(A/N) Sorry for this being a couple days late; Friday was hectic and, I'll be honest, I forgor about this yesterday. So, uhh, sorry. But it's here now! So enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen

A Warrior Will Soon Run Wild

/-\ Blake Belladonna /-\

"Hello, Blake," I heard.

One of my ears flicked as my eyes fluttered open. It took a moment to place where I was – the library; I'd gotten a little tired while I'd been reading and shut my eyes for just a second. A quick glance at the clock, however, revealed it was at least an hour later than I'd thought. For just a moment, I panicked that I'd missed Yang's next tryout, but despite oversleeping, I still had quite a bit of time before they were scheduled to start. With a groan, I faced the woman who'd woken me up. "…Doctor Xiao Long?"

"Missus Xiao Long is fine, I'm not picky about my title," she said, taking a seat across from me.

"Oh-kay?" I let out with a yawn. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"Hmm… I think I'd like to talk about those abilities of yours."

"Aura?" She nodded. "Okay, I already told Central most of it, what would you like to know?"

"I'd like to know how it affects a person," she said, a frown on her face. "If it can change them."

"What? No! No, aura is the expression of your soul, it can't affect how you-"

"And by expressing your soul, can it be damaged?" she interrupted. "Does it… harden, in response to stress?"

I stared at her, for just a moment, completely uncomprehending of just where she could've gotten such an absurd idea from. Then I remembered which planet I was on, and that aura was such a new concept to them. "That… no, it- it doesn't," I said. "The closest thing would be if they were already somewhat unstable and let the power go to their heads, but using your aura in combat doesn't have any inherent effects on psychology."

She looked at me for just a moment before nodding. "I suppose that is somewhat reassuring," she said. "What about long-term health effects? Does it put extra stress on the body that may shorten your lifespan? What about the regenerative properties it has; could that cause problems with cancer cells if it develops? What about autoimmune disorders, could it amplify their symptoms?"

I shook my head. "No, nothing of the sort. In fact, it actually has an opposite effect to the point where it's not uncommon for people with aura to live past a hundred or even a hundred-and-ten." I chose to leave out the fact that most aura users died in their twenties, but that was unrelated to aura itself.

"That's… a nice thought, actually, but what about-"

"The only known negative effect of aura is the fact that it amplifies the range of your emotions."

She blinked. "The range of your emotions? What, do you mean mood swings?"

"No, I mean they can sense them further out."

The frown on Summer's face deepend. "...and who's they?"

My shoulders slumped. I didn't really like explaining this subject, especially to people who clearly hadn't had to deal with them for their civilization's entire existence, but… "The Creatures of Grimm; monsters that seek only to destroy us and our creations. They find their prey by sensing negative emotions and their numbers are literally without end. The only saving grace is that it appears they're a Remnant-exclusive thing."

"That-" her frown eased slightly, a sorrowful look worming into her eyes. "...I think we can leave the subject here. Thank you for answering my questions, Miss Belladonna, but my daughter has an event soon which I won't miss. You can come with if you want."

I nodded wordlessly, stowing my book on the shelf as we walked out. The walk to the live fire course passed in complete silence, but it didn't take a mind reader to know that she was thinking the same thing I was.

I hope Yang does okay.

/-\ Yang Xiao Long /-\

I took a deep breath before stepping up to the line, empty rifle in hand.

Like last time, my heart beat a mile a minute, but at least I knew what to expect this time. There were more people now than before – twenty-one besides myself – but I was still the only one from Security that was trying out. As before, we were all equally weighed down by rucksacks filled with rocks. I listened to Tech Sergeant Mendez, but his speech was exactly the same. Run five laps around the perimeter, shoot targets as accurately as possible, run the obstacle course once forwards and once backwards. And, of course, only the top five were getting in.

"Do I make myself clear?!" he shouted.

"Yes, Tech Sergeant!" we all shouted back.

"Then get your sorry asses off my starting line!"

This time, I was one of the first to react. I still attempted to pace myself, but even only a couple weeks of aura-enhanced training meant I could push myself harder and faster than I could've before. Still, others had been doing this kind of activity for years, and they were some of the best of the best. I still kept up moderately well, but I gradually fell back to eighth place.

