Now initiating the final phase of The Apoptosis Project. Please remain calm, and allow for passage into humanity's next phase.

All Lazula knew since the doors closed behind her was the engines' growl, and darkness.

She was in the cargo hold of an airship. She knew that much. The ground had stayed even for the last ten minutes or so, meaning they leveled out, and flew straight. She'd already traced the walls with her hand twice over. It was a small space, only a handful of steps to each corner. Among all the protruding edges, bars, and ridges, she found a broad face that may have been a door. No handle, no latch. So she stood, leaning against what must have been the back wall, wondering what exactly the Red Claw, Condor, wanted with her.

His intentions couldn't be good. That much was clear. She was surprised he hadn't tried to kill her already. Her right hand rested at left hip. It traced the edge of her belt, in the empty space Impetus should have been sheathed. They left her unarmed, but hadn't done anything to stifle her hundreds of souls worth of aura. She was still unreasonably strong, and could figure out how to throw a punch. That would be the easy part. Harder: turning the airship around and flying it back home.

Three clicks jolted the chamber. A crack of pale grey light shone under the door she thought she found on the front wall. Lazula stood straight, eyes narrowed and fixed at the widening strip that illuminated her cargo hold. At about half-open, she saw clear to the end of the cabin beyond it. A table, and a tea set. What the hell was a tea set doing on Condor's airship?

She waited. 'Watch. Wait. Overpower. Incapacitate,' she recited internally. But nobody came. She took a few tentative steps forward. Then through the door. Seats lined both walls of the cabin. To the right, Condor. His head bowed, and he beckoned to the seats opposing him.

"Have a seat, Miss Skye."

She stepped to the far side, though at about eight feet away, she still felt too close. She saw Condor for the first time– as a man, not a concept. Not as Port Cyrreine's own bogeyman. His eyes caught her first. Impossibly dark. No light escaped, so all at once they looked unfocused and empty and wretchedly intense. Like the abyss at each side of the Beithyr's skull, or the eyes of a corpse reanimated by some forbidden magic. Thin lips, a long, thin and pronounced nose, shoulders twice the width of her own. She wished, deeply, Impetus was still strapped to her side.

Lazula stole her first glance out the shaded window. On the horizon behind them, a strip of neon lit the sky. They must have been over the ocean. She saw Condor's reflection in the window, lifting a kettle and cup from the table between them.

"Care for tea?"

"No."
He nodded, poured out a cup for himself, and began to drink while steam still billowed from the rim. "Now," he addressed, voice like a lake frozen over. Flat. Deep, and baritone, beneath its frigid edge. "Why do you think I brought you here?"

"...You're going to kill me," Lazula muttered. "You know I'm your biggest obstacle. You're going to kill me. Dump my body ten, twenty miles offshore. Where nobody will ever find me."

"Yes, I figured that's the conclusion you would come to." Condor sat upright, and his folded hands rested on his lap. "But if that were the case, why would I not have bound your wrists and ankles? Administered an aura suppressant, or perhaps blindfolded you? No. Had I chosen to kill you, I would have done so in the city. Your body, torn asunder, would have made an effective threat to those who care for you." His eyes finally left her, shifting to the shrinking neon line on a black horizon. "Even then, why would I have gone through all the effort of setting up our little game?"

Lazula's eyes narrowed further. "Game? All of that was a game to you?"

"A game, a trial, a test of character. No matter what words are put to it, it was all for you." He took another sip, indifferent to her sickened glare. "Many would have turned away at the first sight the elevator doors opened to. Broken down, gotten sick. You almost did. But you pressed ahead. Then, when faced with the choice between refusing to kill and letting five die, or killing one, you chose action. You chose to kill Clove Arma. Laboratory Inventory Manager for Frontline Biomedical. Three children, and a husband of nine years."

Lazula's jaw clenched hard enough to pop out at the side. Her eyes bore into him as her head shook. "I didn't kill her. You did."

"I'd be happy to debate this very issue all night, though that isn't why I brought you here. And I suspect someone will come looking for us very soon," Condor returned. "The Beithyr was a test of aptitude, though by this point I admit it was redundant. As for your final challenge, I know you to be rather prideful. Not a sin in itself, mind you. But I was curious if that pride would be of detriment to your decision making. I was pleased to find it was not."

She shook her head again. Slowly. Her voice was weak to begin, but grew stronger with each word. "How many people did you kill for some fucked up little game?"

"I estimate the death toll will fall between forty and fifty. Though it did, in part, depend on your choices."

"You disgust me."

"That comes as no surprise."

"So what do you want?"

"I simply want to make my voice heard."

"Then speak. You've killed how many? And left the city terrified for the last year and a half. When are you gonna start talking?"

