She was finally doing it. She was leaving. She couldn't take this back.
Weiss Schnee's wedge heels clapped out the escape door and into the sunlight, one of several on the Schnee property her father had built out of fear.
The Schnees were among the richest on Remnant, and the only name worth mentioning in the Dust market.
Dust, the source of energy in all forms, limitless in application and mysterious in origin. It had made Weiss' grandfather a titan of industry, and their family a name worthy of respect. But her father…
She found it funny that one of Jacques Schnee's contingencies, this safeguard against consequences, was her own way out. A way out of subjugation, and control. From the man that had barged his way into their family and purged Nicholas Schnee's goodwill from its name. From the man she was ashamed she shared blood with. From the day she was born, Weiss had been trained and conditioned with almost no say over her own life. To see the poor as pawns and wealth as the ultimate good, so when she inherited the Schnee Dust Company she'd be little else but an arm of her father's will.
But she wasn't going to inherit the company now, was she?
She stepped out onto the windswept ledge as the breeze ruffled her graded white and purple dress and white off-center ponytail, a white sash around her waist and a smoky blue bolero adorning her sleeves. Her ice-blue eyes stared down past the two massive city shield pylons to the clouds, crater and dingy lower city below. A ladder was built into the wall, disguised by the ostentatious architecture, but it would be far too slow. With little but the case holding her weapon, she tried her best to leave the Schnee property without notice. Her gleaming, snow-white, snowflake-shaped glyphs served as solid platforms arranged per her choosing, with other functions as well. But for now, they allowed a safe, quiet descent from the manor wall, neatly avoiding the security shack. She was a quick sprint from the outer wall.
No. She'd only allowed her father to take her back home to Atlas because she felt a responsibility to reform the company one day. That, and the Fall of Beacon had left her so drained and weary… a change of scenery felt almost necessary. But she'd spoken out, she couldn't stand it anymore. Beacon… her friends… she didn't let on, but they taught her so much, filled in the gaps where she'd excised her father's lies. And then, in a move so decisive and cold, she was stripped of her birthright. Her brother was the heir now… and as such, her father would get what he wanted. Her decision had been just as final. This place was nothing now but a gilded cage. She mastered a skill, prior to setting out… and with the help of the only caregiver who cared, she was leaving to find her sister.
She didn't know what the future held now. Penniless, homeless… but for her freedom she would trade it all.
She ignored the cameras. They'd realize she was gone very soon anyway, so the guards were all that mattered. With a line of glyphs she went for it, zipping across the lawn to the outer wall, but could never have prepared for what she passed along the way.
In the corner of her eye a flash burst into view, and a black and blue blur slammed into the outer wall, sending brick and steel as shrapnel into the streets of Atlas with the force of a bomb. In the same moment, a strobe of pink engulfed the sky to the southeast. She slid to as sudden a stop as she could manage on the expansive lawn. Before her, his teeth grinding, a man with a huge teardrop of black hair in blue spandex with some kind of white chest piece stood frozen. His foot was extended where the thirty-foot section of wall had once been, and he lowered it to glance around in fury.
"What?" his gravel-pit of a voice belched, before their eyes met.
And then the property alarm pierced their ears, the shouts of guards in the distance.
Her case burst open, clattering to the floor as she retrieved Myrtenaster, her revolving Dust rapier.
"Who are you? W-what do you want?" she asked, glancing around nervously.
"That's hardly your concern, girl. Point your toothpick at something else, unless you want to piss me off!"
"You're… not here for me? You're not with the White Fa—?"
The man scowled. "I couldn't care less who you are! Tell me where I've wound up or get lost!"
She gathered her case, weapon lowering but ready at an instant as she slowly walked around him. "You just broke into the Schnee Family property, in Atlas, and you're about to be in real trouble if you stick around!"
She used the newly made hole in the perimeter wall and sprinted off again as the man scoffed, standing with his arms crossed. It was a near thing, but she made it the last hundred yards around an alley corner in the nearby commercial center, in time to mask with the other citizens fleeing what they probably expected to be a White Fang terrorist attack, like she did.
She couldn't tarry, she had somewhere to be. Atlas was closing its borders soon… and Atlesian bystanders weren't going to watch what was happening from very close by.
But… she couldn't help wondering what the intense mystery man's deal was. He didn't know where he was? Had he dropped out of the sky?!
She stuck to the shadows, watching as Atlesian Knights, weaponized machine guards, filed in to surround him. Human guards took cover further out, letting the machines take point as they prepared shots.
"On your knees!" cried a familiar voice from the machines. "You are charged with trespassing, criminal mischief, and destruction of private property! I said on your goddamn knees!"
In a moment, one of the Knights projected a holographic display of General Ironwood, the very man meeting with her father inside the mansion. Tall, dark haired and stone-faced, the image of the man in his white uniform towered over the ruffian near to Weiss' height. A keen eye might have made him out, watching the scene from one of the windows.
"I refuse! Fire your little blasters then, see how far it gets you against the Prince of Saiyans!"
Weiss —and probably a lot of people in earshot— mouthed the unfamiliar word, 'Saiyan' in silence and confusion.
"What is this, suicide by cop?" Ironwood wondered aloud. "You are in NO position to resist; I will order you cold! Now show your hands!"
The armored barbarian stood there, unflinchingly calm. He even laughed. "You're all quite fortunate, you've found me in a decent mood… I just escaped a horror you cannon-fodder could scarcely dre—" But then his head tilted southeast, and he let his mouth and eyes hang open like he'd seen the most ominous specter.
"Comply… now! You've picked the worst time in the last century to play these games!" the General insisted. "Sargent, he might be stalling for others; sweep the property…"
The Saiyan Prince ignored him, his breath calming, even as his teeth clenched. "N-no…! He's here too?!"
Ironwood's image turned. "Set stunners, this guy's out of his mind."
"Hey!" the Prince shouted, finally snapping around and barely getting Ironwood's attention. "Didn't you want to see my hands?!"
Ironwood stared but a second, before he took a short breath to give the order. It was already too late, as the Saiyan lifted his gloved hands out to the sky above as he bellowed. It was a split second's confusion everywhere, before an entire hundred-yards out from the man was taken by a devastating concussive force.
Weiss was nearly blown off her feet at the concussion of this human explosion. A thousand questions bottlenecked her brain as she watched the rest of the compound wall twist and fall, pinning a few human guards using it for cover. The windows of the manor blasted in, and a few walls collapsed to reveal the lavish interior. The Atlesian Knights were all thrown out as shrapnel, and quickly became the largest threat to passerby as people trampled each other in terror. Gunshots followed as soon as the enforcers recovered and took aim at the exploded man.
Weiss too took off down the backstreets. Forget closing borders, there was certain to be a fully-fledged lockdown after this incident. If she didn't leave now, she wasn't going to.
'*CLANG*'
She stumbled to a halt as a huge steel foot crossed before her, and she stared up to behold one of a number of new-model Atlesian Paladins, galloping ahead at surprising speed for their heft.
Weiss felt a chill as they passed by, a car slamming into one's leg as the driver fled in panic. The Paladins were Atlas Military tech, and on their side… but she'd spent too many encounters fighting a number turned to the dark side. In light of Beacon Academy, she was surprised Atlas was still using defenses that could be turned against them, but the draw of disposable soldiers and no human risk was evidently too enticing.
Admittedly, it would have been far worse if the prince had been closely surrounded by human targets…
She shook herself and pressed onward. She needed to be in the lower commercial docks built into the cliff… Freighter 003.
Klein had arranged it in advance with his own savings. She didn't have a Lien to her name now. She wanted to merely stow away on a larger freighter, but Klein wouldn't hear of it. Security had enhanced greatly, and the penalties in Atlas for such a thing would be severe. Even minor docks like the public ones she was headed for were in doubt, so honestly, this event might let her slip away easier if she played her cards right.
