Cinder Fall's eyes seared a hole into the distant clouds as sweat poured down. She loathed the need for every shuddering breath as she once more approached her limit.

"Again!" she ordered, as the spray of ocean waves thundered up from below.

Emerald and Mercury obeyed, palms out as silver and jade blasts flared out in different directions, over and over and over again.

Cinder shook the ground as she took off after them. Her disciples watched as she became a shooting star, pinging between each of their blasts and reducing them to smoke. She was forming new and nonsensical constellations in the overcast skies as she hurried to catch them all.

Once it was over, sky filled with haze, she descended. She touched the ground and fell onto her palms. "It still won't last," she said, the speaker undeterred by her own heavy breathing. "Hit me with your strongest!" she ordered. "Together!"

The pair hesitated, but Mercury groaned as he fed power into his fist. Emerald followed, watching Cinder with concern as she stared back.

The two of them had trained together enough to feel the other's rhythm, however, so in the split second that Mercury fired, Emerald was in lock step as their beams spiraled around each other towards their master.

Cinder leapt up to her knees to catch the burgeoning blasts, already positioned to oppose their force as it shoved her to slide over the smooth black rock until her feet found purchase, mere yards from the cliff and the frothing sea.

Cinder knew the blasts were white hot, but as she was they barely felt toasty even as their light gleamed in her face. Finally lifted into her feet by their force, she shoved them up and over her head to trail higher and higher.

Reality seemed to ripple with shock as they slammed into the very sky, expanding with a pop before dissipating into smoke. Cinder stared only at her feet as she shook, fighting to stay upright.

"You're getting faster," Emerald told her, running up. "Even with a better grasp on this stuff, you're barely more than a blur to me when you get going."

"It hardly matters," Cinder told her. "I still can't keep it up for more than a few minutes. I've never seen that damn Ginyu tired, and we're supposed to be similar in power. I don't know what I'm doing wrong…!"

Mercury nodded. "Yeah, noticed that too. Guess it's not just a 'you' problem."

"I sneezed a minute ago."

The three turned to find Ginyu tramping towards them. They hadn't heard the door to the Sword's vault opening, its frame conspicuously hung over the wet stone. "Anyone talkin' about me?"

"Has it been that long?" Emerald asked

"Eight hours," Ginyu confirmed, taking a deep breath. "Time's up." She grabbed the sword off her hip, tossing it up at the ivory dais nearby, where it was caught and floated point-up as if magnetized.

Emerald huffed. "Is there a point to taking the Sword with you? We can't exactly steal it when you have us walled-in here."

"Your boss comes and goes with black portals," Ginyu said with irritation. "I'm not taking any chances. This sword goes missing and Lord Frieza'll have my horns…" She blinked as she looked up briefly, then grunted as she remembered. "Whatever, you know what I mean. Anyway, scram. It's supper-time upstairs. I'm only letting you in here because I can't keep eyes on you at all hours."

Mercury sneered. "Big job babysitting?"

Ginyu scoffed as she beckoned them. They obeyed, crossing the Vault threshold before she touched the doorframe and the series of golden crescents began sealing it up again. "Those bozos in the Uplift program make you look like geniuses. Can hardly wrangle anything! I have to push 'em so hard, most of the applicants don't make it. Shame, given the entry requirements…"

"You're surprised?" Cinder asked. "Salem seeks only the strongest, as do I. Naturally we're worlds apart from the rabble."

Ginyu didn't answer, only grunting as she set off across the underground lake. They followed, back up, up, up to the ground floor of the school, popping out of the —now guarded— elevator shaft and into the raucous dining hall.

Frieza, quite relaxed at the room's far end, was holding an informal audience as a bustling classical tune played and the diners largely ignored it, regaling the day's labors and curiosities to each other.

"...And this presumed coup you speak of," Frieza began with interest, "you were a chief conspirer then, Miss…?"

A single lock of silver in long auburn hair was brushed from her golden eyes. An oddly selective top of chainmail jangled over a long blue sleeve shirt with every sway of her body. A long red scarf and silver shoulder cape were the only modesty for her immense midriff before her shorn crimson hotpants. A stylish tattoo ran from the bottom of her shirt to nearly her thigh-high black leather boots, and the pants were so slim as to barely have obscured it at all.

She answered with a voice Cinder would have described as a 'pixie-ish alto.' An octave higher than her own, but not high.

"Esclados, my Lord Frieza. But just 'Carmine' if you like it casual," she answered.

"That is entirely a matter of whim, my dear," Frieza droned. "Continue."

Cinder knew a flirt and a flaunter when she saw one, but Carmine seemed smart enough to keep any shade of arrogance from her tone.

"The Crown leaders, Jax and Queenie —excuse me— Gylian Asturias, attended Shade while I trained at this school. They yearn for the days of Malik The Sunderer, when Vac— Colony One, rather, was ruled by a royal bloodline. They believe themselves the rightful heirs of this lost line. I did as well."

Frieza chuckled. "And my coming has complicated such ambitions, I trust?"

Her eyes turned down in lament. "Against my advice, they're determined to resist even you, and their adherents will not come quietly."

Frieza's twisted smile only grew harsher. "What sport… You're paying attention then, Ginyu?"

"Naturally, sire."

"They aren't a common foe," Carmine insisted. "Jax commands loyalty with his semblance. He can dominate the minds of others. His reach has extended even to some of the teachers in this school."

This got the evil emperor's attention. "Truly? And the woman?"

Carmine hesitated. "Gylian Asturias?"

Frieza's nostrils flared at the delay. "Yes, has she a vital role? You are privy to their plans, are you not?"

She didn't hesitate this time. "She can siphon the Aura of living things, people mostly. She stockpiles power and plans to use it to bolster their army. They formed an underground fight club on the city outskirts to draw people with powerful semblances. Dominate them, forge them into an army to wrest power from Shade."

Ginyu gave an amused chuckle. "That might even have worked…"

Frieza considered. "I suppose you can give me exact details about their hovel?"

"Two places, actually," Carmine said. "The club, and an abandoned Dust mine."

"And the spies within this school?"

"...Won't matter once Jax is dead," Carmine said.

Frieza leered. "Apart from the chance that they can be watching this very conversation and warn the rats that would be king…"

Carmine's auburn brows did a sort of shrug. "In which case, you'll need to act fast…"

Frieza glared for a few precious seconds. He burst into laughter.

"Hahahahaha! I see! Very well then, Miss Esclados… what do you ask in exchange?"

Carmine fixed her eyes on his. "Amnesty for my part in their plan."

"Naturally," Frieza said. "And what part was that?"

"I sought out potential finds to bring into the fold."

"I suspect forgiveness is not your sole want?"

She shook her head. "The Uplift program. I want in."

Frieza's humming laugh quickly turned into a quiet cackle. "Is that all then? You understand there is a requisite cost of entry?"

Carmine shut her eyes. "My birth family is off in Atlas where I started. Jax and Gylian… they were the closest thing I had to 'family' since…"

Frieza's finger tapped the arm of his throne as he peered into her.

"We shall verify this of course… for the moment, I will consider this exchange final." Frieza sought the Winter Maiden's eyes. "Ginyu, take the lass' details, and do be thorough. The woman matters less to me than the domineer."

Cinder and her team had already sat down. Emerald watched as Carmine followed Ginyu out, reaching a hand and floating a drumstick out of the hand of a preoccupied Minuteman, to his confusion.

"So someone else had their sights on Vacuo," Emerald noted.

There was a loud thud as Hazel plunked down a chair away. "We were aware, it just didn't matter. The Asturias' were against external influence on Vacuo, and luddites besides. They wouldn't have allied with Salem. She was going to let the ensuing coup weaken the Kingdom. But then Frieza entered the picture…"

Cinder stood up. Emerald nearly objected, except her plate was emptied.

"Head to our chambers," she commanded. "I'll be along eventually."

"You're doing more training?"

"It's none of your concern."

She left before any of them could say anything. Out into the courtyard, she stepped to the ledge of the school's raised plateau and the city lights barely brighter than the shimmering curtain of stars overhead.

She paused as she heard a shrill call on one of the nearby ledges. She looked over to the familiar, long-legged bird, staring down into the black ravine. Its frond-like crest raised from its slender neck, showing off its mane of iridescent dark green-blue plumage.

No. She hadn't forgotten.

She leapt, took flight, over the dark chasm, over the city walls and into the endless sands.

But as she landed, she realized she wasn't alone.

"You've such a zeal to make this power your own," Frieza said. "You are a driven woman… I'd like to know what drives you…"

Cinder turned. "It's as plain as the nose on my face," she said, indicating her visage and arm. "The Silver-Eyed girl did this to me… She will suffer in turn."

"Surely she can't be so formidable now. Your power has eclipsed most anything this world can offer. No no… there's much more than that." Frieza strode closer through the sand. "You seek to perfect your power, there is a hunger in you…"

Cinder shut her eyes. "That's a story longer than I'd waste your time with, my Lord."

"Oh bah," Frieza dismissed with a wave of hand and tail. "My time is valuable, certainly, but I'm hardly steeped with pursuits here. I want the full Iliad."

She winced. "None but Salem have heard that story…"

"Pity I'll not have the honor as the first then."

Cinder swallowed. She understood, and took a breath. "My story begins with a girl long dead. Her name was Ashley…"

Ashley Rhodopis was the child of a whore.

The little golden-eyed girl, no older than ten, followed her mother, black locks dangling to her bare shoulders. They bounced as she was tugged along by the hand, red tank top with loose black pants above her sandals.

"Mom, I can walk without—"

"Not here, Ash," her mother said, draped in blue, her own river of black hair bobbing as they navigated the crowded sandy streets. "This is a bad part of town. You'll be snatched and carried off."

"Every part of town is bad."

Little Ashley wasn't wrong. Vacuo was a rough place to grow up in the best of times.

"This part is worse."

Ashley noticed they had long lost sight of the ravine and its new decor. She wasn't sure what was happening in town, but banners with pennants stretched from all four corners of Shade Academy across the river far below, to fixtures on buildings on the other side.

They found the little tailor shop along the North wall, comprised of the same sandstone brick. Through a beaded curtain they found a service desk, and a plump, grandmotherly woman with faded pink eyes and flyaway powder-blue hair.

"You need something mended, dear?" she asked, before setting eyes on the girl shyly using her mother for a shield. "Is it for this one? Oh ho ho, aren't you a pretty pumpkin!"

Ashley's mother took out a business card from her handbag with something scrawled upon the back. "No, I'm… supposed to ask for Ian?"

"Don' have a hangnail, I'm 'round," came a scratchy voice from the door behind the desk woman. Ashley saw the tall, portly walrus of a man pass through, carrying a smell of cloves so thick one could only assume it sank into any cloth that passed through the place. He had one landstrip patch of straw hair combed back, thin like cobwebs. His flabby, bristled face was dominated by a single, gleaming glass eye to contrast the graying blue and yellowed whites of his real one. His dress shirt and vest, rather than affording him a sense of professionalism, merely made him look like a used car salesman.

Past him and the door, the majority of the building lay as a dingy hall of yellowed ceiling lamps, their glass covers collecting an assortment of trapped and dead flies. Doors lined the hall on either side. The entire building was floored with cheap laminate.

"Faye, entertain the kid, would'ja?" he asked, observing Ashley as if uncertain of just what she was.

But her mother gripped her tighter. "I'd rather she stayed with us."

The man called Ian seemed to shift his jaw left and right with his brows. Ultimately his lip pouted into an odd smile. "Maybe she'll learn something." He gave a dry chuckle, before beckoning them through to a shabby office and sat down at his wobbly old desk. "So I'm to understand you're lookin' for a loan…"

Her mother's posture closed off. "None of the other lenders would take me."

He nodded. "Why else would you be 'ere? No offense taken, that's my part in the market."

"I just… I need to find better opportunities outside of Vacuo," she admitted. "Honest work. Here, what I do can barely support one of us."

Puce nodded sagely. "I'm an understanding bloke, I think… I'll work wiv' ya. Problem is, our loans are under the table, so… you skip town, n' the constabulary ain't likely to give a rip if you jet off with our Lien."

Ashley saw her mother grow agitated. "Please, I… we have no one else to turn to. I will pay it back!"

He put his hands up defensively. "Now now… not sending y'on ya bike. What we need from you is a speck a' collateral."

She blinked. " 'Collateral?' "

"Right. Summat we can keep 'ere, so we know, sure as a Dromey gobs in the sand, that you'll be back for it…"

Little Ashley never saw it coming.

"MOM!" she screamed, causing quite the scene on the bare-dirt street as she clamored after the beautiful woman, tears filthy on her face as she reached for her. The pudgy lender's hand was firm around her skinny arm. "Mom, no! Don't leave me here, PLEASE don't leave me here…!"

She turned, eyes swimming with conflict as she came back to kneel by her daughter. She wiped her eyes and rubbed her arm. "It has to be this way for a while… Only for a little while!"

Ashley shook her head. "I don't want to stay, you said it's not safe!"

Her hands enclosed her daughter's, trying to quiet her as passerby glanced over at the scene. "It's different from just the two of us… I need you to be brave, and be good… Once I can set up our new home, I will come back for you, Ash…"

Ashley still couldn't stop crying. Everything about this was unthinkable. But still she asked. "You promise?"

Her mother kissed her. "I promise."

And like that, she was alone with him and her new home. She watched Sapphire Rhodopis vanish into the crowd.

"C'mon, love," Ian said, tugging. "Time you met the lads."

Or… she wished she was alone.

Ashley was brought deeper into the dingy place, down the hall, down a set of stairs to a lounge with a single cracked leather sofa and a TV and entertainment center. A rickety round table in the corner sat under a spinning ceiling fan.

"Right, na' invest in their stock," a young voice ordered.

"You wot?! We just shot off the CEO's head!" said another.

"Yeah, yeh' daft twit! Buy low, sell high! They all bounce back after a bitty. Rake in the dosh…"

Ashley watched the dirty blondes huddled around the television, scroll in the second's hand. Both wore khaki shorts and different polo shirts of red and green, looking remarkably sharp for preteens.

Their aquamarine eyes were honed and hadn't noticed either of them.

"Adie! Jordie! Gotcha a new little mate," Ian told them.

"Just upgrade to Grav rounds, they're tot'lly broken… 'Choo barkin' about, Da?

Ian's glass eye made his annoyance all the more piercing. "This'n's Ashley," he growled, dragging her forward and releasing her to stumble between them. "She's gonna be workin' here till her mum pays it off."

The brothers looked almost in sync at their father… to Ashley… and back at each other, frowning as their lips curved into astonished smiles and released breaths of barely contained laughter.

Ashley, however, was fixated on something else. "I'm going to be… working here?"

Ian gave an exasperated laugh. "Well naturally, love… Your ma's got a handsome debt, and you've gotta pay your way. This ain't the bloomin' daycare."

Ashley froze, trying to piece it all together. She didn't know how to handle this. She just wanted to go back home. It had never been paradise, but she'd never felt so surrounded by strangers…

"You boys keep 'er entertained for a few; I gotta add to the ledger n' I'll be right back."

Ashley was left with the two. She puts her hands on her elbows, only looking at them through the corners of her eyes. "So… which one is Adie—?"

"Oi'm Adie," the green-shirt holding the scroll told her, up on his knees. "That's Adelson to you."

"N' Oi'm Jordan," the red-shirt said, hooking a thumb at himself. "Let's get it straight, right? You live here, but you're not our fam, you're not our mate. Keep to you n' we'll keep to us."

Adelson nodded. "You don't want to be here… we don't want ya here. Make things easy till your folks nab ya."

Ashley shrank. "I-It's just… my Mom and me."

Jordan sat back into the corner of his seat. "Ha, what is she, another down-on-'er-luck waitress? Da' end up in a Blind-Worm did he?"

She wasn't sure she should answer.

"He asked a question, y'drongo."

She wanted to leave. "We… don't know who my Dad is. Mom said it could have been any of her clients."

That seemed to stop both of them dead. Forgotten, the video game character careened off a cliff and into the digital sea.

" 'Clients?' "

"What's she do?"

Ashley had never really had friends. Some street kids let her tag along, but Mother never liked that. She always preferred that the two of them spend time together when they could. She mostly worked nights anyway. Ashley mostly did a lot of reading. Not heroes, but history… of science and far off places. Places far from the heat and the sand.

She knew she wasn't supposed to talk about her mother's job… but honestly, a bubble of anger swelled in her. Her mother was the only reason she was here. "My Mom… people pay to spend time with her. Boys, I guess. She pretends that she loves them. It always sounded kinda sad."

The pair of them snickered. She frowned.

"That's not the only sad yarn, eh Jordie?"

"Little tramp's mum, the molly! A new man each night, on 'em like a lolly!"

Ashley blinked at their laughter. "What does that mean?"

Adelson stood up, barely taller than her. " 'Scuse me parlance, turtle-dove. Mum never tell you 'ow babies are made?"

She didn't like where this was going. They might be messing with her, but… "No, but I've read about it…"

"Your mummy's a hooker, stupid!" Jordie blurted, unable to contain it any longer. "She shags men for money! She's a dirty whore!"

Ashley had heard those terms before, and knew they were bad, but she'd never actually heard what they meant. She didn't even know who to be angry with. "I… stop it! I don't want to talk about her anymore!"

"Want an example? Ey' Jordie, go pick up Ashley's mum!"

The other brother was confused only a moment before he nodded, a devilish grin on his lips. The video game character drove a sporty car to a street corner, where a raven-haired woman was catcalling him.

"Oi! Perfect!" Adelson wheezed, as the woman entered the digital car, which drove to a back alley. Both characters shifted to the back seat…

It was crude… the characters didn't even disrobe, like dolls mashing together. Nonetheless, the boys laughed uproariously as Ashley began filling in the blanks.

"Ashley! Your mum's workin' off that loan, see?!"

"Day in, day out! Maybe this is her dad, 'uh?"

She was red-faced. She didn't know what to feel, it was all a swirling storm. She hated their mocking laughter, but felt like disappearing into the bowels of Remnant as she realized why even her mother hadn't known who her father was. There were too many possibilities. She was a mistake… She existed because someone had paid to accidentally conceive her… Paid her mother, who was so ashamed of what she did to provide for them that she never told Ashley.

"Another round! Another round!" Adelson cheered. "Not the fanny, you twit! Bum this time! That's how a whore's brat's born!"

"SHUT UP! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!"

She'd burst into blurry, furious tears. She didn't even realize she had leapt at Jordan and was flailing on the couch, scratching and kicking and everything she could imagine as she screamed.

"Argh! Little bitch bit me!"

"Geroff 'im!"

She was stunned as something threw her back and onto the floor hard enough to smack the tears out the back of her head as she collided. Despite the height difference, the boys were still bulkier than her weedy frame, and they hadn't held back in spite of this. She heard a ringing in her ears as a final sob escaped.

"What the bloomin' 'ell is going on down here?!"

Ian galumphed back into the room from upstairs, jowls aquiver.

"She went feral!" Adelson said. "Beatin' on Jordie outta nowhere!"

Ashley slowly pushed back onto her hands as Ian's stare burned. "T-they called my mother… Said she's a… a whore." The word tasted odd on her tongue.

Ian's brow rose. He shrugged. "She is a whore…"

He dragged Ashley by the arm, not a mote of pity in him as they went half a level down to the cellar storage. Her new home for the next several years…

Ian cast her forward, still puffing with anger. She fell onto the bare floor. It wasn't concrete, not even hard dirt.

"Sand?" she asked, her fingers sifting through it.

"Bully for you, newest part a' the building. Past the foundation though, so got no flooring. Good thing for those sandals, eh?"

She stared around. Light streamed in from ground-level windows at the very top, but nothing beyond could be seen for the grime. There were racks of booze and boxes of random storage. A single, bare mattress lay in the corner.

"First thing, you'll sort this place out. All the cleanin' supplies is here. I'll check on ya in the morning. If it ain't sorted, don't expect breakfast…"

She stood up, barely believing that any of this was real. "What about… dinner?"

His nostrils flared. "Should've considered that before you struck me boys. Anyway, keep decent in here… Privacy's a privilege. Me and mine'll come n' go if we needin' something from here. We find you in your knickers, that's your problem."

"W-wait, how do I clean this? The floor is just sand…"

"I dunno, take a rake n' some rocks and make it a bloody zen garden," he said, hands thrown into the air. "Not me problem."

Without another word, he stepped out and slammed the door. With an audible clunk, it locked from the outside.

Distraught, she tried the handle again and again. But it didn't budge. No one came. It was all too much. She threw herself onto the mattress, and cried.

It was a cruel reality-check. Of course she didn't even have the freedom to leave that damn room. There wasn't even a bathroom. Less freedom than a true prisoner. She had to hold out for the mornings, nothing but to occupy herself with cleaning… once the unfairness of her new life had ceased to be such a shock.

With the morning Sun streaming through the tiny windows, the door finally clicked and opened.

"Alright, up n' at it, ya…" Ian Puce snagged her as she tried to speed past him. She looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please please please, I need the bathroom!" she explained, a hand over her groin as her knees turned inward.

"Hold a ruddy second, le'see what ya…" he finally looked past to the cellar itself. His eyes widened. "Crikey…"

The room was transformed. It had been a dusty, disheveled heap of crates and shelves layered with dust. Loose bits of debris had littered the sand from things being hauled in and out, broken open.

Now the debris had filled out a dustpan in the corner —she was provided no trash bin— and the various crates had been dusted, arranged and straightened. The whole room had been virtually foggy with the haze of dust and sand that covered everything, yet now color had returned to the room. Wooden surfaces looked all but varnished.

More eye-popping still, she had taken his advice. The sand was even throughout the room, and a wooden rake in the corner stood as the only explanation for the clumsy, but tasteful pattern of ruts dragged through it. She had indicated bare squares in the sand to step on, labeled a place for her sandals. The ceiling light looked brighter for the dead bugs having been emptied from it —how she reached it was anyone's guess— and the cracked vanity mirror in the corner was now crystal clear.

I don't know WHY he was surprised. There was literally nothing else to do in that damned room.

"Can I go now…?" she asked, knees still rubbing together.

He released her, and she sped off… only to return a moment later.

"W-where…?"

He pointed. "Second on the left."

The Puces weren't big on cooking. There was a fridge, a toaster and a mini oven, hardly used. Ashley was welcome to reheat the leftovers from when they ate out, but it became clear very quickly they weren't willing to spend one red cent they didn't need to.

Meanwhile, her talents in the cellar were put to immediate use. She suspected SOMEONE once tended to the daily chores before her, but there were stacks of laundry, heaps of trash on surfaces from takeout bags and empty soda boxes. The refrigerator stank, but at least it seemed like they never actually used their sink or dishes.

Laundry was done upstairs near the storefront. It seemed odd to her that Faye, the flabby, pleasant old lady ran a separate business from the others. It was probably a week before she caught on that she was a front for the lending business. She alone was consistent in her sweet demeanor even when nobody was looking.

"Whose child is this, Ian?" she asked for the third time as Ashley hefted another pile of forsaken laundry towards the machines. "What a pretty pumpkin…!"

"For the hundredth time, ma," Ian said from his office, "she's our ward. Don't bug her, she's doin' her chores."

"Well that's lovely…" Faye approved, running another bit of fabric under the sewing machine.

"Da', we're outta pop," Adelson called from further in.

"So nip on down and 'ave some!" Ian dismissed.

"Make Ashy do it!" Jordan added.

Ashley braced.

"Oi! Girl!"

She tried not to sulk as she dropped her load in the washer and hurried over. "Yes sir?"

He reclined in his chair, fishing in his wallet for a note. "Head down to the bottle-o, pay for a pair a' OKC n' be back."

She reached for the cash, but he pulled back. "Not a red cent a' the change best be missin'... I want the receipt."

She nodded, and took the note. "What's a 'bottle-o?' "

He scoffed. "The 'liquor store…' blimey…"

Like that, she was let out to prowl the streets. Recalling her mother's words, Vacuo wasn't a safe place for a little girl in the best of times. These slums, however, were another matter altogether. Crowded, covered markets were so noisy and bustling that abducting a child would be the easiest it COULD be.

Little Ashley knew this well enough, and avoided the most active streets, cutting around and between the vaguely defined blocks. If you haven't noticed, much of the city wasn't planned. Most people put down adobe buildings wherever there was space. Law and order have always been fickle things here, and there were few enforcers beyond—

"Huntresses!" Ashley gasped as she rounded a corner.

Two of them. A pair of rising stars, actually. Remnant's 'champions,' heroes of we downtrodden, plying their strength for the betterment of us all…

Ashley couldn't help it. She sprinted towards them, practically in tears already. She was first noticed by the kind-faced redhead, her skintight periwinkle suit glimmering in the sunlight as its sleeves blended into her skin. Blonde streaks layered into her long hair. She seemed to have some odd steel device strapped to her back.

She tapped her partner's shoulder and pointed as she approached. A pair of purple eyes wheeled to find her, beneath a swirl of short auburn hair. She wore dark red leather for her jacket and boots, with white pants. Pouches, a golden bow and its quiver on her back were packed with gear.

"Whoa, where's the fire little girl?" She asked, as Ashley stumbled to a stop.

"Y-you're Huntsmen, r-right? I've seen you before…"

The brunette nodded. "I'm Jackie Magnus, this is Maia Tommelise. Team MMGP. And your name is?"

"Ashley… Ashley Rhodopis," she said excitedly. "I-I-I need help!"

"Tell us everything," Maia asked gently, kneeling down as Jackie's brows tweaked at the gesture.

Ashley only hesitated a second, taking a shuddering breath. "My Mom needed money from these people, the Puces, and she left me with them while she pays it off… but they're horrible! They lock me in my room at night! Th-they make me do everything! All I get to eat are leftovers, and they keep saying awful things about my Mom! Th-they're criminals, I'm sure they are!"

"How did you get here?" Maia asked, her gentle voice like a preschool teacher. "Did you run? Are they after you?"

Ashley shook her head. "They sent me out to get sodas for them… they think I'm…"

Jackie sighed and patted her shoulder. "Come on, take us there."

Ashley was a stupid little girl…

"Mister Puce, this girl is currently under your care?" Jackie asked, standing with Maia and Ashley before the service counter.

The girl locked with Ian's eternally staring glass eye, his nostrils flared dangerously. "She's my ward for the time… c'n we help you, 'Untresses?"

"We found her trying to leave the area," Jackie explained. "She told us a few colorful things, typical runaway stuff."

Ashley froze in fear, turning to the shorter Huntress with betrayal on her face. She found the perplexed frown of Maia, who seemed just as surprised. Ashley shook her head desperately.

"I assume you're seeing to her care?" Jackie asked.

Ian nodded, lips pursed. " 'V'course. She gotta earn 'er keep 'round here, but she gets a big room all to her lonesome. She sure don't go hungry. Just misses her mum, that's all."

"Of course," Jackie nodded. "And how's business going? She had a tale or two about that… interesting stuff."

"Good," Ian said, reaching for his wallet. "About this good." He clapped a few notes on the counter and seemed to forget about them instantly. Jackie thumbed through them, holding them up to the light.

"Might be slipping, Mister Puce… Not sure if these are counterfeit, but we'll take them in to be sure." She pocketed the bills. Ian smiled back.

"Nat'rally," he said. "Appreciate your servin' us down here on the wall. N' thanky for bringin' lil' Ash back safe and sound."

Ashley felt like the bottom had fallen out of the world as the Huntresses turned and left. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. None of it made sense!

"To the cellar with you," Ian hissed. "And not a damn word about it…"

Shaking, she didn't argue. She fled downstairs as quickly as she could manage without making a racket. She knew she was in trouble. It had completely backfired. They were supposed to help her! What had happened?! How could they believe him?!

Mere seconds after she began pacing the room, heedless of the damage to her floor art, she saw shadows loom over the window nearest the street, and voices filter through the thin glass and loose casing.

"It's wrong Jackie! You know it!" Maia said, having clearly pulled her partner into the alley beside the tailor. "You know that girl is being abused! We can't just leave her here! How could you take a bribe! Who ARE you?!"

"God, a couple years in Vacuo and it's like you stepped right off the skiff," Jackie groaned. "What did you want, Maia? We take her out of there, and what? Where does she go?"

"Back to her mother!"

"Oh, her mother who couldn't think of anything better than leaving her with the local loan-shark?"

"Then… I dunno! A foster home!"

Jackie kicked a pile of rubbish, which clattered noisily. "What foster home?! This isn't back home in Atlas, Maia! Government basically doesn't exist here, so services barely exist either! I'll tell you where the girl would end up: on the street! Starving! Wanna see how abused she gets then?!"

Ashley could barely see through the window, but he saw Maia shifting uncomfortably. "Then I'll take her, I dunno!"

"Ha ha, yeah, and every street orphan you find from here on out, huh? Get real. The shit truth is, she's lucky to have a roof, food every night…" Jackie seemed to settle down a little. "You haven't seen it, Maia, you haven't been out to the nomad tribes out in the dunes, how many families wake up to find a sinkhole swallowed half the people they loved. They have to pick up and just keep going."

"And these people?" Maia demanded, indicating the tailor. "You said yourself they're loan-sharks. And there's no way they're not going to punish her for getting us involved."