"I've already begun. You see, Miss Skye, all this death is the means to an end. If I were simply to speak in earnest, some may listen. I may reach a niche audience of a few hundred, maybe a thousand. But spill some blood, and every microphone in Remnant is lifted to your lips." He took another sip. Steam still poured from the rim of his cup. "In times past, the Creatures of Grimm were a constant threat. One could hide behind walls, arm himself or hire huntsmen, but safety was never guaranteed. This pressure– a constraint on humanity's survival– pushed us, made human and faunus stronger. We had our place in the world because we deserved it. The world has, in just dozens of years, reversed its course. We continue to stray further from the animal within us all– that animal which fights to live, kills to live. Survival of the fittest has become survival of the masses, all beneath the god they call Frontline Biomedical. And so, I aim to return this world to proper form."

"So, it all comes back to Frontline?" She nodded once at him. "Say you could burn Empyrean Tower to the ground. Right now. Would you stop there? Would you kill every last one of their employees? Or everyone who has relied on them for care?"

Lazula thought she saw the ghost of amusement drift across Condor's face, perking an eyebrow a hair and curling a lip's edge. "My intent is not to kill God, Miss Skye. Nothing that simple. I intend to show the world how God can be killed." His wings raised, stretched out past his arms' width. Lazula watched him, braced herself. They rested at his back again. "All that death also serves to show God is fallible. Blood can flood the streets of the city He built, and the pious can burn before Him."

"Alright. So what is it you want with me? If you think you'll get me on your side in all this, you might as well kill me now."

"Because you interest me, Miss Skye."

"Gross."

"That's precisely why. One of a few reasons, at least. You speak your mind, no matter the consequence. Whether broadcast to millions or speaking with the most feared on Remnant, you're true to yourself. Honest, and defiant. But it goes deeper than your words. You hold your convictions closely, cling to them when the world's bitter fingers clutch and try to pry them away. And you speak to your convictions with what you do." He looked down to her hip, and she realized her hand again rested where Impetus's hilt would be. The arm that would have held Aegis bent over her chest. "Your passion and affinity for combat is nearly unmatched, as well. We have yet to cross blades. But if we did, I believe we would be equals."

Lazula's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you've heard," she contested. "I have four hundred and sixty souls inside of me. My aura is a hundred times stronger than anyone else's. And physically, I'm as strong as four or five people. You really think we're even?"

"I do." His coarse black mane bobbed with a single nod. "I have a gift myself, Miss Skye. The same that allows me to summon the Creatures of Darkness imbues me with greater strength and durability than the average huntsman."

"It's not a gift," Lazula snapped. "Hundreds of people died for this power. If I could get rid of it, or go back and stop it all from happening, I would."

"And yet you, too, are treated as a villain."

"I hope you're not implying we're anything alike."

"Our actions and ideals are quite different, that much is true. You use your gift to uphold and protect life, while I use my own to take it. But we do align in certain ways. I sense violence within you. A savagery you despise and try to hide away."

"That's not true. I hate hurting people. And I don't think I could ever kill."

"Do you feel no satisfaction, tearing your blade through the neck of an Ursa? Driving it deep into the chest of a Beithyr? Your tournaments can even be considered a prescribed, controlled, method of violence."

Lazula was silent.

"And further, we share in our refusal to bend to this world's demand. Many wanted you to concede your tournament match tonight, and many wished ill upon you. Your opponent was, by no exaggeration, fighting for her mother's life. And yet you remained in the tournament on your own conviction, faced her, and were victorious."

"I'm giving her the money."

An eyebrow perked up. "But what's your reason? You beat her. You deserve it, don't you? Do you believe it's the 'right' thing to do, given the circumstances?" He leaned in. "Or was I wrong– do you yield to the pressure others place upon you?"

"The question of who 'deserves' it is debatable," Lazula answered. "People probably think it's the right thing to do, but I don't really care. All I wanted was to win. She needs the money, I don't. It's that simple." She crossed her arms, swallowing the paranoia that crept up from somewhere within. "Still think I'm 'worthy?' That is what you're getting at, right? You think I'm worthy, and you want me to pass along your word?" a brief chuckle escaped. Possibly from nerves. "Or kill God myself?"

"All I want at the moment is for you to listen. Listen to me. Listen to my reasons. Then take some time to reflect upon what it all means to you." Another sip from the cup that was finally at an appropriate temperature. "Measure my word against your own conviction. If in time God does fall, so be it."