This part of Atlas was host to smaller strips of stores and minor businesses, and, honestly, reminded her of Vale. It was different from the imposing marble and granite of the west district, where lay Atlas Academy and the glassy spires of more modern buildings.
But as she glanced, she noticed the main road running adjacent to hers was becoming the source of booming sounds of combat, terrifyingly muffled by the buildings she passed between her and the thoroughfare. As she passed alleys allowing her view, the noises of thumping metallic feet grew louder. She heard that same gruff voice cry out before the streets lit up, and she shrieked, shielding herself as smoke blasted from the alleys behind her.
She passed another alley to see a car glance the corner of a building as it toppled end-over-end, sparks spitting as a glass awning overtop a cafe was reduced to diced shards. Another alley and she stopped dead. The man, this 'prince of seance' or whatever he was, stood perfectly still in the middle of the road.
How?! She was using her top speed —admittedly while trying for a low profile— and this juggernaut was standing there with his guard down like he was waiting for the train!
Impassive, he turned his head as she caught his eye, and she froze. He didn't break eye contact, even as a Paladin sprinted up to slam him with its fist. Still not looking, he swung his arm and wrenched the huge mech's limb off at the shoulder, a backswing of the same arm sweeping its legs and causing it to topple face first. The cockpit opened up, and a woozy Atlesian soldier scrambled out.
The prince finally turned back to the helpless pilot, grabbing him by the back of his collar and looked to be preparing a strike. Weiss nearly shouted for him to stop when an air raid siren echoed through the streets. A male voice began speaking.
"Grimm inbound… Concentration: Intensity Five. Please remain indoors… Grimm inbound… Perimeter shields building. Capacitors loaded in… forty-nine seconds…"
Weiss watched the man drop his victim, crossing his arms and listening to the message, as if to decipher its meaning. But she moved on as she had more pressing worries.
Wendigo Grimm tended to climb up from the crater and shimmy the pneumatic tethers, but Atlas had long perfected countermeasures for that. Which among Solitas native Grimm left only Teryx, or—
And there they were, a small cloud of the Grimm billowing up from the sea cliffs, drawn like moths to the flame of fear. Skin black as night and heads helmeted in thick bone, they soared on batlike wings, as big as a station wagon. Twin talons hung below lizard bodies, eyeless faces only facilitating mouths of predatory teeth, in a blocky head half the size of their bodies.
Wyverns.
Boiling over the walls, city turrets fired flak cannons, like buckshot into a flock of ducks. Still louder, distant blasts hailed the slow approach of Atlesian Naval Gunships.
Weiss Schnee had to process the situation. A level five Grimm horde was nothing compared to the fixed Kingdom defenses. That was the point of the one-through-ten scale in the first place, which rated Grimm waves in terms of a Kingdom's first line of defense. Anything approaching a nine or ten rating put the defenses in doubt, necessitating fallbacks, Huntsmen teams, and greater military involvement. That meant the shots from the Gunships were incidental. They were coming for him.
Whole airships, to counter ONE man?!
Her musing had only been a moment, but it was enough to forget that a handful of those hellbirds almost always got in. Through sheer luck, one Wyvern got between turrets and below their line of sight. Their high-pitched shriek gave them another similarity with bats, echolocation being their primary sense besides the innate Grimm fear sense.
It reminded her of Beacon, when a massive example of these beasts had doubled the threat just by flying over the battlefield.
The thing barreled down at her, and she knew what was coming. Myrtenaster's revolver chattered as it spun to the fire chamber, just in time to match the wyvern as it swooped down.
They never killed on the first pass, and so they never got terribly close. And indeed, its mouth tried to engulf her in a stream of ice, but she swiped her blade in an arc to cast a flaming wave. It passed over her, leaving her movements free from its attempted encasement, but it hadn't been perfect. She struggled to keep balance as her feet stung from the cold, glued to the street.
A shriek signified the real danger. A Wyvern's death charge, to finish their victims on the second pass, usually while they were frozen. She could probably kill it with its own momentum, but she'd certainly get ragdolled by the force. No choice. She kneeled away from it, the end of her weapon spearing the ground. A great glowing glyph bloomed from the point, spinning through phases until it was as wide as the street.
The charging Wyvern screeched as it neared, only to be silenced as it impaled itself face-first upon a huge, glowing white greatsword. Weiss smiled as the Grimm was left dead, spitted upon the huge blade, two-handed by a twelve-foot tall knight in literal shining armor.
Already the summoning trait of her semblance had come in handy. With such raw strength on hand, she felt nearly unstoppable…
"Capacitors ready… Hard-light shields in five… All air traffic must stay clear… All air traffic must stay clear…"
At the corner of the strip of city stretching between the agriculture zones and the abyssal cliffs to the ground far below, one of the huge, two-pronged white pylons buzzed audibly, thrumming as electrical arcs climbed its prongs towards the sky. Then, from bottom to top, it and every pylon surrounding Atlas fired a protective blue dome of hex-pattern blue light as the hard-light shields protected the entire city.
It was nothing to reach the docks from here. She even dilated time for herself to cross the remaining distance faster, through an alley and back onto the main road. She didn't dare look back. Marble steps led to a grand archway, and a largely deserted station. To her right would be the hangar for her freighter, somewhere down the gunmetal hall.
"We just keep running into each other," a voice rasped from behind.
She let her weapon clatter against the steps and slowly turned. Of course she knew who it was already. He stood at the bottom steps, smirking coolly. The Saiyan Prince, who glanced at her weapon. "Heh… smart. Smarter than the rest of them, anyway."
She nodded, finally getting a good look at what had become of the main road between Schnee Manor and the docks they stood before.
It was transformed. Storefronts were mangled. Soldiers lay —hopefully— unconscious and strewn over the road. A crater in the floor was tossing the remains of a crushed Paladin in a boil of water from a burst main that was quickly becoming a sinkhole. Not a single vehicle in sight remained undamaged. The hazard lights of a luxury coup flickered from the third story window of a posh inn as its car alarm blared its displeasure. A streetlight was bent in at a seventy-degree angle. An emergency alert hologram of Ironwood shifted between clarity and static, its head cut off from view by the tire of a bus flipped onto its side.
"I'm assuming I have your attention, so listen closely," he said, arms crossed. "It might not even end badly for you! Just tell me which of these craft are headed offworld. Preferably somewhere deep in Galactic Patrol territory."
Weiss somehow felt a swoon of unreality even stronger than the last few minutes. "Off… I'm sorry, off where? Galactic…? I-Is that a music group I've never…?"
He betrayed a growl, steadily climbing the steps. "Come now, don't make me take back that thing I said about you being smart already. Your ship, where is it headed?!"
"Mistral," she answered.
"And that planet is…?"
"It's not a planet! It's not even a continent, it's a Kingdom!"
His advance stopped. "Wait a second… this is Earth, right? The planet, so we're clear?!"
"What?! No! This is Remnant!"
His teeth began to bare. "But you're clearly human!"
"So are you!" Weiss shouted back, and instantly regretted it as his eyes popped wide.
"H-how… dare you…! Compare ME to—"
Both of them were cut off as a hiss sounded behind her. She whirled to see a circle-cut of tile in the floor rising, and as if by pneumatic tube —very likely, given the SDC's connections with Snow Shoe Shipping— a figure clad in white rose with it from a booth of steel and glass.
Weiss registered shock, stepping back from the figure of horror, his blue eyes piercing and mustache twitching. Incredibly to the Saiyan, who watched with bemusement, she stepped away from the harmless suited man and closer to the one that just decimated several city blocks. It was only her sudden action that got the exceedingly tall man's attention, before his strange elevator opened up.
