If Ilia thought her good mood or her previous exposure to the mine would make it less scary, she was sorely disappointed. Long running fears and deeply ingrained terrors don't fade that easily. They don't just let go of the space they've scratched out of a mind.
The tunnels felt constricting; her vision swam from time to time so that the walls looked like they were squeezing shut on her. It felt harder to breathe even when Ilia knew that was wholly psychological. Knowing something isn't real doesn't keep it from feeling real. The lift taking them down felt like a shovel burying Ilia alive.
Her only saving grace was her determination to follow Winter. She'd sworn to be there for her, even if that took her deeper into the mine, further away from sunlight. They were deeper than they had gone on Ilia's previous visit, down to sub-tunnel 6 if the signs were right. She didn't know how deep that was; for all she knew it was just above Hell itself.
Could Panzoa see all the way down here? Pious as Ilia was, she wasn't convinced.
"This is the only way up or down?" Ilia said, gesturing at the lift around them.
"That's right," said Winter. "For structural reasons, you need as few vertical penetrations as possible. It's a heavy-duty lift, though. You could fill it floor-to-ceiling with ore and it would rise at the same speed."
That wasn't reassuring. The lift would have fit nine people, maybe ten, and it still felt far too much like a coffin.
The lift's panel went bing as it arrived at sub-tunnel six. The walk along the tunnel took them past four teams of miners before they found the supervisor. "About time," said the supervisor. "I've been trying to get you down here all morning."
"What's the problem?" asked Winter.
"Shakes in the ground," said the supervisor, tapping some kind of meter in her hand. "At first we thought it was just Plant Dust we found with the lights on, but we turned the lights off and kept getting it. Our second thought was Gravity Dust, even though there's been zilch of that so far. Nope, not that either. There's too much vibration, and it's getting worse."
"Is it moving?" said Winter.
"Maybe," said the supervisor. "The epicenter doesn't seem to stay in the same place. Could be measurement error, though. Or…"
She trailed off at the sight of the alarm on Winter's face. Winter swallowed that expression and collected herself in seconds. "First things first. We need to evacuate the employees in this area. Have them secure any loose Dust before they go. Withdraw everyone to the surface."
"Everyone in the mine?" asked the supervisor.
"Yes," said Winter. "Starting from this tunnel."
"Is this what I think it is?" said the supervisor, eyes growing wide with fear.
"Whether it is or not, I'm not taking any chances," said Winter. "I'll use a sonic imager to confirm once you're all cleared out. But it sure sounds like it."
The supervisor nodded, then gave a piercing whistle. "Oi! We're evacuating now!" she shouted. "Everyone needs to lock it down on their way out and move it back to the main shaft."
Ilia watched without understanding as the miners locked up their gear. She looked between the supervisor and Winter and saw the hints of apprehension in their faces. It was contagious—her own fear was magnified by theirs. "I'm missing something, and I don't like it," she said, and hated the undeniable tremor in her voice.
"The evidence suggests," said Winter as she drew the sword from her hip, "that we have incoming Creatures of Grimm. The plague of Atlas' Dust mines. Centinels."
Ilia didn't know what a Centinel was, but she understood about the grimm. The White Fang had to deal with grimm frequently, even more than the civilized people that could huddle behind the safety of a Kingdom's walls. She knew, had lived, the terror of being hunted, of knowing howling death was just beyond a treeline, just out of sight.
There were grimm that could attack mines? Underground?
There was nowhere to go in a mine, nowhere to hide, no escape, a mine was already death, and now the world's ancient terror was coming too…
Ilia's blood was freezing in her veins just at the thought. Her otherwise excellent night vision was darkened and fogged, like nothing could register properly.
"Quickly, quickly," said the supervisor, only just holding her voice steady. "We've gotta get out of here before..."
Ilia did not appreciate the universe's comedic timing.
There was a blasting sound, and rock burst from the walls of the mine. Then another, and another. The walls had come alive with clattering and clacking, with spinning black and white shapes, with streaks of red and green and menace.
"Everyone out!" shouted Winter. Already she was darting forward so quickly Ilia had trouble following the motion. There was a clanging sound, a tearing sound, and one of the grotesque shapes came apart and dissolved.
But there were far more than just the one.
The miners panicked. They stopped being individuals and became a flood that swept Ilia away. It was infectious. Ilia lost herself. Conscious thought ceased, mind shut down under the weight of collective terror, vision blacked out completely. She became one with the flow, uncaring for anything but out out out.