Jackie scoffed. "Puce is a bastard and breaks a few thumbs, but he's no criminal mastermind. Maybe in Vale his shtick would be worth busting, but even at predatory rates people here need services like his. Drop him and two more rise in his place. You'll never catch him hurting the girl either, he's not stupid. He won't do anything permanent that you could get him on."

Maia was beginning to sag, exhausted more with every word. "And the bribe?"

Jackie leaned against the wall with a sigh. "Maia, I get it… you wanna be the hero, make a difference, all that. No task too small, right? But Vacuo just doesn't work like that. You need a major, funded government, and Shade just isn't equipped to slam people for jaywalking. The people handle their own quarrels here. Huntsmen are called in because there are bigger giants to slay. Sometimes it's Grimm, sometimes it's people."

"What does it have to do with taking money from—"

Jackie leaned in quietly. "Because the big fish ease up around you when the minnows feel safe. If I cracked down on everything that goes on in these streets, I'd end up dead, or the worst of the bunch would skip town the moment I end up in the district. If they think you're dirty and let things slide, lips get a lot looser."

Maia tensed. "I'm not seeing the difference between pretending to be dirty, and just being dirty." She let out an explosive sigh. "Fine, whatever. I'm sick of this place."

Ashley saw the contraption on her back unfold into a pair of levitating wings, and with a burst of her plasma jets she took off into the air. Unfazed, Jackie shook her head and stalked off into the street again.

That was the day she realized what a farce it all was. The 'protectors of the people' were a bunch of performers and naive bleeding hearts who just hadn't learned the game yet. That was when Ashley realized her nightmare was far from over.

Frieza laughed. Laughed uproariously.

"Lord Frieza?" Cinder asked, confused.

"Oh ho ho ho ho… Forgive me, dear, something of an inside joke," he told her, affording himself a final chuckle. "You see, I do believe I killed those very two myself after arriving on this planet."

Cinder blinked. "You think so?"

He stared up at the full moon, it's vast crater and debris field turned to them, looking as near to solid as it ever did throughout the month. "Yes… pardon my hysterics, but it is quite rich to hear their leader partaking in filthy lucre when she so pointedly told me her troupe couldn't be bought… Life is so terribly droll… Carry on then. I suppose the poor dear was made to learn from this experience?"

Cinder leered. "Yes…"

Ian Puce's wide frame filled the door as he stepped through. "You made to bugger me…"

She had nothing to say in her defense, but was terrified to say what she thought and anger him further. She wasn't sorry.

"I—"

'*THWACK*'

The world spun with pain as the left side of her face burned. She fell over, her fall cushioned by the sand. Her eye blurred from the impact, and with her welling tears as she brought a hand up to her face and saw the back of his hand winding down. He'd slapped her.

"You're gonna learn a right lesson 'ere and now," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a clipped wad of notes in a variety of colors. "This 'ere? This makes everything spin. THIS is power, love… Everyone's got their price, even the almigh'y Huntsmen. Scrounge together enough dosh and you c'n hold off the grim reaper 'imself."

She squirmed away from him, cornered by the crates she arranged. "You… you can't hit a… You're not my… y-you…"

"I don' think it's sunk in yet!" he growled. "I can buy n' sell you! An' those Huntresses, an' any fool you try to bring int'a this! I could 'ang you from the ceiling and bury you deep, and not even the dogs'd come lookin' fer' the bones! You think you've had it bad?!"

She couldn't help it, she hid her face and shook as she sobbed.

He leaned closer. "You're a right stupid girl, ain' ya? You're the collateral for your mum's loan. I keep ya' till she comes back with what she owes. You go missin', you piss me off, you so much as breathe when I tell ya to 'old off, n' I send a trigger to make you well n' truly an orphan…"

She seized up in shock, red, puffy eyes —not even counting her swelling cheek— looking up at him to be sure she'd heard him right.

"You'll… you'll kill…?"

"That got yer' attention, did it? Bleedin' bog-rolls…"

She fell onto his feet. "Please… please, I'm sorry…! Don't hurt my m-mom…!"

He shook her off, grabbing her under the crook of her arm and pulling her up. She was twisted around and shoved over the nearby crate and bent as she nearly tumbled over it.

"You migh' forget the rest a' this conversation," Ian told her, gripping the belt tight, "but this y'll remember."

Ashley screamed as a wicked noise of split air erupted as white-hot agony across her back. The scream became a loud, awful sob as even with the stakes explained to her, the only instinct was to flee the pain.

Puce struck her… flogged her again and again without mercy. He didn't even hold back, every ounce of his pathetic, flabby strength behind every blow against a defenseless, scared ten-year-old girl. By seven hits in his smoker lungs were wheezing, and she just wailed in pain.

Her face was filthy with tears, snot running down. Already the prong of the belt had cut her where the buckle landed, even through her clothes leaving prints on her skin as blood trickled down and oozed elsewhere.

The tenth and final blow was unceremonious. He even seemed to consider whether to continue, but belted himself back up. "That'll do then. Be back in a tick."

She let herself fall to the floor as she huddled into a ball and reached for her flaming back. It was hot to the touch, radiating with pain and stinging in places where her fingers felt it. Her blurry eyes could just make out the twins beyond the door frame, watching and hooting quietly to each other about her like some forbidden but hilarious spectacle. She couldn't find it in her to care anymore.

They retreated as their father returned, tossing a water bottle at her feet.

"Use that well," Ian told her. "You think ya had it rough…? See what you think about our deal in two days' time."

He slammed the door, and the noise of the lock gave a finality as it sealed her in.

Ian Puce wasn't bluffing. A human can last three days without water… he locked Ashley in for two. No matter how she begged, regardless of what she needed, she was only answered with threats to quiet her. Her belly ached for food… and ached again later for another reason. By the time she'd dug a small, deep hole in the sand, used and buried it again, she only wanted to dig another hole to bury herself in.

She wouldn't be released until the third day, and by the end of the first night she had drained the bottle. Before morning, her mouth was so dry she briefly considered using the bottle to catch something she'd usually have lost contentedly. The mere desperation of that thought caused a different salted substance to escape her eyes again, and catching THAT never crossed her mind…

The second night, however, yielded a wondrous discovery…

Ashley barely had the energy to attempt anything, let alone clean, as she carefully navigated the tops of crates to reach the windows. The Wasting Winds had finally ceased for the moment, and she could finally sweep off the sand that filtered through the casing and onto the sill. Yes, even in a cellar, protected by the Kingdom's walls, the sand found its way in like ants in search of sugar. Locals took its inevitable contamination of unsealed food as 'the local spice.' She didn't dare incur the wrath of her keepers again by letting them open the cellar door to find it less than perfect. Her back still stung with bruises and swelled where she'd been struck. A second flogging would be twice as bad as before.

She pressed in against the casing… which clattered loosely and pitched back at her. She caught it before it could fall and shatter. Glass in the sand would be a terrible booby-trap…

Once her terrorized mind could refocus, she saw past the casing… to the alley outside. It was a squeeze, but nothing kept her from crawling out. The stars sparkled back at her. The broken moon gleamed its pale glow upon her. She could hear the distant sounds of music and merriment.

She could be free.

She was startled as a long-legged green-blue bird landed to perch upon a nearby light fixture, which rattled with its weight. Its yellow eyes gleamed in the dark as its spear-like bill dug under its wing for mites. Ashley knew these birds well, the Resplendent Dune Crane, which hunted in the river at the bottom of the ravine.

Of course, she remembered she couldn't run, for her mother's sake. When the Puces returned, she needed to be there in the room.

But until then…?

Ashley pulled herself through carefully. She knew they were asleep, but if she were caught out things could only get worse. But as she pulled herself to her feet and straightened up in the quaint little alley, the calm of the night, the gentle glow of the stars… She felt a peace wash over her that hadn't been there since the Puces entered her life.

Vacuo was the brightest thing in the desert, and yet not so bright that the stars weren't a brilliant grey mist of uncountable lights. She'd never truly appreciated it before. She could see every tiny detail of the moon's pitted, blasted surface, the crags where chunks had blown off.

"Wooo! Vytal! Just 'round the corner!"

She froze, huddling against the wall as a group passed the alley.

"Would you stop? It's like two months out."

"Guys, we really oughta' get back to the Dance. We're not supposed to wander out too far; General Stannum doesn't want us getting lost."

Ashley peered around the corner. It wasn't that late, but Vacuo tended to settle after dark. Some parts came alive with the diminished heat of the day, but for the most part the raucous was tempered by vast swaths of gentle night. Still, the colorful crew were alone on the street as she followed the conversation.

"Lost?" the first said. "You can see Shade from every part of the city! How exactly do you get lost?"

"He probably meant how there are a lot of dark back alleys and unsavory characters."

"Pshh…"

After the day's events, she was hardly impressed with Huntsmen. At least of the local variety. But these were different… Dressed to the nines like something out of a picture book in slick and gossamer finery.

And there was mention of a dance?

She took a long while to study the tailor building, to memorize the details of the street. If she were to wander and lose her way, she might never find her way back, and Vacuo wasn't big on addresses. Instead, the city was carved into a grid, and signs were placed wherever one might cross into another zone. A business might list itself within one, but the rest was up to you to find it.

R-24. That was enough to bring her close.

The trip across town was tense, but she needn't have worried. The route to the black ravine was simple. Cut through a few alleys and just keep following the towering pyramid. If not for the chest-height fence surrounding it, she might have stumbled directly into the dark chasm in her chase. From there, she sought the bridge that marked Shade's sole entry, decorative wood tastefully sanded by the regular storms. It was unguarded, but a few passerby crossing who hardly took notice of a little girl, hanging on the arms of their date and caught in the haze of a spiked punch bowl.

Ashley could hardly believe her own boldness as she strode up the steps and into the great hollow. At the far end was the dining hall…

It was hypnotizing. Like something out of fantasy. Chairs and tables were against the furthest walls to open a vast dance floor. Streamers in florid colors hung from the rafters. Archways of balloons flanked the tables of weary attendants. Windows were lined with velvet curtains. Lights on the ceiling spun to speckle and dazzle. And in the midst of it all, strangers, like visitors from another plane, spun and twirled in ways and colors she had never seen with her own two eyes.

She tore her eyes away as she noticed a long table closer to her. Numerous, pre-filled red cups were up for grabs, and without a care for its contents she drank one down in so few drafts she nearly choked.

But at last she encountered resistance. A man in light white and blue armor marched across the inner courtyard, his helmet hiding his eyes behind a one-way visor as radio chatter garbled incomprehensibly.

"All clear, nothing to report," he said in reply.

She darted around the elevator column. His head snapped over.

"Hold on… might be movement."

He crept to the corner, rifle held but not pointed… he stepped around to find… nothing.

Ashley held her breath by the stairway she'd dashed to, its solid railing hiding her from view as she shuffled to the second floor.

"Disregard," he told his contact. "Negative contact. Returning to patrol." He silenced his radio, muttering "Damn birds come and go as they please…"

Spooked, she crept along the second floor promenade, past empty lecture halls lining the walls of the hollow. Momentarily trapped, she kept walking until the walkway crossed above the dining hall again. She could just peer over the top. She might as well take advantage of the sights…

As the night wore on, she began to appreciate the subtleties of the other Kingdoms' styles. Vacuo was no stranger to color, and there were always outliers, but few truly strayed far from earth tones… if LIVELY earth tones. There were no firm and fast giveaways of course.

She saw a spirited conversation between a tan, messy light blonde with purple eyes and her taller, darker skinned compatriot with short dark-green hair. Both had spurned any formal dress and instead seemed to be showing off their Huntress gear, to the chagrin of an older, stiffer black-haired man in uniform with steel-blue eyes.

The Atlesians could be ragged…

Quite the opposite, a bright blonde wore a green, olive and white ensemble with high heels as she danced proudly and alone. Her dress was almost frumpy in its bulk, but she carried it with ease and grace. The heels in particular caught Ashley's interest as she spun and never stumbled.

Mistral could be elegant… Even Vale ran a fascinating gamut between sunny and stern…

A loose-robed girl with a mane of black hair glared murder to the world from the tables with her blood-red eyes. Beside her though, a girl wrapped in white was fast in conversation with the first girl. She ultimately pulled her friend up and began to dance with no grace of any sort, red hair scattering in their wake.

What caught Ashley's attention though was the second's bright eyes. She was reminded so much of her mother…

The steely-eyed man seemed insistent upon hassling the informal duo, and was being beckoned to a table by an amused trio, a grey-haired, youthful adult man with an emerald cowl around his neck, a curly-haired, severe-looking geeky blonde with a mulberry cape —clearly a student, looking somewhat uncomfortable to be seated there— and the eldest directly next to her, pale skin melding with her platinum-blonde bouffant…

Well, as little as Ashley cared to be familiar with Huntsmen, even she recognized Dahlia, the China Doll, Headmistress of Shade. She was surprised how familiar she seemed with the blonde girl…

"Hey!"

Ashley turned in shock to find the soldier had snuck up on her, grabbing her by the wrist.

"Who are your parents? Only Academy students and Kingdom representatives are invi— ARGKK!"

Ashley's teeth sank into his gloved knuckle, startling him as he threw her off. She took advantage and cast herself over the railing, surprising even herself as she fell to the ground heavily on her thigh and shoulder.

With a shock of pain through her body, she leapt to her feet and fled towards the bridge as the pyramid began to chime over the PA system with the changing of the hour. Midnight.

The soldier considered, fingers against his comm unit, ultimately going slack and sighing. "Damn kids…"

She made it back with surprising ease, even as she felt she'd be hunted to the world's very end. Terrifying, but exhilarating. It was a talisman of fascination that got her through the night, all the way till her release as she pondered the sights she'd seen.

"Alrigh'," Puce said, the door creaking open, "how's about… hmm…"

He stopped short, seeing her sitting on her knees upon the mattress. "Good morning," she said shakily.

He frowned. He couldn't place what was off, but…

"I suppose y've wised-up then?"

She averted her eyes to the floor. "I'll stay… I'll listen… until my Mom's even with you."

He nodded. "Good. Git' up, feed y'self… Got chores need doin'." He turned to leave.

"Sir?"

He stopped. He liked that. "Mmm?"

"Will I be able to watch the Tournament? When it happens, I mean?"

He frowned. "I go each time it comes 'round… Takin' the boys for their first this year. Not payin' for a seat for you, 'course. Free to watch on the telly I s'ppose."

It wasn't much, but it was more than she expected at this point, but it was enough to give her something… anything to cling to for the future. Even a few months, staving off the hopelessness of a life robbed of warmth and meaning, were enough of a reprieve to get by.

It was easier when Ashley accepted her position. The twins were constant terrors, making her work harder where they could, refusing to clean after themselves. Hard laminate floors and a universal lack of mud made their efforts far less effective… but they had their ways.

Ashley heard a startling crash and clatter as a framed picture smashed against the floor. She nearly dropped her dust rag in fright, turning to see Jordan's fingers just over the painter's nail where it had just hung.

"What the bloomin' 'ell was that?!" Ian demanded from the upstairs office.

"Was Ash, Dad!" Adelson said. "Lil' tramp broke Mum's photograph!"

"GIRL!"

She just shook her head, shaking in fear, pleading with their absent mercy. Ian Puce rounded the corner. The scene didn't even make sense. She was nowhere near that side of the hall.

'Explain y'self!"

She just froze, tears already budding. She couldn't just admit it… It was so unfair… Nor could she blame the boys, who would just deny it, and Puce always took their side. He wouldn't hear an ill word against them… A memory of twenty searing belts along her back attested to that.

Puce lifted the image of his younger self and a vapid, fish-lipped blonde from the broken glass. "This is all we've left a' her! You careless little tart!" He scooped a shard of glass off of the photo and flicked it her way. He missed wildly, but she still flinched reflexively.

"Grimm made a charge when one a' Rosenrot's mines fell in; stressed the whole damn smoke… She got nabbed off by a Ravager. I got this," he finished, indicating his glass eye.

He rolled up the picture and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. "Bill yer' mum for this frame, how 'bout that? Clean it up, I'm expecting a damn client! Then get your ass up n' help Faye."

"Faye?" Ashley asked, seeing the boys looking just as lost, having clearly expected the belt to come out.

"Dad?"

Ian grunted. "Had me a brainwave. Want you up helpin' Faye with the tailor upstairs. Think if nothin' else, your unassuming mug might make the establishment more approachable. Y've still all your duties to tend, but you mop them up right quick anyway, when yer' not bein' a clumsy-arse… Idle hands n' all that."

It was always the same thing. However quickly she managed, however redundant the tasks were, they would always find a way to be sure she had no time for herself. Of course, she was still a child. By the end of the first month, she'd worked herself to heat exhaustion while trying to scrub the yellow stain of cigar smoke from the walls in Ian's office. He laid off her after that.

Or, well… he pondered how to balance keeping her busy without working her to death. It seemed he'd found his answer.

Climbing the stairs, she hugged the wall and waited as a trio of Ian's "lads'' emerged from the tailor's back door. The Bruse Brothers, Bill, Liam and Willum. All quiet, each regardless of hair style —or lack thereof in the small and scrappy Bill's case— wearing similar, braided fire-red beards. Liam was the lanky middle brother, shady as palm fronds with a slick mop of hair. Willum was a square-jawed bruiser who ducked his bald head under doorways.

They never bothered with her. They might be joined by other thuggish or roguish characters as needed, but she always noted them as three constants out doing work on Ian's behalf. They regarded her only long enough to shrug past her before she caught the door at the top and escaped their gaze.

"Oh ho ho ho!" Faye cooed, calloused old hands squeezing her cheeks. "What a pretty little pumpkin…!"

Ashley couldn't help smiling. It was the closest to real affection she received anymore. "Nice to meet you… again… Faye. I'm Ashley. Ian wants me to… help you?"

The elder froze and frowned in silent contemplation to the point that Ashley felt certain her cotton-candy-blue hair would start smoking. Finally however…

"Oh! Oh, you want to learn to sew! Oh yes yes, of course, dearie! Learn yourself a trade! How perfect!"

She seemed to have utterly forgotten her prior task, the pants she had been mending falling forgotten to the floor. And yet Ashley had never seen her so coherent and excited as she flitted about the shop.

"Naturally we'll need a sharp n' thread… a thimble for your little thumb… bit a' beeswax…"

Ashley had the essentials in hand within moments, watching the elder and matching her awkwardly.

"Always use the sharp scissors for a clean cut, dear… wax the end a touch… and eye 'er."

Despite her age, she was surgically steady as she threaded her own needle. Ashley found her own thread hovering in circles as she jabbed for her needle's eye and missed. "Darn!"

"Nah," she drawled, "darning's a few lessons down, love… That's a bit of the shop humor, m'dear…"

Ashley couldn't help smiling back.

Faye patted her back. "Keep at it then. Hardly matters where you start more than where y'finish…"

It wasn't long before she was trusted with sewing buttons onto the clothes. It didn't come without mistakes and pain, but Faye was transformed when she was in her element. From a kind but broken woman to a master of her craft. Every day Faye forgot her, until she sat down to work and it was like the last lesson had never stopped. Not a new one, but the same session building and building. Running stitches, backstitches, blanket stitches. Everyday she would race to finish her duties until Ian's imagination was bare.

The clumsy little hovel of a building glowed with her care. It still wasn't much. The walls, their depressing shade of yellowed white, simply looked new rather than classy, right down to the crown molding along the floor and the lip over the door frames. The twins were swiftly running out of ideas and inevitably got bored, and she quickly learned how to avoid Ian's scorn. They were rude and demanding, but for their complaints regardless how seamless and fast she was, for their utter lack of appreciation, they did not pull her aside. It was as automatic as a greeting, and she had rather faded into the background of their little criminal world.

In this place, being ignored was all she could hope for.

The things she could have told people, things that she overheard on poker night after the Bruse Brothers returned as she refilled their drinks and tins of nuts and licorice. The places they broke into, the borrowers they hurt or intimidated into paying Puce back. And as the Vytal Tournament drew ever closer, she learned it was a busy time for their line of work.

Visitors the world over arrived in droves, wandering the city. Easy marks for pickpockets and any number of scams. Once every eight years, they weren't about to pass up their chance, leaving Ashley with a great deal of time on her hands.

All the while, when she was locked in the cellar, she roamed the arid night through her secret little escape hatch. She was a fly on the wall, an avid spectator in the arena of life.

Ashley had not perhaps become adept at scaling rooftops… Rather, she had learned the region well enough to access them and avoid the streets. She could find the easiest spots to travel by without the spring of a jumping spider.

She'd taken to waiting on the rooftops near Shade's bridge entry. Since the dance she hadn't repeated the feat of entering the school itself, but it was perfect to shadow the visiting students when they left campus.

One of her favorite groups were currently on the prowl, plus two others.

"Man, sneakin' outta here'd be something if you had to," the sandy blonde opined, noting Shade's only entrance as he stepped back.

The tall, brown-haired Atlesian with them surveyed the dark chasm, thumb on his chin. "Security's a bit lax, actually, Tai. No lights down into the ravine… a team with infrared gear or the right faunus could scale from the dark virtually undetected."

The black haired girl was deadpan as her red eyes were set on the bridge. "Too much risk down below. Fastest would be to use the underside of the bridge as a blindspot."

The Atlesian's brow rose. He nodded with a smile. "That's… not bad either. It's like you've given it some thought."

Her brother, the other black-hair beside her barely twitched as his gravel voice answered. "Enter any place with a plan for how to escape. One of the Tribe's many rules."

"Clearly it doesn't have a dress code," their hazel-eyed companion added, arms crossed to make her dark leather jacket creak.

"Uh… yeah, I agree with Di'," the white cloak with the dark red hair said with a laugh. "Qrow, we explained the whole skirt thing, right? It's not a kilt…"

The red, not-quite Tartan fabric rustled around his knees as he stood stone-faced. "Air's hot and dry here," he answered. "I'm not wearing pants."

Diana Henries only smirked as Tai and the girl in white snorted. "So… if you could stop planning how to break into our school, I can show you some of the more savory secrets we have to offer."

Ashley followed them to one of the larger buildings in the city. Everything closest to Shade held meager competition for second place in that regard. She had a close call as they began joining her on the roof to access a building with a grand dome skylight with an intricate steel frame. Ashley hid as Henries let them into a vast, ornate display of relics from across history. She could still follow them from outside, overhearing them as the acoustics of polished stone amplified their voices.

"Welcome to the private collection of Lady Aurelia Matthias," Henries told them proudly. "Largest in Vacuo. She's entrusted me with cataloging her acquisitions and pursuing leads to new ones."

The Atlesian blinked below his neat, upturned frond of otherwise military-buzzed brown hair, taking in the countless aged statues, weapons and crumbling artifacts. "She lets a student do all that?"

Henries shrugged. "Stannum let a student into a Military Huntsman squad. We've all got our 'ins,' Clover… Mine's nepotism. Aurelia's a… dear family friend."

Tai whistled at an ancient piece of armor. "Antediluvian Period… These aren't just scraps from The Great War, this belongs in a museum…"

Henries rolled her eyes with a knowing smile. "You're telling me… Not a great market for exhibits here. Just lets thieves case the place."

There was a heavy clatter that drew everyone's eye. The girl in white seized fistfuls of padded armor as she prevented a frail-looking piece from falling off its stand.

Rectifying her mistake, she went red as she coughed into her fist. "Or uh… klutzy girls like me do… that."

Henries glared balefully. "Yeah. Pretty much anything that looks particularly valuable stays in the vaults. Only the drab stuff is on display. It's not worthless, but it keeps any window-shoppers from seeing it as a piggy bank."

Her eyes scanned the skylight, and Ashley ducked before she could be seen.

"Average Vacuo crook has no appreciation for history."

"Or form," Raven noted, idly gripping Taiyang's arm as she appreciated a sturdy helmet that, despite its age, looked fit to deflect bullets. Qrow glowered as he stared at her grasping arm…

"Raven, help me keep Summer away from the walls, please," Henries asked. "We're headed to the Paleopulvic wing. You boys do as you like."

Clover blinked. "The Old Dust Age? I gotta see that; there's barely anything that survived the Moonfall…"

Before Taiyang could join though, Qrow pointedly stepped in front of him. Ashley watched as the girls and Clover wandered away, following as Qrow guided Tai around a corner towards a series of statues depicting Grimm.

Taiyang looked into Qrow's eyes with confusion. "Hey, dude, what's the deal?"

Qrow's expression barely twitched. "You've lain with my sister…"

Ashley lived for drama like this. She wasn't sure of the context, but she always felt a certain lift in her spirit to see other people with problems that weren't hers to deal with.

Taiyang's eyes went wide. "Uh… shit… Dude, look, she jumped ME, alright?! I didn't say no, sure, but come on! I only made it once with a girl from Combat School. It won't happen again!"

Qrow seemed to ignore him. "My sister claimed you to spur a jealousy in me… You're the subject of her new game. She wants me to confront her, confront you, or ignore it and let her do as she pleases. There's one thing she hasn't considered. I will make her jealous…"

Taiyang backed into the wall in confusion, but the hand reaching towards him… found and palmed his cheek.

"I… Qrow, what…?"

"Claim me," Qrow told him leaning very much into his personal space, red eyes peering hungrily as he caressed his cheek. "I can be more for you than she can be. I retain all her best features…"

Tai laughed nervously, unable to break his gaze as his breath shortened. "I-I can name a couple features you don't…" He changed track. "S-so, I'm just your pawn in all this, huh?"

"You want to be…?" Qrow asked, leaning in…

Taiyang put a firm hand on his collar, shoving Qrow back. "Let's," he coughed. "Let's put a pin in that one… Maybe later. Oh hey! I think we killed most of these Grimm…"

Qrow flashed a smug grin as Taiyang staggered down the hall of statues. "Vale is replete with Beowulves and Ursai… of course we have."

"Not Centinels… Creepy bastards."

"A few in Anima, mostly on Solitas though."

"So weird… Didn't think bugs did well in the cold." He paused, examining the coiled, many-legged thing with its gleaming white armor. "So… like… does the guy-stuff, like… hurt?"

Qrow chuckled. "The best things always do…"

Ashley was sure the moment had passed, skirting the skylights to find the others. Summer was shadowed by Raven and Clover as she plodded towards a sky-blue cape behind glass.

"Whoa! No way! Is that from Arcturus The Anointed?!"

Clover chuckled. "Those pre-war names…"

Diana Henries gave a wry smile. "Savior of the City of Arcadia, the stable boy who bloomed from obscurity and knew no equal in battle? Yeah, that's one of his."

Summer's eyes sparkled as she turned in surprise. "One?"

"You only wear that one outfit?" Clover asked.

"Oh… right."

Henries looked the artifact over. "One of the more definite legends with the most left behind."

Summer swooned. "Yeah… I know there are others, the ones who were kings or always shown to be gifted. But I like the ones where…" She sobered, looking away. Another exhibit held a spiral horn. She flinched. It looked a lot like a… "I like the ones where the hero started as no one. No royalty, no legacy, just sprang up to right wrongs and protect people."

Raven huffed. "Big fan of fairytales…"

Summer shook her head, a hint of frustration growing. "No… Those are nice, but… I like the ones that are real. Makes me think… maybe I could do the same thing. Stop the sort of things that took away my family."

Raven stared up into the night sky, making Ashley duck. "You don't find many stories like that. Strength is honed through bloodlines and perfected by the ones with the best head start. Fantasy and reality are ill bedfellows."

Summer sighed. "But that margin where they meet makes all the difference…"

Ashley returned from that little trip emboldened. The little people who became as giants. She wondered if their skills went beyond their words…

Finally it had arrived. An utter rarity, Ashley found herself alone at the tailor. The others were out committing misdeeds while Ian and the twins attended the tournament in person.

Even beyond her meager window, she could see it. She awoke to Vacuo sitting under the considerable shadow of Amity Colosseum.

In the harsh sunlight and the burning sky, details were hard to make out, but this vast island hanging in the air over the ravine was a sight to be seen regardless. Unmistakably Atlesian, shaped like an inverted bell…or perhaps the bottom half of a spinning top? Ashley hadn't the words to describe it. The largest hunk of gravity Dust she'd ever imagined poked out the bottom, doubtless suspending the entire structure. It didn't seem real. Archways lined its midsection, where airbusses flitted in and out to receive and transfer festival-goers.

And doubtless, the competitors themselves.

She finished her duties in absolute record time. Faye was slightly more perplexed than usual, sitting to watch the television in the downstairs lounge. The tournament was effectively a holiday in every Kingdom on Remnant with most work suspended to attend the cultural exchange on the festival grounds, if not the tournament itself.

Still, the Opening Ceremonies weren't until sunset. That didn't stop the news broadcasts from doing all in their power to hype up the event.

Amity's arena was a massive hexagon split into sectors surrounding a base middle piece. Holographic banners indicated each of the four Kingdom seating positions in the audience —more a suggestion really— empty as they were, crewmen bustling to prepare for the big moment.

Ashley was on absolute tenterhooks drifting between B-roll shots of the stadium filling with people and gazing out the shop window upstairs at Amity idly drifting in place. It didn't help at all when climactic brass music blared over the speakers, and a woman with a pink vest, green sleeves and shoulder-length sleek black hair adjusted her tiny spectacles, seated at a pure white desk.