"Weiss…" he began, his tone venomous.
"F...father…"
"I don't believe I told you, nor anyone but the architect about this route to our private hanga—"
Jacques Schnee couldn't ignore the annoyed golem standing behind her, watching him with a cold stare. "What's with him?" Jacques wondered in mild amusement. "Do you mind? This is a private conversation…"
The Prince narrowed his eyes, hand quietly extending…
Weiss silently retrieved Myrtenaster and began backing away. A nervous misstep caused her to stumble loudly on the tile.
"Weiss… do you…?" he said, turning to stalk towards her. "Did you hire this man to break you out? Where would you even go…?"
The warrior could snuff him out at any second… but something about his voice sent chills down his spine somehow. That was at least intriguing, but he focused power all the same. This worm would address him so dismissively?
"I-I told you," Weiss said, "I'm leaving… and you're not going to stop me!"
With her next move, the Saiyan stopped, lowering his hand. Admittedly, being gutted by his own daughter would work too…
She raised Myrtenaster. His eyes widened, but not in fear… "How dare you raise that thing to me?! The man who ensured you wanted for nothing?! The man who paid the finest swordsmiths in Atlas to design and craft that barbaric cudgel for plebeian ambitions beneath our name…!"
Weiss couldn't help it, her blade lowered as she retreated. Her father was the figure and inspiration for more nightmares than any Grimm or White Fang member could possibly instill.
"When this is over, I'm having it destroyed. This Huntress fantasy is over. I've fought and suffered and sacrificed to elevate the name of this family, and it's high time you started contributing too, one way or another."
Suddenly, something forgotten stepped its way into her vision. A bright, warm talisman behind him that reminded her of her own courage. The Prince, meanwhile, beheld the conversation with a detached sense of entertainment, especially given the thing that just entered the room.
She took a breath, and then a sharp step forward. "I've been fighting and sweating and bettering myself with no purpose but to restore honor to MY family name. To fix the damage YOU did to my grandfather's legacy, and our reputation!"
Jacques laughed. "Oh, I see! You've been taken by the romance of idealism! That while we're running a business that keeps the very world spinning, we should also be some damned charity!"
He feigned a gasp, as if he'd forgotten something. "Oh, that's right, we already do charity fundraisers, like the one you used as a platform to embarrass me and this entire family!"
Weiss sneered. "I'm not some half-interested reporter or faunus rights activist, father. We make obscene profits, subsidized to the moon and back by the Kingdoms for infrastructure services… We fundraise and push for minimal taxation in Mantle just so we can store the company assets there and barely pay taxes ourselves!"
Jacques's mustache bristled, eyes narrowing. Weiss didn't blink.
"I know how this company is run, father, because you insisted I learn! So I know all your dirty tricks, and I know grandfather didn't need them to be enormously successful, and respected!"
Jacques's features were stone stiff for all of a few seconds, before he let out a humored breath. "Well now your thoughts on the matter don't really mean anything, do they? It's none of your affair now."
"And that's why I'm leaving," Weiss said, matter of factly.
Jacques was torn between laughter and fury. "Oh, you are? I've never heard a threat so empty or a plan so short-sighted. You, always living with the very best, you're going to scrimp and scrape like a vagrant off the wage of a Huntress? Inside of a week, you'll regret every word… and it will be too late…"
Weiss was done with the conversation. She turned her back on him.
He chuckled. "Not like you'd make much of a Huntress to begin with. Now let's go…"
She didn't move. "You're right. It is time for you to go."
He bared his teeth as he prepared to stalk towards her, but a huge hand put itself on his shoulder. Turning he found the yet-to-be-dispelled knight looking down, firmly guiding him to his elevator. "What in the hell is this?!" he demanded, struggling.
"My inability as a Huntress," she answered, still not looking.
He was stuffed back into the contraption, bewildered and furious. "If you do this, I'd better not see you again! You'll be stricken from the will, you'll get NOTHING! You'll BE nothing!"
She finally rounded on him, even as the glass door sealed. "Firstly… good. I don't want you influencing my decisions ever again. Secondly… I'll be a Schnee. And you can't take that from me."
She stared up at him, unafraid.
"This is my life… and you're not part of it anymore."
A whirl of her hand, and a glyph surrounded the elevator, which swiftly sank back into the floor before he could do more than yelp.
She let a few seconds pass, before she let out a breath. Weiss set Myrtenaster back in its case, closing it up as the knight dissipated. She took a few steps toward the hall when she stopped, suddenly remembering.
The prince with his spear of ragged black hair was still standing there, watching the spot her father had vanished with an odd quirk in his hard brows before looking back up at her. "Tch… You vermin and your squabbling… Have to say though, if you hadn't gotten rid of him, I would have. Could have done with something a bit more permanent."
"What?!" she cried, horrified. "He's awful… but I'm not going to kill my father!"
"Probably just me projecting," he told her. "I never got that chance."
"I thought you were looking for a ship? What are you still doing here?" Weiss asked, a little too boldly, according to the tilt of his head.
"You never answered whether your kind are capable of interstellar travel, but I'm guessing that's not the case, right?"
"What? No, of course not! I…" she began, faltering, "My father owns the only company that ever even got close. Sorry, Space-Warrior, nobody's booking moon voyages today."
He smirked dangerously as she turned down the hall. "You've got a lot of mouth for such a small thing."
"We are the same size, so what does that say about you?!" she retorted, quickening her pace as he laughed.
She glanced up at the boards for ship ID numbers as she passed their doors.
Schneeanic 815… NCC-1701-D… 003! Yes!
She stopped dead, rounding on him and standing her ground. "I've told you what you want, what are you still following me for?!" she demanded, as he came to a stop feet from her.
"Honestly, I'm trying to decide that myself," he said, face contemplative.
Her mind went to the very worst, of course. "If that's what you're after, better than you have tried winning me over! Hands to yourself, or I'll…!"
The darkest look of confusion crossed his face before he gave a burst of mad laughter. "Don't flatter yourself too much, girl, but rest assured if I wanted that, neither of us would still be standing right now."
She felt a momentary chill. He wasn't wrong. She needed to be careful.
"This Mistral," Vegeta said. "What direction is it?"
Weiss snapped herself out of the haunting vision he conjured in her. "Well… South, like most everything from Atlas."
"South…" he muttered, glancing in the same direction as he grit his teeth. "Very well. Might even get the drop on the bastard…"
"What?" she asked.
"I'm coming with you, unless you think you can stop me," he told her. "Beyond that, I wouldn't worry, though stuck on a pre-space world I might need some filling in at some point."
Weiss inwardly flinched. In spite of what he said, she wasn't thrilled with his presence. As if she could likely do anything about it. "The pilot is only expecting one person."
"You let me worry about that," he said, his eyes alight.
"Ooooof course…" she sighed.
The door opened and she found it, a modest unassuming tan freighter. It probably had the capacity to help someone move house, if a well-furnished house, but apart from that it was wholly unimpressive.
The pilot, and only crew member, looked to have been checking his manifest at one point. But now, he stared at the ceiling, his response to their entrance twitchy. He stared hesitantly. "You lose your way, snowflake?' "
Weiss smiled, Klein's little nickname serving a masked farewell. "Well, I am wont to drift," she replied as Klein had asked her to memorize.
The pilot nodded curtly. "Okay, secret handshake is done. I don't know what's going on outside, but I'm keen to get going before the next murder of wyverns rears up. Who's your friend?"
Weiss blinked. There might yet be a way through without threatening people… "Bodyguard," she answered. "I hope you understand."