Until she heard the yell.
Despite all her fears, magnified and amplified by the monsters of the mine, she looked back.
Another Centinel had burst from the walls, and now another, and yet another...
And there was Winter, darting amongst the shapes, a light piercing the darkness with white hair and flashing steel—the one, the only clear shape in the haze of Ilia's fear. Her war cries sounded above the chitters and hisses of the monsters. She was the realest thing in the world.
A rumbling sound was followed by an ominous crack from above. "If any more Centinels come," shouted a miner, "they'll bring the whole tunnel down!"
It looked like Winter understood that, too. She gestured with one arm and a glyph appeared at the roof of the cavern. It spread and spread, until it was covering a large section of the ceiling.
Ilia hadn't seen those famous Schnee glyphs in action very often, but she understood what it meant to stretch yourself thin. With this glyph being so much bigger than the others she'd seen, it had to be so much more taxing to maintain…
Winter did seem to be moving more slowly, but she was still an avatar of death. She flashed amongst the grimm, again, again, each stroke striking true, each blow causing a squeal of pain or outright destruction to the monsters it touched. Then there was the biggest rumble yet, and the biggest burst of rock, and something truly hideous emerged from the wall. Twice as tall as the other Centinels, three times as broad, and with a chest glowing green with something vile, the largest of the monsters entered the fray. It was panic given form.
"Get them to safety!" shouted Winter. "Everyone out!" With a click, a smaller sword detached from the one in Winter's main hand, and she seemed to double her speed- or at least her ferocity. One, two, three more Centinels met swift ends before the Alpha engaged her. With a sweep of scything talons, the monster bore down upon Winter, who had to raise both her swords to protect herself.
At the ceiling, the glyph faltered, shrank some. The groaning and cracking from the ceiling resumed, and dust showered down upon the last evacuating miners.
Winter dodged backwards, regained some concentration, and the glyph spread again. Ilia could see how much of Winter's focus it took to maintain that barrier. She didn't have enough to keep it at full strength and fight the grimm. Her light was burning out.
The miners couldn't evacuate any faster, though. The lift only moved so quickly. They had to wait for it to make its laborious trip, evacuating them only ten at a time. The lift doors opened again with a ding and the last of the miners piled into it.
"Come on!" screamed the supervisor, but Ilia could see the problem. There was only enough room for the miners and maybe Ilia herself. There wasn't enough room for Winter.
Winter would be left behind.
Buried alive.
Every part of Ilia's fear screamed at her to get on board the lift.
Something stronger held her out.
She slapped the "Close Door" button and turned her back on the lift. She did something she'd sworn never to do where Winter could see: she reached into her coat pocket and drew her weapon.
Lightning Lash was made to fight people, not grimm. But as Ilia rushed forward, terror exploding in her vision and filling her ears with a scream, she knew that she had to make do. Another eruption of rock, another grimm joining the fight. Without thought, operating on trained instinct, Ilia gathered up Lightning Lash in its smallsword form and stabbed straight and true at the grimm's face. The point of the blade sunk into its eye. A flick of her thumb caused an electrical discharge from the inside of the grimm. It shrieked once and dissolved.
Ahead of her, Winter was still straining against the largest of the grimm. Ilia darted to the side of their clinch, shifted Lightning Lash to whip form, and swung at the Grimm's arm. She had no hope of severing it, but when her Lash hit the grimm's arm and discharged, the pain and surprise caused the grimm to draw back.
Winter sprang back with new freedom. She used the moment to raise a hand towards the ceiling; the glyph above them stabilized. That wouldn't last. The grimm was sliding forward again, clicking menacingly, and from its chest cavity something green and bubbling was visibly surging towards its mouth.
Ilia felt panic welling up in her again. How could she fight something like this? She hadn't trained for this. She'd fought hired guns and mindless drones for years. She knew what to do against them. She had the training, experience, and weapons for those.
She was at a loss against the grimm.
But, in her horror, she'd forgotten one simple fact: Winter was a licensed and accomplished Huntress.
Moving so quickly she was a blur, Winter dashed forward, deflected a swipe of the Grimm's talons with her parrying dagger, and swung her saber against the grimm's arm. The arm detached.
The grimm gave a shriek but never lost momentum. It retaliated with its other talon, which Winter had to block. Even as Winter was pinned in place, the bubbling in the Grimm's chest grew more violent. It leaned back for just a moment, then its head jerked forward. From its open maw came a deluge of something caustic.