In the second lap, I pushed harder, legs pumping against the ground. I still wasn't going all-out – we were too early in the race for that – but I gradually gained on the man in seventh place. I passed him just before the third lap, seeing a red-white-and-black flag with green Arabic text displayed on his shoulder. As the pack rounded the first corner of the third lap, we passed another man with that same red-white-and-blue tricolor I'd seen on my first go-around. Did we just lap him? I wondered. He was running just fine, simply much slower than we were.

The pain in my legs started to bother me on the fourth lap, but I pressed on and even pushed harder. Sixth place was almost within my grasp, but the whole pack was getting faster as time dragged on. Just as I passed the woman ahead of me, the pack split to avoid a mud puddle – I didn't have the space to react and slipped, falling back to eighth place after stumbling back to my feet.

I poured more aura into my stride – running even faster and harder as the fifth lap came. I passed Arabic flag guy by the first corner and almost reclaimed sixth place by the time the lap was done. I swiped the magazine from the quartermaster and ran to the nearest firing booth, gunfire already echoing through the arena. I took aim and fired shot after shot. Even with my rush to get done, I was doing better than last time – my hands were shaking less, I'd had more time at the range, and the others from Security had passed on a couple tricks to make me more accurate. Still, I doubt I'd be scoring the highest here.

I was about half-way through my magazine when the first-place man dropped his mag, cleared his gun, and ran off. I quickly cycled through the rest, trying to be accurate but not caring as much as before. I was the sixth person to leave the firing booths and I skipped the offered water break, just like last time. My ruck was practically thrown onto the ground right before the obstacles and I dove into the mud.

Rifles fired over my head, barbed wire pulled at my uniform, but I crawled on. I just had to catch up to the guy in front of me and finish before him. But the fucker was just a tiny bit faster, seemingly no matter how hard I pushed my strained aura and muscles, he was just out of reach. Over the vertical wall, through the tires, through the myriad of other obstacles and back again.

I was getting desperate by the time we'd both gotten over the vertical wall again, meeting the slower rookies coming at us in the barbed wire. I was only a foot behind him, but he knew it. He pushed harder and harder while I could only match.

And then I heard a scream of pain.

There, in the barbed wire, the leader had gotten hung up and tangled. For just a moment, I considered it a lucky break – if I could get past him before he got unstuck, I wouldn't have to beat this fucker – I'd finish in fifth and get a permanent spot on the Skyranger. Others seemed to have the same idea, passing him while he struggled to get untangled and keep his head above the mud.

One passed him, then two, then three, four-

Just a few feet from him, however, I had another thought. Could I really live with myself if I just left him like this? Sure, the attendees would rescue him if he couldn't unstick himself, but I could do that right now. I looked behind me at the rapidly approaching man, scrambling just as desperately as I was a moment ago. I'd be giving up on this chance if I helped him…

…but there was next time.

I could come back even better trained, but I couldn't come back here and unstick him. I wouldn't leave someone like this in the field, why should I do it in training?

So I stopped and grabbed the wire holding him. He wiggled and squirmed, but we got him free after a minute. We were passed a few times – he even told me to go. But I just grabbed his uniform and pulled forward. He got the hint and started pushing himself as well, despite the obvious bleeding from his leg and hands.

We crossed the finish line neck and neck, his arm over my back as his uninjured leg had cramped up. Still, we didn't finish anywhere close to the required five-or-better. The man at the finish line gave us eleventh and twelfth – the same place I'd come in last time.

I helped him onto a stretcher that had been brought out and he was carried away to the infirmary. I looked up above, to the observation room and saw the rest of my family plus Blake standing there, looking at me through the glass. I looked away, stowing my weapon on the provided rack before slowly marching away on the damp astroturf.

"Private Xiao Long, where the hell do you think you're going?!" I heard Tech Sergeant Mendez shout.

I whirled around mid-step and saw him marching towards me. "To the showers, Tech Sergeant!"

"Belay that, Private, Central wants to speak to you," he said, motioning to where the five victors were standing in front of Bradford.

I nodded. "Uhh, yes, Tech Sergeant," I said, throwing a quick salute before marching off towards Bradford. I waited off to the side while he finished congratulating the new recruits. However, he was using a bit of a harsh tone with them, even if the words themselves seemed normal enough.

After a few more moments, he dismissed them before turning to me. "Private Xiao Long," he greeted.

"Central," I returned. "You asked to speak with me, sir?"