The pilot nodded, finishing his pre-flight checks as he circled the craft. "Yeah, sure. Listen, I remember only being hired for one passenger, but the sum was pretty good and I'm in a hurry, so call it square. Just don't pull anything like that in Mistral, not as polite."
He took a step closer. "You keep quiet at inspection stations and behind my freight. You keep your hands to yourself in regard to my freight. You do not ask about my freight. And if you're caught, you stowed away, we don't know each other."
"We don't know each other…" Weiss pointed out.
He pointed at her. "Good answer. Hop in, we're rolling."
Indeed, no sooner did they step in, than the bay doors sealed and she felt them lift off into the clear blue sky. The light and shadows drifted inside as its course aligned, and Weiss Schnee finally let out a sigh.
The Prince sat down against the bulkhead, settling in. "I'm retiring for the time. Ask your questions, but keep them brief. Didn't finish my rest prior to this in the first place."
"Do what you want," she said. "You clearly don't need my permission anyway."
"Hmm," he grunted, closing his eyes.
She found a spot against some boxes and tried to get comfortable. At minimum she wanted to keep out of sight. She didn't plan on sleeping with him around, but it might happen regardless. Still…
"So what do I call you?" she asked. "Besides 'Prince'..."
He was silent for a moment. She wondered if he wasn't already asle—
"Vegeta," he said suddenly, before smirking. "Prince Vegeta."
She nodded, rolling the moniker around in her thoughts. "Mmm… Well, my name is—"
"Weiss Schnee. I know, I'm not deaf, girl. Now let me rest."
Weiss went still as he snapped, but her expression softened. So he was paying attention?
She let out a puff of a breath. "Right."
The engine whined and the airship clattered as it climbed. No going back now...
The staredown continued on both sides as the young boy that demolished an Arch-Grimm approached them with concern.
"Uh… hi!" Ruby offered warmly, a trill of uncertainty in her voice. "Um… thanks for helping us with that Grimm…"
"Grimm?" the boy asked quietly.
"Yeah…" Jaune drawled. "How… did you do that again?"
The child stared blankly. "I punched it."
"Uhhhhh… yeeeah! We saw." Nora added, before doing a double-take as Ren had slipped away to stare down at the spot where the Grimm had been felled, a black plume still rising high.
She raced to his side, watching him with concern. Ruby saw the boy tracking them as well, clearing her throat and kneeling to his level. "Uh, so hey…! My name is Ruby," she told him, offering her hand.
He smiled brightly, thrusting his hand over hers in a slap that left her arm numb… and she was used to tanking the recoil of a high caliber rifle. "My name's Gohan!" he said, shaking her hand with enthusiasm. "Um… would you know where we are? This doesn't look like Namek."
Ruby faintly giggled. "Um, yeah, sure ain't…" She turned to Jaune, whispering. "It's not, right?"
Jaune shrugged. "I've never heard of it. This is Kuroyuri, outside the city of Mistral."
"Oh," Gohan said, beginning to stare around into the distance.
Jaune took this opportunity to whisper rather loudly, "Do you think he might be one of these 'Maidens?' "
From the short distance, Ren's voice just reached them. "Maiden… Maiden, Jaune… Think about what you're saying."
Jaune grunted, looking foolish as Ruby tried to hide a laugh.
Nora put an arm around Ren's waist. "You… okay?"
He nodded, closing his eyes. "More than okay. This village, Shion Village… my…"
He didn't finish, Nora gripping him tightly. Finally he found the words again. "What's important is they've all been avenged."
"I can't sense them!"
All of them turned as Gohan's eyes grew wide. Each looked to each other for an answer.
"My Dad, Krillin, Dende! I don't even sense Vegeta! But there are so many powers here…" A look of worry crossed him. "This… this isn't Earth either, is it?"
Nora approached, a little faster than Ren. "Kiddo, I… uh… we got nothin'. You're giving us nothin' here."
Ruby glanced over. "Ren, do you know what he's talking about?"
He shook his head. "I can't be certain. Sensing… it might be his semblance?"
"Gohan, are you alone out here?" Ruby asked, soft spoken as she could manage. "How old are you, buddy?"
Gohan sat down. "Well, I was with my friends, and my Dad, but then Dende made a wish… I think it's okay though, Dende wouldn't wish for anything bad…" He was quiet a moment as they waited, before he sat up suddenly. "Oh, sorry! I'm… fi- yeah, five…!"
Team RNJR as a whole recoiled. Gohan looked small, certainly… but he was unbelievably strong…
Jaune had a sheepish expression as he gave a slow laugh. "I'm sorry, you sure you meant five, and not like… thirty-five with an advanced kidney condition, and like… rapid-onset immortality?"
Gohan chuckled and shook his head. "Nope! Just five."
Nora frowned. "You kill your mom on the way out? Cause if that's your punch, I'd hate to know what your kick is like…"
"Wha—?!" he cried, alarmed. "No, my Mom is fine… my Dad died for a while, but—"
"For… a while?" Ren asked.
"Yeah, he came back after I trained for a year with Mister Piccolo."
"Mister Piccol—?" Jaune began, before Ruby elbowed him in the ribs.
"Guys, this is… confusing, but not important right now," Ruby said, giving the kid a wink. "Let's not crowd the little tyke."
Gohan found his cheeks growing warm as he smiled back. Between the past year and the company he kept lately, it was a strange comfort to be dealt with so gently, like his mother did.
Ren nodded. "So… where did you last see your friends, Gohan?"
"It was just before I ran into you guys! They were fighting…" But Gohan went stiff. Eyes wide, he began glancing around once more, stoic.
"Guys…" Ruby whispered, motioning for a huddle. They complied, bringing it in close. "We can't leave him here right? We all agree?"
Jaune nodded. "Of course not, he's five! He's all alone without his parents, someone needs to take care of him at least as far as Mistral."
Nora blew a raspberry. "You don't think the kid can take care of himself?"
Ruby sighed. "By five, the worst I dealt with was… Okay, I'm a bad example, but besides… y'know… Mom? let's say 'bedwetting'..."
Ren grimaced at her as she flushed, breaking eye contact. "Okay, so those might be related, I dunno… but there's something else. Guys, when I first laid eyes on him… he wasn't there the second before!"
"What?" Jaune exclaimed.
"What do ya' mean?" Nora asked. "He just popped into existence like that?"
"Ruby, he was probably talking about… the Grimm," Ren suggested reasonably.
"Well…" Nora intoned, frowning with concentration. "But Ren, we ran as fast as we could and barely beat it here! It never fought anything on the way, we'd have known!"
"So the boy just appeared miles from the nearest town, in a village that's been dead for a decade?"
"It wouldn't be any weirder than the other stuff we've learned lately!" Ruby said with rough conviction.
"Oh NO!" Gohan cried, stepping back as he stared fixedly east.
"What?!" the four of them shouted, reaching for their weapons.
"H-h-he… He's here…!" Gohan said, shivering.
Jaune looked around wildly. "Who?!"
"Frieza…" he whispered.
Ruby locked eyes with the others. The name… so short, so easily said… but it was the haunting conviction behind Gohan's words. What had he seen, what had this Frieza done… to warrant the chill in his voice?
Gohan's eyes were fixed into the distance, at something they couldn't see. "He got dragged to this planet too…"
Nora's head leaned curiously inward as she chuckled. "Uh sorry… planet?"
"OH MY GOSH!" Ruby shouted, startling even Gohan. "WE FORGOT ABOUT UNCLE QROW!"
She ran off in a burst of petals, leaving Gohan confused, but as the others motioned him to follow they all heard something.
"Hey, check it out!" Nora shouted as the sound of alarms grew louder, and distant shapes appeared in the sky.
"Those are Mistral airships!" Ren shouted, waving to the sky.