"Hello, Remnant! And good tidings to you from Amity Colosseum and the twenty-eighth biennial Vytal Festival Tournament opening ceremonies, in the scorching Capitol of Vacuo! I am Doctor Jacqueline Heide, professor of Field Medicine, Improvised Munitions… and I oversee sparring sessions when it suits me."

Her sweet demeanor shifted only for an instant as her bushy brow twitched.

"I shall be providing the commentary as students from the four Kingdoms' premier Huntsman academies compete for honor! For glory! FER' JAW-BRUISIN'!" Heide finished, fists slamming into the desk, leaving a noticeable crack as her skin flashed green and her slick hair went sporadically wiry, as though taken by static electricity.

She froze, returning to her rosy hue as she slicked her hair back into position. "Pardon me… Standing center stage, we are joined by Dahlia Quadling, Headmistress of Shade Academy!"

Ashley watched in fascination, on her knees, feet away from the screen. The pale glow reflected in her eyes. Dahlia's hover-chair floated idly.

"Once more," she began, her voice bouncing around the stadium by speaker, "we are blessed with the gift of peace! Once more we convene in brotherhood, to know each other better, to forge new bonds with every new generation, that this gift may last!"

There was a swell of cheers from the seats, competing with her volume and forcing her to pause until it ebbed.

"We also convene to test ourselves, to measure the strengths of the new guard against their fellows across the land and sea, that they may be inspired, emboldened… or prove their worth to their sworn charges: you, the people."

The crowd roared again. Dahlia waited only a moment as it reached a steady fervor. "But before we might undertake this journey of discovery once more, we must have the Champion's Casket…"

There were cheers and applause from the Mistral corner of the stadium, which grew as a team of Huntsman emerged from the halls behind the seats carrying quite the burden. All smiles, the colorful crew wore traditional, warm Mistral colors, each gripping a spoke of the gleaming trophy like pallbearers.

The footage followed their jog down to the arena as Heide once more spoke.

"The Champion's Casket, grand prize for the team and school, carried you see by the last tournament winners, Team RAIN! That being leader Rory Andrews… Aoi Rivas… Inigo Nash… and Nova Carrillo. Graduates since, they now return the Casket, which has changed hands since the very first tournament set on the isle of Vytal itself so many years ago."

They reached the well and steps leading to the white tiled hexagon, traversing the final sprint to the center. The casket itself was not quite square, made of dark, lacquered oak with gilded plaques and insets. All four sides were carved with one school's coat of arms. The upper section was a set of golden pillars, an oak cap atop them. The pillars themselves were a sword and staff on opposite ends, the other corners bare. Instead, a central pillar was formed from an ornate lamp, whose decorative wings stretched to the other corners. Atop the oaken cap was nothing less than a crown.

Wasting no time, Team RAIN set the casket perfectly upon the centermost square, which sunk in a few inches to accept it with a loud mechanical thunk. The squares rippled out from the center with light, one by one, corresponding to the representative colors of the schools: green, white, orange and blue. Meanwhile, the Casket sank below, the center tile capped and replaced by its neighbors.

"There goes the Casket!" Heide announced. "Descending below the stage, where it will remain until the last aspiring Huntsman or Huntress stands atop the Millstone, where the finalists will do BATTLE!"

The colored tiles bloomed, spreading like fire to their neighbors as they neared the edges.

Dahlia bowed to Team RAIN, who bowed in return before making their way out. She timed her speech. "And so, I declare this Vytal Festival Tournament, OPEN!"

As she said this, the colors met the edges of the arena space, and all four edges of the Colosseum lit up with colored fireworks streaming into the twilight desert skies. The purples and pinks were obliterated, as the sparkling fountains of flame were joined by exploding charges higher up, spraying sparks in the shape and color of the four academies for all to see miles and miles away. Joining them in the center, projected upon the Colosseum sky-shield, the numerals 'XXVIII.'

Ashley raced upstairs to the glass just for a glimpse. It felt incredible to see it for herself. It felt important.

She watched every match she could. She'd heard of the feats of Huntsmen in the past, but never seen it herself. Accustomed to disappointment, even as young as she was, she assumed the things she'd heard were by and large exaggerations. They were not…

The qualifying matches began for two days, sixteen matches apiece between thirty-two teams. That meant sixty-four teams in all. Teams of four. A grand total of two-hundred-fifty-six attendees in all.

And the Colosseum itself was a marvel that kept the fights from getting stale. Slices of the hexagon each swapped out the environment with every match at random. It was explained that the qualifiers switched out both opposing sides, and more environs would shift as they entered the doubles rounds, where only two selected fighters from each team would compete. The finals and grand finals would be single duels between the top fighters. The sectors included so many possibilities, from ice fields to cityscapes, plains of tall grass and dense forests. Even scenarios that weren't so natural.

"Oh, we have a FLORID matchup, as Pansy Patel presses Summer Rose! TAKING NO PRISONERS! Atlas students taking full advantage of flux-gravity equipment experience back home!"

Summer ran up the box-shaped platform, in a field of differently shaped blocks edged with fluorescent white and purple tubes, gravity locally shifted so it felt no different from running along the ground. Pansy, her pink hair aglow, flowed around the corner as she vaulted the top and into a dive as the gravity shifted back and Summer began to fall back the way she came.

Her red and white halberd —Gibbous Briar— aimed at the box and fired to toss her out of Pansy's reach and at the next box. She landed on her back, upside down as she stood upon the teetering bottom of the box, staring up at the floor. She saw Pansy's stamen-like hook-swords catch the tubes on her own box, preventing her own fall as the color of her graded pink and black dress shifted to red, as well as her hair.

"Remember, viewers, that in THIS arena scenario, the floor is an automatic ring-out!"

The ends of Pansy's blade hilts became jets as she blasted towards Summer with a vicious double-swipe… only for the girl in white to step off the edge and fall towards the ceiling. Pansy landed, peering over the edge as Summer fell, and swiftly turned blue in hair and dress as her blades crossed behind her back.

Taiyang's fists were frozen together as he'd leapt to shove her off from the back, the hook stamens around his wrists.

"Oh ho ho! Sneaky move by Xiao Long, but this one's head's on a swivel! NOW FINISH HIM!"

Indeed, Pansy flipped him over her head and towards the ground into freefall, using her momentum to shift over the ledge as gravity changed sideways…

…only to be caught around the middle by Summer Rose, zipping in a trail of white petals from above as she pinged between the gravity boxes like a lightning bolt.

Still in freefall, Taiyang watched as Summer and Pansy passed him up, rocketing towards the ground.

The crowd went crazy as a klaxon sounded, the pair striking the floor with a visible plume of white as Taiyang eased his fall.

"What goes up must come DOWN!" Jacqueline Heide shouted. "A TERRIFIC upset as Summer Rose forces a ring-out in a sacrifice play! A risky gambit, but it's certainly paid off as Team STRQ defeats Team PETL and qualifies for the Doubles Round!"

Ashley couldn't help how electric she felt in seeing their team in particular succeed.

Quietly knitting, Faye frowned. "Such a to-do about so much violence…"

The little servant girl heard her, but couldn't agree at all. If anything, the more savage hits brought her the greatest thrill…

"Team FJRD and Team AZRE are head to head, well-oiled machines of CARNAGE! LOOKIT 'EM GO!"

Juhwang Han's auburn hair and burnt orange jacket bobbed as he jogged through the bombed-out cityscape, plasma pistol to the sky. The enemy had split them and hidden.

There was a series of beeps from one of the taller towers. He just turned to make out a great silhouette in the shadow under the tower belfry, hanging from its feet on the ceiling.

A pair of rockets screeched towards him from the assailant, and he responded in kind, three red jolts of plasma firing in rapid succession.

The rockets were halfway between both fighters when one of the jolts struck and detonated them. The blast force was surprisingly massive. Juhwang was thrown into the adjacent building and the belfry tower was obliterated as the rocket's owner was betrayed by their own weapon.

"SAKES ALIVE! Ederne cops her own blast, but Han didn't get away clean either!"

Juhwang stood up shakily, orange Aura crackling as the rubble pile burst and the bronze-skinned barefoot giant of a woman charged towards him with a roar, weapon shifted to a massive hammer. Her mop of dark brown hair bobbed above her milk-chocolate eyes and thick round face.

He prepared his pistol again, but both fighters stalled as a square object aimed at her face. The giant reflexively swiped the object with her hammer, shattering it loudly… A window casing, fished from the rubble.

Elm Ederne looked up for the source, but had to stop and block as Juhwang's pistol fired freely. She took a step forward, but stepped right back as her Aura flared. Glistening flecks dotted the floor before her bare feet. She'd surrounded herself with broken glass.

"Seems there's downsides to fighting barefoot! How will she handle this?!"

On the rooftop above, Diana Henries adjusted her hat before her whip snapped over the nearby lamppost. She swung out, locking eyes with Juhwang. He understood.

Off of his back, a scrap-built but very sturdy drone, Falcon, blasted off to intercept Henries. It's blue plasma jets glowed from the back of its gunmetal disc shape. Henries barely hobbled it as she landed both feet upon it, circling Elm as she scanned the other sectors for the foe she had been fighting previously. He was a slippery one… They'd caught Ederne on the back foot. If they took her out now…

Juhwang's blaster went off, signaling Falcon to keep the target between itself and its owner as its rotary gun forged a deadly crossfire.

"She's pinned down! Where oh WHERE is her partner?"

There was a whizzing on the air, and Henries barely turned in time to see a bladed star swoop in to catch Falcon in midair, knocking it out of the air as she dropped.

Elm huddled as the fire rained down, but smirked after Falcon was felled. She brought her hammer down in a great plume of dust and rubble and… glass.

"And the shoe is on the other foot!"

Juhwang barely had a moment to respond as Elm pelted out of her smokescreen, already in the backswing.

'*CRACK*'

Henries' whip snapped around the hammer beneath the head. Elm hesitated only a second before her feet of all things glowed lime as ethereal roots anchored her stance into the floor. She swung like a pro slugger, carrying Henries off her feet and along for the ride as the whip went taut. She vaulted into the air against the lateral force, tugging to free herself and slammed into the sloping roof, scattering roof tiles as she rolled.

Below, Juhwang Han barely backed away from the hammerhead as it sailed by, through the supports holding up the second floor. He stepped back in for a point blank finisher…

"OH, HE'S THROUGH THE ROOF!"

Elm parlayed her swing around into a vicious uppercut, blowing Juhwang through the entire second floor and finally the roof before Henries, who flinched as wood and stone fountained out as wooden braces bowed. Ultimately, the entire floor above the pathway collapsed into a misshapen pile as the klaxon sounded with the faltering of her teammate's Aura.

"Diana Henries, now alone against both opponents as Juhwang Han's Aura fails! I do hope he's not injured… BUT WHAT A SAVAGE KNOCKOUT!"

Henries staggered to her feet, wary of the unseen Elm below. A screech sounded beside her, and she twisted to see the bladed star embedded in the roof—

Suddenly she was constricted from behind by ghostly chartreuse limbs wrapping her like tentacles. She turned her head to find Vine Zeki, six and a half feet tall, a wild swoop of black hair clashing with his pallid visage. He was cool as a cucumber, gazing down with his ice blue eyes.

"Tight squeeze from Zeki as he finally moves in FOR THE KILL!"

Henries' whip retracted as she angled it behind her to release a gout of flame… but she was already being held out and away from him, over the edge of the crumbling building. She looked up to see Ederne, leaping up to meet her, and with a shocking brace of pain she found herself flying through the air as the last klaxon sounded.

"And with that, Team AZRE will advance! I will return shortly… once I've seen to FJRD's injuries, good lord…"

Ashley felt bad to see Henries sail across the arena and out of bounds, Aura already depleted. She wasn't as exciting as some of the others, but she carried herself in a confident and educated manner.

Elm was a surprisingly good sport in victory, fishing the half-delirious Juhwang from the rubble and lifting his fist —and whole body— to the sky, muttering some unheard words of respect on her opponent's behalf.

Qrow and Raven waited for their opponents, facing forward, neither seeking nor meeting the other's eye.

"So…" Qrow began, "what happened in the first round? That was a disaster…"

"I was distracted…"

"You got us both rung-out… Can we not do that this time?"

Raven leered into the distance. "I don't know, brother, can you explain what you and Tai did in MY bunk last night?"

He grinned toothily. "Well, y'see sister, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much…"

"You are neither…"

"I dunno, he mighta' called me one of those once or twice."

She finally spun to stare daggers into him. "He did NOT! I saw him BARE, in your lap, with your tongue down his throat!"

"...So you got there just after his turn? Shoulda' joined in, we could've seen which of us was the better fit…"

"I claimed him!"

"And we're betrothed, so it's share n' share alike. 'Sides, you can't claim him like I did…"

"We'll see about that…" Raven growled.

Qrow frowned in utter confusion. "Huh?"

" 'Bout rippin' time!" Heide blared suddenly, before her sweeter voice coughed. "Now presenting… finally, after a bout of sudden illness… we present Team SKYY!"

Qrow rolled his shoulders as Raven readied her blade and sneered. "Your imagination fails you, little brother…"

She swept her light blonde hair out of her purple eyes.

"One to one, just you and me now, doll!" Delano Steele called from across the lava plains, steam and —what appeared to be— molten basalt hissing and globbing into the air. "I'm good here, suit's water-cooled! How about you? Mighta' been different if your friend was still here…"

Damn it, Joanna. You're better than that. Since when do YOU fall to nerves?

Her partner, Joanna Greenleaf took out Delano's teammate at the cost of her own Aura. She couldn't deny, she would rather be against this guy with both of them than alone. Steele was true to his surname, and a rarity as a Mistral-borne relying on technology. He was a rarity for a Huntsman, clad in such heavy armor that he'd almost entirely eliminated his mobility in favor of his ability to wade into combat. Frankly, how he got this far was anyone's guess.

It was impressive to be sure. Highly articulated blued steel from head to toe, likely gravity-treated for added hardness. It was sleek in shape, more like a perfected, statuesque man than a medieval suit. Square blades were built into the arms, doubling as rifle barrels.

The face was solid steel. Only a trio of cameras on each pectoral gave him a view out. His actual body was by and large impregnable.

"War of attrition, little bird!" Delano said, arms out as metal shifted heavily. "Not over until someone's Aura's down, and it's not gonna be me!"

She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes and idly puckered her lips in concentration. "You finished, Prince?"

He paused. " 'Prince?' "

She raised her left arm, and thereby the weapon strapped to it. It was a bird-shaped crossbow, the wings serving as its limbs lined with a fan of bladed feathers spreading as the bolt cocked, the tip serving as the beak.

In a flash she fired six rapid shots, and Delano's vision went black. "What?! What the…?!"

He wheeled around in a panic arms up. She didn't even need to move as he slowly twisted to show his back…

Her next shot struck his back, the bolt sticking in place. The next struck the same spot, the shaft of the bolt splitting like a banana peel as the bolt was driven deeper. The same happened with the third in hawkish precision as a clear fluid sprung a leak and poured out onto the lava field, steaming on contact. She'd drained his coolant system.

He twisted back around, swinging his blades as he stumbled across the fields, more and more frantic as his breathing grew heavy and his armor grew hotter.

She only watched as he stumbled to his knees, and the top half of the armor opened as he poured out of it and into the adjoining biome. He wore a skintight black jumpsuit, his curly blue hair matted with sweat as he crawled.

"Well well," she said, standing over him with her crossbow ready, "I see Prince Albert's outta his can…"

He froze. "Oh, that's what you…"

"Still up for that whole 'attrition' thing, Al?"

He slowly raised his hands high. "I forfeit."

"That's that then!" Jacqueline cried. "First for this year, Delano Steele concedes! Robyn Hill of Team ROGE zeroes-in to prove skill over strength!"

Robyn couldn't help but grimace up at the announcer's box. "It's not 'Team Rouge,' it's 'Team Rogue…!' I don't CARE if it's not a color, James!" she complained to no one…

"Hope you ain't been slacking off…"

Every night the Puces returned, thankfully with no expectation of dinner. They only retired to bed, that they might begin the ritual of the Vytal Festival Tournament again when they wake.

She was fortunate that they didn't look actively for areas of neglect, because she knew she had been cutting corners each day. Menial things that didn't require daily attention, which visually made no difference, yet Ian Puce insisted it be done anyway.

All the same, the finals had arrived. Beginning at nightfall, the final eight would diminish to a final four, the Grand Finals, leading to the Showdown Round between the last fighters standing for the Champion's Casket…

"Team GLAM's Pearl Ammonia bringing the harsh light of day to Team NTGL's Nocht Noir…!"

The battles this time took place on the Millstone, the small, featureless hexagon in the arena center. Falling off the edge constituted a ring-out. There was no cover, no terrain to manipulate, nowhere to hide, no high ground. Two fighters on even footing, with only their skills, talent and luck to carry them through.

"Paisley Gainsboro defeats Oliver Aceituna by ring-out!"

At the time, however, she couldn't be more thrilled at the finale.

"Now, the moment we've ALL been waiting for! The Showdown Round to decide the tournament for Beacon's Team STRQ… or Atlas' Team CLVR! We give you Summer Rose, versus Clover Ebi!"

The Millstone carried them high as both squared off, serene smiles aglow at what Ashley knew was the sheer unlikely nature of their matchup, being so acquainted.

"Three…! Two…! ONE…! FIGHT!"

Summer knelt only a moment before zipping high above them, white cloak billowing against the bright, broken moon as her halberd took aim.

"Thus kindly… I scatter…"

'*KITCHOOM!*'

Shells sprayed as she sent a hail of rounds at nearly every escape route as she closed in and Clover braced his hooked rod to deflect, idly thumbing his four-leafed medal before she glowed white with her semblance and became a projectile to pin him into the floor.

A timely backflip spared him such a fate as the pointed muzzle of her weapon broke the tile it struck. There was only a moment before another thunderous blast freed Gibbous Briar and she whirled it around herself before bracing it against her shoulder and giving the forward end tension.

"A VICIOUS OPENER BY ROSE! SHE'S PLAYING TO WIN!"

He took the bait, powersliding under her inevitable swipe on his knees in hopes of catching her vulnerable side. But the halberd had a few tricks, as its barrel telescoped into a short war axe on the followthrough swing, and Clover soon found himself in a furious close quarters bladed duel. She was handily keeping up with his speed, and eventually found an opening.

'*KITCHOOM!*'

The rifle tore the air as, in shortened form, Gibbous Briar became a blunderbuss… far more powerful in exchange for precision. But at point blank…

Clover barely blocked the shot with the shaft of his rod, the force sending him screeching back towards the edge even as his heels dug in.

"SHE JUST KEEPS COMING!"

He stopped short, windmilling his arms back as he balanced and she charged in with a swipe, turning her weapon to hit with the beaked end. He did likewise, stepping in as his hook locked with her beak. She swung past him, taking his place as she leaned over the edge. Their weapons hooked, each fighter tugged. Clover grinned with a shrug, his thumb flicking a switch on his rod.

"And like that, the tables turn!"

Summer gasped as his hooked pole spun, the hook itself detaching on a thick filament line to let her fall. Something that would take a while, as the Showdown Round brought the Millstone a hundred-fifty feet above its resting height, nets deploying below to catch either falling fighter.

It was… admittedly… not great for audience members in the lower section seats, but holographic screens were provided to assist.

"CAN IT BE OVER THIS SOON?! THE CROWD WANTS TO SEE A LITTLE BLOOD!"

Were this a regular finals match, Summer would be beaten already, but she considered her only way out of this nosedive. She aimed high and fired.

'*KITCHOOM!*'

Clover staggered suddenly, leaning back hard as she dove faster than the line could be let out, pulling it taut and pulling him as she swung under the Millstone. She aimed against her motion and fired again and again to become a pendulum until she was up and over the surface level again.

"My stars and garters! NOTHING keeps Summer down!"

Aiming away from Clover, who turned to glimpse her, she fired again as her semblance zipped her down like a comet…

Vulnerable, Clover flipped the switch again as the reel locked tight. Summer went taut and swung into the floor with a pitiful smash that made the audience groan sympathetically.

"Ohhhh! That looked PAINFUL!"

Her Aura flickered as she used Gibbous Briar to haul herself up. Clover's hook had come free in the impact, and he jerked the pole to tug it over the edge as he reeled it back in.

She drew to full height and took a moment, but Clover was ready. With a whirl, his hook was cast, swinging at her from the side. She swatted it with the blade head, sending it the other way. She took a step forward and flipped a switch. She fired.

'*KITCHOOM!*'

This time the halberd extended to full length instead of delivering a bullet, as she thrusted the pointed barrel in a vicious stab. The muzzle flash vented out of ports along the action of the gun to shroud her in flame. He wasn't prepared for it, bowing over as it hit him in the sternum before retracting. He let his hook swing back around, but she pressed the attack after swatting it again, firing in rapid succession to blast Briar's business end out like a captive bolt gun. He held the pole up to block, but on her third shot she twisted the beak end around his ankle and pulled him wildly off balance as it retracted.

"Both finalists' weapons are so versatile, and Summer Rose keeps rolling out the surprises!"

He struggled to stay upright, sending his line around her back. And pulling.

The audience hooted in sudden scandal as Summer felt a tug from behind. She dared to turn, going pink as she saw he'd hooked her skirt, which had lifted prominently…

"Dearie ME, Clover! For shame!"

Clover couldn't help chuckling. This was a mistake.

Her face soured as she twisted to tighten her grip on his ankle and turned to vault him bodily over herself, firing into his back and propelling him high and away. She flipped her switch.

"Ooh! Fair to say you deserved that, sir!"

Apology in his wincing eyes, Clover saw his hook was still attached to her skirt and pulled himself tight.

'*KITCHOOM!*'

Her shot missed as she was twisted off target, and his reel chattered loudly as he wound in to plant his feet into her shoulder.

Summer slammed and slid face-first, rolling and twisting to face him again. His hook was fully reeled again. She wasn't about to let him cast it again. She engaged her semblance and darted at him, swiping and stabbing again and again, hit and run. She was faster than him, and that should be enough.

But it wasn't. Somehow he just kept blocking as she passed, or she just missed outright. Little things just kept him out of the way of harm. She even tripped over the divot she made in the tile earlier.

She was immediately reminded of Qrow, but he was nowhere near. It occurred to her, she never did learn just what Clover's semblance was…

Finally, a block snagged his hook on her weapon again, and he guessed her next move as she retreated. She was clotheslined by the tight filament against her back, and he dashed in to wrap her arms and halberd against each other.

She dashed a few more times, trying to drag and disarm him, but instead he managed to wrangle her in more filament loops.

On the last dodge, he planted a boot into her gut, and she sailed helplessly off the Millstone until she swung taut. The crowd roared as he winked down at her before letting his reel gently lower her down.

"What a BIND! I think this might truly be 'it…' "

Summer was sour. She hadn't lost yet…

Ashley —and indeed the audience— might have imagined it, but Summer's bright eyes seemed to actually be glowing…

"SUMMER!"

The light went out as she just made out Taiyang down in the crowd. He frowned, shaking his head.

Damn… Of course not. Not here.

She lowered into the nets and accepted defeat. In time, the cheer of the crowd became steady. A dull roar, as they say.

"Absolutely WILD!" Jacqueline Heide surmised. "Seems speed isn't everything! Rare that such an explosive match-up ends wrapped in such a tidy bow… Our winner for the Champion's Casket, I give you Clover Ebi of TEAM CLVR!" she finished, pronouncing the team no differently from the man, who waved awkwardly as he muttered.

"No… no… It's 'Culver,' like doves… That's embarrassing…"

Nonetheless, the Casket rose from the center of the Millstone.

Ashley watched with a certain sadness as the Millstone sank to floor level. Clover's team joined him to haul the Casket off in a victory lap. There were fireworks and congratulations, more grand speeches of unity and peace.

But she couldn't have agreed more with the audience members already filing out of the seats early, the multicolored backdrop going steadily homogeneous as Amity emptied. Ashley had the time to figure out the math. The tournament wouldn't happen in Vacuo for another eight years.

Eight years… It was disheartening. She would be an adult by then. Reunited with her mother, the Puce family and their criminality a distant, awful memory…

"If only little Ashley could know what life really had in store for her…" Cinder said bitterly. The desert breeze was a balm, but the quiet…

She blinked, turning. "Lord Frieza…?"

He was like a statue, staring out into space, the barest hint of a leering smile on his face.

"I… Have I offended you…? I know this isn't necessarily…"

The desert sky in the distance flared electric purple, and a plume of violet smoke climbed the currents of air as concrete chunks blasted out like flaming mortars. The sound of the blast reached them with a snap, at the same time as a gust of red sand howled over them.

Frieza jerked suddenly with a snort, blinking as he turned to glimpse the blast.

"Ah, I see Ginyu has taken care of our little insurrection," Frieza said, seeing the streak crossing the sky deeper into the desert. There was another flare in the distance, soundless as the mines were buried. "Apologies dear, I seem to have nodded off."

Cinder wasn't sure what to say. "You… sleep with your eyes open?"

"I believe 'sleep' would be a vulgar oversimplification, but for the purposes of your hominid comprehension… yes."

"I see… Do you recall the last part you…?"

"I believe there was some dross about the little beast finding fascination in the richness of world culture and training to be a couturière…" Frieza muttered wearily. "Not to dispel the illusion; you make for an unexpectedly colorful raconteur… but… this Ashley IS merely a past iteration of yourself, am I correct?"

Cinder looked away. "I… I don't…"

"I mean, it's plain that you hold some manner of resentment for a past with which you no longer identify with, but referring to yourself in the third-person seems, forgive me, a touch convoluted."

"Ashley is not me…"

"Metaphorically? Because otherwise I fail to see the point…"

Cinder went taut, her face pained. "Y-yes, metaphorically. She was a weak little shell who deserved to be broken… I will NEVER think of us as the same. I emerged from her as the wasp that is born from a fly, devouring all it once was, leaving the husk and ascending to a greater existence! I have imbibed its potential, it skills and made them weapons to be feared…"

Frieza merely watched her as she finished before nodding his head. "I see… Perhaps we should continue this on the morrow… Firstly, however… just what did I miss?"

Cinder seemed to short-circuit, her brows creasing oddly. "There was a tournament in Vacuo… I… SHE watched the broadcast. The fights left quite an impression at the time. I don't recall many of the details in terms of the fighters. The final match was a fisherman and a girl with a hatchet or something similar. I think she lost…"

"Just as well," Frieza told her. "Probably died years ago as these Huntsman lemmings are so wont to do…"

Cinder took a moment as Frieza prepared to take off. "There's…"

Frieza paused.

"One last thing, until next time."

"I suppose it's important? AND brief?" he asked, pointedly.

She leered into the sands, eyes brimming with hunger. She remembered the little raven-haired girl, bent over a crate as Ian lashed her with the belt.

"Very brief…"

That night, Ian and his sons returned with broiling disdain. Vacuo's students had failed to reach the final four, let alone the Showdown Round. After the last were eliminated, Ian took the boys and left before it even started. He arrived briefly after it ended, drunk and irate. His good eye locked with hers, as she sat ghostly before the television screen.

He raved and stormed at her. For watching, in spite of being allowed… For failing to cook a dinner he hadn't expected before. The reasoning was lame, the jury uncaring, and the judgement swift.

"AAUGH! STOP IT!" she shrieked, as the buckle struck over her spine. "I d-d-didn't do a-anything WRONG!"

He was erratic in his swings, still absolutely plastered. "Sssssshow you wr…wrong…!" he slurred.

"G'OHH-oh…!" She moaned and whimpered in shock as the buckle missed her back entirely and struck behind her ear. She collapsed on the spot as Ian wobbled, considering a continuation as she curled up on the sandy floor and shook with pain and fear.

Ultimately, he picked up and left her to sob as he locked her in once more.

It was so maddening… so unfair.

"I HATE YOU!" She howled in rage and misery, from the bottom of her soul. And something came up from it…

Almost at once, Ashley felt a quiet descend over her. She glimpsed a glint of gold, and felt the pains over her body fading away. Before her very eyes, she saw a fresh cut seal over, a bruise vanish like smoke under her skin.

The warmth of it blanketed her, something ancient awakening in her time of need. She hadn't realized it, but she had unsealed her Aura.

Ashley went from miserable, angry and scared to utterly fascinated as she felt out this new sensation. And as she extended it, she saw the sands around her shimmer away.

But what was more, she had unearthed her semblance…

She experimented, seeing if this affected anything else in the room. The layer of grit on her mattress was banished with a gesture that felt far too natural.

…The power to command the sands… Ashley was a foolish girl of limited vision. In years, it never occurred to her that this could be of any worth at all in the greater world… She used it subtly to make her chores easier, and to that end it was miraculous.

But life would always be the great, stern teacher, even to the most dimwitted student…

"Please, Lord Frieza!" he begged, the filthy old nomad caked in ruddy dust save for where his goggles had covered his eyes. "The negativity has driven the Grimm rabid! Our tribes have barely held out as it is!"

Frieza didn't even meet his gaze, bored as he'd grown from holding court.

"I have it on good authority the beasts will leave the city to itself," Frieza droned. "If you insist upon wandering the wastes it is the least you should expect."