Winter disengaged backwards just in time. Where the green liquid hit, rock sizzled and dissolved. A fresh wave of terror swept over Ilia. The doom of civilization didn't care if it lost an arm; it would rip them apart, whatever it took.
She was more out of her depth than ever.
Winter was not. She retreated until she was besides one of the abandoned mining carts. Her eyes darted down to it, then back up at the grimm. "When I give the word," said Winter, "wrap your whip around the grimm."
It took a long second for the words to register in a mind devoting all its processing power to feeling fear. At last Ilia realized Winter was talking to her. "Right," she squeaked.
The grimm must have been gorging on Ilia's fear, because it turned its attention to her. It reared back again, its only warning sign, and Ilia belatedly realized she'd have to dodge.
Even expecting it, she was only just able to avoid the worst of the gush. A few drops splashed against her Aura; she screamed in pain, but her Aura held.
"Now!" shouted Winter.
As Ilia looked up, ice crept over the torso of the grimm—Winter was weaponizing raw, newly mined Dust, letting out a shriek of pain in the process. Ilia's eyes almost strayed to Winter, but when the grimm tried to break free of its makeshift straitjacket, Ilia whipped out with Lightning Lash and roped it around the grimm just above the ice barrier.
She'd never have been able to land that blow against a grimm like that while mobile- but now, her Lash secured, and discharged, and the grimm screamed in agony. Its head jerked backwards as it struggled vainly against the ice and Ilia's hold on it. The instant the electrical discharge stopped, there was Winter, the sword of her vengeance flashing bright in the dark of the mine.
The grimm's head came free.
There was a clash of silence as Winter stretched out, shining, blinding in the depths of Hell, arm extended in a full-blooded swing, the only thing Ilia could see, the whole world in one woman.
Time resumed with a dull hiss as the grimm disintegrated. The ice, now encasing nothing, fell to the floor of the mine. Lightning Lash came loose.
Her eyes darted around, looking for the next foe—in vain. There was no more movement in the mineshaft. All of the holes were empty. No more wriggling black and white nor streaks of red.
The battle was over. They had survived.
Lightning Lash nearly fell from Ilia's hand as she shuddered in the afterwash of her fear. A similar sound came from nearby. Ilia looked, and her eyes fell upon Winter.
Winter was panting with effort. She was sweaty and coated in dirt, grime, and grimm remains. Her hair had come loose of its bun at some point, and her eyes were half closed in the manner of someone concentrating through intense pain.
To Ilia's eyes, she had never looked more beautiful.
Winter shook her head, breaking the spell. "Help me find some Stone Dust," she rasped to Ilia.
Ilia's feet finally came unstuck. She walked to the mining cart between the two women and scanned through its contents quickly. "Here," she said, tapping against a particular chunk of ore.
Winter nodded jerkily. Replacing her swords to free her hands, she placed one hand on that chunk of ore and gave a hiss of pain as she harnessed the Dust with direct contact. The glyph above the women changed colors and new rock spread across it, while a new ceiling-to-floor pillar reached down.
Even Ilia's reeling mind couldn't miss that symbolism.
Winter's face screwed up in effort. The glyph slowly decreased in size, withdrawing step by step into itself. Ilia realized that Winter was withdrawing in increments, testing with each reduction, to make sure her makeshift repair held. After a few more repetitions, the glyph was gone. The beam was holding.
Winter's hands fell to her sides at last. She gasped in her breaths, and her eyes closed fully as she worked to regain her bearing. She swayed in place, clearly struggling to stand.
Ilia couldn't help herself. She moved around the mining cart, and, with boldness that surprised herself, she worked herself underneath Winter's arm so it extended across the back of her shoulders. With how much shorter she was than Winter, it was easy.
Winter's eyes popped open in alarm, and her sword arm jerked, but when she saw what Ilia was doing, she sagged in relief, and shifted her weight fully onto Ilia. Ilia held her firmly.
"I've got you," she said.
"I know," said Winter, a ghost of a smile flitting across her exhausted-looking face. "We can sit. We're safe for now."
Ilia obligingly helped Winter to the floor of the cavern until both women were sitting on their legs. As she did, the full weight of what she'd just done crashed home on her as if the cavern had collapsed after all.
She'd revealed herself. All the care she'd taken to pass as human, to hide her Aura, to hide that she was armed, months and months of deceptions, her whole infiltration gone up in smoke… in front of someone fully capable of killing her in a straight fight.