"We did it!" Jaune added.
Gohan watched as the strange wooden vehicles ventured closer, his new friends doing all they could to flag them down.
But he kept one eye on the east...
Anoleis Sagrei.
Blake Belladonna drifted through the crowds of the Kuo Kuana marketplace. She was accustomed to the shadows, but even in plain sight she managed subtlety.
If only the same could be said for their new friend, currently purchasing a switchblade, blotches of brown scales reflecting the harsh tropical sunlight.
Her —at first unwelcome— partner, the impulsive and excitable Sun Wukong silently approached on her side, all business… which was both impressive and strange. He was taking his recent injury by her old friend Ilia Amitola a bit personally, it seemed. It was always surreal since she started her Huntress training at Beacon, hunting her old White Fang affiliates, the faunus rights group she once championed and whose cause she fought for.
Faunus, simply speaking, were human. They could mix blood, there was nothing truly different about them from a fundamental level, save their extra-beastly features. For Blake, atop her head were an extra pair of feline ears. Sprouting low, Sun was possessed of a blonde tail to match his hair, prehensile to the irritation of some.
For something so simple, bog-standard humans made the lives of faunus the world over hell. It seemed that for how primitive or feral they were called, humanity as a whole held to primal instincts of otherising the different. Blake had seen both sides of it. She had once been a radical like the ones she now fought, but she held a more nuanced view now. She'd met too many humans that were indifferent or entirely supportive of faunus equality, and so many places were stripped of any law that called for anything less.
Likewise, not every faunus was a White Fang member, or bound to become one. And though she had her doubts, she wasn't certain the entire White Fang was complicit in participation of the kind of targeted anti-human warfare exhibited at the Fall of Beacon.
Exhibited by Adam Taurus, among many others…
No. Tribalism, collective punishment… it was wrong when humans did it, and it was wrong when faunus did it back. For or against was short-sighted, and it was always good to remember that the sins of the father did not belong to their children. One of her best friends had taught her that lesson… or, had at least affirmed it beyond doubt.
The Fall of Beacon had cost them all so much, and Blake felt responsible for one very specific loss.
She'd come here to atone, to her old home and family, to draw the black marks of her past sins away from the people she cared about… even if they wanted to share that burden. Sun had followed her, made her see reason in spite of her fears. Now, that her past had found her and was threatening another Fall of Beacon elsewhere, she was glad to have him around.
She was done running.
The scroll Sun had been injured to obtain confirmed the identity of its owner's associate. Anoleis was not a fighter, but a messenger that ran between Menagerie and the White Fang headquarters. A scrambled role, now that all but local digital communication was severed across the planet. Knowing what was soon set to occur there, and Blake never ranking high enough to have been given its location, Anoleis Sagrei might be their ticket in.
They worked their way silently through the crowd as he paid for the blade, barely a boxcutter. The shopkeeper noticed them, making solid eye-contact as Blake readied Gambol Shroud as casually as she could.
When she signed up for Beacon Academy and underwent the various non-skill-based tests and assessments of her health, her weapon was also judged. The people in charge of this —among them, the curiously perky and seldom present Professor Peach— finally classified it a 'Variant Ballistic Chain Scythe'. To this day she wasn't sure she understood what that meant. There was hardly one manner in which the weapon, with its thick sheath a cleaver in itself, a katana with a back folding hinge, enabling use of its handle which was itself a compact and automatic machine pistol… could accommodate the word 'scythe'. Or 'chain' for that matter.
Her friend and team leader Ruby… now that was a scythe. And many people regarded the weapon nearly larger than its wielder to be preposterously complicated. But Crescent Rose did three things, arguably. It shot from long range, it cut things, and then it cut things in a more 'piercing weapon' style when Ruby felt sassy.
Gambol Shroud was the oddball, but got a pass because it was so incredibly versatile, and she utilized its every function. And people respected it when it menaced them by its mere presence. Anoleis turned at seeing the shopkeeper's response, recognizing her instantly. Ilia must have tipped him off that this was possible. His teeth bared as he reached. He'd been carrying openly, pistol on his hip, so she was prepared by the time he squeezed off two shots. One glanced off Shroud's cleaver, the other sailing off out of sight.
The coward would shoot into a crowd just to tag her?! She didn't know why, but she thought cornering him in the open like this might prevent things from escalating. She knew he'd run, but…
Blake and Sun wordlessly gave him a longer leash, partly so he'd resist the urge to fire in the marketplace, and partly in the hopes he'd hang himself with the slack. By the same token, they couldn't lose him either. Reaching a corner, he whirled and once more fired twice, the rounds pelting the sand. He glanced at his weapon in frustration. He was empty. Wasn't it a six-shooter? This was why clips were generally better than revolvers…
Anoleis tore thankfully away from the crowds, passing a cart being hauled by a stopped auto, its owner tinkering away from under the engine.
He stopped between the vehicle and its burden, cartwheeling between them and using the action to launch into an alley. She hesitated once she saw what he'd done. The cart was detached and slowly rolling towards them. It was an amateur diversion, and it would never hit its mark. They could as easily sidestep it before it got near. All it served to do was endanger other faunus that were in its path, the people whose lives ought to hold value, even to an extremist White Fang member.
Her train of thought broke with Sun's feet landing on her shoulders as he vaulted forward, hands steepled as if in prayer as his semblance engaged, two glowing gold clones racing forward to shove the cart back.
"Go!" Sun cried, running forward himself to pin down the cart as she realized she had indeed been standing there watching.
This probably spawned the 'chain scythe' moniker, as Gambol Shroud's katana hinged back into kusarigama mode, ribbon wrapped around the trigger as she tossed it in an arc. The blade tip embedded in the cart's crates, and she pulled the elastic material taut as she leapt to run along the left wall. At the end of her arc she leapt forward, using her momentum to propel herself into the alley as she yanked the kusarigama free.
It was over.
The momentum of the kusarigama zipped past her, aimed at Sagrei's legs, one of which she caught. He tripped with ease, and she yanked the ribbon to drag him back when a flash of steel snipped it, and she fell on her back. Blake leapt back to her feet. The ribbon shouldn't have just broken, its material wasn't so weak as that.
She caught black boots landing between her and their quarry, and stared up into a familiar masked face.
Ilia.
They had gone for Anoleis specifically to avoid this confrontation… The chameleon faunus, brown hair curled into a long tail, removed her mask to reveal her bright blue eyes.
Ilia Amitola was an unusual faunus. Her skin could change color to match her mood. It was too bright and obvious to serve as camouflage, but her true mask was the very normal skin tone she generally wore. She could easily pass for human. Blake once wore a bow to hide her ears, but Ilia didn't even have to go that far.
Ilia aimed her weapon, a Dust-loading, telescoping steel whip. Blake scowled. Half of her weapon was out of reach, all she had was the cleaver. After all their history, was Ilia really just going to—?
Ilia recoiled from her stare, adjusting her aim skyward. With a flick of the weapon, a hanging bundle of crates crashed down in front of them. Blake knew the pair were gone before the splinters had even settled…
She glimpsed movement on the rooftop as Sun finally caught up.
"What happened?!" he demanded, glancing around wildly.
"He got away," Blake answered lamely, walking back down the alley. "I'm sorry…"
She felt a sick pit in her stomach. It wasn't unfeasible to catch up to them, maybe even overpower them… but none of it was appealing. She worried Sun would compromise himself fatally once he saw Ilia… or even that they might succeed.
Ilia had been her friend, in another life. She had the drop on Blake back there. If she'd wanted to hurt Blake, it would have been a golden opportunity. For that, Blake would look the other way. If they caught Ilia, it would mean nothing good for her. Honestly, it was better if their paths simply didn't cross. They turned out from the alley and strolled up the road as she sifted through the scroll contacts.