"I did, Private," he said. "Y'know, what you did took some guts. Not everyone would stop to help a competitor in something like this – obviously, given you were the only one who did. But that's exactly the kind of thing we need in the field. Especially since you would have conventionally passed if you hadn't stopped." I blinked – was he…? "Every single one of our veteran members have been in tight spots before, and their friends bailed them out just like you did. So, in light of your actions today – and your clear fitness to pass anyway – I'd like to formally invite you to join XCOM's Strike Unit."

What? I thought. "I- I don't know what to say…"

"A simple yes would suffice, Private," he said, cracking a slight smile for the first time in… well, ever, as far as I was concerned.

"U- Uhh, yes sir, I- I accept," I said, mind whirling.

He nodded. "Glad to hear it, Private. I expect your gear moved from your locker in Security before your mandatory integration training at oh-nine-thirty tomorrow. Dismissed."

I stood there for a beat, not quite registering his words, but did get moving before someone yelled at me. I waddled towards the showers, still completely in disbelief…

/-\ Weiss Schnee /-\

"My heart grieves for my lost sister," My brother said. His image was plastered all over the Company's website in various poses and expressions as the new heir to our name. "She was taken long before her time, but we cannot let her passing distract us from what the Schnee Automotive Company means at its core. We must be strong – Weiss would want us to be the best we can be. As the new heir to the Company, I shall endeavor to make the world a better place with our new Eco-Green Engines!"

I shut off the video. As I stared into my reflection of the black screen, I couldn't help but think just how self-serving that boy was. He didn't even bother to change the name of the engine I'd been passively engineering over the course of my attendance at Harvard. Well, joke was on him – it was barely half finished and I had no idea if it would even work at all, let alone as intended.

I didn't get much done for the next few hours. Every time I tried to crack open a textbook, my mind inevitably went back to that weasel I called a brother. Him and father were just so… infuriating! It didn't take long to simply give up on my attempts to study, just as they'd given up on me. I'd taken to wandering the base, not with any specific destination in mind, simply… wandering.

The pool – and accompanying scenery – was nice. For a moment, I'd thought about making use of this particular facility. I even ran my hands through the warm and chemical-laden water. But I'd moved on just the same. People played games in the lounge, relaxing and laughing with comrades while others drank their time away – either merrily or sorrowfully. I saw Ruby and a few of the soldiers pile into one of the private rooms off to the side. I considered seeing what they were doing, but thought better of it.

Instead, I kept wandering. I wandered through the halls, exploring where I now could due to my limited employment here. As I passed a group of men standing next to a coffee nook, I overheard them talking about some country leaving a council. I only caught that much, lacking any real context clues beyond that. The next stop was the small interior park – barely as big as the lounge. There was only a single tree at the center, ringed by various bushes and other plants. I passed through that quickly as well.

My feet brought me to the civilian motor pool – right next to the military one where supply convoys brought in whatever the base needed. Though it was nominally Security and the Strike Teams jobs to assist in unloading, I'd found myself and Ruby conscripted to help on a couple occasions already. However, this was my first visit to the civilian side of it – the place where the base personnel's personal vehicles were stored if they didn't have long-term accommodations for them already.

I scanned over the various cars, pickups, vans, even motorcycles with half-lidded eyes. Just about every model imaginable was parked here, jammed as tightly as possible. On top of that, there were another two floors to this particular facility. My gaze was drawn to the workbays off to the side – they mostly existed for leisure; some people really liked working on their vehicles, after all. However, I did a double-take after my eyes passed over a certain yellow-striped black truck.

That's a Schnee Model-LT, I realized. It was one of my Grandfather's first designs… and one of the first cut from production when father took over. I'd never seen any with a yellow racing stripe before, though the black base coat was quite standard.

I strode down the few metal steps in the direction of the particular workbay the truck occupied. As I did, I realized that one of the tail lights was extremely damaged – almost like it was made of wax and left under a heat lamp for far too long. "What… the hell?" I muttered, running my hand over the charred and droopy metal.

"Uhh, hi?" a woman said from behind me. I whipped around and saw Ruby's sister standing a few feet away, holding a brand new exterior panel. She wore the standard olive green army fatigues that all the off-duty soldiers wore – didn't she just get into a strike team?

"Umm, is this your truck?" I asked, realizing I'd been staring for a moment.

"...Yeah, why?"

"Just… wondering," I said, turning back to it. "I wish we still made these – they're a relic of a better time."