"If I decide that's what I want," Lazula muttered. "That doesn't make us allies. As of right now, I have no reason to go against Frontline. But you, and the Red Claw, have killed thousands. Nearly killed my friends and family." She stood, cocked her head back, though she had nowhere to go. "If you hadn't used my friend's dying mother as a hostage to disarm me, I would have fought you back there. And I would have won."

"Perhaps," Condor allowed. "Regardless, things are going to start happening soon, Miss Skye. When we meet next, it will likely be as mortal enemies. Take this time to think. Reflect upon the world you see, and reflect upon the world you wish to see. Our blades will decide whose conviction is stronger."

"Things will start happening soon," Lazula repeated. "I feel like I've been hearing that for a long time. Then something does happen, and it's just more questions. I'm getting sick of it. What's going on?"

Condor turned away, toward the front of the cabin. He pressed his hand to the wall, opening a door Lazula didn't realize existed. A head turned inside the cockpit, buzzed black hair and a beady eye turning her way. A second after, Condor looked back over his shoulder.

"The Apoptosis Project. Frontline Biomedical. You'll find soon there are very few you can truly trust." He proceeded into the doorway. "The rest, you'll know in time."

"No! No more of that shit–"

"Sable."

The head pulled back for a second, before its owner left his seat and blocked the doorway. He dwarfed even Condor, and had to duck a bit and turn sideways to make his way through.

"Take our guest to the back, if you'd please."

The red and blue of emergency lights flashed across the glass walls of Frontline Premier Medical Center's lobby. Androids, police, and paramedics swarmed it, differentiated only by gear and uniform. Every now and then, elevator doors would open and a combination of the three would exit, towing with them a white sheet on a stretcher. Caspian stood in the middle of it all with his team and Lazula's. On paper, they'd accomplished all they were told. But it didn't feel like mission accomplished. It didn't feel like a victory.

Sleep came easier after every attack. The grief he felt for those lost weighed less on his chest as he tried to drift away. This time, maybe he'd breathe easy. Or maybe it would happen again, and he'd feel even lighter, and realize how heavy his chest still felt on this night. He didn't know. But he hated how he'd grown so accustomed to it all.

"Ichigo was able to restore power to the facility, and we swept the first twelve floors for Grimm. I think androids are finishing the rest," Caspian reported to his Holoband. The doors slid open, and another team of Organds entered. "Python is being taken back into custody. Organds went down there a few minutes ago, so they should be taking her in soon."

"Good work," the Headmaster commended. "And the hostage?"

"Mrs. Chino's safe," Caspian returned. "Androids are looking after her, too. And we're working on arranging a formal assessment by a doctor as soon as possible." He sighed, and looked up at the golden sculpture looming overhead. He felt trivial beneath it. "It sounds like she was used as bait. For Lazula."

"Where is Lazula?" Headmaster Skye questioned. "I tried to reach her already, but couldn't get through."

"...She was taken. By Condor."

"What?" The Headmaster's desperation was apparent.

"Condor took Mrs. Chino to the top floor of FPMC, and waited for Lazula," Caspian began to explain. "She traded herself for Mrs. Chino. She's alive. And I feel like he wants to keep it that way, but–"

"Meeting in my office. 8pm. Bring your team and hers. I'll dispatch a Marlin back to your location. Be on the lookout for it within three minutes."

The call closed before Caspian had any chance for question or protest, leaving only the time and his aura on screen. 7:46pm. Hardly enough time to make it back, even with the Marlin-Class. His head throbbed from both sides, and he could hardly walk without Rowan's shoulder for support. All he wanted was to coordinate Moka's reunion with her mother, and maybe find the shower on his way back to his bed. But Lazula was still out somewhere, alone with the most dangerous man on Remnant.

He turned back to his group, stifling a gasp and shifting back onto his good leg as he did. "Outside, I guess. Sounds like we're heading after Lazula."

He noticed Snow's eyes on his leg, and they moved up to his. "You're injured," she noted. "Your movement is indicative of a labral tear or severe upper femoral bruising. It may be dangerous to continue fighting, especially given your depleted aura."

"Thanks," Caspian recognized. "But right now, I'm not sure we have a choice."

CRLN and LSLI weren't the first to arrive at the Headmaster's office. Seven silhouettes stood against the city. A group of four straight ahead, and three more clustered to their right. Caspian recognized the four by the giant frame of one, and the outline of a weapon he'd seen held by the captain of the Sparring Team. Of the group of three, Mr. Verdi turned to face him. Next to him were Mrs. Kurayami and the combat essentials professor, Cascara de Sultana.