"The nomad tribes have thrived in the sands for generations," the nomad explained. "It is a fixture of our culture!"

"Oh, every race in the Universe, banging on about precious culture like it were spun glass," Frieza complained. "Thus always the savages, excusing their cling to immemorial muck, their resistance to the acme of civilized society. Take the lesson for what it is, my dear fool, and relocate where you'll not be destroyed…"

"There's more than nomads out there! What of Oscuro?!"

"The settlement is under protection." Frieza couldn't even be bothered to kill or condemn the noisy ingrate. "I'll see no one else today, gentlemen, I call this court adjourned…"

He found Ginyu making her way out of a sparring amphitheater on one of the lower floors. She'd yet to notice him.

"None of you idiots try anything indoors!" she ordered. "Practical is all outside! That means you, Argent! Spoony bastard…"

"Mind your back," Frieza muttered.

Gunyu wheeled around in surprise, bowing instinctively. "My apologies, Lord Frieza, I didn't…"

"So then, Commander, any recruits of... unique promise? Mayhaps something to relieve you of this adorable form?" he said with a laugh.

Ginyu sighed, looking down herself ruefully. "Nothing as yet, Lord Frieza... I can't understand it! Certainly I've encountered female warriors, but the strongest of the species?! It makes no sense...!"

"I trust this isn't an undue distraction...?"

"No sir, I'll endure any humiliation if it means I can serve to my fullest! It's just... there have never been females on the Ginyu Special Squadron!"

Was there even a Ginyu Special Squadron at this point?

Ginyu looked pained. "And there are... more discreet issues."

Frieza gave a huff as he smiled devilishly. "Regale me."

Ginyu's face flushed. "I-I wouldn't sully your ear with that—"

"Oh please, I insist..."

Ginyu knew better than to be evasive when Frieza 'insisted.' She looked up and down the hall and made double certain the amphitheater door was shut. "Well... Ugh! These human females have the most confounding biology! Finding relief in the field is bad enough for how fully I need to expose myself, but—"

" 'The field?' Can this have been a frequent concern?" Frieza asked, knowing full well Ginyu had not been on any lengthy campaigns.

"After the raven-haired hussy blasted part of the city out of nowhere, I moved the uplift practical out in the dunes," she explained. "Helped in a few ways… Seems these humans actually respond under sustained proximity to death. The desert keeps the pressure on when my boot's on their necks. But human ladies sure don't have long to react when nature calls…"

Frieza chuckled. "Oh come now, I thought you didn't see this body as your own! What harm is there if the men glimpse more than usual?"

"It's a disgrace for a commanding officer to be so indecent before her subordinates! The body has been wasteful as well...! It cost me an entire crop of rookies!"

Frieza's brow rose. Did the human females have some manner of combustive properties? "How indeed?"

"I was particularly on a roll that day, feeling especially ruthless as I laid down the law of joining the Frieza Force! Then mid-pose —of the few credits I can grant this squishy form— I suddenly began to leak! Wounded, bleeding out like a stuck pig! I interrogated the students, looking for an assassin in their number, but their stories were too consistent."

Frieza bore a look of utter confusion. "Truly? I suppose this is relevant?"

"Yes... As I was... informed by the recruits... It wasn't a wound, but part of some bizarre fertility cycle! I was prepared for something like egg-laying, but... Damn humans, they even have need of artificial aids to ease this process! Disgusting!" She went red. "Using one right now… They say it explains my stomach pains and irritability the past few days, which I thought to be more lactose nonsense. I brutally punished the one who made that accusation, but he wasn't wrong… I was especially vicious on the failures…"

"And your men?" Frieza asked, as morbidly fascinated as he was disturbed.

"Well after they explained I HAD to vaporize them, my Lord! There couldn't be embarrassing rumors floating around about the Supreme Commander!"

Frieza blinked. "Of course... Anything else?"

"Well... if you must know Lord Frieza… I conduct myself with tact and sophistication, and resist the need to… 'frolic' with the fairer sex. Of course, I'm also rarely around those compatible with such things."

Frieza laughed. "Yet here you find yourself, spoiled for choice among the local fare! I'm afraid I don't see the problem. Go native for all it concerns me."

Ginyu's feminine face went pinker. "But I lack the biology like this! And worst still, this body is… only interested in its… opposite."

"Ah ha ha ha!" Frieza guffawed, tickled pink. "And why not? Find yourself a strapping young lad, you'll receive no judgement from me!"

Ginyu went absolutely red, voice quieting to a near whisper. "Lord Frieza, please…! I know it seems amusing, but a man's masculinity is all he has! I'd sooner die than be subjected to such a thing!"

Frieza's brow sank. "I thought you had been employing gestational language in regard to yourself…"

Ginyu stumbled. "I-It helps me make sense of it, sire… Easier on all involved if, for the moment, I accept I'm a woman. It becomes… confusing."

Frieza seemed oddly curious, and almost sympathetic. "Why should it be so? Does it not matter how you feel about it? It makes no difference who or indeed what you are, provided you are useful to me."

"If… If I might admit, Lord Frieza… in spite of its disgusting setbacks, it almost feels… right," she said, face pinking as her hands touched her elbows in the mildest of self-hugs.

Frieza's eyelids slackened. "I can scarcely be bothered to comprehend the dimorphism between species… the males and females trade physical dominance from planet to planet… the lines so constantly blur and smear as to make absolutely no difference to myself. May they all congratulate themselves, for they are all equally worthless… Be one, be the other, so long as you garner results." He froze for a moment, an idea forming. Perhaps he could rid himself of Ginyu's less desired behaviors. He hadn't gotten where he was —in the North Galaxy anyway— by missing a golden opportunity where he saw one… "Having said that, Commander, if you want my opinion —and why wouldn't you— I have rather always felt that your proclivities lean in a particular direction…"

Ginyu blanked. "A… direction, sir?"

Frieza almost immediately regretted saying anything. "The… poses… the pageantry… Come now, have you never felt in the least that this is more appropriate to a troupe of females?"

Ginyu took a dramatic step back in utter shock. "Wha—?! You…! Lord Frieza… You think the Ginyu Force is…" She deepened her voice as she lowered it. "...girlish…?!"

He couldn't very well back down now. "...I think you may have been lying to yourself."

Ginyu looked halfway between enraged and emotionally shattered. Ultimately, the fire went out as she wandered to the railing overlooking the hollow and indoor courtyard.

"Can… Can that be…?" she asked of the aether. "I barely remember my original body, but I do remember I was a weak, weedy little shrimp… Could barely summon an energy blast…"

Frieza's eyes widened as he froze.

Oh no…

"...But every new body was bigger! Stronger! You've proven those things aren't mutually exclusive, sire, but experience long fashioned my instincts."

By the ear-cuff of Beerus, what had he done?!

"Can this body… Could coming here… have finally broken the cycle? Was it a blessing in disguise? Is this my chance… to be the Captainess I was always meant to be…?"

"Commander… And your rank is not subject to your characteristics," Frieza said automatically, fearing what he'd wrought. "Ginyu, this is dangerously close to becoming a religious experience. Whatever personal revelations you might be having, I'll have you keep them at arm's length from my notice."

"Yes sire… What's a girl to do in this brave new world, all on her own…?"

And that's the limit. "Oh my!" Frieza said suddenly, eyes like saucers. "Ginyu, have you that sword on your person?"

She stopped, glancing at the astoundingly obvious gold Relic on her waist. "Yes."

"Yes, excellent. I'm afraid I must extract dear Cinder early, if you would come with me, I simply MUST have a word at once about…" he said frantically, never finishing.

"...About what, my Lo—?"

"IT IS NOT YOURS TO QUESTION MY COMMANDS, YOU WORM!" Frieza belted, causing a great stir in the hollow as inhabitants of every floor immediately fled from sight as quickly and quietly as possible, creating a minor cacophony of clattering boots echoing down the school.

Ginyu flinched, teeth together in sudden terror. "I beg your forgiveness, Lord Frie—!"

"Heed my will at once! NOW!"

Even the handful of Uplifts who might have had a better chance would have seen Ginyu all but pop out of existence as she vaulted over the railing and sped down the guarded shaft to the Vault. Frieza took a calming breath and followed at his leisure, down into the dank, flooded sandstone cavern. He couldn't help but notice a few new features.

"Hm… A striking resemblance."

Risen out of the water, upon a dais of stone, Frieza looked upon a pair of larger than life figures on either side of the stone path. Each were of himself, in stunningly accurate detail, fashioned from the same red stone as the cavern itself.

He passed them to find Ginyu with her hand upon the slowly unsealing Vault, staring with plain conflict at the pair of other familiar —smaller— figures flanking the door.

"Ginyu, did you enlist some manner of sculptor?" Frieza asked, momentarily intrigued.

"Hmm?" Ginyu hummed, tearing her sight away from the statue. "Oh, no sir! I used the sword!"

The crescents whirled unnoticed as Frieza's confusion mounted. "The blade… as a carving implement?"

The door finally opened, and the Fall Maiden plus disciples touched down from the false sky within mere moments later.

"The sword has a power, my Lord! Observe…"

Cinder, Mercury and Emerald watched in confusion as Ginyu approached one of the horned statues.

"What's that guy?" Emerald asked of the life-sized sculpture, vast, flashing an aggressive grin on one foot, one arm across its chest, armored in a similar manner to Frieza with its swooping pauldrons. The other arm pointed high in a fist. Hairless, it's tall head was parted down the middle and wrinkly with popped veins, like its brain sat just beneath its skin. A pair of black horns fanned from each hemisphere not unlike Frieza's own, if smaller.

Ginyu stared intensely for a few seconds… before he swept the blue blade and lopped its head off to smash and clatter.

"A prison of masculinity," Ginyu whispered dramatically. "A me that was… a me that never could be… Denial, made flesh…"

Emerald, despite herself, turned to Frieza, who stood looking nearly as unmoored. "What the hell is going on?"

"SELF-ACTUALIZATION!" Ginyu answered proudly, stabbing the remains of the statue through the chest, before it all glowed blue… and the red stone dissolved and slowly reconstituted its form to represent the Winter Maiden in the same pose.

"Ah yes, Relic of Creation," Frieza muttered, finally understanding despite how desperately he wanted to be anywhere else.

"Yes sire!" Ginyu said. "I tried to see what it could do, but found I couldn't do much more than conjure figures from my mind's eye. I decided to spruce things up…"

Cinder too seemed utterly exasperated. "The Sword can only create with the proper materials, as well as a thorough understanding of what is to BE created. It's of no use to one without vision… or understanding."

Mercury couldn't help himself, pointing at the other statue of Ginyu's male form. "So that's… you?"

"No longer!" Ginyu said. "I am reborn! I will move with grace and poise in my small, svelt body! I will embrace the contradiction that in these fleshy sacks will I produce the very milk that is poisonous to me!"

"Not if you aren't—"

"With PRIDE I will endure," Ginyu projected, chest puffed out, "the monthly pain and exsanguination of my ovipositor!"

"What the fu—"

"...It's called a va—"

"No no," Mercury interrupted, smirking in amusement, " 'ovipositor' is perfect…"

Emerald blinked away her befuddlement. "All psyched to be a girl now, huh? Wait till she's pregnant and swaps bodies mid-delivery…"

"What?" Mercury asked her. "You'd do it…"

"Merc, you know I'm gay…"

Ginyu had listened. "So humans are the live birth type, huh? No thanks, not ruining this body…" She considered. "Wait, do humans do parthenogenesis?"

None of them answered.

"...Asexual reproduction?" she simplified.

Cinder leered. "No."

"Cinder, I would like a private word!" Frieza interjected before more could ensue. "Ginyu, I will call for you to seal this door when we have finished. Anyone besides Cinder and myself, leave us, or I will have you obliterated!"

"Alright…"

"Very well, my Lord…"

Frieza waited, eyes bulging as he confirmed that Ginyu, Emerald and Mercury had indeed left through the elevator shaft. Cinder stood nearby, not daring to agitate him.

"So… you wanted a word?"

Frieza sighed. "I might have… inadvertently encouraged the Commander in a manner I did not intend."

"And now she sees herself as female, I gather?"

"Ginyu is a long trusted and fiercely loyal underling," Frieza told her. "She takes my opinion quite seriously. At times, too seriously…"

"I'm surprised you would tolerate such foolishness," Cinder admitted. "If he offends you…"

"You wound me, dear! I have exceedingly little patience for incompetence and must make stern example of failures… but I value and reward those who rise to my standard. I am not so quick to discard my men for their personal vices and partialities." Frieza paused, considering. "Once we've returned, however, I will be morbidly curious to know how her new outlook is reflected by Ginyu-Three-Nine…"

"And that is…?"

"Ah, one of Ginyu's planets. She is one of the few to possess more than one."

Cinder Fall gaped, taking a step back. "She… OWNS a planet? …PlanetS?"

Frieza smiled wickedly. "Indeed, my dear. We are a planet-trading organization… It is an executive perk naturally, but those of exceptional performative acumen may be made regent of their own world of choice."

"I… had no idea…"

"And how could you?" he asked. "Stranded with the provincial ambitions of this pre-space backwater. Something to consider…"

Frieza strode out onto the wet rocks of the craggy shore, taking in the scent of the false sea. She followed.

"Is that what you wished to speak to me about, Lord Frieza?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of poaching you from your master… Not as you are."

She winced at that, but understood. She'd not proven herself yet…

"So… what DID you…?"

"In all honesty, I needed Ginyu off my back as she… adjusts. For the moment, I'll settle for a furthering of your sordid tale."

"Oh… of course, if it's not dull for you."

"I would appreciate that we can advance at a more brusque pace. What you've said thus far was merely the first of your formative years, am I correct?"

"Yes, and I assure you it's important to understand. But after that first year… much of it was such an invariant routine, I can burn through the next years like flame through paper…"

"She's not comin' back, y'know?"

Ashley scrubbed and scrubbed at the ring around the bowl. There was only so much cleaning agent she was allotted per month, and she was expected to maintain the same standard of care regardless.

"...Your street-corner slag mum, I mean…" Adelson finished, he and Jordie haunting the bathroom door as she worked.

"Dumped you n' stole Dad's dosh," Jordie added. "She don't care a nit's nad 'bout you…"

Ashley was utterly numb to their attempted torments. After three years, they had finally begun to realize their sport was tired. They just couldn't get a rise out of her.

Still, it was disheartening, unsettling, that her mother hadn't returned. She hadn't visited, written… Likely Ian would keep the letters from her. He only kept a private courier service, well away from the tailor, so she could never intercept them. Punish her when her mother failed to pay what was owed.

"That's why Dad's rough with you! She dumped you on us!"

But it was lame by then. The lies couldn't hurt her. But the mundanity would be briefly broken with her coming age. She awoke one morning to nausea and discomfort, and found her lower half, clothes, and sheets all bloodied.

She panicked, pounded the door, screamed and begged to be let out. They'd killed her in her sleep, or perhaps poisoned her the night before, surely… It made no sense. She languished in tears, in mortal dread and confusion as she labored to stem her open veins… only for the door to open, and be met with disgust and mockery.

They laughed at her, laughed at her ignorance. They'd told her nothing of womanhood, nothing of her burgeoning maturity. Her mother hadn't the chance before she'd been handed off to these criminals. Only briefly after did Faye take notice and help her, explain…

"Ah yes!" Frieza noted. "This is the female oddity Ginyu has evidently experienced, much to her chagrin and bewilderment…"

"Did she?" Cinder asked, unable to help but smile at the idea, her eye gleaming against the overcast murk. "I suppose it was humiliating?"

"None lived to tell of it," he answered simply.

"I see…"

The twins got some mileage out of her sweaty, awkward years, but it was momentary. Worse was the lack of support for her needs, the journey towards Ian begrudgingly providing her with hygiene products having been grueling and messy, its resolution borne only for his own convenience.

Puce never spent a thing on her that he didn't have to. The clothes she'd arrived in at ten were still her best, though she'd used her new skills to size them up as she grew, using scraps from the shop to patch in the extra material to fit her size. She looked homely, and it was only worse when she switched to her other sets composed purely from scraps. They were utter patchwork.

But they insisted she wear the better set when working in the shop, as she was still, baffling as it was, a marketing draw for the tailor. Even as she slowly filled out her weedy height at the age of fifteen…

" 'Ello, welcome!" Faye sang as two men walked in. "Need something mended dea—"

"It's just me and Willum again Ma'am," Mouse said, brushing the long brown bangs out of his tiny eyes.

"Need the room," Willum grunted, walking past as Mouse followed… and as Ashley's eye followed Mouse. He noticed.

"How-do, Ash! E-Enjoying the rain…?" he asked, nervousness a constant in his voice.

"Yeah… always do," Ashley said, smiling back and fighting the pink in her cheeks. Both knew full well it hadn't rained a drop all year.

Mouse was her first and only crush. His name was Marius, but nobody used it. Eighteen, but looked exactly as old as she did. A childhood of starvation had stunted his growth, and he competed with her for size horizontally, even if he'd lost the height competition. He had a far better source of money these days…

Despite his nickname, he shared no link to the faunus. He just looked… mousey. Huge ears, big bright red eyes, a feminine jawline and a pair of slightly prominent front teeth that showed when he smiled. His button nose was small and red. He wore an open, oversized yellow vest, a grey flat cap and skinny blue jeans torn off to expose most of his bare thighs.

As always, they were gone for several long minutes as Ashley's imagination filled the gaps, and her belly did backflips. Within the hour, Mouse sauntered back out the door shivering despite the sweat on his brow, legs wobbly. Face flushed, he very nearly passed her, but paused, fishing something from his tiny pockets.

He slipped her a Lien note, her eyes bulging as he did his best to hide his action. "Hide it… They'll take it if they see it," he told her.

"Mouse!" She whispered. "I can't…"

He smiled. "Use it well… I think you need it more than I do."

She went positively red. "Thank you…"

It might have been a blooming love story. She'd come of age, make him hers… but it could never be, and she knew it. Mouse was a prostitute… A prostitute who courted men, and preferred their company.

For a short time, she wondered if it was his preference, or simply business. But it was clear very early on that he simply didn't look at her the way he did his clients. Usually it was Willum, but she saw him in the district with any manner of man. He seemed to enjoy his work, delighting in being towered over or pulled along by the larger sort.

She finished her duties, all the while considering what she might do with the hundred Lien. It was more than she'd ever had in her life. Use it well, he'd said, and she meant to heed him. She didn't dare take it out. Like everything of value, sentimental or otherwise, she knew to sew it into hidden bits of her clothes. Occasionally she was forced to turn out her pockets in Ian Puce's paranoia, and… there were benefits to knowing how to work with fabric.

Plates smashed in an awful disharmony as she 'accidentally' dropped Ian's dinner between the kitchen and his spot on the couch.

"YOU FAT-THUMBED TROLLOP!" he roared. "D'ya know what mole crab meat feggin' costs?!"

Ian Puce had become nothing if not predictable. Inciting this reaction was as simple as cranking a wind-up toy. The belt was as inevitable as the crash of a toy monkey's tiny cymbals.

It still hurt, certainly, but he paid no mind to the tiny gold sparks of Aura that now protected her. It was her secret weapon. He couldn't do REAL harm this way, not even enough to make her Aura react. She put on the show though, wincing and crying in spite of an agony she no longer felt.

Locked in her room early, she was free to remove her window casing and steal away into the night before the usual stores closed.

In her years under Faye's tutelage she had learned all the elder had to teach, and that included where to get materials for garments, and where to potentially sell them. Making entire pieces from scratch was a different beast from the mending she usually did, and the very basic tools she purchased didn't help. She had to manage either by moonlight or find a cozy, lit rooftop to do her work.

Suffice to say, adding the tedium of hand sewing to the end of her days of backbreaking labor did nothing to ease her fraying, exhausted body. A few times she found herself waking up on a roof to the light of dawn, very nearly failing to be back in her room when she was let out, which would have been ruinous to the little freedom she still had. She managed to sneak some of her own work into the daily routine beneath Faye's notice.

It was all worth it though. She tried a few craft and general stores, and managed to make a deal to sell her creations at a modest rate, once she'd made a few to prove she could keep a consistent quality. The draw of her works being handmade kitsch justified a higher sale cost, and to her everlasting relief she walked away having turned the hundred Lien into a meager profit.

Taking a breath, she bought some more material, and did it again. Without the overhead of her tools this time, the margins were even better.

She stared at the chits in her hands. It was the most money Ashley had ever possessed. It felt like she had found a loophole in life, like something that was forbidden. There was a light at the edge of the darkness, at long last…

Ian would never tell Ashley what her mother owed, what the tally was. The notion of her labor being for the sake of the loan seemed more and more of an excuse to use her indefinitely. The best she ever got from him was that her work 'paid the interest.'

Even at her age, it could scarcely have been more clear: her daily service counted for nothing, and the only way she and her mother would be free is if she paid the loan itself using the money she earned in secret.

It was another early night, and she needed a better place to store the cash, her materials and tools than to just bury them. She'd made do with the crates she knew were never accessed, but it was still a risk.

Over the years, she'd gotten better with her modest semblance. She picked a wall, and beckoned the sand away from it, piling and piling in the center of the room as a gap began to form neath the boards. They creaked as they were free to hang from the ceiling. The scent of dry wood filled her sinus as she peered under, finding a surprising amount of light reaching a corner in a little, otherwise inaccessible crawlspace beneath one of the rooms.

Curious, she crept under, finding it easy to navigate. The floor above was solid, and she knew the layout well enough to be sure it was a guest room. The laminate certainly didn't permit any light to get through. She'd mopped enough to know it was sealed. Ashley had a suspicion immediately though, recalling a part of one wall where the paint job had been marred by a crack, likely brought on by some botched furniture move.

She was only curious about the light because none of the usual crew had been there that night, and a Saturday like that day was usually a late poker night. Anyone using these rooms was irregular. Yet, she heard the floorboards creak and squeal as two pairs of feet tramped aimlessly above.

She'd certainly found a hiding spot, but this new mystery warranted investigation.

She scooted over to where she could sit up, the tall crack in the paint at eye-level as she peered over the —always— spotless floor to the empty twin bed and door. A fuzzy, unidentifiable pink trunk obstructed her vision and only after pulling back did she realize she was staring at someone's bare leg.

She panicked only for a second as she wondered if the occupant was listening against the walls for her, or had some vantage point she didn't see, but she heard a gruff voice mutter something, and the leg twisted as another tan mass scampered across and leapt merrily into the bed.

Lightning struck all over her body and brain as she finally recognized what she was seeing.

…It was MOUSE…! Naked… COMPLETELY naked…! He twisted onto the bed, onto his back, smiling up at his would-be cat as he sat up, legs hanging off the edge. She could see EVERYTHING!

She nearly squealed as her face glowed in the dark, Willum Bruse stepping into sight as he advanced on the smaller boy.

The conflict she felt was immense as her heart hammered and her belly burned. This was wrong… so WRONG! Mouse had always been so kind to her… Not for anything he might gain either, he loved BOYS… Without him, she wouldn't have the money, materials or anything to hide here in the first place. She couldn't spy on him in such a private moment. She'd be so utterly humiliated were their roles reversed here. She wasn't just some peep-show pervert…!

But… god was he beautiful… She couldn't stop herself. From watching… from indulging her own flesh, as she beheld him. He did things she had scarcely imagined… or had things done to him… The sound of his voice as he responded to it all.

By the time it was over, she too collapsed, a quivering heap of sweat and shallow breaths. It was like she had been his lover… if he had participated in that manner anyway. Pants around her knees, her digits came free of herself, defiled and sodden. She felt ashamed of herself… while realizing fully well that she would do it again.

The next three years were a blur of routine for Ashley, if gilded with a new veneer of hope. She ran her little business, stowing away a great deal of Lien. Perhaps enough to free her mother, but she had to be certain… careful.

Still, she had taken to doing more with her money than hoarding it. She had big plans for her eighteenth birthday… for this year in particular. After all, the Vytal Festival would return to Vacuo at last, and she was going to gatecrash the dance.

But she would need something worth wearing, and so slowly she had begun to design a breathtaking red dress. Silk was not easy to aquire in Vacuo, but money talks.

Jordan and Adelson were no longer mere couch cruisers, but were busy learning 'the family business' from Ian. Ashley saw less and less of them as they shadowed Ian's dirty deals. That was fine with her, by all means. But they also shadowed the Bruse Brothers to 'coax' borrowers to pay, and the look in their eyes after doubtless harassing them to the point of fearing for their lives… It was clear they were growing emboldened by it.

She looked over the bare design. It wasn't finished, but it was wearable. She didn't look so bad these days, her body finally catching up to her frame, and she'd wrangled her few daily outfits into at least looking like a more dignified servant. Like one who was paid, anyway.

She ran her finger along the cracks in her mirror, looking at herself in the dress with a bashful grin. The cracks turned red as the glass melted and sealed. She twisted her feet in the sand below until they submerged, and winced as she let it shift and compress.

It had taken far too long for her to realize that she could control glass as well. Being made from sand, she could be nearly as crafty with it, but glass didn't just flow like water. It turned red hot as she manipulated it.

She stepped out of the sand, wearing a sizzling pair of heels, made of black glass. It was always black glass. She wasn't sure why, but she rather liked it anyway. She sashayed in a circle, her hips making a womanly roll as she did. Ashley had practiced walking in heels for as long as she had access to them.

Of course, as midnight drew closer her stomach twisted as she remembered, her quarry would hardly be drawn to such things. Still, she insisted that she look her best…

She found him at his usual haunt, a dimly lit street corner, bathed in purple light by a nearby bar, 'Hoplites,' which catered to a Mouse's tastes.

"Slow night?" Ashley asked from the dark, heels clinking as she approached.

He turned, his big eyes peering into the gloom. He frowned, as she came into focus. "Ash?"

A few passerby whistled as her, and she blushed.

"Yeah, I…"

"That dress, you're… How are you out here? Where did you get that?"

"I made it. I snuck out… the window always…"

He nodded. "It's beautiful… But what are you doing here? This place can be dangerous."

She winced, reaching into her pocket. "I-I… I wanted to hire—"

He saw her hand and stopped her, grabbing her free hand and pulling her to a small alley.

"Don't flash chits around here, trust me…" He checked down every direction to be sure they were alone. "You want to hire me?" His mind raced as he twitched nervously. "Are you even eighteen?"

"I will be, after midnight…"

He blinked in surprise, but nodded. "Ash, you know… You know I like… I'm not…"

She felt panic. He was going to refuse. "Th-that's why I'm paying you! I'll pay double your rate!"

"You know my rate?" he asked, before shaking it off. "Ash, I know workers who would be better… I'm not really a switch, I'm not good at being dominant… Your first should be with someone special anyway, don't just buy—"

"But that's you!" she insisted, her face going cherry as she backed off, and he blinked rapidly as he digested the confession.

"I… wow, I'm really flattered, Ash, but…"

She winced. "I-I know! I know it would never work, but you're the only one I… I just…" Even as the words came to her, tears filled her eyes, and she backed into the wall as most of a decade of abhorrent loneliness and neglect came bursting forth as she'd never told anyone. "I don't care if we make love, we don't have to DO anything! I j-just… want… for a little while to believe someone loves me…!"

Mouse went rod stiff as she nearly collapsed in tears, trying to hide her face as he realized. She didn't mean romantically. Any feeling that another truly loved and looked out for her was a distant memory… He could feel it in her every shudder.

He took a single step and pulled her close. She leaned into him and treasured his embrace.

"I'll do it. Do you have a place?"

Mouse was careful as he followed her through the ground-level window. His scroll lit up the dark cellar. "Wow…" he whispered.

Eight years was a long time by any metric, and Ashley had long evolved from making a zen garden of her floor, straight to manipulating the various shades of sand and forming light and dark geometric patterns like a sand mandala. The Puces disrupted it without care, but it only served to forge a fresh canvas every time.

"Wait, this is sand…?" he asked. "They lock you in this bare cellar?" He set eyes on the little mattress, an old rusty stain faded two-thirds down its length. "With that to sleep on?"

She was shaking as she nodded, seeing him take great care not to trample her art. She couldn't believe he was here, with her… and for this reason… "It's always warm in here, I never really needed blankets."

"We'll need to be really quiet," he said. "If they catch us together, I don't want to think what will happen to you." He looked at his scroll. "Five minutes to midnight, Ash. Was there anything you wanted in particular?"

She sat her knees upon the mattress. He followed suit. "It doesn't matter… as long as it's with you…"

"Do you need any kind of protection? I have…" He pulled out a series of folded squares, but she shook her head pointedly.

"I don't… I'd rather not…"

He sighed. "You're new to this, so I can buy you're clean… but I won't risk making you pregnant. Brothers know what Puce would do to you if you had my child."

She looked visibly disappointed, but turned deep in concentration.

He shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know what I'd do with your… anatomy… In the dark, I think I can fool myself into feeling like you're a boy… Your voice is deep enough…"

She didn't like this line of thought. She'd already gotten him down here, she couldn't let this pass by. "I guess… it might help if you… if we did it like the others do to you…?"