"Huh?" Yang muttered. "Wait, you're- well, that's a huge coincidence…" she said, walking up next to me.

"Tell me about it," I said. "The truck, I mean. It looks like an… eighty-six?"

"Eighty-seven," she said. "Bought her from one of my uncle's work friends a couple years ago. He took good care of her, but he just wanted something newer. I fixed up what little was broken – you know how durable these things are – and added the stripe. Never been in an accident, though she did get used as cover in a shootout with aliens."

I blinked. "Well… that explains the damage, at least."

"Yeah. Finally get to fix her now – I've been too busy with training."

My gaze trailed over to the panel and the box of tools in the corner. I'd always wanted to work on one of these models… or any model designed when the company was good. "Need a hand?"

Yang shrugged. "Not really, but I guess it wouldn't hurt. I'm Yang, by the way." She held out a hand.

I shook it. "Weiss Schnee, heiress… err, ex-heiress to the Schnee Automotive Company."

"Damn, that sucks. Didn't know you got cut out of the will," she said. "Alright, let's get started."

She walked me through what tools we'd need and we set off to work. First, we needed to bust out the wrecked tail light, which I was very thankful that Yang was strong enough to do herself. While she did that, she had me take off the tire from the damaged side. It was already jacked up, so I simply – read: barely – lowered the wheel to the ground after freeing it. We worked to get the tailgate and bumper off, then – the latter of which was welded to the damaged side by the sheer heat of the alien plasma.

Then she had me start near the cab and loosen the many bolts holding the actual side panel on while she ripped out the bed liner. She then unscrewed the bolts that were covered by that and we finally had the side panel off. At this point, we decided to head down to the mess hall and eat a late lunch. On the elevator down, however, I had a realization.

Working on cars was… boring.

All this time, I'd hyped up being an engineer to myself, but actually working on a truck I've wanted to for almost a decade now… it was just metal. Metal shaped by the hand of my Grandfather, sure, but metal all the same. Where was the magic? The challenge of it all?

I sat across from her at a table and began eating the beef stew provided. Nothing was as it should be. I was supposed to stay at Harvard and prove I was the better child to run our company. I was supposed to be one of the best engineers in the world. I was supposed to enjoy working on cars.

My thoughts drifted back to Durand. She said I had a gift.

I looked at my colleague, sipping at her own stew. If I truly had a gift… I looked at her intently, trying to gain anything new – any insight. She was able to read my mind, but she probably had years of experience doing this. If I could just get a hint of what she was thin-

"Uhh… something up?" She asked.

I jerked back on the bench. "What?"

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment. "Huh. Must've spaced out pretty hard, then – almost looked like you were angry at me for some reason."

My face felt just a little warmer after her comment. "Oh. Apologies."

She made an affirmative noise as she shoveled more food into her mouth. I also turned back to my food, though in embarrassment rather than the indifference she felt.

What was I thinking? Of course I wouldn't be able to use any psychic powers I'm still not convinced I have. I was never trained in it like Durand was. The rather bland beef stew gradually decreased in volume, my mind whirling all the while. I re-thought my earlier assumption that working on vehicles would be my true calling. Maybe engineering just… wasn't for me? I was okay at it, but no Schnee would ever be satisfied with okay – not father, not Grandfather, and certainly not myself.

So what did that truly leave?

With a frown, I turned my attention back to Yang. "What's it like being on a strike team?"

She blinked. "Uhh, I haven't been on a mission yet, so… I dunno? There's a lot of training to go through, I can tell you that much."

"Hmm… okay, well, hypothetically, where would one start this training?"

Yang paused mid-bite. "You're kidding, right?" I gave her a flat look. "Okay, not kidding. Look, I'm not trying to be mean, but that training would chew you up and spit you right back out – probably with a few broken bones for your trouble. I've been in pretty good shape for basically my entire life and even with aura I had to stay in the medbay for a few days after getting last place on my first attempt."

"You think I'm incapable of bettering myself?" I growled.

"No, no! I just…" she sighed. "If you're really sure, you can tag along tomorrow for my workout with Blake. Just… don't be too hard on yourself when you can't keep up."

"We'll see about that," I said. "Time and place, Xiao Long."

She told me and we got back to work on the truck.

The next day came and I was shown just how thoroughly I'd been mistaken.