"So, what now?" Sun asked, arms behind his head as he walked. "Any other options?"
Blake sighed. "It's… really not looking like it. The position only really existed after the CCT went down, and everything I'm seeing suggests Sagrei was her direct contact with Lower Shambhala."
"Well we know where it is now. All this was only to buy us breathing room anyway!" Sun declared, throwing up his hands.
Blake rolled her eyes before snapping, "Sun! That 'breathing room' is to get us through the Cape London Bay without blowing the operation! We get caught in the White Fang High Leader's turf and we're dead!"
"Oh come on!" Sun said enthusiastically, spinning to face her as he walked backwards. "You're great at the whole cloak-n'-cleaver-sword thing!"
"Dagger."
"That too!" he praised, pointing her way before casually hauling himself up to sit on a business signpost. "So your dad spills the beans on Aiden…"
"Adam."
"Yeah, him! And then we sneak in, rescue Sienna Khan, and BOOM!" Sun concluded, legs catching the signpost as he fell backwards to leave him hanging upside down. "Viva la Revolution! Nobody's siding with the White Fang if it's taken by force, right?"
Blake sighed again, marching forward away from the beaches. "You make it sound so simple, but it's not. There's only one entrance to it, and it's built into the side of the cliff at the water line!
"Low tide, it's accessible, high tide it's underwater and sealed. Saving Sienna is hugely optimistic, even getting footage is a fat 'maybe'! Then we have to ensure whatever happens, that the proof gets outside Menagerie."
She found a window with a massive A/C unit dominating it and pulled herself up to sit on its edge, looking out forlornly at the craggy mountains before the Shard Sands, the desert that served as Menagerie's most expansive feature.
"And even then… I'm worried. I was actually really glad to find out the Albains weren't totally wrong. Adam's way of thinking hasn't penetrated the entire White Fang yet. The ones that haven't forgotten their principles may escape right into our arms."
Sun climbed down, staring up at her. "But…?"
She frowned. "But for Adam's plan to work, he needs the sympathy and cooperation of most of Lower Shambhala's high guard. I'm worried his sentiment runs deeper in the Fang than we think, if he's going to be so bold…
"We need more than just us to take this on…"
Sun brushed it off with a shrug. "Hey, you never know what's on the horizon."
Blake hummed in acknowledgement, still staring out.
Come to think… something was on the horizon. Between two peaks, a small sand storm was forming. "Sun, you see that…?"
"See what?"
First the deep sea crabs… now land crabs?
"Why does nature hate me?!"
The blue haired woman ran pell mell down the dunes to the blessed tropical civilization before her. In pursuit, a half-dozen massive skittering creatures hissed and clicked as they kept stride, mouths frothing with sandy foam.
A quarter mile away, the raven haired faunus beheld the scene, as her begrudged blonde companion smiled with understanding. "Oh, so that's the crazy wildlife sticking people to the city."
"She's just a human," she remarked with befuddlement, "what is she doing out in no-man's-land… in the middle of an actual land of no humans?"
"Man, this, the sky flashing earlier… been a weird day."
"I WILL BOIL YOU IN TARTAR SAUCE!"
The monkey-tailed teen got to his feet. "Now that sounds like a party! You coming?"
The cat-girl grabbed her sheath and blade. "In my experience, they actually taste better plain…"
The pair ran out, vaulting over small buildings to intercept the woman, crossing the distance handily. But no sooner did they stand before her than she managed a perfect ninety-degree turn to avoid them. She hadn't even acknowledged their presence. The faunus partners glanced at each other before the huge crustaceans were on top of them, a few splitting off to follow their original target.
Blake flipped backwards, leaving a dark copy where she stood as the beast's huge pincers snapped. It squealed awfully as her kusarigama embedded between its eyestalks, and she yanked to pull herself over to land behind it.
Another grand pull and it flipped onto its back, spearlike legs waggling uselessly before her cleaver plunged between them and into its heart.
A second reared up with a great claw far larger than the other, but she slung the cleaver into its mouth like a throwing knife, stunning it as she retrieved the kusarigama and wrapped its ribbon around its deadly weapon. It was like putting a rubber band on a lobster claw, which she proceeded to plug automatic fire into at point blank with her pistol.
Sun took out his staff and began probing for soft spots in the thick chitin, occasionally separating its components to give a blast of flintlock. Meanwhile, three beasts in pursuit, the woman in the yellow jumpsuit huddled behind some presently unserviced market stands. She reached into her jacket pocket as the creatures dug into the wooden structures, which wouldn't serve as shelter for long.
She came out with a tiny case and rifled through it, a number of labeled thin bulbs with buttons on them set into it like a regimen of pills. She pulled out a blue one, turning it to find a number four printed on it. "Huh? How'd you get mixed in here?"
A last slash took off the claw of Blake's current opponent, forcing it to retreat in agony, as Sun's toppled backwards after numerous rapid flintlock charges to the face.
Blake looked over to see the other three crabs rooting around the same general spot and gasped.
"I thought you told me these things eat geodes?!" Sun said, both running over.
"They crack open geodes for water, they are very much still predators!"
"Hey! Bisque and Rangoon!" Sun quipped, twirling his chucks.
"There's three of them…" Blake said dryly.
He shrugged. "I don't eat crab much."
"Chowder?" she suggested.
At that moment, one of them split apart as a thick smoke obscured everything.
"...Is served?" Sun offered, just before the blue haired woman shot out of the smoke in a dark blue hover-car.
"À la car'!" he finished, far too proud of himself.
"Please stop…" Blake groaned.
The mobile woman, a font of rage, rounded back on the crabs in a reckless spin. Already spooked by the chaos of the car's entrance, she repeatedly slammed her bumper into the creatures as they skittered away, her rescuers left bemused as she leapt half onto its dashboard in victory.
"That's right! I fended off an entire planet; I can drive off you punk bullies!"
Sun burst out laughing, startling the woman and causing her to flail back to her seat. "Haha! Drive…" Sun sighed, before realizing her fall had gunned the car in full reverse.
The hover-car bounced to a stop as it struck him, sending him flying into a pile of crates and smashing them wonderfully. He groaned as she and Blake rushed over to help.
"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" She stopped in her tracks, seeing the agitated simian tail attached to her victim.
She managed to hit some kid with a monkey's tail with her car.
"I am having the weirdest case of deja vu…"
She was utterly pale, both naturally and from fear. Her glass office, the jewel atop the tiered pyramid of Shade Academy, had offered an unimpeded view of the initial carnage.
Loose blue robes aflutter in the ever-present climate control, she fumbled with her high collar. It wasn't even a bad evening for Vacuo, yet her normally pristine, neat bouffant of platinum-blonde hair was coming apart. Given it often melded so perfectly with her skin tone, it gave the impression she was actually coming undone.
She, Dahlia 'China Doll' Quadling, had stopped deploying Huntsmen relatively fast. From her vantage point and desk monitors she got the picture. Something awful was running loose in Vacuo, and it was beyond any of them.
Dahlia had to wonder… was it her? After Beacon, was caution thrown to the wind?
Inside her office were two teams of students, the best consultants she had regarding Beacon, but none of it was helping to elaborate on the threat.
"We're just giving up?! We're going to let this… this thing come up here and have its way?"
"It's working," Dahlia said simply, leaving her quiet. "I'd be on your side if this being had since destroyed everything in its path… but they appear set in their purpose. It might be more pressing if the global CCT system weren't already compromised, but I won't play with lives in the name of a broken machine."