He raised his brows, hard as it was to tell in the dark. "Like…? I mean, yeah, that part should be the same between genders… I dunno if that would feel great for you though…"

She shook her head. "I don't really care, as long as we're close…"

His hand found her arm. "Alright… I've got a lot of experience with that, so, I'm pretty confident we can do that without any pain. We just need to be patient, alright? Keep relaxed, a lot of this depends on your mind."

"Okay…"

He flipped his scroll over. 12:02 am. "Happy birthday, Ash. How did you want to start?"

She was shaking all over. "T-touch, kiss me?"

He leaned onto his side, tugging her shoulder ever so slightly. She followed, arms around him as his hands found her cheek and thigh. She couldn't help herself any longer as sparks filled her brain. She leaned forward and found his lips. She'd never kissed anyone but her own mother, but she melted at the taste of his minty chapstick. She groaned as his hand found her backside and his tongue wandered into her mouth… She followed his lead, gentle as his suggestion was. Her belly burned. Her knees found his thigh, and she meshed them together to mash against it.

He sensed her intentions, and no sooner did her hand find his jeans than he shrugged off his vest and unbuttoned them. She squeaked as he twisted them, sending her on top of him. His hands found her thighs and traveled up her body, lifting her dress up and up and up. She helped him, flushed as she let herself be undressed. She unzipped him and tugged feebly.

Mouse gave a shallow laugh. "Yeah, they're tight… Hold on."

She'd smelled him before, the times she had watched him work, but god he smelled good. His skin was so smooth, only marred by the tiny prickles of microscopic stubble where he'd shaved his body hair. And his…

He fully disrobed as he giggled. "You certainly know what you want…"

She slid herself into him, poking and prodding. "I-I want…"

He giggled again, but pulled her off as he kissed her again. "No no… we're not risking that."

She whined, but he knew what to do. "I need to start working on you, but if you want…"

He tugged her knee, and she slowly let him wheel her around. She went hot, knowing her hind end was in his face. "Back it up…" he said. "Keep going," he added, when she only shuffled a little.

Finally though, she felt something hot and wet mold against her—

"Ngg!"

Eventually, after a few confusing, blissful minutes he ceased his efforts, and she felt the cool air on her wetted flesh as Mouse twisted her onto her side. They spooned as he turned her lips back to his own.

"Lift this leg," he whispered, patting her thigh. She obeyed, and his fingers found her mouth. She suckled on them obediently for a while as his lips raced along her neck so gently. He pulled them free and nuzzled her as his hand crept low. "I've got to get you ready, okay? This might feel a little weird… Just… tell me if you feel any pain at all."

She braced. The warmth of his digit circled his prior place of work.

"Just be sure to breathe…"

"Mnnn!"

"Relax… Just breathe."

He returned to kissing her as his finger circled wider and wider. She almost failed to notice how slowly he fed more of it until the whole knuckle was flush.

Ultimately though, after the better part of a half hour, she was gently sighing as his digits twisted and curled.

"You ready?" he said into her ear.

"Nnnn-uh… uh huh…" She nodded.

He kissed her cheek, and sat up. He drew something she couldn't see from his bag. She gasped as his fingers returned, coated with something surprisingly cool to the touch…

The next several minutes would last in her mind for years to come. Perhaps not the fantasy she envisioned, decidedly less comfortable… but he was there, with her. And when it finally ended, she was prone and blissful 'neath his heaving, perspiring form, his hot breath on her ear.

He wrapped her in a hug. "Ash… I'm not gonna do this again, probably, but if you ever need someone to talk to about any of this…"

She squeezed him all the harder, but settled for cuddling contentedly. "Will you stay the night?"

He didn't answer at first. "Alright."

Mouse was gone by the time she awoke, not having been paid one red cent. It took another few days to find him again, and offer his rate. He refused it.

"It was your birthday, and you need that money."

"That's not fair to you…" Ashley insisted. "I never wanted to waste your time!"

"Just…" He stopped, looking up and down the dark streets briefly. "Just promise me you'll use it to get out of there. Get out of the Puce's house, you're an adult now. If you can make money for yourself—"

"I am, Marius!" she said, as seriously as she could manage. "I'm paying off my mom's loan, I'm going to free both of us! And then…"

"Ash, do you even know what she owed? They're used to you doing everything in that place… They'll lie and just keep saying you owe mor—"

"What do you mean 'owed?' " she demanded suddenly. "I'm still here because of the debt…"

His big eyes sank to the dirt. "Ash… it's been eight years. Whatever the reason, you know she's not coming back."

Ashley froze. Her eyes brimmed, and she turned away. "Take… Take that back."

"Ash…"

"Take it back, she's not gone!"

"Alive, or… Your mother would never want you to stay there and suffer for her. She never wanted you to be a slave! Please… just run…"

It was good advice she just wouldn't take. He told her the truth, and she resented him for it. Typical. She was an adult… a woman after that night, in more ways than one… but her brittle heart was still that of a child's.

"I'm telling you, there are a lot of things to find here." the woman in pale green cornrows said to her partner, her briney armoured yukata tightly wrapped around her plus-sized form. Far wider than herself, a steel kasa hat sat upon her head, shielding her from the ample Sun. Its inlaid banded pattern told of unknown capabilities as her sole weapon.

"If you say so, Sal'," the other sighed, her piercing burgundy eyes gazing over the market stalls with disdain. "Personally, looks like the kind of flea market where you might actually get fleas…"

Ashley pretended to browse as she heard Salvia Tortuga laugh.

"Was that the best joke you had, Har'? So corny…"

"Want a joke? Hire a comedian," Harriet Bree told her, leaning against a palm. She scratched grit out of her inch-cut brown hair in irritation, careful not to mess up her bleached bangs, a single lick over her forehead while the two most prominent fanned up and apart like antennae or ears. "Ach! Find something here you can't down in Mantle's markets, and it still wouldn't be worth the damn sand getting everywhere."

"Something like this?" Salvia asked, holding up a necklace that seemed to be half round rock, half inner sphere of glittering amethyst crystal.

Harriet blinked. "A geode?" She managed a smile. "Okay, yeah, can't find those in Atlas… bit much though."

"You're trying to get the Major's attention tonight, aren't you?" Salvia preened, her turquoise eyes alight.

"Says who?" Harriet jabbed, shoving her playfully. "That would be fraternization…"

"I know you know the Brigadier General is putting a team together, and if you get placed in the same unit…"

"...It would no longer BE fraternization," Harriet sighed. "You're so… obnoxiously perceptive sometimes, Sal.' "

"Having patience will do that to a person."

The thick browed, gray-skinned shopkeeper, a rhino faunus, leered past his horned nose. "This in't some Mistral coffee shop. Buy it, or chat someplace else."

"Fine," Harriet said, "how much?"

Ashley lamented the shopkeeper's impatience. Just when it was getting good.

She found what she'd been looking for. It was perfect. Not the least bit uncommon for Vacuo, but the serene green-blue shimmer of the iridescent feathers were just what she needed to accent the red. Feathers from the Dune Crane.

Ashley had taken to skimming some of her earnings now and then to buy books for when she had spare time. Years without proper education or access to any but the most basic passing literature had dulled her ability to read, which had distressed her greatly. But after a few weeks, she had gotten the hang of it. Like riding a bike, it wasn't something you truly forgot, she just had to shake the rust off.

One of her books was about the endemic wildlife of Vacuo. The Dune Crane was a sad creature. It only seemed to exist along the river of Vacuo, in the lush ravine the city surrounded. It was the only viable water source in the vast desert, for a bird that preyed on fish and frogs and small rodents, in the only environment that hid its beautiful plumage. It was technically free as any other bird, but trapped in Vacuo all the same, bound to this tiny desert oasis…

Like her. She could run any time. Nothing kept her with the Puces if she really wanted to run. But she couldn't, tethered to this life as she was.

She was only out in the daylight to do the shopping, and provided she was quick about it she could manage her own little errands on the side. All she had to do was stop by the cellar window before coming inside, drop in, and hide her treasures long enough to be found and dealt with when she went to bed.

But she'd been blazing fast that day, and she had ample time. Time enough to finish her dress for the dance… She'd fit right in.

Ashley returned home and slid down to the cellar, shivering with excitement as she swept the sand away to the crawlspace. She had a little pendant to pin the feathers to, and opened the box where her dress sat, clean as could be. It had seen a few improvements, namely the patterns of gold trim along the sleeves and collar. She sewed the feathered accessory along the hip and couldn't help herself. She was pushing it for time, but the most Ian would do is complain…

She stood before the mirror, wearing her black glass heels, and modeling the dress in front of her mirror. She took a comb and some water in a bottle she'd hoarded and worked at her shoulder-length hair as quickly as possible.

The result stood before her, and she felt her eyes go wet. The confident, lovely creature staring back at her was nothing she'd ever seen in that mirror. She dared a sultry smile, and saw it smoulder back. It was nothing that belonged in a cage…

"Gotta be some suds in them boxes…" Jordan said on the other end of the door.

"Only box matters is some ruddy GOON, ya' goon!" Adelson told him.

" 'Part from the obvi—"

She froze as the cellar door opened, and the brothers did likewise.

"Who in shite…?"

She twisted at last, stepping back. It was a nightmare… Everything was laid bare! The dress, the money, every bit she'd earned for three years.

"Ash?!" Jordan muttered at last, both in near as much shock as she was. She saw the gears turning in their heads, and knew once it passed that her life was soon to change all over again.

Finally, Adelson's eyes scanned over the hole in the sand, the crawlspace and all within it. "Y' been nickin' us blind, 'ave yeh?"

Jordan followed his lead and leapt into the hole, grabbing and examining everything he could find. "Pinching the 'ole bleedin' neighborhood!" He pulled something from her stack of books. " 'Encyclopedia Lemuel?' Come off it, she's dinkum dumb as a dunny rat!"

"Dunny budgie, bruv," Adelson corrected, stepping closer. "What's the occasion, 'uh? Where'd that beaut come from?"

Her voice caught in her throat. "I-I… I made it…"

Jordan was counting her Lien, and chuckled. "She been workin' with Faye…" he offered, shrugging.

"Aww…" Adelson waved the notion off. "She c'n sew a patch in ya pant leg, not a bloody show gown."

She could feel it, the sense that everything was slipping away. They'd take everything! "I bought the materials, I earned—!"

Jordan chuckled. "Earned?"

Adelson shook his head. "No, no, Jordie… I believe 'er…"

Jordan gave a gormless frown. " 'Ow's that?"

"Well look at 'er! She's thrown in with mummy!"

Jordan's face lit up. "Right…"

"No!" Ashley insisted, shaking her head.

"Sold herself to every John n' Jimmy, I bet…"

Jordan stood up as Adelson took another step closer. "All that dosh be good business for Da', eh?"

Adelson looked at him and nodded in a mock show of concession, as if he'd said something he hadn't considered. "Too right, too right… but first we better see if she's any good… right?"

Ashley froze. She didn't want to know what that meant. In her heart, of course, she knew.

Jordan stepped closer, and both of them had cornered her against the wall as she stood in terror. "You get the front… n' I'll get the freckle, eh?"

Adelson grinned. "Yeah… yeah… First though… this all's in the way."

He grabbed the collar of her dress and tugged. Jordan grabbed the back end, and she felt her heart rip in half as her dress was torn open with a sound of shredding fabric. It was ruined, and before she could react it was being shoved down to leave her in nothing but her underthings. Her tears flowed freely as she flailed impotently and in shock. She couldn't find the words, she couldn't imagine how to protest, only vaguely trying to cover herself even as her last barriers were torn off without mercy even as she heard their zippers…

"N-nnnn-no…!" Ashley moaned, as they crowded her, chuckling the whole time as they put their hands all over her. "Stoooop!"

Their breath was all over her. Adelson was right in front of her, and Jordan was behind. Together, they pulled the three of them down to their knees in the sand. Then she felt it, red as a cherry, yet white as a sheet… pressing with disgusting intent into her groin, and behind like with Mouse. Her panicked breaths grew harder and harder as she felt them pressing… and pressing…

STOOOOOOOP!"

At once, the floor beneath them exploded, and as she slammed her eyes shut, she felt something hot and wet spray her front to back, even as a brittle noise accompanied creaking wood and something closer. Something like melons being punched with knives. The air turned thick with a sharp smell, oddly metallic, so thick she could taste it.

In her shock, she hadn't noticed the boys' efforts had stopped, and didn't open her eyes until she heard a pitiful noise behind her, a whimpering like she'd never heard before. Like a rat caught in a trap, that hadn't seen fit to truly die.

She opened her eyes, and jumped out of her skin at the carnage.

The room was transformed. Half of it was speckled red. But before her, Adelson's face was twisted, frozen in a melange of surprise, fear… and pain. Red, crystalline spears erupted out of his skin, most prominently his skull. He was dead.

She stood up, to see she was in a bloom, a blossom of glass which had erupted out of the plentiful sand. Adelson had been stabbed multiple times. She heard the whimpering again and turned behind her.

Jordan was bleeding out, but still horribly alive. It was little better than his brother, except he was awake to weep pitifully. A spear had left his collar only to pierce his jaw and emerge from his mouth, gagging him. He stared at her in fear, gurgling before the noises quieted… and his eyes froze in place.

She stepped out of the glass bloom in shock, staggering. She found her mirror, shattered in the course of it all, but could still see herself. Stark naked, like the day she was born, covered head to toe in red viscera. She looked like something from a horror story…

The cellar door burst open as Bill Bruse stormed in at the noise. She twisted as he beheld the sight, mouth clamped shut even as his eyes went huge and wild. He pulled a studded billy club and charged her with a blind war cry.

She ducked him and used her semblance, throwing the loose window case at his face. The howl of anger turned to pain as it smashed into his eyes, red pouring down his chin as he flailed around, the club smashing everything in sight.

Bill's footing was ungainly in the sand, and all the more so as he stumbled into the pit where she kept her treasures. Flush with sudden inspiration, she commanded her power again…

Bill Bruse' ankles sank, and he stopped shouting out of sheer surprise.

She considered a moment. Felt in her fraying heart what she wanted. In spite of what everything she knew a person should want, what a person should feel… in spite of the horror of what was happening and how it turned her stomach…

…Ashley was not sorry her tormentors were dead. In fact, a wave of catharsis washed over her at the knowledge that they would never darken her life again.

She looked down at Bill Bruse. He looked up at her, helpless, but still impotently enraged as he found it in him to cry out again.

"YOU FILTH! FILTHY COWARD BIT—"

He was tugged down to his knees in the sand as he twisted slowly like a screw.

She would not be sorry to see him gone either.

He cried out, the sand course against his body as he was dragged lower, lower… She leered down without pity as he stared up at her, screaming incoherently before the last of him was buried alive.

Ashley barely had a moment to enjoy the silence before a crack rang out, and she felt something on her back that stung like a hornet made of fire. Her Aura crackled around her.

"What've you done to mine BROTHER?!" Liam shrieked, his hood flying back to reveal his fiery red hair as he stalked towards her from the bottom of the stair. Wielding a pair of pistols, he began firing shot after shot in action-hero excess.

"You'll DIE!" he screamed. "You'll DIE FOR THIS! WILLUM! WILLUUUUM, SHE'S KILLED 'IM! HIM AN' THE YOUNGINS!"

On any other day, Ashley would have shrunk and cowered. She'd never been approached with lethal intent, let alone shot at. But in that moment… she had nothing more in the world to fear.

She stormed down the hall at him, only being grazed once or twice as she stretched her hand forward with a piercing cry. A fountain of sand surged past her, the picture frames clattering before bursting into a cloud of razor shards.

Liam cried out in pain as he was peppered with glass, and she prepared to tackle him as he shielded himself as though from a swarm of livid hornets.

"RAGHHH!"

Ashley felt the wind knocked out of her as something massive stormed down the stairs and t-boned her in a charge that sent her sailing across the lounge and into the opposite wall.

She couldn't help a chill as Willum's enormous mass stomped towards her across the room, snorting like some minotaur. Ashley didn't even look for a weapon, but hurled her semblance blindly his way, upending the glass surface of the coffee table into his face.

He roared as it shattered, cuts in his face bleeding freely as he reached for her neck and raised her high as Willum tried choking the life out of her. His massive fingers pressed in, fit to snap her neck, and Ashley felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of her skull as her vision blurred and she heard a rushing in her ears.

Willum croaked suddenly in surprise as she swung her fist under his jaw. In the commotion, she had grabbed a knife-like shard of the table. Red oozed from him as he released her and clutched his wound, but he couldn't stem the small river emptying his veins. He flailed like a fish on the floor as her own hand bled, dark red on her hands even as her Aura sealed her wound.

Liam finally stood back up, distraught as his big brother lay dying. His weapons forgotten, he pounced on the bloody, naked girl… but she was ready. She lifted her knees, smashing the pointed heels of her glass shoes into his chest… but it was only the primer to what came next, as the heels exploded out like a bursting bulb, but the end result was like a grizzly point-blank shotgun blast.

He rolled off of her, stone dead.

Ashley stood up, heaving as she recognized all that had transpired. There was a muffled siren somewhere outside, and a projected voice saying something she couldn't make out. It could have been clear as a bell, but her mind was aswarm with every thought and no thoughts at all. She didn't even care that she was naked, still sticky with blood as she grabbed one of Liam's pistols and sought the last of her demons, for a reckoning long overdue…

She silently climbed the stairs, but when she came to Ian's office, she could find no sign of him. It would have been trivial for the bastard to escape in the chaos, but all the same she stepped out into the shop and the bracing light of day.

"DROP IT! DROP THE GUN!" a woman in blue ordered from the other end of the street. The Minutemen, a civilian enforcement militia, existing to create some manner of structure beyond outright vigilante justice. They were identified by their blue clothing, not universal uniforms but whatever the members could throw together. There were only a handful of them, but plainly the firefight and screams below had roused their attention. "WE HAVE THE BUILDING SURROUNDED!"

"Ian? What's going on?" Faye asked, hobbling out of the laundry room.

"SHE SAID DROP IT!"

Rounds from a rifle blasted through the glass and rebounded off her Aura as Ashley dropped the pistol.

But she heard a shriek.

"DAMN IT, REYNOLDS, HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

Ashley twisted. "No! FAYE!"

The elder, all the more frail after eight years, may as well have been made of paper for how the deflected round sank into her belly. Red bloomed from her blouse an instant before she crumpled, barely preventing herself from smacking flat on her back even as she listed swiftly into death.

Ashley felt something surge from within… a volcanic rage… a debilitating guilt.

ARRRRRRGH!"

She threw her hands out at the surviving panes of glass in the storefront, which burst out in a shockwave that littered the street in a chorus of tinkling shards. The Minutemen opened fire as a unit as they and watchers in the growing crowd were struck in various levels of severity. One of them clutched their shoulder, while another writhed on his back for a shard under his jaw.

It was not the time to fight. It was all happening so fast that she couldn't plan from moment to moment, but she knew she couldn't escape… and there was still Ian to answer for it all…

She shielded herself as she retreated indoors, but something made her pause. She saw him… Mouse, in the crowd. Briefly they locked eyes… but he was the first to break it as he shook his head and ran the other way.

She never saw him again.

Ashley hadn't even thought to grab the pistol off the floor. She needed to find Ian, or something that gave her answers. She ducked into his smoky, tacky office, gave the room and record books a quick look but knew his ledger was kept in the fire safe under his desk. She'd never manage it. She turned the corner downstai—

Her ear rang as a gunshot missed it by millimeters. When it did, Ian Puce's great sausage fingers grabbed a fistful of her hair and spun her around as she cried out. But she grabbed his shirt collar, tugging his undershirt out of sorts and him along with her before they both tumbled down the stairs. There was a moment of pain when his bulk rolled onto her, but apart from that, he'd come off worse when they hit the bottom and sprawled over the laminate.

She managed to get on her feet first and grabbed the pistol. She stared down at Ian as his good eye stared cold, murderous daggers into her own. He barely regarded the mouth of the pistol as she aimed it at his chest.

"Me boys…!" he wheezed, voice breaking even as he seethed with rage. "What you did to me boys… I'll see your whore's heart tore out, you li'l BITCH!"

Ashley's anger sizzled against his own. "Those two… they got what they deserved… You're ALL getting what you deserve! You were NEVER going to let me go!"

"Like I wanted yeh in the first place…" Ian said, still wheezing from the fall.

She shoved the still hot barrel into his blubber as he cried out, his undershirt singed. "SHUT UP! Where is my mother?! What did you do to her?! Tell me or I'll—"

He laughed. The bastard just chuckled slowly. "We didn't do nothin'..." he said. "She feggin' vanished! Up n' gone like a puff a' smoke!"

The pistol clattered in her grip. "Just tell me… tell me what you know!"

"Y'just don' get it… All this time, clients come in n' out a here… How many times've we taken some sap's kid as collat'ral? Just YOU, roight?!" He shook his head, wheezing with laughter. "It's a bluff! It weeds out the ones who won't pay, scares 'em away from the deal or makes 'em remember what assets they really got to hold onto… No parent what loves their kid leaves 'em with the likes of me! If she ever gave a rip about you she'd never have pawned you off…"

Her eyes were wet. She felt numb. "You're… you're LYING! The truth, or I'll kill you!"

He shook his head. "Nah… Tramp never sent off a ruddy nickel. Maybe got herself killed… Maybe dumped you and legged it to her cushy new life, I dunno! All we had was you! An' I spent the better part of a decade wringing you out for all she took…"

"You HAVE to know SOMETHING!" She said desperately.

"THIS IS THE MINUTEMEN! COME OUT OR WE'RE COM—"

Ashley turned her gaze up the stairs just long enough as Ian roared and swatted the gun from her hand, rolling to throttle her on the ground with both hands as it clattered well into the room.

She choked and gurgled as she clawed back at him, but he was still bigger, and far stronger than she was. She looked into his frothing face, the eerie fury of his unseeing—

That was it.

"ARGGGGH!" Ian Puce cried out as her hand held out, and released her as his glass eye pressed back painfully. He clutched his head and covered his eye in confusion and agony, flailing onto his back as she stood up and loomed, unrelenting.

His cries mounted louder and higher as she drove his eye back into his socket, until finally…

There was a horrible noise as his orbital bone crunched out of the way, and the glass eye was driven into the meat beyond like a bullet. He went silent all at once, face still stricken with pain.

She stared down at his husk, heaving as she stood over him, still bloody as a nightmare and nude as a newborn. The shop door burst into the stairs, and she heard shouting as she ran for it.

The Minutemen raced after her, down the hall to the cellar and the grizzly sight within. They would search the building and surrounding area for hours, but the first one in insisted she saw the girl sink below the sand, as if by elevator… or like a demon descending back into the sanctuary of Hell.

Ashley gasped the first breath of truly fresh air she'd had in hours, the copper sand streaming off her flesh and out of her hair as she stared up at the pink and purple desert sky. Her limbs shook as she dragged herself out, shaking as she fell onto her back and stared at the first twinkling stars.

She was certain she'd been digging her own grave, forcing the sand away from herself to draw the most meager breath of air as she tunneled blindly. She felt along the natural stone borders for a way outside the city, pushing her semblance further and for longer than she'd ever attempted, knowing that if she faltered she would choke and perish where no one would ever find her.

Yet there she lay, alone on the sand with not a thing but her freedom. She lay, watching the last light of her darkest day slowly fade as she martialed her strength. The light of the city was behind her, the light of the Sun to her left. She faced the Malikine Void, a death sentence in her present condition… and her best shot of survival.

With hindsight, she'd mostly just defended herself. The brothers would have assaulted her in a manner that would never heal. The Bruses struck in revenge, and it would be difficult to prove she'd actively hunted down Ian. There was a chance she'd have been given a light sentence in light of all she'd suffered.

But years of living where the worst was always assumed of her had warped her perspective, and the desert seemed her only recourse. She knew the night was the best chance she had to traverse the sand, and resisted the desire to lie there and sleep. Her naked body, sticky with blood, had long been coated with sand. If there were anyone to see it, she might have found it humiliating. As it was, it had blurred as yet another surreal layer to the new life she had started.

She was fortunate that the moon was visible, guiding her and keeping her from walking circles as she wandered out into the night. There was no plan, no endgame but to reach the other side. In truth, Ashley Rhodopis had no expectation but to die. From the heat, from thirst, in the jaws of a monster… This outcome had never crossed her mind, bleak as the Void was vast. She had nothing to cling to. Her last hope, discovering the truth of her mother, had died with Ian Puce. The trail had gone cold before she could even set out on the path.

There was nothing left to even live for.

When the Sun rose she regretted not having rested. She was exhausted and needed sleep, and she'd long passed the Sunset Stones to an endless series of rolling dunes. There was no shade to speak of, and she knew that even if she collapsed and COULD sleep in the blinding sunlight, she might not wake up at all.

She slowed her pace, and somehow made it to sunset again, barely using the Sun's position to keep her heading North. She fell behind the first sandy shadows, delirious for the heat. She was starving. Her mouth was dry. The sand on her body had blocked a great deal of ultraviolet light and prevented her from burning, but patches on her skin were shiny and red all the same.

Somehow Ashley had avoided any nomads or beasts, only to realize… Grimm tended to be drawn to places where humans lived. Perhaps she hadn't found them because this place was so deadly that man didn't bother with it. Perhaps this no-man's-land was just the edge of oblivion. The Malikine Void was feared for a reason after all.

More than anything though, lack of water was becoming the most pressing issue. It was truly scaring her, because three days without water in relative safety couldn't be the same as three days of constant, laborious travel with the Sun beating down. She had finally become so desperate that her own urine seemed tolerable… but as she watched it darken the sand below herself, she still knew better, that the salt would only make her more thirsty, and she would only feel the shame for degrading herself so far.

She awoke mere hours later, choking and sneezing sand from her mouth and nostrils as she realized the sands had half buried her as they shifted in her sleep. She screamed in frustration, howling at the empty sky.

Something screamed back.

No… not empty. She froze, eyes scanning the stars. There was some dark shape, or seemed to be, covering the stars swaths at a time.

"AIYYYYY!" she shrieked as a pair of talons clutched at her shoulders, lifting her into the air as she finally saw the red eyes gleaming down at her from a vicious armoured head with great fox-like ears, the beat of truck-length fleshy wings intense up close. A Ravager…

Its grip on her was imperfect, and one shoulder slipped free as the other painfully wrested from its grip from sheer gravity as she winced and fell. She hit the sandy slope and tumbled end over end until she neared the trough between dunes, inwardly thankful for the softness of sand… still utterly terrified as she tried to decide where to run.

She'd never encountered a Grimm up close before. Of all the manners of death she might face out here, being torn to shreds and consumed by monsters was at the absolute bottom of the list.

She saw it, swooping down the hillside. Running was futile. There was nowhere TO run!

But the desert was her weapon.

With a shove of her hands, a cone of black glass spears erupted into the beast's path, and the Ravager squealed and bellowed with an ear-splitting sound as it impaled itself. Smoke and ash plumed into the air, blotting out the stars one by one.

That couldn't be the last of them. She knew only so much about monsters, but the only ones that traveled alone were—

The sand rumbled, and she picked up her feet as they sank slightly into the side of the dune. She saw the ant-like shimmer of grains cascading down, and stumbled again as her feet lost purchase. There was an awful stench, and a noise like stones grinding before she stared down to see a star-like pattern filtering through the bottom of the trough. And like something awful rising from the sea, a single flare of red emerged from below to fill the pit with a hellish light. The star pattern below the light seemed to unfold as she glimpsed gleaming, circling shards twisting along the insides.

It was a maw… the maw of a Blind Worm.

She turned and climbed with every ounce of strength she had, icy panic in her veins, but she heard the great Grimm beast blast its roar up at her, a noise that mixed a piercing shriek with a rumbling growl. It thrashed as she climbed, its head lolling around and scooping truckloads of sand under her to toss them away. Steadily, she felt herself sliding back even as she climbed. It was like an antlion drawing prey into its place at the bottom of its trap.

She felt tears budding in her eyes. Blind Worms were death. There was nothing worse to encounter in the Void. She'd heard stories of them, their ability to swim the sands effortlessly. If it were even partially true, then this monster wasn't even trying to get her. It didn't need to. She was an easy meal delivered right to its home!

She couldn't think, she could barely claw her way against the tide as the fiery glow grew brighter around her. The smell, the waft of hot, dank breath was a halitosis of death. Her semblance might have helped her somehow, but she couldn't picture anything. Ashley didn't dare look back.

Without warning, lightning struck the base of her spine as she was suddenly tipped up to the sky, falling backwards as she only now realized the series of mandibles surrounding her. She was in its MOUTH…!

The stars were all she saw apart from its twisting, saw-like pharynx of inward-pointing teeth as she fell.

"No! I DON'T WANT TO DI—!"

The stars vanished as the enormous mouth shut around her.

That night, the life of Ashley Rhodopis came to a sudden and awful end…

She tumbled, smacking into wall after twisted wall of black, featureless flesh as she fell down the worm's gullet. It was a soft landing perhaps, but fear was the only thing that filled her as she slid deeper and deeper into the beast. She couldn't see, the smell was horrific, and all she felt was the warm, slick flesh of its insides. She finally came to a stop, uncertain where she was. She thought to fight her way back to the mouth, but couldn't manage it. Proceeding deeper was almost certain to be her end. Did Grimm even have an "exit?" She wasn't even sure this could be called a stomach, it was all just a long tube, barely enough to crouch in.