"I'm s-sorry," she blubbered as a new and different panic swelled up within her and fried what was left of her brain. "I didn't mean… it's not what it looks—well, it kind of is, but not… I can explain…"
Winter, disheveled as she was, still found it within herself to raise an eyebrow.
"I'll leave," said Ilia, collapsing in upon herself in mortification. Her scales broke free of her control at last, turning to the red of shame. She started to draw her arm back away from Winter. "I'm sorry, I'll just g—"
Even a simple word like "go" can be cut off by something sudden enough.
In this case, it was because Ilia's lips had suddenly been sealed. By Winter's lips.
Ilia froze in place. Her scales flipped to the pure white of shock.
She didn't know what to do with her hands. She didn't know what to do with her mouth. She forgot to breathe. She just sat there like a baffled statue, emotional whiplash scorching her mind and leaving ash and confusion behind.
Winter broke away abruptly and blinked several times. "It appears I misread you," she said, blushing furiously—a brilliant contrast on her pale skin. "I misunderstood the signs—I never could read them in the first… It's just as well, I'm management and you're labor, it'd be improper… this is not what a proper Schnee does, it's not, not right, not… proper…"
As far as Ilia was concerned, no Schnee had ever done anything more proper. She saw the danger, though, saw how quickly Winter was backing away and convincing herself she'd made a mistake.
Not a single thing to say came up in Ilia's mind. That part of her brain had burned out and called it a day. No words. Just… this.
She pushed her face into Winter's.
It was amateurish; only her second kiss, and the first she'd initiated, or even been an active participant in. She'd pushed her lips out in an exaggerated pucker. Only after contact was made did she understand that wasn't how things worked. After a second, she tried to fix it, tried to make it softer… sweeter… more natural, more…
Mm.
Winter had frozen almost as much as Ilia had, but she recovered more quickly. Ilia felt a hand on the back of her head, not pushing or pulling but just holding her there, and it had never occurred to Ilia that something like that could feel so good and right but now she didn't know how she'd ever lived without it. With every moment the kiss went on it came more easily, more readily, like two puzzle pieces were finally lining up just right.
Eventually, needing air, and needing to give her head a chance to stop spinning, Ilia pulled away. She took in Winter, whose mouth hadn't quite shut, whose lips trembled, whose eyes were hooded, who was as flushed and panting as heavily as she had been after the battle.
Ilia was lost. She was screwed. She'd messed up. She could deny nothing more. She had fallen for Winter Schnee.
Dammit.
"I shouldn't have done that," she whispered as her heart plunged into despair.
A tiny bit of focus came back to Winter's eyes. "Why not?"
Ilia's scales went red again. "I… this wasn't why I came here. I… I lied to you. Over and over again, for as long as I've been here I've been lying to you."
She couldn't help herself; weeks and months of suppressed emotions were being vomited up. "I lied about being human, I lied about having no skills, I pretended I couldn't fight, I let you think I was a friend, but everything was a lie. All of it! I was sent here to destroy SDR and kill you. I came here because I hated you and wanted you and your sister dead. I wanted to watch you burn. I carried my weapon on me at all times, just so I could… if I… if I saw a chance…"
She sobbed as tears broke free and her words tore her innards apart as she spoke them. "You broke me, Winter Schnee. I was your enemy before you even knew I existed, and I pretended I was your friend. I was a liar and a cheat and I was just waiting to betray you, to… destroy everything you built and stood for, to…"
A finger pressed against Ilia's lips.
Winter fixed Ilia in place with her eyes. Ilia fell into them. Winter spoke. "I'm hearing everything that you're saying. Some of it is even a surprise. But you just did the opposite of all that."
Ilia blinked dumbly. This was too much confusion and emotion for one person to take; she thought her heart must burst from over-feeling.
"You had, by rough estimate, at least thirty-seven opportunities to assassinate me," Winter went on. "You were close to acting on exactly zero of those. I have never felt even slightly threatened by your presence. And then, just now…" She shook her head in disbelief. "Just now, you took on your greatest fear so you could fight by my side. You went deeper into a Dust mine for my sake.
"If you're an assassin, you're the worst assassin ever."
Ilia sobbed a laugh. "That's me. Just look at me."
"I am," said Winter soberly. "I'm looking at you, not listening to you. Whatever your words say, your actions are louder. I'll believe them. Well, your actions say you're on my side."