Of course, though the students looked conflicted, they didn't see her lie of omission. The tower wasn't the only thing worth protecting at Shade. But if this being wanted her so badly, she'd face them alone, the Relic be damned! The identity of the Winter Maiden was tightly kept anyway. If it wasn't safe now, then it never was. If Ozpin disagreed with that, then to hell with him.
Her cousin Glynda had been fortunate to get out of that mess unscathed. She'd not put her own people in harm's way, not for something that needed no further protection. Leonardo had said the same thing. "You students, I wanted to be sure this wasn't familiar to you that experienced it."
Dew Gayl stalked to the window overlooking the city. "We're meant to stop things like this! Powerless again?! What good are we?!"
Dahlia smiled sadly. "Dear, what you've experienced was nothing less than an historic tragedy… nothing even the greatest Huntsmen truly know how to anticipate, let alone fight. Beacon was the house of champions, but fall it did, even so."
Dahlia's chair turned to the window beside her, the Vacuo night as still as any night. "Sometimes we're simply smaller than the situation we find ourselves in… There's no shame in it. When gods move, mortals quake."
"Then what do we do?" asked the pink-eyed Nolan.
"We take no action," Dahlia said. "We offer no insult. We in Vacuo do what is necessary to survive. At least until the right opportunity is presented to us."
It was a bitter pill to swallow, and all of them reeled at the very idea..
"And if my encounter with this being goes poorly for myself… and I've no reason to expect less… I'd hope you to do all in your power to keep yourselves and your fellow students safe."
Gwen Darcy burst into tears. The sniper, May, prepared an admonishment, but a great noise shook the building beneath them. Everyone froze, dead silent.
"Do not arm yourselves," Dahlia ordered. "And stay well away from the door."
This almost seemed an unnecessary request, as both teams quietly retreated from the elevator they arrived on. The elevator that had not been called since their arrival. They all flinched at a sudden impact just beneath the floor, and a screech of steel just above.
Silence came again, but for a clattering of debris on the glass walls and roof, before they all cried out from something impacting the far wall. On further inspection, as the glass corner imploded, a great steel block with a door in it embedded itself in the floor.
The elevator had been blown through the shaft ceiling and into the sky…
The group all stared between each other, before finally glancing at the fixed door… upon which there was a polite knock from inside the shaft. Dahlia hesitated. "Come in…"
With no obvious cause, the steel doors whined as they folded outward rather than sliding. Lit bit by bit as he entered, Lord Frieza entered the room, arms behind his back as he stepped down. The students eyed him with confusion for his stature… and caution for his ability and pitiless smile. "My, such a warm reception!" he offered at last. "I don't suppose I was wrong, and that the name of Lord Frieza yet carries weight on this side of the Universe?"
Dahlia smiled politely. "I'm afraid we haven't had the pleasure. Am I bold to assume I am presently speaking with 'Lord Frieza?' "
"A trifle perhaps, but you would be correct," he answered with a tip of his horned head. "And I might presume you to be the famous Dahlia?"
Her jaw tightened. "I am the one you seek. How can we at Shade Academy help you?"
Frieza strode through the room, approaching her desk. "Well, originally I was hoping to charter a course for the nearest hub world, but it seems your kind haven't the sophistication, nor the aptitude to master interstellar travel… so a reference of your most current cosmological model will do for a start."
There was a curious wave of movement through the Shade group, like an inaudible gasp, played off so as not to draw attention. Dahlia had prepared herself for a lot of things. That wasn't one of them. "I… see."
Frieza chuckled openly. "Don't tell me my appearance escaped you! Don't be daft, I'm clearly not of the local persuasion…"
"Yes," Dahlia agreed. "Well, as the region's foremost institution, we of course keep such records. I trust that—"
Suddenly sounds of exertion echoed through the elevator shaft, drawing even the attention of Frieza. "My minion, am I to take it your formative years were spent in some barn? Do keep up, and do it quietly!"
Finally, a dagger swooped from below and slammed into the floor, allowing a sweat-drenched Cagliuso Perrault to haul himself onto it. "It will be as you say," he wheezed, "Maestro Frieza…!"
Dahlia betrayed a look of shock at seeing him. She was certain he'd been slaughtered like the others. "Maestro, Cagli?" she asked, closing her eyes with a smile. "I understand. I'm just happy to see you alive."
Team NDGO and BRNZ seemed conflicted on this matter, but as far as Dahlia was concerned, what choice did he have? Perhaps Jim Ironwood set such stock in loyalty that he expected it in the face of certain death… but she was more discerning. Deserters weren't traitors. They were individuals. Vacuo always championed the individual.
Frieza rolled his eyes. "On the topic of good form, I must say it's poor hospitality that you've not deigned to stand like your fellows, madam. One might mistake such as a deliberate disrespect…"
"Maestro," Perrault interjected, "it is not disrespect, Professore Quadling, she—"
"Hold your tongue, or it won't be the cat that's got it," Frieza muttered darkly, as he complied.
Dahlia sighed. "What he means to say is that I'm quite incapable. Brittle bones. It's why many have taken to calling me 'China Doll.' "
Frieza frowned. "I was informed this place centered upon the art of combat, but it's headed by a fragile tart obviously past her prime? If I weren't seeing it I'd think you were taking me for a fool."
"The Academies exist for the purpose of safeguarding humanity's future," Dahlia explained. "Huntsmen and Huntresses are our most valuable defense, but they are capable of far more than brute force. Our training expands into any field from which humanity gains a greater foothold in our world."
She smiled. "But this is not to say I'm as defenseless as I look."
Frieza hummed, a hand reaching to his scouter. They watched him with interest as the device chattered away. It gave a final buzz. "Oh…! Seems someone wasn't bluffing! Seven-hundred! Not bad at all, I suppose… were we grading on a curve…" he mocked, unable to keep the chuckle out of his voice.
Every human present was left wholly nonplussed. Was it some kind of alien, long-range aura measuring device?
"Well this is all the more vexing," Frieza said, curling his lower lip. "You see, the trash I dealt with earlier were somehow even less impressive, and for coming from a warrior caste, it's difficult for me to make the distinction at my own standard of strength, but they seemed wholly incapable of utilizing even the paltry measure of power they possessed… But for a time, I was more hopeful for the next."
He began pacing, as the sentiment within the room grew ever colder at the insult thrown so casually at the feet of the late MMGP.
"You see, it was most curious. Even after that first encounter, I was quite elated to have more challengers to relieve my tension. But after my new friend's little troop, I scarcely encountered a thing on my route here. I'd dare to say posts were utterly deserted… I don't suppose you'd have had anything to do with this…?"
She closed her eyes. "You can't expect that I'd place my people in the way of harm?"
Frieza's tail tapped the floor. "Oh yes, I suppose it's not your fault I'm in such unfortunate sorts… but all the same, prior to this I was quite robbed of something invaluable. I had the culprits in my sights, but treachery had its day all the same. Now, I find myself possibly an infinite distance from these loathsome insects, and nary a trace to be found… livid with a wrath that must be sated by naught less than blood!"
His eyes narrowed, as he began locking eyes with the room's silent occupants. Gwen Darcy fell onto her rear when his piercing red gaze found her… after which, he smiled.
"Then I shall step forward!" Dahlia cried readily, even as her mind reeled from the horrific notion. The bastard was offended that she'd spared people from him, just so he could treat people like punching bags, or so many sheets of human bubble wrap to be popped…
Frieza closed his eyes, before glancing sideways at her. "Very well, I don't deny you've garnered my curiosity. But what's to prevent me from changing my mind afterward, if I'm still sporting for more?"
Dahlia didn't know how to answer that question at first… "I suppose nothing."
Frieza smiled more deeply. Of course… Just asserting how powerless they truly were. He would do as he liked, with or without them.