She resolved to sit where she'd been deposited, hugging her knees and trying not to touch anything as she heard the creature breathe, felt its flesh pulsating and the hollow dripping and gurgling…

She couldn't help it. She started to cry, shaking and shuddering.

It couldn't be real. Her, gobbled up by a Grimm? Swallowed… eaten… It didn't FEEL real.

That was it. It was over. Every cautionary tale she'd heard as a child, every villain in fairy stories… winding up inside of a Grimm was the end. A horrible, horrible end… She'd never heard of anyone getting out.

She wiped her eyes on her arm. But what did she expect? She wandered naked into the desert. She knew she was going to die out here. At least it wouldn't be by starvation or thirst. Of course, being digested would probably be no less painful…

"Moooom…!" she moaned, shuddering. Actually, why bother? Dignity didn't matter to the worm. "MOMMY-Y-Y! HELP ME! HEEEEELP!"

Nothing answered, obviously. Nothing but the same noise she heard from her own stomach when it was empty, if amplified. What wasn't amplified was her voice, absorbed by the thick meat, like it were to be erased as surely as her existence was.

The worm seemed to settle. It took her so easily. Was it even remotely satisfied to have her inside? The thing was so vast, would she have died even for the sake of its next meal, or a mere bite… a morsel?

To her understanding, Grimm didn't need to eat. So what was she? Did ending her life, engulfing her entire existence… making eighteen years of struggle, growth and suffering vanish mean a damn thing? Was it worth it to this monster, snapping her up in sheer cruelty for its own instinctive, murderous desire?

She didn't know how long she sat there, running through it all, contemplating the waste, her blinded eyes seering a hole into the unseen flesh around her as she grew to HATE her new warden.

She felt herself getting worked up. She got to her knees and clawed at the side of the thick flesh. "LET ME OUT!"

She reached out. She could feel the mountains of sand. If this thing was going to reduce her to goo, she'd make it regret every moment she was still living…

The Blind Worm rumbled loudly around her, knocking her off balance as it coiled and twisted away from the crystallizing needles surrounding it. She heard a hiss as the beast lashed out at the unseen foe tormenting it. She slid onto her back, wincing as she splashed through a caustic puddle that burned to the touch.

The pain and panic only motivated her further. Even as she slid throughout its thrashing body, she turned its home into a pit of spikes. It writhed and rolled… until it roared at its most frenzied pitch yet, and she felt cool dry air as she suddenly slid out into a tinkling bush of pain.

"ARGGGH!"

She froze momentarily, looking back into pure darkness, aside from the red searchlight waving around. She could just make out what had happened. Starlight shone in from somewhere far across a black chasm and above, the dunes slowly filling this new gap as a moonlit sandfall shimmered behind the thrashing worm. It had snagged itself upon a massive stalagmite, like an earthworm on a fish hook, and in panic it had torn itself open. Her glassy nettles twinkled back from the worm's rampage, like frost. It must have staggered into this cavern while burrowing to escape her pursuing glass.

She crawled away into the darkness, pulling glass needles out of her bleeding skin. She didn't know when her Aura had broken, but she wasn't immune to her own creations. Each one was painful, but she relished them as they reminded her that she was FREE.

By the time she'd extracted the last one, the sound of the worm's agony had faded away, and she was alone in the dark. Now, she could make sense of her surroundings, and hear the constant sound of hissing sand from somewhere above. She crawled, feeling her way every step as her senses magnified. Eventually, she began to see little pinpricks of moonlight above, frequently accompanied by beautiful cascades of sand as the dunes far above shifted. The noise of sand began to mix with a sharper sound. It took too long to recognize it, but once she had honed in on the babbling of water she found herself scrambling towards it.

Cruelly, she found a ledge on the surface she crawled upon. The sound was below her, a blind drop in the dark. Anything could be down there. She could meet the same fate as the worm, impaled upon a spear of stone.

And it was the best odds she'd had since she'd entered the Void…

There was a great splash as she felt herself immersed in the cool splendor of wet. Not the dank damp of mucous in the worm's guts, nor the hot, sticky ichor of blood. Water… A sensation she was certain she'd never feel again.

She surfaced and drifted in the dark. In all honesty, she hadn't used the skill of swimming since she was very young, when her mother would take her down to the river in the ravine. The memory was stale, but she relished in floating as the sandy grit and stale blood washed off of her body at last. The water was neither hot nor cold, much like the river back in Vacuo.

And then her mind spun as it realized… This was the river in Vacuo. The city itself was centered in a crater where part of the Moon was believed to have fallen, unearthing the desert and impregnating the surrounding lands with massive Dust deposits. The river was merely a deep gash in the desert where a vast aquifer had broken ground. She couldn't prove it, but she was certain this was that same aquifer.

When she knew she wouldn't drown she dunked her whole face into the water and drew gulp after gulp into her parched throat. It was satisfying in a way she couldn't describe. She brushed a rock at the cavern wall at significant speed, and realized she was being carried along in this grand subterranean world. She couldn't fight this current, and couldn't swim as fast as it would flow. She let herself float, and rest, her muscles finding respite in the ease of it.

But to her awful realization, she couldn't truly sleep. The waters being fresh and unpoisoned by salt meant they would not naturally keep her aloft without some effort. She tried several times only to awake choking, her sinuses filled with water. She grew delirious in the constant darkness, so desirous of sleep. She could find no shore, no crook in the walls to rest in. She traveled for hours… and then days, floating with barely anything to interact with. She pruned, but the constant supply of water ensured her survival. The water had not changed its temperature, but after such a long time she knew it was ever so slightly cooler than was comfortable. She rubbed her body up and down for warmth, but eventually she found herself shivering regardless.

The darkness was so complete, the white noise of the water so constant that she began to hallucinate. It began with noises. Chittering in the burbling and bubbling of the water. It grew to awful crawling sights along the unseen cavern walls. Shutting her eyes made no difference. She would only realize later the effect it had all had on her sanity at the time, but would never know how temporary it was.

And so, when she finally began to see light, see the glistening crags of the cavern walls, she did not react. Surely it was just another bout of madness from this infinitely long sensory deprivation chamber…

But the noise on the distance amplified, like static, and slowly she realized that what she was seeing was real: a break in the aquifer.

At first she considered fighting the current, but found it unnecessary as the river shallowed, until at last she could stand, all but her ankles above the rushing stream as it poured over the edge. After so much time in the darkness, she approached so slowly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

She stood at the edge, still squinting as she stared over the endless sands and rocky outcrop below. It was an oasis. Crystal blue waters pooled below the cascade she stood over, flanked by reeds and grasses and tall palms. It was a tiny patch of paradise, protected from the ever shifting sands having bore through the stone by erosion and back underground again.

She didn't hesitate. She struck the water surface below more heavily than expected, but feeling something besides the cool numbness of the river was refreshing. Even the beating Sun was welcome as she surfaced and looked back up.

The dunes seemed to have dipped a hundred feet or so down, and the water table bled freely here from a dark, mineral-rich striation in the resulting cliffs like the seam of a knot in a great plank of wood.

She wandered the little slice of paradise. Dates grew from the palms, and she ate readily. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Without the coating of blood and sand, the Sun was harsher on her fair skin. Being nude had ceased to feel strange to her, but all the same she experimented with making clothes from what she had at hand. She gave up on this quickly though, as her skills didn't translate to grasses and palm fronds.

Exploring the grass, she heard a squeal and coughed out in pain as something tackled her, and tried goring her with sharp tusks. It was not a boarbatusk, but a true wild boar.

There was another, sharper squeal as she plunged a crude black glass dagger into its neck. Prudence by now had dictated she should carry a means of defense…

She would eat well that night —despite the toughness of the boar's flesh— having a ready means of lighting a fire with the heat of her glass. Firstly, however, she saw a distasteful opportunity. She wallowed in the boar's blood, and then applied a fresh coating of sand. The Sun was becoming a problem, and distasteful as it was, the method had proven itself.

Alone, she lasted another few days in relative peace and shade. She could theoretically survive here for a long time. It was tempting. But without clothes, without anyone to help her, if anything happened she wasn't expecting…

It was difficult to imagine. She considered following the stream underground again, but she had been lucky enough to find a way above ground again. She got as much sleep as she could stand in the shade, ate and drank as much as she could stand and forged as large of a glass cantine as she could carry before departing at sunset. She wove a crude cloak from the palm fronds for extra coverage. North… she was determined to head North…

It was the longest, most crushing leg of the desert yet, but she was more prepared this time. She encountered mole crabs at dawn, which saw her as an easy meal, but after the first few had been impaled by dark spears of glass, the others skittered away. Animals were far easier to repel than Grimm, she was learning.

The extra sleep paid dividends. As planned, she journeyed through the night, and carried on at a slower pace through the day until she could travel no further. She would wrap herself in the palm cloak to shield from the Sun as she slept, and it kept her from being buried as the sands shifted too. And the second night, when a sandstorm came with the Wasting Winds, it served as adequate shelter.

Three days of travel and her canteen was empty. She left it behind as dead weight. The Sun seemed to intensify as the days wore on. It was so hot. The madness was returning as she shambled over the endless sands. Mirages in the heat haze were a constant distraction as she fixed herself Northward. Her feet were long calloused from the scorching sand, yet still burned regardless.

She'd forgotten what civilization looked like. The sight of another human being would be like a grey alien. All there was, all that existed in the world were thin platinum clouds, blazing blue sky, and the searing copper ocean.

Thoughts filled her head… awful thoughts… murderous thoughts. She should have killed the Puces long ago. She could have done it without them realizing it. Poisoned the food she cooked them.

No. She regretted not making them all suffer, pay for the years of torment SHE suffered for their neglect. She'd had her chance to bring them horror, and so few of them experienced a fraction of the pain that might have satisfied her. And the damn Huntsmen… and the damn Minutemen… the world deserved to burn as her body lay baking under this Sun.

Even her mother… She left her there, and died, or got kidnapped or something. How weak could she have been? SHE had survived ALL of this… Weak little Ashley…

She certainly didn't feel like weak little Ash anymore.

Yet, on the fifth day, she had finally collapsed in the sand, chasing another mirage. A really big mirage…

The darkness took her. But when she awoke…

Her eyes didn't focus at first, but she heard the flapping of cloth on the winds and slowly stirred.

She was on a roll-out cot, and the floor was a merlot and bronze pattern carpet, but shifting slightly she could still feel sand beneath it all. She was in some kind of tent. Yet towards the middle, below an opening in the tarp above, a gentle crackling fire smoldered.

She was still mostly naked, but she'd been wrapped like a damn mummy in ointment-tinged gauze. There was a mirror across from her, and she finally saw herself.

What little she could make out was shiny like rubber, and an angry red. The desert Sun had absolutely fried her, and she could see where her skin had been peeling.

"Oh!"

She turned to see another face in the mirror, green eyes and turquoise hair, flashing surprise before turning tail and vanishing out the entry.

"She's awake!" She heard, in an accent that landed somewhere between the Puces and the Bruse Brothers.

Her mind raced. She ached all over. She considered running before whoever found her could do any harm.

But she wasn't caged… She seemed to have been cared for and not violated as far as she could tell. All the same, the sand was beneath her… a perfect weapon if things went wrong.

After a short while, someone entered, a man of middling height. His hair and scraggly, tied-off beard were fiery orange, his eyes a deep green, sadly yellowed by the Sun. A single ragged scar ran from his collar up to his brow.

He sat across the fire from her, beholding her with interest. "Nothin' to fear, lass. If hurtin' you were in the cards, it'd be done days past now." She must have looked surprised, because he nodded. "Yes, you've been with us a while. The men found ya in nothin' but your skin an' pigs blood, staggerin' outta the Void like some red devil. I'll not swaddle you with any illusions, bairn, our clan's a den of thieves thick as cornmeal… Taken the shirt off the backs of many a traveler…" His beard twitched as he smiled. "But it'd be a first to find one with less n' that. What's to be done but give ya summat worth stealing? That's logic, hmm?"

She didn't say anything, still working to take everything in. These people were brigands, as admitted. She shouldn't feel safe, yet the man plainly wished her no ill will.

He reached for the mouthpiece of a nearby hookah pipe, took a deep draw and let the smoke expel with the next breath. "Sorry, your story's been a matter of curiosity since we found ya. Name's Tartan. Ye got one?"

She considered, staring into the coals of the fire. She wasn't among any law keepers, no one who would recognize what she'd run from. The name Ashley Rhodopis carried no weight or stigma here.

And yet… the name tasted wrong. Nothing felt the same since she finally took her revenge on those bastards. She was filled with a burning in her soul that had been kindled by their blood. The dark of the worm… the underground… the Sun baking her brain in its skull… Nothing felt the same. Her old life felt like an inconceivable slog, a pointless, fumbling march in denial of the truth of this world. A truth laid bare when she stood over the Puces' bodies.

Ian Puce told her money was power, but he was wrong. She'd labored under that delusion, but ultimately none of it mattered. It hadn't saved her. Certainly hadn't saved HIM.

No… Power was what remained when everything else was taken away. It was skill, strength and wits. It was so obvious now. And she wanted more…

The burning in her soul as she stared at the ash, the embers, the…

Ashley… Ash…

She looked up, found his eyes. "Cinder," she breathed, feeling an immediate satisfaction. "Just call me Cinder."

Tartan nodded. "Well, Cinder… we found you headin' North outta the Void. I'm obliged to ask… where'd you start from? You venture out from Sombra or Eclipse and get turned around?"

"No, I…" She weighed her answers, but saw no cause to lie. "I came from Vacuo… the Capitol, I mean."

Tartan smiled. "You walked a few hundred miles, clad in naught but sand an' blood? Through some a' the most hostile soil the gods ever turned their back on?"

She frowned. "Well it wasn't easy…"

He laughed. "Well… ye look it. Dunno why, but I believe it. Hope y'll forgive me indulgin' my curiosity, but how'd ye end up in this state, lass?"

I gave a very basic explanation, glossing over the Puces and focusing more on the journey there. I wasn't forthcoming about my clothes, but I think he pieced it together anyway. When I recounted the last of it, from the break in the aquifer to waking there in the tent, he was quiet a while.

"When my men commit an irremissible offense, the kind worthy of death you see, I present them naught but a sack of water and a dagger n' station men along the desert's edge. They march into the Malikine Void, never to be seen by any but their maker." His eyes went knowingly wide. "Perhaps this manner is less effective, and I should expect our outcasts in the great city?" He laughed a moment, but shook his head. "Nay… I know those dunes, miss. I believe you… and for one such as you to make the crossing as you are, with less even than they… Ye either have tremendous skill, demonic luck, or a ferocious will to live."

Cinder didn't know how to answer. She knew how unlikely her means of salvation were, but to hear it from him…

"But I?" he said. "I feel a destiny about you, girl. Whichever be true, I want that manner of providence on my side."

"You want me… to…?"

He took another draw of the hookah. "Join us. Confer your skills to our brotherhood, The Axiom… We're naught but humble thieves, as I said, but you'd have no greater allies in this part a' the world. Thirty-nine of our number, and you'd bring us to a hearty two-score. And I swear on ma' family, you'll not go hungry again."

Cinder found it appealing, even as her brain itched. She thought after so long among the Puces that she'd despise thieves and criminals, but being on the other side of that in-group as opposed to their victim…"

" 'Axiom,' " she repeated. "An established truth… And what axiom would that be, mister Tartan?"

He waved his hand. "None a' that 'mister,' stuff. Family name's Connelly… but that axiom is what we 'round here call the Golden Rule: do unto others, before they do unto you."

I stepped out the next morning, given a set of clothes at last. Just a black tank top, shorts and a brown hooded cloak to guard against the Sun. They felt strange after the Void. Everything did. The sight of people did. It was basic desert gear, and I was gifted a short curved sword. I think Tartan wanted to be sure I didn't look feeble in front of his men.

They were no typical band of raiders. Their caravan consisted of nondescript trucks and bikes, but they'd been heavily modified with gravity cores far more sophisticated than the vehicles attached to them, fit to levitate over the sands. Heavy guns were welded to many of the largest vehicles. I could immediately see how Axiom had been successful out there, but had no notion of where they'd acquired such an advantage.

She wandered the camp, doing her best not to make eye contact. They were among scattered palms and beside a large, reed-filled pond. The rising Sun was gorgeous in the relative peace.

Cinder saw something that made her freeze, standing in the pond. A crested bird with green-blue plumage… A Dune Crane, across the Void, escaped from its cage in Vacuo.

The bird gave an ugly squawk as small spears of black glass erupted around its neck, trapping it. It flapped and pulled its slender neck as she approached, but could do nothing as she plucked a handful of feathers from its tail. She shattered its rigid binds, allowing it to fly off in fear as she pocketed her prize, and turned to see a number of the others staring at what she'd done in silence.

She strode by without a word or explanation, uncertain if she should approach anyone about breakfast. She found the remains of an abandoned campfire and sat.

Mere moments later, however she was approached as another man sat opposite her, plate full of brown, fried spheres. "Falafel?" he offered. She grunted, accepting and taking one of the spheres. He was far younger than Tartan, bronze skinned, messy dark blue hair terminating down his sideburns into a chinstrap beard, the blue stubble on his cheeks making him ever so approachable. Or maybe that was his smile.

"The crane owe you summat?" he asked. "Make an impression like that, suppose the worst sort here'll leave you alone."

"I just needed materials," Cinder offered curtly. "I don't want to rely on this gear. Rather make my own."

His brows rose into his hair. "Make them? Oh! The plot thick'ns… Mysterious girl rolls in from the horizon, plucks a bird's arse, an' she can sew…"

"I don't know what you're saying," she told him, taking a bite of the sphere.

"Just the obvious," he said, "that you're very interesting. And you've no idea how to use that blade… Oi'm Gorm, by the by. Fitzpatrick. Not that surnames count fer' much 'round here."

"Aw, there's me brother disownin' me again," a spry woman wearing a kukri wandered by with a fuel cell under her arm. Her turquoise hair in an orange durag. Her green eyes fanned over the two.

"Abhainn," Gorm groaned.

"Don' Abhainn ME, Gormless," she droned, turning back to Cinder. "Call me Abby."

Cinder blinked. "You were there when I woke up."

"Aye!" she confirmed. "So, the colleen what rolled in outta the dust…"

"Cinder," she muttered. "Who are you two around here?"

"Second in command. Nothin' formal in this lot. Mostly that just means keepin' the men and equipment in shape."

"So just the men then?" Abby scoffed. "I'm toppin' off the bikes right now, ya numpty!"

"Dinnae start with tha', sister dear… I oversee you, ta' oversee the 'quipment."

Abby huffed, making off with the cell. "Enjoy your stay, as big boss' intrigue lasts with ye, Miss Cin-der…"

Cinder watched her leave, frowning. "What's that mean?"

Gorm sighed. "Not gonna blow smoke up ya… Tartan's smitten with the mystery of ye, but you'll need to pull your weight to keep it up. Restin' on your laurels is a fine way to wake up left behind, an' that's for a start…"

They moved out inside the hour, hidden amongst the palms as they shadowed the main road. Cinder was invited onto the back of Gorm's bike, but she resisted the urge to cling to him. In fact, she leaned back, side-saddle as they cruised the mottled lands. It was easy given the frictionless mode of travel, and she could tell she looked reasonably capable as her lended cloak fluttered over her shoulder and behind them.

They passed through a small village. So small it hadn't a name, built upon a river delta, dock legs reaching into the murk. Near everyone went inside as they saw Axiom approach, and a single resident came out to meet Tartan before a few of their number went in to haul a few crates and sacks set outside the largest building.

Gorm turned to her. "Not everything in this life is pillagin'," he explained. "Most a' the locals pay us protection to keep the peace, n' keep 'em free of the less established ne'er-do-wells."

"There's only forty of you," Cinder noted. "You can't possibly spare men to keep watch."

"Nah, the guarantee is reprisal. Mess with one a' our vassals, y' can expect a knock on the door, n' it won't be friendly. Word spreads in the thievin' world."

Indeed, The Axiom didn't seem to care much about the average traveler. Mostly they seemed to make their rounds replenishing more guaranteed stock. Gorm explained the bigger scores were between the bigger towns. They tended not to raid whole towns, because for all their skills and assets, becoming an existential threat would cause backlash and escalation. It was important to be equal parts feared and respected. That, and the Grimm tended to erase towns subjected to that kind of chaos. No town, no loot.

After a while, she couldn't contain her curiosity. On his back, a pair of huge curved swords were crossed, along with… "You have arrows… but I'm not seeing a bow."

He grinned. "Aye! They dinnae see it comin'..."

They crossed the savana when the lead truck suddenly pitched into the road as if off a cliff, pluming fine dust into the air as the caravan screeched to a stop.

Gorm raced forward with Cinder in tow… just in time to see the truck rise back out of the pit, a pair of massive claws ripping its cabin from its cargo section as a huge golden barb loomed overhead.

"Grimm! GRIMM!"

They —metaphorically— screeched to a stop as Gorm leapt off, brandishing the curved blades from his back. She wondered at how he expected to fight it so close up, but then he fused the hilts of the blades together, and drew an arrow with no sign of a string to brace it against.

Yet his first shot was true, finding one of the deathstalker's eyes as it clambered out of the pit, causing it to screech as it reeled back, both claws reaching as it sought to remove the affliction.

The chaos grew as gunshots filled the air, but they only seemed to have annoyed the creature. It lifted itself out and charged towards them. Gorm raced to meet it even as the others fled, but then a black pillar erupted between them, and the arachnid flinched as it ran straight into it.

Cinder strode into Gorm's vision as the pillar broke, falling towards them, but she threw both palms out as the pillar burst into shards that rained down upon the creature, striking two more of its eyes as the rest of it bounced off the tough armor.

Gorm prepared to press the attack, but Cinder was ready as the creature charged. When it was close enough, two thick spears of glass punched through its claws… and then the ends of the spears burst out as barbs, before the spears sank back into the earth, forcing the deathstalker's limbs to cross, pinned to the floor like tent stakes. It struggled, its stinger jabbing at the soil as far as it could reach.

Cinder concentrated, and gave a cry as she shot both fists out, and a final spear the length of the beast itself punched through its face. It gave a final cry before going limp, its limbs slowly curling before it began to vanish into ash.

Cinder collapsed to her knees. She still wasn't wholly recovered from the desert, but the war cries from the caravan energized her as Gorm helped her up.

"Okay then… I'm seein' how you might have made that crossin'," he admitted. "That's dead useful."

"Indeed!" Tartan agreed, surveying the spectacle… and the damage. "None too soon. I think it be time we show 'er our most grand advantage…"

"Intrare…! SCHEHERAZADE!"

Cinder watched in fascination as the inconspicuous mound of sand parted and descended into a grand ramp deep into the dune. The sand simply floated in place as a door of thick, green-tinged steel raised to reveal a structure below.

The caravan descended into a vast space composed of the same green steel, lit by yellow-green torches lining the walls, which burned into being as they approached.

It was clear at a glance that this place was not The Axiom's creation, merely an acquisition from some great and unknown architect. It had been turned into a cross between a warehouse and a small village, the scaffolds built up into a multilevel series of apartments along the walls. They parked the vehicles beneath the scaffolds and began to unload the trucks and distribute the goods onto pallets and even busted out a few ramshackle forklifts.

Cinder followed Gorm as he directed her to help cart sacks and boxes of goods onto the pallets. "As you c'n see," he said, hefting another box, "is quite the operation we have for ourselves."

Cinder helped with lighter objects for the advantage of doing more, her muscles still weak for the purposes of heavy lifting. "This place… that… password?"

Tartan overheard. "Aye, summat's been a family secret longer n' we can trace back. Dunno who built it, or why. Dunno where 'e found the phrase or what it feckin' means. Was full a' Dust n' materials, all since exhausted. Now, it's home sweet home, m'dear, for we happy few an' our ill-gotten gains…"

She received a bunk on the second floor and that night there was a great revelry in their hidden hoard. She'd received some congratulations from the other thieves, and certainly the slaying of a Deathstalker was no small feat… but she found her way to a pit being used as a sort of target range, scavenged guardsman armor fitted to wooden posts. There were a number of worn weapons at the range benches, throwing knives and shuriken, pistols and rifles. She found herself drawn to the bow.

She took a moment to nock an arrow, shaking as she pinched the end and drew it back against the string.

The arrow flew before she really meant to release it. It missed wildly, glancing off the wall of green steel and slinging back her way as she hit the dirt. A keg was struck, and the other thieves laughed as they hurried to catch the draining booze in their mugs.

"Yer' a right terror," Gorm laughed, carrying his own pint. "Don't help using that crap gear… But try again."

Cinder stood up, nocking another arrow.

"Wrong. Two fingers below, pointer above, keep yer thumb out of it."

She adjusted, feeling an ease as she pulled back.

"Not so damn tense," he instructed. "Won't hit harder just 'cause ye pull harder. Make your mark, the rest in't up to you. Draw back an' release."

The arrow flew low, sticking in what might have been the dummy's thigh, nowhere near where she'd aimed.

Gorm laughed. "Not too bad fer' a second try. Work at it maybe, you'll get it."

"I fail to see how this is the same skill. Yours doesn't have a string."

He smiled. "Nah, blades have a gravity Dust core, no tension till she fires. Handy in a firefight, but I dare ye to use mine without a firm grasp of the genuine article."

She took another shot, and it sailed overhead. She frowned. "Not much different from threading a needle. Of course, I found a better way of doing that too."

His brow quirked as she pressed the next arrow's tip into the sand. There was a sound of squealing from the wood, and when it emerged, a shining black point now tipped the projectile.

She nocked it again, pulled and released it in a snap motion. The arrow sailed against gravity like a guided missile, splitting the face of the dummy as its helmet clattered with the impact.

Gorm blinked until he felt his shoes getting wet, and realized his pint had idly tilted in his surprise. "That semblance of yours is versatile. Don't take it to mean you oughtn't practice the usual way though. Take too many shortcuts an' you'll pay for it in the end. Skill 'll save ye where tricks and gimmicks don'."

"I did things the hard way for a long… long time," Cinder told him, daring to smile. "Skill always comes, but when the teeth reach your throat… you need results."

He drew his blades. "Mayhaps someth'n ye lack result in?"

He tossed her one sword of his pair. She caught it by the handle in surprise, none the least that she'd even done so at all.

"Strictly speakin', dual swords shouldn't be used apart… but that'll come later."

"And who said I wanted to adopt your style?" she asked, looking down the blade as it glistened in the green light.

"If a gun were your fancy you'd 'ave grabbed one. Seem comfy with that bow. I'll say from experience, it's a fool thing to rely solely on a ranged weapon." He set his pint on the range bench… and without warning swept between them to press his blade along her neck. She staggered back off-balance, catching herself on a further bench as it clattered alongside a row of loose rounds. "An' you panic when they're in close. That'll get you killed."

She leered at him. "I killed no fewer than three bastards who had me on the floor."

"Sheer luck, lass. Luck, or circumstance, n' ye cannae rely on neither. Being face-up in most fights means you're dead." He rolled the blade handle over his wrist, running through mock slashes with casual flair. "Some folk carry a ranged weapon and a blade. Best folk have both in one, namely Huntsmen."

Cinder grinned. "Fancy yourself a Huntsman?"

"Nah… C'n square with one on me best day I suppose, but I'm none for their trappings of suppos'd 'Heroism…' Most just be glitzy mercenaries."

Cinder's eyes wandered. "I know what you mean. But… I suppose they know their trade, if the Vytal Tournament suggests anything."

"Bah," Grom intoned. "Festival… Celebrate peace by bangin' steel an' advertising those schools to every wild-eyed kiddie, and remind the Kingdom folk just how 'fortunate' they are not to live in the wilds, like some monster lurks 'round every corner outside their precious walls."

It certainly felt like it.

"Whole institution, ain't it?" he continued. "Imprison millions of people an' tell us free folk we're the least fortunate… Anyway, first thing, widen yer' damn stance. A wonder you always find yourself on yer' back, standin' like that bleedin' crane…"

He insisted on teaching me to fight before he let me on any of their rounds. He assumed I would lean on my semblance and that I would be a slow study.

But he didn't know me as well as he thought.

I'd long learned to squeeze my time between the Puces' unending labors and my few precious hours of sleep. Few teachers, no resources, on scraps of food.

Here though? As much time as I desired? Fed and watered? Eager instructors? The time and the freedom to hone my abilities… in exchange for occasionally helping to unload the trucks or fuel the bikes with Abhainn? Arranging the warehouse sections? And they WANTED me to pursue this, so I might be an asset to them.

It was almost EASY.

After a mere month I was permitted to join the caravan. After two, they brought me in on our first raid. We intercepted word of a shipment for some independent estate owner on the edge of Sombra. The Axiom had a way of dealing with these things. If they run, let them go… if they surrender, let them run. If they fight back… well, that's up to you.

I was hardly a standout on that particular raid, but none could say I hadn't done my part. As fortune had it though…

"Silk?"

"Ach, crikey riley…"

"Damn gussied-up Jackeens…"

"Just caus' you're fine in those manky oul' rags, Connor," Abby said, as they picked apart the first van even as its driver pelted down the road towards civilization.