Ilia shook in place. Her soul quaked.
"And…" said Winter, suddenly tentative; she wet her lips nervously, an action that consumed far too much of Ilia's attention. "And… if it's not overstepping or presuming… I think I'll believe your lips, too."
"My lips say stupid things," Ilia said, the words confirming themselves in a death spiral of cringe.
"Then let's dispense with words," Winter said. "Let me thank you as sincerely as I know how."
She returned her hand to its spot behind Ilia's head; Ilia felt herself turn to mush at its presence. She couldn't believe this was real, that this was happening, but it was such a nice illusion she didn't dare say or do anything that might dispel it. Winter pressed forward, more gently, less urgently this time, her head making the slight tilt to make them fit as she closed the distance.
Ilia had all the time in the world, every opportunity, to stop it or pull away.
Instead, she closed her eyes and opened herself.
Contact.
She came undone.
An indeterminate amount of time later, Ilia and Winter stood in the lift as it ascended.
"This will be complicated," said Winter.
Ilia nodded, her scales turning a queasy green. Winter found it fascinating and—not that she'd thought she'd ever use this word—cute. She hoped Ilia never tried to hide her trait again.
"Bad enough that I called off the White Fang from attacking SDR," said Ilia, "but if it comes out I'm seeing a Schnee… 'race-traitor' will be the most polite thing they call me. Ugh, not to mention Cristata, I'm sure there's some sort of grievance he can file about this…"
"In this case," Winter said drily, "I am perfectly content telling Mr. Cristata to, as the youth say, 'get bent'."
Ilia's scales turned a worried blue. "'The youth' don't say that."
"Well, I don't think I've ever been accused of being hip." Winter reached to her side, found Ilia's hand, enveloped it with her own. Ilia squeezed back tightly. "I think we're best off if we don't advertise our relationship. We won't lie, but we won't throw a parade, either."
The blue darkened like despair. "I'd be embarrassed of me, too."
"I'm not embarrassed of you," Winter said, belting the words out with gusto. Ilia, startled, looked up at her. "And I'm not embarrassed for you, either. I figured low-profile, low-controversy suited us both, but I'm open to alternatives."
Ilia nodded slowly. "Low-profile is fine."
Winter knew, whatever Ilia said, that she still had doubts, that she was still uncertain. Time to put an end to that. "I've wanted to do that for a while."
Ilia's confusion deepened. "What, kiss me?"
"Yes. Ever since you started flirting with me."
"I've never flirted with you."
"You made me hot cocoa."
"You thought that was flirting?"
Something tumbled uncertainly in Winter's chest. "Was I wrong? Are you saying you weren't interested?"
"No! I mean… yes? I mean I was, um, interested. I just never thought it'd happen, because you're… and I'm a…"
"Yes, Father would have been quite upset," Winter said, feeling a familiar spike of heat at the invocation. "'Improper' would have been the most polite word he'd have used. He'd have hated the homosexuality and the miscegenation both." She smiled grimly. "I think that's why I gave my first kiss to a Faunus."
That startled Ilia. "Really?"
"Yes. At Atlas Academy." She hummed a note, knew it was off-key. "It didn't work out. She called me a fascist. She might have had a point, for who I was then."
"But you're better than that now," Ilia blurted out. "You've changed, you're fair and driven and…" Embarrassment swept over her. "Shit."
"And you," Winter said with a happy curl of her mouth, "are stronger and cuter than she ever was. I kissed her out of curiosity and spite. I kissed you because I wanted to."
Ilia's scales turned the color of an all-over blush. On second thought, Winter thought she might see the point of the word 'cute'.
Winter cleared her throat and turned away, showing mercy. "Unfortunately, we have to go back to work for now."
Ilia sighed. "I suppose."
"That said," Winter began, giving Ilia's hand a final squeeze, "if you wanted to, er…"
It was Ilia's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Go on."
"I was thinking, if you wanted to, you could… make me some hot cocoa. After working hours, tonight."
Winter's timing was, as ever, impeccable. The lift dinged and its door opened. Winter stepped through smartly, leaving a flabbergasted Ilia behind.
With any luck, running off would hide Winter's blush.
"Good evening, James."
"Oz. It's good to hear from you. Although I didn't expect to hear from you again so soon after leaving Vale."
"Sometimes events move unexpectedly quickly. You recall, I'm sure, how the Vale Branch of the White Fang stepped up its attacks on Dust companies lately?"