Ah…
"Except that you would need to re-explain yourself to those on my staff. It will be difficult to seek help from others when they're not… present."
Frieza gave a humming laugh. "Hear that, children? Don't wander off too far now! So where shall we conduct our business then?"
"This is fine," Dahlia said, turning to BRNZ and NDGO. "Students, leave us please. This will be but a moment. Do take care."
Frieza nodded. "You as well, Perrault, unless your aim is to be flash-incinerated by mistake."
Cagliuso slipped into the shaft with nary another word. The two teams stood frozen, before their respective leaders urged them to obey. It was a sullen march, as they each approached the elevator shaft and leapt down. Dew Gayl assisted a still distraught Gwen at last, locking eyes with Dahlia before the last of them took their leave.
"You're certain this office is room enough?" Frieza asked, almost pouting at the implication. "A power level at least the equal of one of my standard guard, —not so common as you'd think really— yet your kind seem utterly incapable of using it to your advantage? Damndest thing… A power level reading should be indicative of present power output, not a measure of some unseen potential… Unless my scouter was quite damaged in my sojourn, I must say I've not encountered such a thing before…"
Dahlia remained quiet, only opening her mouth when at last she knew she could speak her most burning question. "I must admit, I might have made certain assumptions I'm yet uncertain of. If you'll indulge me… might you be the one they call 'Salem'?"
Frieza's eyebrows shot up for the first time in a while. "Why no, my dear, name doesn't ring the faintest bell… but a case of mistaken identity? I've not entertained such a thing in ages… You clearly respect my power, so such a suggestion… I may need to meet this enigmatic foe of yours."
Dahlia raised her left arm, and from her sleeve a baton leapt into her hand.
"I feel I must warn you," Frieza began, "even if you fully utilized a seven-hundred power level, you're little more than a bank note caught in a storm. For perspective, mine sits at five-hundred-thirty-thousand…"
Even given the circumstances, Dahlia did find the perspective… illuminating. He could be bluffing, but she doubted it would honestly affect the outcome.
Frieza shut his eyes. "The last person I eliminated had a power infinitely greater than your own… and he screamed before the end. If I'm entirely honest, entertaining this for a duel feels somewhat the farce..."
Dahlia's desk sank into the floor as her chair crept back, hovering rather than rolling as she sat cross-legged.
"Courtesy dictates I give the lady the first move… don't waste it."
Dahlia took a breath. If nothing else, she'd not make it easy. Her baton glowed gold as she focused. The floor shook a moment or two before the sky darkened. She snapped her baton to point at Frieza a split second before chaos took hold.
Wreathed in lightning, the glass walls and ceiling imploded as every object not fixed to the floor —including the elevator cabin— raced in to crush Frieza at incredible speed. The steel frames holding the glass crumpled inward, effectively turning the office they stood upon into the roof. She pressed the attack, the yellow tip of her baton revealed to be a Dust cartridge as it clattered out to make way for a red tip replacing it from inside.
With a whirl, a firestorm encircled Frieza's position, as hidden cases and shelves rose from the floor at her command, only to be lit and pelted into the ball of debris that was swiftly turning molten and glowing with the heat. Finally, a green Dust cartridge took its place, and she blasted it with a windstorm that could have sanded off bark.
By the end she was left with a twisted hulk of smoldering material fused into the floor, a mass of carbon and steel that hissed ruefully.
She knew it could not have been enough. Nowhere near. She lifted her hand to ready a blue cartridge when the mass exploded, hurling debris everywhere as the tyrant stepped away effortlessly. She was struck by the shrapnelized material. Her aura failed as she spilled out of her chair. She felt several bones snap painfully as she landed, none the least including her favored hand.
"Truly disappointing," Frieza told her. "But given your own handicap, I think I'll give myself a limitation in the most meager sense of fair play… As you favor such non-physical techniques, so shall I retaliate… ready?"
Dahlia's wrist snapped towards him as a stream of ice surged out in a torrent. Frieza merely appeared to blink, and the frigid fountain turned back on its source. Dahlia Quadling barely murmured in surprise as her own offense froze her utterly solid, dark cracks in the ice like black veins across every inch of the Shade Academy headmistress.
Vaguely satisfied, Frieza's eyes stared upward, and Dahlia levitated ten feet above the ground. With but a blink, she shattered into thousands of shards, floating in the evening air, before Frieza made a clutching gesture with his hand. At once, the shards collapsed into a single point, a squeak of compacted ice the only noise before it all compressed into relatively nothing.
"Hmm," he intoned, as the remains collapsed upon the floor like soot. It had been a time since he'd actually ground someone into dust.
He looked up to see her hover-chair was still quite functional. He couldn't deny… the crone had taste.
A/N: First thing's first... don't get used to weekly releases. I have a slight backlog, as I've been writing this story since Volume 5 started, but I am NOT that fast. I *MIGHT* put out Chapter 3 next week just because it rounds out our VERY beginnings, but after that I'm leaving myself a minimum whole finished chapter in my pocket at any given time. This is so I can look over things later with a fresh eye or perhaps adjust something I realized I needed setup for in a later chapter.
That out of the way, hope things are slowly taking shape for you guys! I'm sorry the Vacuo stuff with Frieza is so OC-ridden, but there's not a lot I can do about that. The only people we know from there aside from Sun —who are still there— are literally Teams NDGO and BRNZ... and they really have no character to them. The scene with Dahlia was originally much longer and featured those teams a lot more, but it became eye-glazing material, and my pre-readers only really perked up once Frieza showed up again.
Dahlia herself is my take on the last Lieutenant of Ozpin's, and she is a reference to the China Princess —or China girl, if you've seen "Oz the Great and Powerful"—. Given there are only so many characters in the Wizard of Oz, that was the best I could do to keep that particular theme running, not that I'm not kinda proud of her, given the short-lived unimportance of the character. And no, I couldn't have used Dorothy, because along with being Red Riding Hood, Ruby sorta already IS Dorothy. RUBY slippers... she's got 'her little dog, too'! You can argue the point, but I think Dahlia is more interesting anyway.
And before you power-scaling goblins throw a fit about her having the power of Saiyan Saga Vegeta, I make it VERY clear she can't use even a PORTION of that power. Remnant humans have surprisingly large power levels on average, or at least Huntsmen do... but it means nothing for them in combat.
Why? Well, there IS in fact an answer to that... which Chapter 3 will provide.
Oh, and if you wondered about Team MMGP —pronounced "Magpie"— THEY are references to other fairytale legends. Specifically Jack the Giant Killer, Thumbelina, Hansel and Gretel, and Puss In Boots. Take a wild guess on who's who there... Also yes, there is an example of Rule63 there, hehe.
Hmm... oh, and one last thing…
Fun Fact? Vegeta originally spent most of this chapter unconscious. How, you might ask? Well, he freaks out because he hears Jacques Schnee's voice, and later collapses from prolonged exposure to it. And THAT is because Jacques in RWBY is voiced by Jason Douglas... who is the American voice for Lord Beerus. So Vegeta collapsed, physiologically paralyzed with mortal fear from his childhood like in Dragonball Super.
Yes... I originally made a meta in-joke into a PLOT-POINT, because Weiss then took pity on Vegeta and hauled him onto the ship with her.
This was completely rewritten on the grounds that it was a HUGE leap in the name of a gag and deflated the reader's ability to take Vegeta, or the story ITSELF seriously. There are times when being a cheeky daydreaming dumbbell can create fantastic works of literary art... and there are others in which you're just being stupid.
Oh, and the cover image was commissioned by me personally. I'm REALLY proud of Transposition F, and I wanted to proudly present it, regardless of its reception here.
Stick around for more, folks! It's going to get exciting...
**2/4/2019 — Dahlia scene updated with Power Level changes