"Is there red?" Cinder asked from the back.

"Aye, red, green, bleedin' heliotrope…"

"I'll take a few yards of it as my share. You all keep the rest."

Several of them went quiet and looked back at her, still standing over one of the armed guards, an arrow sticking pointedly from his neck, his rifle long scavenged.

Tartan shrugged. "Keep the 'ole damn roll as it concerns me."

"One man's crap's another's caviar…"

"Connor, shut yer' gob."

They returned that night, and Cinder continued splitting her time between honing her sword skills with any of the men who were willing —a dwindling number to be sure— and working away in her airy cabin up in the scaffolds. Everything was made of scrap steel and scavenged wood, but the hidden hoard hardly required shelter from the weather. The windows didn't even have glass. Still, there was privacy enough.

Cinder opted to stay behind for the next caravan. She was never alone in this of course, lest she be playing a longer game and rob the hoard in their absence, but she was steadily gaining the confidence of her… peers.

The caravan returned, and she made her way to help offload, drawing several eyes.

"Is that what she did?" Tartan asked, looking over.

Most eye-catching was the high-collared shoulder cape, red with gold trim, and fastened with an obsidian bauble adorned with dune crane feathers. As if in shadow, her gifted tank top and shorts had been adjusted for a snug fit, the same gold trim along the seams. Somewhere among the scavenged clothes that had been made available to her —even thieves couldn't wear the same underwear every day— she had found knee high laced black heels.

"Hardly," Cinder answered, heels clapping as she reached for materials to offload. "This is more for business, with the materials I had left. I'm not as certain of the other, outside of pleasure."

Abhainn looked her up and down. "Well, ye look the part. Might even draw fire off the rest of us…"

She caught Gorm's eye, and he smiled, shaking his head. With a hat and eye-patch she might have looked like a pirate. "At least she's got spirit."

The revelry from the most recent raid, as usual, wore well into the night. They'd made a towering bonfire, and a few among their number were decent singers, crooning along with the music blasting over the loudspeakers.

Gorm was in a pleasant state of buzz as he leaned against a scaffold pillar. Something had begun to draw the attention of the others though.

"Man alive…!"

"I've got a new favorite color…"

"Sway, doll, sway!"

Gorm turned only after he caught an odd clinking behind him, and saw Cinder's black glass heels.

"A bit more what I was going for," she said, as he looked up.

It was a different dress, entirely red but for the gold trim in ornate patterns along her sleeves. The dress ended at her waist, where that same feather bauble had been moved. Her shoulders were bare. She wore a small black choker. Her hair was sleek, and it framed her golden eyes and that predatory smile.

"Cinder… wot…" He shook his head like a waterlogged dog. "You goin' to the sock hop?"

Her blade thunked into the post beside his head. He eyed its edge, having scarcely flinched. "I need to test how combat capable this piece is."

"What's matter with the other one?"

"It's fine," she said with a shrug, pulling her blade's twin, "but I think this one is more…" In a flash she hooked the crook of one of the blade handles on his back and cast it off, whirling into the sand of the target range. "...disarming, don't you? Like your bow. They won't see me coming."

He swallowed… and pulled his remaining blade. The resulting clash plumed sand away from them in a shockwave. She hadn't even used her semblance.

The others couldn't help but notice as they sparred. It wasn't uncommon perhaps, but the clatter of steel on steel was particularly furious as she pressed him. He leapt over her horizontal swipe and landed on the firing range bench, vaulting backwards for the other half of his blades. She stepped upon it and dove after him.

When she next realized what had happened, she found herself straddling him, pinned under her as his crossed blades found her neck, and hers hovered over his heart.

"Ah… a draw," Gorm laughed.

Cinder was annoyed, but… "A tie? How do you suggest we break it?"

They held the sudden death round in her bunk. She'd pinned him again, hands on his shoulders. She was in pain, yet flush with victory, impaled on his hidden blade and bleeding. She whimpered, but he was hardly unscathed. He plundered her as he freed her arms from her sleeves, and let his hands wander her chest, periodically stabbing her afresh from below. She did her best to take control, but heaved and fell over his bare chest, arms around his neck. She needed to breathe, and so sought his lips.

Ultimately, she took what she wanted from him, blood for blood… and damn the consequences.

He examined her blood on his fingers. "I'll be damned… Eighteen years chaste."

She groaned into his neck. "Not strictly. Just like this."

"Mm… How d'ye normally do it?"

"I'll show you later."

He warned me against hoping for special treatment… apart from the most obvious perk… and insisted I be certain I wasn't carrying his heir. The Axiom's medic was hardly world class, but she was clever enough to determine that I was not only nonpregnant… but I would NEVER bear children of my own. Malnourishment in my developing years had left me infertile.

I wasn't sad. If anything, I felt emboldened. Gorm wanted a lover, not a family, and Axiom was hardly the place to raise one. Now, I could be that for him.

But I was determined to grow stronger, and he served as a constant bar to weigh myself against. After a year, I was roughly as skilled as he was. And that didn't factor in my semblance, which only grew stronger as I did.

Suddenly life was limitless. I'd never received accolades nor encouragement, but as I flourished as an asset, I went from the strange bloody vision to something to be feared. When I was set loose to deal with Axiom's problems, I began to hear it spoken in hushed tones: The Devil of The Void.

Hair black as midnight, clad in hellish crimson, pitiless eyes that gleamed like searchlights. I think it started when I buried some poor bandit beneath the sand, right before his team's eyes. The criminal element —the amateurs anyway— is a superstitious lot. They took it that I'd dragged their friend to Hell itself.

But as the years wore on, I began to take notice. Tartan, for having been good enough to take in a frail, broken wretch like I was… extended his kindness to others to a fault. The steady creep of age began to wear on his conscience.

The raider's bike flipped end over end as its driver bailed, smashing and toppling a sapling palm as he slid over the road, girded only by his strategically worn leather.

The bike throttled out and died as he clawed his way to his knees… but already he heard it… that tinny clink of glass behind him. Then he saw the black heels circle from his left, standing over him. He heard the creak of elastic and slammed his eyes shut. "P-please…! Mercy!"

"Cinder. Stop."

She let her bow slacken, the execution stayed as she sighed. He coughed as her heel stomped on his back. "Stay away from Sombra," she hissed.

She didn't even watch as the man limped to his feet and ran as quickly as his body allowed. She stepped back over to Gorm's bike, side-saddle as always, under the baleful gaze of Tartan.

She'd moved into his bunk at this point, lying back as he worshipped her legs.

"Mmm… he's going to leave us vulnerable," Cinder told him, feeling his short-trimmed face inside her knee.

"This again?" he asked. "Now? Ye cannae shoot dead every hooligan what crosses us, mo mhuirnin."

"No, but he keeps letting them all off with a warning. Sooner or later we're not going to recognize the repeat offenders when they cross us, and they'll learn they just need to lie low until they're forgotten." She sighed as he rubbed her ankles. "Each encounter should cost them dearly."

"Never 'ave figured that skinny bairn blown in from the South would be such a staunch n' ruthless little beast," he laughed, purely exasperated as he scooted up, palming her thighs from below. " 'Nuff a tha' for now…"

She cooed as his thumbs pressed on her.

"Intrare Scheherazade…"

His thumbs dug in and spread away from each other. She clutched the sheets as she groaned…

Years carried on, and as my skills sharpened, I saw Tartan's dull. That scar he wore like a badge of honor more and more was becoming a shield against scrutiny. The others were unquestioningly loyal, and despite having proved my place among them a thousand times over, my opinion was still spurned as the outsider.

Testament to our material success, the storage in the hoard was becoming thin, and I'd been charged with heading an excavation effort to remove the thick layer of sand that served as the floor. None of them knew how deep the hoard's bottom lay, and with the aid of my semblance had the means to find out.

But one day, we rolled into Sombra, the dustiest dump in the wastes. A haven of scrap, a cul-de-sac off a mining fixture owned by the Schnee Dust Company… and among our biggest rackets. It was as near to Vacuo's precious abundance as they were allowed to approach. As high profile of a town as we could work our angle without attracting greater attention.

But I suppose nothing is ever certain.

They rolled in past the filthy buildings, paint faded or obscured by a thick layer of fine dust. The buildings were simple, mainly two-stories lining a single main road, with storefronts that moonlit as the proprietors' very homes. They were simple gable roofs, but quaintly decorated and angular false fronts aimed to assuage that as a first impression. At the start of the main road stood a sheet metal garage, and further in was a half-rotten wood water tower. As always, the shadows of hidden eyes watched warily from the windows behind worn lace curtains as they passed.

But they headed for the end building forming the cap to the T-section road. Like Vacuo, it was hardly a town of law, and so the nearest thing to a government building was the local watering hole.

"Tanner, isnae a social call," Tartan said as the caravan came to a stop. "Our fee comes due. We're here for your contribution!"

Tanner was an old man, but 'hale and hearty' as they said, and unofficially spoke on Sombra's behalf. His salt and pepper hair and thick mustache told of experience. His voice was as firm as granite. "There is no contribution this time, friend. Deal's done."

It rumbled through the group like their vehicles had started up again. None of the towns had ever offered resistance like this. There was posturing sometimes, negotiations for insubstantial offerings… but blatant refusal?

The thieves howled their discontent, brandishing weapons in threat as Cinder, Abby and Gorm drew each other's eyes. What had changed?

"Done? You wish once more ye should be at threat from every highwayman in the dust? Tis a fool's gambit, Tanner."

Tanner's faded blue eyes hardened. "Only threat I see to this town is you, Tartan, takin' your share of our bread and callin' it 'protection' when you don't rob us to get it."

"Beggin' ye pardon, but we drive off half our number in petty raiders e'ry month. You'll regret this!"

Tanner shook his head. "Doubt it, compadre. We've hired a new protector. One who won't rob us all blind with a smile. This is Salvia Tortuga… and the 'delegation' from Atlas…"

From the swinging doors filed out a score of men in gleaming white armor, their eyes hidden behind the visors of their helmets as they formed ranks and aimed their weapons.

But all eyes were drawn to her implacable face, still young and soft featured, but hardened by her perfectly circular metal-rimmed sunglasses, which glinted pure white back at them with the glare of the Sun.

Cinder leered, recognition alight in her eyes. "A Huntress…"

It had been only a few years, but Salvia was at once exactly as she remembered from shadowing her and her lithe friend, and utterly different. She still wore her wide, banded kasa hat, though it seemed to have been redesigned, refined with Atlas flare. Her green, armored yukata was tighter… and no longer green. Her pants were a light navy blue, her accents were stark red, and absolutely everything else was blazing Atlesian white. Somehow she'd kept her green cornrows, though they'd been tied into a bun at the back of her head.

Salvia stepped around Tanner, drawing a large, wide dao sword in her left hand, the end of its inner edge ridged like an ergonomic finger grip. "Axiom, we've been charged with protecting this town and these people in the joint interest of Atlas and the Schnee Dust Company. You will not harass Sombra further. This is your only warning."

Cinder's teeth gnashed, and she stomped forward, past Tartan to draw her own blades. "You're a fool if you think you can spurn us so BRAZENLY and then expect us to turn tail without a fight!"

"Cinder…" Tartan warned.

"What's the Atlas milit'ry doin' so near Vacuo uninvited?" Gorm asked. "SDC and the Kingdom that deep in the sheets, are they?"

Salvia regarded him coldly. "This detachment is here on behalf of Brigadier General James Ironwood, as a personal favor to Jacques Schnee. I'm a first-generation representative of his personal strike team, the Ace Operatives."

"Never heard of ya!" one of the thieves shouted.

Salvia adjusted her hat. "That's soon to change, bandito. The General assembled us as world-class elites, even among Huntsmen. If you think a numbers advantage matters here, you're doing some matemáticas malas."

Cinder ignored her. "Axiom is no coward's band," she argued, as much opposing Tartan as Tortuga and Tanner. "We are the rightful masters of the margin lands, and we will not be driven off like common vermin at the first sniff of Atlas' hounds…"

Some of Axiom cried out in agreement, guns firing into the air. Others still shrank back. Gorm seemed to have frozen altogether.

"I know you, chica," Salvia said, having scarcely flinched or even tilted her head her way. "Diabla of The Void. Theatrics don't frighten me. You can try it though, I hear in Vacuo they pay a handsome reward for you."

Cinder tilted her head. "Someone placed a bounty on me specifically? Aww… I'm flattered…"

"Not for a Cinder, no," Salvia said, head shaking. "They think you're dead, but the reward is still up for grabs on the butcher, Rhodopis."

A surge of cold flame fluttered up and down her spine, a thousand conflicting terrors and furies trickling like leaking gasoline.

"Not heard that name in a while?" she continued. "Wanted for questioning in the deaths of the Puce crime family years ago. Told you I'm no amat'ur. Researched all of Axiom before this, but especially you… Ash—"

Tortuga didn't finish the hated name before Cinder sprang at her in a single bound, launched from a glass pillar shot out from beneath her feet to swing her blades at her neck. Salvia's glasses gleamed as the great dao sword blocked, her other hand against the ridges on its edge as they clashed with a horrific ring that rattled the street. The thick dust rose up from every building surface like it had been rendered into steam, only the thickest patches still clinging.

Cinder was still in the grips of her momentum as Salvia stood firm against it, bow bowed her head to face the banded hat to her, whose seams glowed blue as its bands glowed white.

With a sonic pulse, Cinder was blown entirely off as the steel hat revealed part of its function, and she sailed over her fellow thieves to land uneasily, skidding back as she reared instinctively with the sword.

No sooner than this had Gorm taken a shot with his bow, only for the arrow to shatter against the broad width of the dao. Salvia raised her voice for her men. "Weapons free."

Before Tartan could object, the firefight began, the Atlas soldiers opening fire into the crowd who fired back in turn.

Salvia tossed her hat high, pursing her lips to make a shrill whistle as its seams glowed again, and it hung upright in midair like a flying saucer. Spinning, ports on its ventral side fired gobs if green riot foam, which hit around a dozen of the forty, gumming their movements as it expanded and glommed onto them.

But she vaulted over the crowd, using heads as stepping stones as she sought Cinder herself on the other side.

Cinder fired off three quick shots from her bow, each dodged readily by the pro Huntress, who scarcely flinched as they whizzed inches away. She sent a thief hurtling like a bowling ball into his fellows, who were knocked aside like ninepins as she sprang headfirst into Cinder. Or rather, hat-first.

Another sonic pulse blasted the devil past the storefronts and into the huge door of a wooden mechanic's garage, buckling it in as she reeled, and fought to extract herself from the dent she'd made.

She ducked as the kasa flew in at her head like a discus, slamming only to bounce directly back to its owner, who tossed it again several times as Cinder wove away and the dusty door bent and bowed. At last, Cinder freed herself and gave a cry as she deflected the whirling steel hat, which flew off as she reached her hand out to blast molten beads of sand at her pursuer.

Salvia's hand gave a swipe as the beads flowed around her, leaving her unharmed. A semblance?

Undeterred, Cinder swept her hands up as the earth rumbled, and the Ace hopped up as the kasa returned like a boomerang, standing upon it as a blossom of razor-sharp glass erupted from below, breaking against the steel and only lifting her skyward as she readied her dao sword for the plunge.

Against the wall, Cinder leapt to the roof and dug in, conjuring a massive arm of sand to reach for the huntress, its wrist as thick as a sedan.

But the winds whirled around Salvia once more, and her blade did not merely cleave but shove the sands apart, bringing the dao to bear against Cinder cleanly, who hadn't time to raise her blades in defense.

"AGH!" Cinder shrieked, feeling the huge blade rake across her Aura like fire as she sprawled across the tin roof of the garage, nearly tumbling off the back, but groaned as she pulled her legs up and stepped back onto her knees.

"I've heard of your abilities," Salvia told her. "Not so useful against a semblance that controls the air, hermana."

As if in further demonstration, she hurled the sword past Cinder in a lopsided arc, carried on the wind as the devil was forced to split her attention. Still, she leapt in as Salvia wielded her kasa like a bludgeon, clashing heavily against every swing of Cinder's blades. Luckily, Salvia swept at her knees, allowing Cinder to use the kasa as a step and deliver a whirling kick to her jaw.

Salvia reared back a few steps, palm on her jaw as Cinder readied to press the attack. But the Ace let her eyes wander skyward.

Realizing the danger, Cinder leapt high as the dao sword boomeranged around and embedded itself into the roof where she'd stood, angled towards its wielder as the corrugated steel screamed.

Cinder landed a short distance back, but sprang back… as Salvia booted the hilt of the dao like a lever back towards her.

The devil winded herself as she ran gut-first into the handle, toppling over and at Salvia Tortuga's feet. The wind howled as her sword came free, gusting into her hands as she prepared to slam the massive doa upon Cinder's prone form.

Grabbing her bow, Cinder rolled out of the way as it came down, letting the arrow loose before it could even scrape steel.

Salvia grunted as the arrow struck the Aura over her heart, deflected, but enough to stagger her. She stepped forward with a few protective swings to force Cinder back, fingers sinking into the gripped tip of her sword as she deflected the inevitable arrow that followed.

Salvia's Aura shimmered as the sword reacted. "I see you're a bit flighty for the doa. But I got other ways to clip your wings."

With mechanical flare, the blade's tip separated, as her right hand wore it like brass knuckles. The tip split into four segments, which angled to form four steely claws as a secondary weapon.

The sun glinted bright off those circular sunglasses, and Cinder felt inspiration as she reached to smash them into her eyes.

When nothing happened, Salvia laughed, tapping them as her hat hovered over her head, finally lowering to seat itself. "Not real glass, sorry. You won't conquer me with gimmicks. This is all skill today."

Gorm leapt suddenly from below, blades whirling as he aimed for her back.

But with barely a flick of her head, the kasa slipped off her head and between them to shield her back, hovering as his blows sparked and glanced off. Salvia whirled to catch the blade of his left hand between her claws, twisting to bind it as she in turn twisted his wrist and rolled him onto his back.

Cinder took aim with her bow, but Salvia's broad dao barely gestured to block it as Gorm climbed to his feet… only for the still airborne kasa to aim its banded side and pulse, blasting him diagonally across the main road and into the false front of the town bank. The kasa flipped to its ventral side, tracking his trajectory before blasting another glob of riot foam to intercept him. Gorm was stuck to the wall as if to flypaper, straining to free himself.

"You want to see skill?" Cinder demanded, tightening the grip on her blades. "FINE!"

She charged Salvia, who made to punish the brazen attack with her dao, but slid underneath the Ace's long skirt and sturdy legs to rake both blades over her ankles. Salcia winced, bowing over as her Aura flashed a pale green. Cinder practically pulled a ninety-degree leap to rise between the Huntress and the hovering hat still guarding her back, punting it aside before aiming at the exposed spine.

Once more the dao sword swept between to block, the Huntress leering behind, forging an air of effortlessness with her arm and weapon behind her back. Cinder struck again, but this time as Salvia's statuesque body whirled, she caught and bound her blade with her claw. Unlike with Gorm however, it had been a vicious motion, and the caught blade snapped above the handle with a shrill ring…

Cinder staggered back as she set eyes on her broken blade… but should have been looking at Salvia, who knelt down as her fists clenched, wrapped around herself… and then flew out towards her with her hands flat as a small maelstrom burst out of her. Cinder was carried off, striking the wooden drum of the town's water tower and crumpling upon its raised maintenance platform.

The old structure creaked, decades of warping not aiding its stability as its contents sloshed within.

Cinder sensed a pattern forming in the ace's tactics, and grabbed her bow. Sure enough, the kasa was zipping into position, ventral end aiming. She took aim as well.

Before it could blast her with riot foam, an arrow sank into the vent. There was an electronic hiss as the Atlas marvel bled sparks and died, flipping like a coin from the arrow's momentum as it dropped like a fly to clatter upon the dusty road.

Cinder didn't let it settle as she dropped down and punted it back at its owner, who snatched and inspected it as she latched the dao to her back. "Break my things, I'll break yours," Cinder growled ruefully, fully aware that this barely accounted for half of her own primary weapon being disabled. Salvia was still very much a threat without her hat…

"Fine," Salvia said with a shrug, turquoise eyes scanning over her glasses as she snipped the arrow off with her claw… and smiled as she reared back with the kasa. "Been a while since I used her analog-style! You better hope I'm rusty!"

She sprayed air behind herself as she burst forward, hopping onto the inner side of the hat like a sled or snowboard as she blasted gusts left and right to zigzag at Cinder, who leapt up to kick off of one of the tower's support braces and launch at her.

Cinder tossed the handle of her broken blade at the Ace as she dove at her feet. Salvia's claw swatted it instinctively as Cinder rolled, hand in the dust as she drew an obsidian dagger from the earth and prepared to—

Stars exploded in Cinder's eyes as Salvia parlayed her momentum and slipped the kasa up as she flipped back, delivering a steel uppercut to her chin and launching her high.

Cinder was ragdolled as Salvia landed and threw her kasa to intercept her. She was struck in the forehead and knocked towards the ground as it rebounded to its owner. In a demonstration of long practiced skill and geometry, this manner of attack floored Cinder in rapid succession…

"Ugh…!"

She skipped it against the ground to bounce off one of the water tower supporters and catch Cinder in the gut crosswise, bowling her across the street to smash through an unattended fruit stand.

Cinder's Aura rippled as she picked herself up just in time to leap out of the kasa's path again as it embedded itself in the wood of the store she stood in front of. But it was a trap.

Her arms already back, something black and purple whirled to snap around the wrist of one arm… and whipped around the other. She struggled, but felt her wrists bound by something incredibly strong, behind her back no less. She dropped her blade in surprise, but froze as she glimpsed Salvia stalk near.

"It's over, chica," she told Cinder. "Gravity bolas. Won't break that line, and the Dust cores lock harder than neodymium."

Cinder looked back over her shoulder. She'd been cuffed by some kind of black spool joined by two purple, glowing metal spheres. It struck her as odd that a restraint relied on powered rather than mechanical bonds. Atlas, always paying defense contracts to reinvent the wheel. That meant it could be broken, but at a glance she saw someone had seen to that being quite the task, the spheres being extremely sturdy.

She felt panic rising. Cinder was barely holding her own with full use of her arms. Salvia had already written her off. Already won.

Cinder calmed as she recognized. That was an advantage.

She turned and walked brusquely down the plank promenade, thinking. She needed to look scared, but not force Salvia to go for the finish until she thought of something. Cinder tried to look winded, like she sought shelter with the thieves in the pitched firefight at the other end of the little street. Indeed, the self-proclaimed Ace followed slowly.

Cinder passed another window, and glimpsed someone watching her from behind the curtains. She blinked, turning to glimpse the water tower. Of course.

She was surprised as Salvia's firm hand reached for her, twisting away. She snagged her bow, leaving her unarmed as she put on a brief burst of speed and willed the sand below to blossom into glass behind her.

"Hey!"

No point pretending now. Salvia wouldn't risk her remaining free now. She kept her focus on the earth below as she pelted down the planks narrowly avoiding the pinging kasa deflecting off of walls, pillars and awnings as she wove, ducked and hugged walls. All the while, she left a trail of razor glass as if to shield herself. Even now, she could hear the glass squeal against the wood…

At last, she turned ninety degrees and ran towards the other side of the street, but in the open, she was tackled by the sizable woman.

"Stay DOWN!" Salvia ordered, shoving her face in the dirt. "Don't make me hurt you."

Cinder groaned, smiling as she saw it. "Is that a threat, hero? How unbecoming… You're far too late you know."

Salvia shook her head. The girl was clearly desperate. "Uh huh… Too late for what?"

"To put out the flames…"

Salvia froze, frowning, but dared to look back. She gasped. "No!"

The benefit of creating glass was certainly the side effect of the heat. It could be mitigated when it wasn't ideal, but as bonuses went, it was handy in a fight.

The screams of the townsfolk could just be made out as those who could do so fled out the back doors, while the plank promenade began to tower with flames and engulf the false storefronts, eagerly consuming the long dried wood. As Cinder hoped, the Huntress, ever-bound to her creed, had forsaken her in favor of averting this tragedy.

Cinder twisted onto her back as Salvia weighed her options, growling something in a language she didn't understand. Cinder surveyed the area as well, and glimpsed Gorm, still pinned, but having freed his arms… bow at the ready. Salvia was too alert, too skilled to fall for such a basic sneak attack. However…

Salvia finally set her eyes on the water tower eyes wide, and retrieved her dao sword in one swift motion to hurl it end over end at the tower supports, shearing off two of its four legs nearest the flaming side of the street. The remaining supports creaking and cracking in disdain, the tower collapsed, releasing its torrent to flood the area as steam began to pour from the buildings. Even as the town's water supply frothed and churned over the powdery dirt, however, much of the dancing, licking flames had taken hold higher along the structures.

Salvia seemed lost as she contemplated a course of action. But then she heard laughter behind her, and froze.

"Oh Huntress! Do you actually care more to save this sand trap… these rubes… than to vanquish your quarry?"

Salvia turned slowly, a dangerous scowl forming as her turquoise eyes burned. "In a few seconds, my quarry won't be going any place…"

Cinder grinned wickedly. "That doesn't make him less deadly."

Salvia noticed her gaze, looking past her to the other side of the street, and the rooftop where she'd left Gorm. But she didn't dare turn her back unless—

She twisted at the last second to send a surge of air at the arrow aimed for her back, teeth bared as the triplet of—

Her sneer faded for an instant. Triplet of arrows?

The other two had missed her entirely, sailing overhead. And behind Salvia, Cinder had sprung into a backflip, and into position for her tied hands to snatch the arrow from the sky as it passed under her.

As she landed, a pair of obsidian points erupted out of the ground, between the tense cable binding her wrists. She strained as the points gradually thickened into pillars the further they rose, prying the cable apart to free her wrists as they separated into a rough v-shape.

Cinder slipped her bonds, ducked beneath the expanded gravity bola and nocked the arrow upon the cable. She planted her feet against the back of the obsidian pillars as she pulled back, her whole body creaking with strain as she forced the cable to unspool from the bola cores… forging a makeshift bow.

Salvia seemed to realize her mistake as she turned, swiping her claw as Cinder fell back, releasing.

Salvia's eyes went huge as her Aura shattered, staggering backwards as her claw swiped all too late. She dropped her kasa, and clutched the arrow buried in her gut, quaking as she grunted in pain. Her hands bloodied as her yukata ran red.

"AAAAAARGH!"

Salvia looked up to see Cinder charge, grabbing the kasa and tackling her as the steel hat swung bluntly into its owner's face.

Gorm barely freed himself in time to walk up as Cinder screamed with every blow on the downed Huntress, slamming the kasa's hard edge into Salvia's face and neck as she feebly struggled… until at last the Atlesian only gurgled back… and then did nothing ever again.

Cinder jumped as something touched her shoulder, but found Gorm, eyes alight with relief… and concern.

They walked back, Cinder dragging the body behind them even as half the town smouldered. The firefight had ended, the small platoon overwhelmed by the thieves, who nonetheless had suffered roughly a dozen casualties.

Tanner seemed floored to see Salvia dragged before them, empty and limp. Cinder had not merely killed a Huntress, but a titan of their number. Though she certainly looked as ragged as that tale would suggest.

"THIS is what comes from being soft!" Cinder told them. "I was told to do unto others before they did unto ME, but Axiom hasn't lived up to that since I got here! These people don't see us as FRIENDS! Why are we in denial of who we are?! Why are we handing them enough rope to hang us?! To think they can do THIS, and get away with it?!"

Tartan shook his head. "This only shows we need to aim lower, lass. This is bad… Killing a Huntsman only brings trouble! This alone cost a quartern of our number, child! Do ye not see?!"

"You're a COWARD!" Cinder cried. "And if you're unwilling to lead, I'll do your job for you!"

Without a word, she snatched Gorm's bow and took aim before anyone else could do more than shout. There were screams from the windows and huddled masses who escaped the flames. There were shouts from the thieves as Tanner crumpled to the floor, his chest ventilated.

"You can ALL expect this if you raise your hand to us again!" Cinder told the townsfolk, a number of whom sobbed hysterically at the death of their esteemed. "Now LOAD THE TRUCKS!"

One of the blazing buildings collapsed behind them with a series of crunching snaps, and glowing ashes like fireflies poured into the air.

It was a cold ride back to the hoard. Nobody was talking, not out loud anyway, but Cinder was certain multiple unheard conversations were taking place. She checked her weapons every other minute. The tension as they crossed the savanna and those plains changed into rolling dunes was thick like curdled milk.

When at last they stood before the entrance, she was asked to remain as the others offloaded, and the excavators continued their work to unearth the chamber.

At last, a number of them, Gorm included, joined Tartan. Gorm had brought one of the hover bikes.

"So let's get right to it," Cinder growled. "Are you going to kill me?"

Tartan's eyes shut, and he shook his head. "I gave ye the wrong impression of us. You're right, I did say that when you first got here. But we've a way a' doin' things, and it's served us well."

"Sombra proves otherwise!" Cinder argued. "These people will never see you the way you want them to. You're no misunderstood savior, you're a brigand. You thought I had a Destiny! Maybe you should listen to me, and let me drag Axiom to infamy, like you once thought I would!"