/-\ Blake Belladonna /-\

My friend groaned from her prone position on the couch in front of me. "That bad, huh?"

"You people aren't Human…" she groaned.

"Correct, at least in my case," I said, not looking up from my book.

"You know what I meant," she said. "How am I supposed to get in when those are the requirements?"

"Well, they do want the best of the best. Physical fitness is obviously a huge part of that."

"I thought I was in shape!" she shouted. "I've always watched my caloric intake and made sure to only eat healthy foods."

I looked up from my book, seeing she'd rolled over to face me. "You… do know there's a difference between being in shape and being thin, right?"

She didn't answer.

"Weiss… you can't build muscle by just eating the right things. That can help, but you actually need to use what you have in order to improve."

"Well, I certainly used them today."

"And that won't be enough," I said. "You need to do it a lot to be in the kind of shape XCOM needs. Take tomorrow off and then come find us the day after. We'll have something that's a little more your speed."

"Ugh, fine. Clearly I don't know as much as I should on this subject."

From there, I went back to reading. Weiss's breaths slowly evened out over the next hour or so – when I next checked on her, she was obviously asleep. I looked around the library for a blanket, but it seemed that this particular creature comfort wasn't in XCOM's budget.

So I resigned myself to simply reading while she rested. Both Yang and I knew Weiss wasn't really prepared to workout with the intensity we usually did, so we purposefully dialed it back. A lot. Of course, that didn't stop her from constantly insisting she could do anything, even when clearly exhausted. She only threw in the towel when she was struggling to keep herself upright – we had to carry her to her room for a change of clothes and then I carried her here after she insisted she wasn't tired enough to sleep.

She's just as headstrong here as she was back home, I thought.

Just as I went back to reading, I heard someone approach. The gait and heaviness of the steps were an instant give-away. "Hello, Yang."

"Hey Blake," she said, standing behind my chair. "Well, Ice Princess is beat, huh? Can't say I didn't see that coming." I hummed in agreement, turning the page. "Anyways, Bradford wanted to talk to you. Something about a breakthrough with the Council."

I shot up straight. "What? Really?"

She shrugged. "I don't know the deets; he just wants to talk to you. Know where his office is?"

"Y- Yeah, I do," I said, standing up and setting down my book on a nearby end table. "Alright, I'll be back soon, hopefully. Mind keeping an eye on Weiss?"

She took out her phone, swiping my old chair. "Yeah, I got her."

Muttering a thank you, I exited the library and headed towards Bradford's office. My pace gradually quickened to a powerwalk the further I went, even earning a couple stares from the various base personnel I passed along the way.

I did slow down to a normal pace once I neared Bradford's office; if only so I wouldn't look weird being slightly out of breath for the first minute or so of the conversation. Finally, I stepped inside after waiting a moment for his secretary to call me in. "You wanted to speak with me?" I asked, taking a seat opposite his metal desk. Oddly, they hadn't had the guards come inside with me this time. I took it as a good sign.

He nodded. "Surprised you got here that quickly, Belladonna, but yes, I do," he said. "As Private Xiao Long probably passed on, I've had a breakthrough with the Council. They're allowing you to join a strike team." I blinked – was it finally time? "...On a few conditions."

That brought a frown to my face. "Name them. If they aren't too egregious, we can probably work something out."

"If I'm honest, it's… a pretty stupid condition. They want you to run the Rookie Selection Course with the next batch of them and not only get first place, but have your time be half that or less of whoever takes second."

"That's the same one that Yang ran, right?" I asked, earning an affirmative. I thought for a moment. "It won't be easy, but I can do that."

"Really?" he asked. "I'm a hundred-percent sure they meant this as some impossible task for you, but if you think you can do it, I won't push for any better conditions."

"I'm sure." And more than a little mad at the Council for this.

"Alright. We've been taking heavier losses than expected, so you won't have to wait long for a new selection course; the new rookies will be here in a few days. Prepare yourself as best you can by then," he said. "And just between you and me, you don't have to prove anything. Any remaining doubt about you was gone after we gave you your weapon back a few days ago and you turned it back in after explaining how it worked."

I hummed. "Well, if that's all?"

He nodded. "It is. Dismissed."

I stood up and walked out, planning what little I could do to give myself the best chance possible. I didn't really like any of the options I came up with.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to this pain in the ass. I'd quite enthusiastically signed up for it, after all.