"I recall."
"And you remember that Team PeCe, ah, assisted one of my student teams in looking into these matters?"
"That is a novel way to describe one of your students running off with my gynoid, sabotaging both teams' Vytal Tournament runs in the bargain."
"Yes, well, 'power of friendship' and all that."
"Get to the point, Oz."
"The point, James, is that their little adventure wasn't the end. The students broke up the Dust robberies in Vale and the criminals who were conducting them, then moved on to anti-White Fang activities that helped us bag most of the Vale Branch. But Adam Taurus escaped."
"Which he wouldn't have if you'd have let me bring my army."
"Using an army to search for an individual is like burning down a house to kill a spider. Aside from being overkill, it doesn't even guarantee the job gets done."
"Oz..."
"The good news is the job was done for us. Adam Taurus is out of the picture."
"I see. How permanently, and who do we have to thank for it?"
"Killed in action by Sienna Khan."
"... Oz, your sense of humor gets stranger every year."
"This is no joke, James. It seems that Adam Taurus disobeyed orders in his prosecution of the anti-Dust company campaign. Some members of his Vale Branch even got into and out of Solitas by his command."
"They can't have gotten into Atlas."
"I didn't say Atlas, James. I said Solitas. There are plenty of mines outside the main city."
"Of course, of course. I meant..."
"Regardless, it was well outside of Adam Taurus' jurisdiction. Combined with some other information we'd been gathering, and that we passed along to Sienna Khan, it became apparent that Adam has been pursuing his own agenda for some time. Or, perhaps, he was pursuing someone else's agenda for him."
"That is an ominous way to put that, Oz."
"But appropriate. Sienna thought as much, too. She took a team of her best to investigate personally. What she found must have satisfied her, because she informed Adam of her intent to replace him as Leader of the Vale Branch. He took this personally."
"I imagine. Still, for him to be doing something so extreme it'd cause a rift within the Fang…"
"It fits with the larger pattern, James. I'm sure you've noticed a certain amount of upheaval in the Dust industry."
"How could I not? The Dust industry is Atlas."
"That's a subject for another time. The point is, there is more at work than the usual market dynamics. A lot of money is entering the marketplace from outside of it. How else could Fall Dust buy so many mines and mining accoutrement, sell Dust so cheaply, and do so with no end in sight? All as a private company that doesn't open its books to anyone?"
"You say that as if you already know the answer. But it can't be the one you're implying."
"Why not? Adam Taurus was taking orders from someone with the longest possible reach and nigh unlimited resources. Cinder Fall of Fall Dust is following an unknown agenda with nigh unlimited resources. It looks increasingly as if the two are connected to something larger."
"How do you know this?"
"Let's just say... a little birdie told me."
"I can't even tell if that's a metaphor and I hate you for it."
"James, the game is afoot. I trust you to investigate, but we both know you don't have all the access and all the insight you'd like to have."
"What is this, an offer of help? You have no army to send me."
"Oh, certainly not, and I wouldn't if I could. Nothing so overt. We don't want to alarm our targets that we're on to them. We need something subtle, involving people who are already on the case."
"…You must be joking."
"Are you saying it would be suspicious for Team RVBY, with sparkling grades and a marvelous showing at the Vytal Tournament under their collective belts, to participate in a student exchange program with Atlas Academy? An exchange program that just happens to bring them into contact with certain Dust companies?"
"You're sending me children."
"Children with fresh eyes and a remarkable nose for trouble."
"You're not sending anyone else? That's it? Four children? If the stakes are this high, I thought you'd be taking this seriously. At this point, I'd even take Qrow."
"He will be delighted to know that you asked for him."
"That's not what I said!"
"That's what I heard. Regardless, yes, I am using other assets to uncover more of what's going on here—Qrow is tracking down some leads, Medina and Lucia are applying their usual craft to the Vale Branch's financials, and so on… but those are of no direct help to you where you are. So I'll ask: Would you prefer short help or no help at all?"
"Ugh. I suppose it does no harm, but I won't expect much from them."
"Well, we all have our blind spots. There are some things, after all, that can only be accomplished by a smaller, more honest soul."
"Hold on. You mean she has silver..."
"Oh, I'm afraid Glynda has arrived, and I don't dare keep her waiting. We'll talk again later, James."
"Wait! Oz..."
Click.
END OF ACT II
Next time: Color Bomb