"Right. Thank you all for coming," the Headmaster began– out of habit or formality, from the tension in his voice. "I've already briefed everyone here, so we'll cut to it. We need to get Lazula back as soon as possible." A Holographic model of Port Cyrreine spread over his desk, bathing the room in its light. A wide ring formed around it, and within it a dozen or so dots of blue light hovered like stars in a simulated sky. "I've already ordered the grounding of all flights within a fifty mile radius of the city. All inbound flights outside of the radius have been diverted." The dots blinked closer to a beacon representing Port Cyrreine International, and dimmed to a shade of purple. Over the darkness that was the ocean, a single red outlier. "In blue, were the radar pings of each authorized flight. In red, every radar ping within the same radius." The purple stars vanished, leaving only the outlier. "Which means this is our target."

"Already found him. Nice," Rowan mumbled.

Lilly's fingers wrung Aegis's edge. The red dot illuminated her wide eyes and pursed lips. "But why are they over the ocean? Where is he taking her?"

The hologram zoomed in on the red dot. Three more appeared and began to act out the Headmaster's narration. "All of you will board Marlins we have at the ready. They're unarmed, but fast enough they're hard to hit. This should be sufficient to cut him off and keep his ship in place long enough for three armed Tuna-Classes to catch up. They'll force Condor onto an airship carrier that's already en route. Once onboard you will engage the target in direct combat. Apprehend him, kill him, so long as Lazula's safe, I don't care."

Murmurs rumbled across the room, mostly from CRLN and LSLI.

"Are we all going?" Caspian checked. "My aura's barely holding at 3%. I want to help, but it might be a better idea for me to stay behind with Ichigo."

"We'll need all the manpower we can spare for Condor. The only one we're leaving behind is Snow."

Caspian's reply caught in his throat. Maybe before, he would have been okay with it. Or even seen it as an opportunity. A chance to die fighting the Red Claw's leader in a bid to rescue someone who actually mattered. But not anymore. All he wanted was to go back to his dorm. Sleep, and wake up in the morning. He remembered the aftermath of Condor's last attack. Noxis, a month after taking the rest of Team CRLN three-on-one, clinging to life in a stretcher. The highest-ranked active huntsman bleeding from a gash in his thigh. That huntsman's questioning glance flashing between Caspian and the Headmaster told him he wasn't entirely unreasonable for his apprehension toward fighting Condor when he could barely walk.

"I don't think that's a good idea… I– I mean, we're all a bit beat up, but–"

"Being a huntsman means pushing yourself to your absolute limit for the mission. "The Headmaster's eyes vanished behind the reflection of Holoscreens on his glasses. "You can ask Mr. Verdi, and Mrs. Kurayami. They know as well as I do."

"Gonna kill your kid," Mr. Verdi grumbled. Mrs. Kurayami turned from them both.

"We'll lose Lazula too if we don't act now. We don't have time to debate."

Caspian traded uneasy looks with Rowan, then Lilly, then his own reflection in the floor. He tried to assure himself by thinking Lazula would, in a heartbeat, do the same for him. But for her, crossing blades with Condor wouldn't be resting her neck in the guillotine. Of course against the Grimm, death was always a possibility. He'd faced it before. But now, when for the first time the guillotine wasn't so comfortable, the blade hung above him and Headmaster Skye pulled the string taut.

Snow stepped forward.

"I will go as well."

"No. You'll stay back, and provide support from here."

"If Caspian is to be sent to his death, I will go with him. He won't go alone."

"You know how important you are," the Headmaster asserted. "And how important it is that we get Lazula back as quickly as possible."

"And what about Caspian? Is your son important to you?"

"Of course–" he abandoned the response. "It's essential we do not lose Lazula. You know this, and we don't have time to debate. I need Caspian to be our lead and point of contact."

"And you need me to stay beside Caspian."

"Snow, you don't have to–"

"She won't."

"I don't think Lazula would want this."

The room was silent. The huntsmen looked at the Headmaster, the Headmaster looked at Snow, Snow looked back, and everyone else's eyes fell somewhere in between. They each dared the other to speak first, and though reflections still hid his eyes, Caspian knew they carried the same look they did when he and Lazula were children, and one of them would break some rule. Lazula would talk back, or hit Caspian, and he'd get this cold, stern look in his eyes that scared him a little bit, even if he'd done nothing wrong.

The first sound wasn't a voice, but a light jingle, that drew everyone's attention to Lazula's floating portrait and the "answer" icon beneath it.

All were silent– no longer out of the tension that choked them, but disbelief. Caspian wondered whether it would actually be her. Or if it would be Condor calling for a queen's ransom, or taunting them with claims he'd killed her. The Headmaster gave less thought. He lunged for the button that floated a foot past his arm.

Her voice spoke from her portrait in the air.

"Hey. It's me. Condor just dropped me off outside the city. I'll drop a ping now, if you could pick me up."