

She couldn't move. In the reflection of the empty room behind her, she saw pale hands reach out from behind her back.

She couldn't move. In the reflection of the bloody pathetic girl, she watched as that useless girl was strangled.

She couldn't move, and yet her fingers dug deeper into her scalp, and yet her nails scratched at her skull.

"Neo, my dear," Roman said as he walked into the bathroom, "thank you for killing that trash. What would I do without you?" He asked as he pried her hands off her head and gently wrapped his arms around her.

She returned the hug, and the useless fucked up girl pathetically felt tears pour from her eyes.

"I wouldn't want to see you like this, hurry up and change back," Roman gently coaxed her.

Her brain felt like it was turning to mush, but Neo looked up and smiled playfully.

"That's my girl!" Roman smiled back at her, and then he led her to the kitchen. He threw open the freezer and started browsing her selections. "You never have any good flavors." He teased her.

Neo rolled her eyes and then stuck her tongue out.

After a few minutes passed by, the incident was entirely forgotten about.

And then her Scroll beeped.

Sorry for the late reply. I wanted to get some good news, but now it's just bad news. But at least one of us succeeded. Rather pointlessly, though, you definitely would've done better than these cheap goons. Last time we're doing Jr a favor without insurance.

Got caught up in a scuffle, unfortunately a kid started a fight with me in public, definitely didn't want the cops on me for child murder so I had to run, or else who knows what I would do in self-defense. Debating whether I should've taken my chances, the bitch bitched me out for running.

She read Roman's text. He wasn't here, she knew that. She was alone in the kitchen.

Did you kill that boy, too? He seemed like your perfect victim. Got any trophies? If it's funny, then send it to me. I could use something to cheer me up. None of my girls want to spend a night with me right after my name is in the press. Or are you finally up to have your cherr-

The message flickered out.

"Open wide." Roman held a spoon of cherry ice cream to her mouth. "C'mon, one of us has to eat it, and I hate cherries, so you don't have to worry about me ever taking this flavor from you."

Although thankful for his consideration, she wasn't hungry anymore, so she placed her ice cream away.

Her night passed at a snail's pace, she couldn't sleep; she could feel him. He was watching her. The dead deaf boy was smiling at her with cold, empty eyes. She didn't even notice when morning had finally arrived, but she finally fell asleep as the sunlight banished nearly every shadow in her room.

The voice of a young boy screamed in her dreams. "What are you doing to me!? This isn't me! This isn't me! These aren't my thoughts! Stop! Stop it! You failure of a human being! You fucked up, little girl! Why can't you be normal? Stop! This isn't me!"

'Stop! Who are you? Stop! Who am I? Stop! Who should we be?'

Flashes of the things Neo has done flashed in her dreams. She felt like throwing up. She bent over in the darkness as she choked and gagged until finally she vomited. A sea of blood and pus spewed forth. She threw up chunks of organs and flesh. The memories of cheer and glee as she stood over her kills only made her throw up more.

"You're fucked up! What's wrong with you!?" A question echoed in her dreams.

'It was Neo! She makes me do it!'

A boot clad foot kicked her on on her side, the force flipped her over and another boot pinned her to the ground. The usual playful gaze in Neo's eyes was gone, pitch black eyes stared down at her unamused. The bladed tip of Hush was pressed against her throat.

'I don't want to die…'

"Don't kill me!" Countless voices screamed her sentiment.

Neo swung her blade in a simple arc, beheading the pathetic girl and killing her for good. And finally she felt better, like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. That useless failure was gone.

Neo smiled down at the trash at her feet, then the girl smiled up at her. A dark red thick blood swallowed up the corpse.

"Why won't they love me? Why am I a failure? Why can't I be normal? Why can't I be better? Why are we so useless?" The formless voice and the young boy spoke in unison.

Neo felt something shift beneath her feet. She looked down as she was beginning to be swallowed up by the darkness.

"Why are you happy?" They asked her. "Why can't we be happy? Give it to us. Give it to us. Give it to us."

Slowly she could feel the sense of enjoyment be drained from her, leaving her with an empty slot in her mind.

"We don't need this anymore."

Fear, panic, and anxiety slowly filled the void.

She felt like she was drowning.

They giggled. "Hey, guess what? We'll stop if you tell us to."

'Stop.'

They giggled. "Use your words."

Alongside a rush of rage, she also felt shame and despair well up as she was swallowed by the darkness.

Her eyes snapped open as she woke up, and she knew something was wrong. Neo had killed her, and then Neo was consumed.

'Who am I?'

She asked herself as she got out of bed and walked over to her bathroom. As she realized she had left her water running, she saw herself in the mirror. She looked normal. She wasn't in her Neo appearance, and even though she was in her natural look, she didn't feel anything. She wasn't disgusted, and as she shifted to her more colorful look, she didn't feel anything special.

Neo wasn't anything special and Trivia was just normal.

She froze as a faint giggle echoed in her ear and something tickled at her neck. She flinched. She was afraid. She realized she was feeling fear and not a hint of denial accompanied it.

'Who am I?'

She didn't know.

'What's happening?'

She didn't know.

Deciding to find a distraction, she chose a random cover identity from her drawer and went out for ice cream.

Thanks for reading! I'm always open to feedback, so please leave a review, or reply in my forum, about what you liked or hated about this chapter or the whole story. If anyone wants to be a Beta Reader, then PM me and we'll talk details.

Hello and sorry for the taking so long, I had my hands full.

Oh, you might've noticed this chapter is kinda odd. Ozpin's segment is definitely a tad more serious, and Neo's part definitely wasn't light. In my opinion I wanted to post these as separate chapters, their tones weren't normal but they also aren't on the same page, but I didn't want to clutter my story and I felt like having a clear through line was important.

The undead infection, I wonder what's that about? And what could be happening with 'Neo', hmm?