He sighed. "You're a special girl, no denying. But your Destiny lay elsewhere. We cannae have ye killing town elders, bringing the vengeance of the Academies down on our heads with Huntsmen. You'll always be a sister to us, lass, and ye can return if ever ye need a place to hole up for a spell… but we must ask that you leave."

Cinder was dumbfounded. She saw her possessions had been hauled into saddlebags on the bike. "Are you serious?" she laughed. "You're kicking me out… I have the password to the hoard! I'm strong enough to threaten half of your number! I could steal from you, return and set traps! I could burn a path of vengeance through your entire legacy! And you're just going to let me go?"

He nodded sadly. "Walking ye out into the Void isnae the fate of one such as yourself. Wouldn't kill ye anyway, were that my aim."

"You really have gone soft, Tartan… Gorm?"

She found his eyes, which seemed to have aged five years since the fight. He approached, pulling out his blades and linking them into the bow form. He thrust it into her hand. "This is where our paths diverge, love. Take care a' Midnight. Serve you better anyway."

She stared, hating the sting behind her eyes. She scowled, her flame finally doused. He wouldn't come with her. He was siding with Tartan. Her hands shook over the grip of the stringless bow. To Hell with him then…

"Hey! We found something!" One of the excavators shouted. "Another chamber! You must see this!"

Cinder hadn't realized she'd frozen as they walked away, leaving her with the bike, her belongings and provisions. In the back of her reeling mind, she saw the whole of Axiom pile into the new chamber discovered under the wall. It was all white noise.

Or it was, until the new entrance glowed orange like the Sun. She heard cries, and wrenched from her revery as she saw Gorm and Abby fleeing the expanding golden fluid.

"A SMELTER! BY THE GODS, IS ALL A HUGE RUDDY SMELTER!"

But the massive door had already begun to close, and Cinder noticed the parted sands were closing in on her. She hopped on the bike, and it roared to life as she rode up the ramp as ocean-like waves of sand curled in on her.

She was very nearly buried, but of course, her semblance was perfect for the circumstances as she held the torrent back and tried to steady the bike one-handed.

Still, she wiped out as she launched at top speed, sand spraying everywhere as she tumbled and the bike drifted idly even as dust clouded the entrance to the hoard. But she raced back, ordering the hoard to open again. It ignored her.

I don't remember how long I stood there in the fading dusk, repeating the password, confused… perhaps a little in denial. I thought my worldly attachments had vanished under those sands, finally freeing me to be as ruthless as I'd never been.

It wouldn't be until years later that I would understand the hoard's nature, and just what had become of the den of thieves I called home.

But in the end, I suppose Tartan had spared me their fate. Some might have wondered if I were cursed, if the ones who grew close to me edged nearer to doom. I saw my survival as kismet.

Frieza's alien brows knit in a contemplative frown. "What was it then?" he asked.

Cinder didn't answer immediately, eyes still glazed with memory. "What? What was…?"

"The thieves' base of operations. You understood its nature later, you said? I expect you will clarify, will you not?"

Cinder nodded, as if she hadn't considered this at all. "I don't know the details of it. I only learned from Salem much later. You're aware by now that the sands of Vacuo are always on the move? They churn and travel like the sea, and no one really knows why. But Salem remembers…"

Cinder stared out into the murk, recalling the sands that always served her will.

"She's never said what, but humanity from the times before, the time when the Relics were in our grasp… the desert hid some ancient means of defense. Its pieces lay scattered in the sands. And if I understood correctly, the sands THEMSELVES are part of its construction."

Frieza couldn't help blinking as he labored to understand. "And the sands' perpetual movement is to the effect of…?"

"To prevent the component parts from clumping, seizing. Somewhere under the desert lies a massive, ancient agitator, causing the desert to move constantly, in wait of the command to rise."

Frieza seemed to get it. "And your Axiom merely happened upon a piece of the greater whole? How illuminating… I suppose you managed alone after this crossroads?"

"Managed? Yes… I think that word suits it."

The sudden disappearance of Axiom left a power vacuum that the lowlifes of the wastes hastened to fill. Between the newfound chaos and the death of a Huntsman, our little neglected corner of the world became irritatingly popular. I'd have been a fool to stay with so much attention drawn my way, and I had the perfect excuse to vanish.

I slipped away far to the north, into the dense jungles of Eclipse, and the rare outland jewel of Shroud, a simple but sprawling river village. Not so simple that they didn't require certain services of course…

Ingwer Lebkuchen cut across the clay-rich mud roads and into the ferns and fronds of the thick jungle, spritely in spite of his stick-like frail frame. His long copper curls bounced as he fled, streaked white, his thin tan and brown vest awry as he tore through the undergrowth. His boots splashed through the mud. A curse seared the air… or rather, a stream of blue molten fire did. It trickled down the path from some unseen natural vent uphill, forcing him to turn as he held his breath against the pungent, toxic fumes. Damn jungle… He was nearing the river though, almost home free.

He stopped for a moment, listening. Between the cascading sulfur and every tree, he might have lost—

Something struck above his shoulder, embedding into a tree as leaves and wood sprayed from the direction it came from. Wet cracks echoed as branches were felled in the path of… an arrow.

Just enough bright sky streamed through the new gap in the trees to reveal a figure on the other side, staring down at him from a high branch a hundred yards away.

Ingwer gave a shriek and stumbled, slipping in the mud as he fought for traction and pelted away.

Run… just RUN! Fast as you can!

A fern beside him seemed to explode with the force of another arrow, but he could see the break in the trees ahead. It was close now!

He burst through, rotten reeds scattering in his wake as he tramped through knee-deep water. He couldn't believe his fortune, the riverboat was right there!

The water boiled and churned as the engine puttered to life. He peered around, remaining in cover even as his adrenaline turned to a shivering triumph. "WOOOO! THAT'S RIGHT! Can't catch ME, I'm the G—"

The whole boat lurched as something landed on the edge of the boat.

But that was impossible… That bound must have been a hundred feet!

Ingwer cowered with a shriek as he was pinned against the helm, a trio of arrows carrying a net which now constrained him. He shivered as Cinder broke her bow into blades and sauntered towards him, smiling.

"Flee and fly… your legs all a flurry… Fate arrives all the same, however you scurry…"

He shut his eyes, warding her off with his arms. "Look, if it's my supplier, I'll pay him anything! Whoever sent you, I'll pay DOUBLE! TRIPLE!"

She chuckled. "Triple? On a baker's salary? I guess your fellow John Dough DID have reason to bump you off."

He was puzzled only an instant more, before his eyes shrank. "Fondant Pastel…"

She shrugged. "Guess he didn't relish the competition. Town's too small for both of you, let alone competing with drug-laced goods… so he hired me, dead or alive…"

"I'll skip town! Pay you anything!" he added desperately as she shuffled by him to take the helm as he tried sinking into the floor. "Wait… why alive? Why does he want me alive?"

"More to the point… why do I take you alive?" Cinder asked, coyly.

Ingwer froze. "I… M-money…! Like I told y—"

"I don't need money," Cinder told him. "That's not why I take little jobs like this. Taking a bribe and letting you go would tarnish my reputation with the right sort… It's the same reason I never take live-only jobs."

"I-I don't see the connection…"

She smiled at him. "It's like you said: why take them alive? Risking your life and reputation to haul an unwilling liability across the country, for a shade more scratch? Or guaranteed payout, and all I need to do is haul a body, and ward off the stink?"

He couldn't bear to look her in the face. He was shaking all over. "Th-then why… why didn't you—?!"

"Because it's just not the same when you can't see the lights leave their eyes…"

He heard a hollow clatter above as the engine cut out.

"Speaking of which…" she began. He dared to look up and see her, bow drawn and aimed at his heart. "Come now… look me in the eye… It's only polite. Three…"

"Please!"

"...Two…"

He forced them open, teeth bared as he watched her stare into his very soul.

"Good boy…" She pulled the arrow to its furthest.

"NONONONONONO…!"

The arrow flew.

Cinder's hoverbike rode into the town, undeterred by waterlogged roads or even the very river as she passed every tiny rice paddy and ramshackle building on her way to the signpost. Ingwer was draped across the back of the bike, rolled into her bedroll and looking no more conspicuous for it. She opened her scroll, typing.

'Job's done.

Cold goods.'

She waited, slowly weaving through. Shroud looked like it was fashioned from garbage at a glance. A series of floating buildings and innumerable stable ones in the same style, all built on stilts along the grand river and its green waters, tall cliffs overtaken beyond by the jungle. The reason it looked like garbage was the scarcity of thick wood, and the garish neon colors that clashed from building to building. At a distance it all looked to be made from toothpicks. The abundance of clay, however, meant the rooftops at least all kept the same matching burnt orange.

Her scroll buzzed.

'393 Hạ Xuống

Blue receptacle'

She pocketed her scroll, adjusting her dark brown cloak. She was hardly notorious here compared to the south, and she loved the flair of her red dresses… but drawing attention in town was unwise. It only made her all the more excited of course, for the jobs that let her be herself, and strut.

She found the address, and a blue dumpster built into the building. She checked for any unseen eyes —though expected a benign pair were overseeing this transaction— and rolled the body inside.

No sooner had she rounded the corner than her scroll buzzed again. This time it was an address a few blocks away. A silver bin with a Beowulf painted on it. She located the dead drop and a garbage bag of ten-thousand Lien, cash. Five less than if she'd brought him alive. Money was money.

She passed the docks and the countless fishing barges to find an old relic of a bygone time, when Shroud had ambitions of being a Kingdom unto itself. The town had a few permanent Huntsmen to ward off Grimm, but nothing that warranted this sun-bleached, long abandoned bounty board. Placed as though errant heroes would filter through and vie for grave threats to the town. Truly though, it was a quiet place, and not a very large one. The board was now for human bounties, of a legitimate nature. Cinder did these on occasion for the sake of appearances, an excuse for her presence.

The back of the board, however, now served a darker purpose.

Scroll in hand, she opened her QR scanner and checked for any new stickers. This was the local board for unsavory jobs. Anyone else would receive a corrupted link, but a scroll modified to access the 'deep wood,' the underground, untraceable bowels of the CCT network, would find details to the sort of jobs Cinder thrived upon.

There was a new code, untouched by weather. She brought it up as she rode away on her bike. Once you had the code, no point sticking around. Suspicion wouldn't help anyone.

Someone covertly named 'T' had ordered this new hit. Just one person, to the tune of… fifty-thousand? Dead only?

Cinder stopped on the bridge heading across the river, sliding to let her feet hang off the bike's side as she kept reading.

It was quite the illuminating read. The hit was for no one less than Orco Arcobaleni, the very founder of Shroud. A mining and fishing magnate, financier of so many things… and in many cases, the sole beneficiary. She stared down-river to the boiling lake, seeing his fortress of a home built atop the cliffs. The surrounding jungle glowed jewel blue where the raised, bare granite opened to the cold hells below the valley, dotting it regularly as that glow shimmered in the fading light.

Orco was a recluse, who never seemed to take the same appearance any time he was spotted in public view. It was hardly a surprise that someone wished him dead. He didn't live apart from the town without reason, or merely to keep away from commoners. Shroud was situated atop an active, gentle giant of a volcano, the vivid blue fires in the jungle marking vents for molten sulfur to surface and burn its signature glow. Sulfur was the chief mining product, a unique wellspring that made Orco rich… at the expense of Shroud itself.

Mining had immediately ruined the lake, which now churned with acid. The town frequently stank of rotten eggs, and there were concerns of the damage making its way upriver to imperil the town. Yields of fish were frequently poisoned, and fewer even survived to reach there for the spawning grounds upstream, let alone the ones for whom the lake itself had been their port of call.

And all indicators suggested he knew this all too well, building his sturdy iron keep where any riverboat would sink, and across molten fields with no hiding places. If the guards or the burning blue didn't kill you crossing it, likely the noxious fumes would, and that was before finding a way into the fortress itself under these conditions. Airships alone could come and go freely.

Honestly, killing Orco might actually sink Shroud in spite of his sins. I could lose my hunting ground if it all collapsed, be forced to move on… not that much was keeping me there. But the challenge of the hunt was far and away more interesting than anything else that had come my way. Certainly better than chasing some uppity baker away from a drug deal.

Approaching the place at all was a challenge. It was a fight just to reach the treeline with no main road and thick, pest-ridden jungle. By the time I started my stake-out, casing Arcobaleni's home, it was apparent what a frivolous effort getting in would be. The charred, black fields of unpredictable burning blue stretched for hundreds of yards. Anyone crossing would be easily spotted on their way in.

The structure was an armoured palace in a strangely Mistral-borne style of flying eaves, except it was composed almost entirely of black iron. Given Orco was very much a man of Vacuan descent, it seemed an odd choice. The only open sections lurked somewhere beyond the perimeter wall, and that would require scaling the damn thing just to see what was past it. The inner layout was an utter mystery apart from clear evidence of a landing pad for the airships that visited, none of which arrived from anywhere near Shroud itself. The staff and security were live-in, flown-in, perhaps even from Vacuo itself, with supplies arriving much the same way.

Even for a woman of her skill set, it would be foolish to storm it blind. She glimpsed a facial scanner at the one rooftop entrance she could angle from afar, precluding the possibility of sneaking in as a guard. The guards themselves were hardly Atlas standard, and complacency of their post, never receiving attack apart from random Grimm, would be to her advantage. But their white ceramic armor would make them a problem if she were cornered, regardless. And that was likely with no access to the floor plan…

Yes indeed, ceramic armor. With helmets vaguely decorated with monstrous faces, the actual human face behind their open jaws and angular LED teeth. Horns served as radio antennae. The ceramic itself was a strategic use of their terrain. She'd already watched a squad ward off a pack of Sabyrs, Grimm taking the form of prehistoric tigers. The charred, flowing sulfur field was nearly safe for the guards, the armor resistant to the extreme heat and the acidic corrosion.

And with so many on hand, would she even be sure of her target? If her suspicions were correct, he might have a semblance to disguise himself by some manner of illusion. All that trouble to cross off the wrong person was unthinkable. He had to be vulnerable at some point…

It took a fortnight camped, tracking the airship schedule before she found her answer. The staff was rotated by a trio of bullheads every week at dawn, before joining a gleaming chrome yacht Cinder had never spied before. Triple engine, split-tier with no harsh angles whatsoever, it was escorted by the bullheads on its way East. Two days later, all returned, the remaining security snapping to attention for the arrival.

If it meant what she thought, then it was a vulnerability she could exploit… but she had to be certain. She returned after two more weeks. The yacht and security detail performed the same song and dance. The pattern had formed. All that remained was to punish it.

"Ogre Team Bravo, checking in."

"Confirm, Bravo."

The airship formation cruised southeast, beginning their short flight over the dense jungle. The blue sulfur vents dotting the jungle still glowed jewel blue in the pre-dawn light.

"Ogre Leader, any smoke on the horizon?"

"Ehhh, few Sabyrs, maybe a coiled Taijitu in one clearing, nothing airborne. Weekend for Grimm too I guess."

"TOO, Leader? Cause I'm still workin' this crap detail…"

"Ogre Castle speaking. Charlie, keep this channel clear, your discontent is noted. Some mercs would kill for a quiet gig like this; you don't like it, plenty of—"

The chrome yacht rocked and listed as its starboard nacelle burst into flames, its gleaming finish instantly tarnished by the belching smoke staining it.

"The hell was THAT?!" Ogre Leader asked. "Castle, what's your status? …Castle?"

"This is Bravo; we have an angle on the damage. Comm cluster was lost with the nacel—"

The port nacelle exploded exactly as its twin, and the yacht began to sink towards the canopy, the escort ships giving chase as their bay doors slid open.

"This is Charlie, we saw it! Some projectile struck the port. Source is ahead of us."

"Leader here, I have them. Some bike in the undergrowth, hauling ass! In pursuit; all others secure the crash site. Castle is in the cabbage."

Indeed, the glistening ship finally descended to the sea of green as it sputtered and whined, giving way to a spray of fiber and pollen as slams and snaps announced its arrival to the jungle below. Countless branches and fronds swayed as it carved a trench through the green ceiling. Small trees broke on impact and were tossed like twigs. Finally, a grinding groan accompanied red dust and mud clouding the air as the yacht struck the floor and came to an utter stop as one massive tree rattled, but held as birds took to the air in panic.

The ceramic soldiers stood in their bays, at the ready as the two Bullheads switched to hover and circle the crash as their pivoting jets screamed, even as the dust hung heavy in the air. The sound of the crash itself had abated, but the calls of birds and animals were a dull roar as the jungle decried this invasion.

"Stay inside!" Bravo ordered over the loudspeaker. "The fire's been smothered; we're going to secure the area!"

A squad of four splashed down in the mud and began to spread out as another soldier manned a heavy gun in the personnel nest. Charlie continued to circle as Ogre Leader followed after the little bike, its forward gun chattering as it stripped branches and bore down.

It was a brief chase, as the bike upended and sputtered as it twirled to drift and hover in place, creaking as it struck a tree and the Bullhead descended upon it, guns down.

"There's… There's no driver. All teams, driver bailed, no sign of them! This might have been a distraction, be on your guard!"

It was just too easy…

Cinder hung inverted from a twisted copperpod tree, a branch under her knees as she took aim.

A triplet of glass-tipped arrows struck the starboard engine of the circling bullhead, squealing with searing heat moments before they erupted into the screaming jet engine, which died suddenly and explosively as fan blades turned into shrapnel. The already tilted bullhead entirely lost control, pitching wildly into the surrounding trees, but more importantly…

"HIT! WE'RE HI—"

A handful of soldiers bailed from the bay while the few already on the ground hit the dirt, fouling their gleaming white armor as the stationary bullhead was struck by its mate. Both vehicles ran aground and dove into the greenery as fire plumed from the nearby canopy.

"CONTACT! WE HAVE CONTACT!"

"Yeah, NO SHIT!" the second growled, as each standing mercenary began blind-firing into the trees.

They hadn't spotted her, but nonetheless it was time to move. She sprang to her feet and ran along the sturdiest branch, bow ready as she vaulted sideways into an aerial cartwheel, drawing another triplet of arrows as she hung in midair on the way to the next tree.

The group barely had a moment to react before one of them howled as the searing arrow pierced their thigh. The others twisted around just in time for him and the earth beneath them to blast them apart. A single one of them scrambled to her feet as Cinder sprinted into the freshly made clearing, reaching for a rifle. Three shots cracked by, and she only needed to deflect one of them before the survivor saw her blade grow massive in her eyes…

Cinder barely had time to clean her curved sword in the barest sense before she heard the scream of the last bullhead. She stood out in the center of the clearing, deliberately drawing its eye and making a fabulous target. She drew a single arrow back.

The bullhead took the bait, its forward gun blazing as a ten-foot geysers of dirt traced closer and closer to her, not helping her aim. Hundreds of rounds were expended before they began to whizz by her implacable form. She needed only one.

If only she could have seen the look on the pilot's face when the arrow pierced the wind screen… and then his chest. She had to settle for the VTOL whining overhead, aimless as it cleared the crash site, and heard the snapping of entire trees as the jungle muffled the noise of the bullhead smashing into the green.

With that, she gaily strode to the steaming wreck. A few flames sweltered where the bullheads had crashed, but the dense jungle wet made any manner of spread unlikely. The tattered chrome was in sorry condition, her reflection a funhouse fantasy in its dented surface. This wasn't helped as she found the seam that marked the exit and plunged the ends of both blades into them to pry open the cool, climate-controlled interior.

There were several screams as she reformed Midnight's bow, arrow nocked and pulled back.

"Not a TWITCH…" Cinder threatened as she fanned her bow over the crowd within.

She wasn't certain what she expected to see in Orco's yacht, but the small harem within only surprised her so much. Girls, near on a dozen of them, draped in bright, thin evening wear of all colors. They were a grab-bag of ages, skin tones and hair colors, cowering against the red chaise interior. It was clear by their running makeup that they had been in mortal dread since the crash. The bravest blinked away their confusion at the sight of her. Only so many saw her as a threat to begin with.

"IT'S NOT ME! IT'S HER!" crowed a brunette in olive green, pointing sharply at her stunned-silent double, like herself in every way. "HE COPIED ME! HE WANTS TO KILL ME!"

Cinder stared at her, leering as though she were regretting this entire job. "Is that the best you could do?"

The first brunette frowned. "Hn…?"

Her eyes bulged with a sudden wheeze as the arrow sank into her chest. A gout of flame seared from within, licking the arrow's shaft as her voice deepened and her form changed. Orco Arcobaleni melted into existence as the others screamed, watching the rotund, black-haired noble breath his last, his strange mustache blowing with his final breath, connecting the hair over his lip with his sideburns in a curved and cultivated line.

"Quiet!" Cinder ordered. "The rest of you can leave. Just stay out of my—"

"Ashley…?"

I froze. It was a voice I hadn't heard in fifteen years.

She looked over to the fore of the little yacht, where clad in blue, the piercing, unmistakable eyes of Sapphire Rhodopis found her own.

The other girls used the moment to file past Cinder, fleeing into the wilds. She barely noticed at all. "...Mother…?"

Sapphire dared a step closer… another… and twisted to the husk of the man lying still in his seat.

"Orco! ORCO! No no NO!" She shook the body, panic in her face. "...I'm ruined! It's gone… all gone!"

Cinder felt lightning strike her spine as her mother's kind eyes turned to her again, screwed-up in rage.

"What have you DONE?!" Sapphire demanded coldly. "I was one of HIS! Wanted for nothing, taken care of! I WAS HAPPY!"

Cinder's golden eyes twitched with conflict. Her ears burned with the indecency of the words. Reality was knocking at the door to her hammering heart, and she couldn't deny it this time.

She was… happy?

I felt a hate for my life as some vestige of Ashley sprang to life inside me. That pathetic, feeble little girl was fighting to take hold, the last gasp of a long devoured rat scratching to escape my stomach before it expired. It managed to claw its way up my throat, just far enough to gag me before I could force it back down to its cage. How else could I explain the tears rolling down my face?

"You…" Cinder choked, shaking as her teeth gnashed. "You left me…" It stung to say. But the pain was swiftly replaced with a boiling in her soul. "I waited for you… I waited for eight years! I would have waited longer!" Her breath grew sharp, heavy. "But you were never coming back for me, were you…? You abandoned me…"

It had been true. Ian… Jordan… Adelson… For all their cruelty, they had told Ashley the truth. The horrible… horrible truth.

Sapphire refused to look at her, still fussing over Orco's corpse. "For the second time, you've ruined my life! I never wanted a child… but I couldn't bring myself to end it before you were born… I TRIED to be a mother! I waited for those feelings of love to fill me… and pretended when they didn't! But I was too damn soft to be rid of you! Even as I fell into poverty caring for you…"

Cinder couldn't even move to wipe her tears. She gulped as she understood. "And then you saw your chance… To be free of me as a burden. You left me with those BASTARDS!" Her voice cracked. She couldn't help it anymore. "I suffered… for YEARS! They BEAT ME! STARVED ME! They HATED ME because you stole from them! I WAS A SLAVE!"

Bow in hand, she smashed her knuckles into the chrome doorway, which squealed and folded even as she started bleeding.

Only then did Sapphire turn. The ghost of fear in her ever-shining, silver eyes as her daughter reached for her quiver. She shook uncontrollably as the arrow rattled against the bow.

"I should KILL YOU!" Cinder told her, drawing the arrow back. "For everything I've suffered, you DESERVE to die…!"

I stood poised. In my mind, I saw the arrow fly. Revenge for EVERYTHING was in my grasp. I was meant to be there. Destiny again… I was meant to strike her down…

…But I faltered.

The arrow whizzed by, missing her head by a mere foot as the coward shrank and shrieked.

"Get out," Cinder ordered, still shaking. "Get out, get out, get the hell OUT! I NEVER want to see you again…"

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. A voice I had never heard before.

"That right?" the voice asked, a female, with an accent so similar to the Puces it was disarming.

Cinder turned, just in time for a gleaming silver blade to zip past her face. She caught a glimpse of green, but a scream brought her face back. She turned.

"MOTHER!"

The light faded in Sapphire's shocked, silver eyes as her hands scrabbled at the gold-hilted cutlass sticking out of her gut. The blue of her gown was stained red as it bloomed from her center.

In seconds… far too soon… she was dead.

"Quite enjoyed that tender li'l scene," the newcomer told her, as Cinder stood numb. "Proper dramatic! But all good things come to an end, dunnit, dearie?"

Cinder began to turn. She couldn't process what she was feeling. It was all too much. But her curiosity won out.

"Aw, fret not, love," the woman told her, body a strange, pallid green, mottled with grey… scales? "Y'd 'ave regretted lettin' her go before the day's out. Take it from m'self… best to rip that bandage off right quick. Do need my cutlass back though, if'n you wouldn't min—"

Cinder was on her in a flash, hands ringing as her blades were met and knocked away by the single cutlass of her mother's murderer. She reeled for only a second before swinging her blades in at the faunus' neck.

But one-handed, with a reverse-grip no less, the woman smiled as she held Cinder back. Her teeth were not her own, a false metallic bear trap of steel fangs screwed into her jaws. Her head was shaved down to a combed Mohawk of greyish, deep-sea green locks. She wore a mud-brown corset over an olive collared shirt, vertically striped black/grey trousers hugging her hips. But those huge yellow eyes stared into her with a calm and an eagerness Cinder had never seen.

"Hold it now, lovely!" she laughed. "Bit outta your depth, ain' 'choo?"

In a flash Cinder barely followed, she whirled 'neath her crossing blades and smashed her in the back of the head with the hilt of her lone cutlass. She fell forward, into the bare jungle mud, twisting to face her enemy.

"Why?!" Cinder demanded, her voice hoarse. "What did you want with her?! With ME?! Who the hell ARE YOU?!"

Hands on her hips, the faunus strolled idly. "The one what's payin' you fifty thou' for the job a' course! Just 'T,' like the letter, not the bev'rage. You read the job? Here then," T said, tossing a weatherproof case at her feet. "I know it's 'bit of a faux pas to deal direct-like in your business, but—"

"Y-y-you…?! You hired…?" Cinder reeled, sputtering even as she sat in the mud, a small fortune at her feet. "The job… Orco…"

"Pshh!" T spat. "That womanizin' gold-brick' was just a means to an end, see? Flush out his little tart, Sapphire, an' finish my business. Was worth the scratch to bleed Orco's defenses by throwing mercs at him, but I could tell straight away you'd make it further. Never knew or dreamed she was your mum though!" the faunus laughed. "Born under a right black star, you!"

"WHY?!" Cinder asked again, rising wetly to her feet. "For some debt she owed?! Some lender she crossed? You had me kill a mining magnate for his concubine?!"

T's smile bulged into her narrowed eyes as she laughed. "Sounds backwards, uh? But you never realized it… Suppose she didn't neither. Your mum was special. Silver Eyes don't come 'round often, and I represent a party very interested in their kill or capture."

"S-silver eyes…?" Cinder breathed.

T appraised her clinically. "Hmm… Seems it skipped you, love. Suppose you have any kids an' it won't matter… but I could be convinced to spare your life…"

Cinder took a breath, wiped the mud off her face, and readied her blades. "Nobody threatens me… uses me… and gets to pretend they're doing ME a favor by getting away with it!"

The steel-fanged faunus' grin only grew as prospects of this being peacefully resolved dimmed. "Really let that Devil of The Void rubbish inflate your head, did you? Have no false 'llusions love: I was honed to be a godslayer… A devil's just practice…"

Cinder swept her hand sharply, vials of sand she kept on her belt shattering and following an arc to forge red hot daggers of glass, which darted out at T. The faunus sprang back, an effortless leap that actually gave Cinder pause as she landed neatly atop the wreck of the chrome yacht.

She shook off her surprise as T twirled her cutlass idly, waiting. A vault from the collapsed nacelle brought her within reach of the top, and with another she fired an arrow mid-flight before landing. T swatted it aside with barely an effort as Cinder split her blades apart again.

"Name's 'Tock', by the way… S'ppose we can quit the secrecy, seein' as you won't be 'round to use it."

Cinder hardly cared, only sneering as she waited for the finally named Tock to make her first… last move.

"It's a precious few who know the hour a' their death," Tock told her, reaching for something on her hip. "Let alone the minute." She pulled out nothing less than a brass, antique of an alarm clock, winding its black hand back a single revolution. Her lime-green Aura flashed suddenly. "Tick-Tock, darling… Time to send a devil back to Hell…"

The faunus whirled as she delivered an upward swing, carving through the top of the fuselage with a cascade of sparks. The split traced across the length of the yacht, and Cinder wove out of its path just in time to see branches beyond her being cleaved by the sheer current of air. It had been close enough to shear off a lock of her hair.

She was off balance, and the monstrous Tock was zipping towards her. Cinder glanced into the split innards of the yacht… and chose to wait an instant as Tock approached.

The devil leapt cleanly out of the assassin's path, falling to kick off the side of the fuselage as she took aim below the ragged breach in the hull… and at the hemorrhaging tank of liquid crystal fire Dust that once fueled the engines.

Cinder's shoulder hit the dirt, and she slid on her back as the tank ignited. Tock caught it in surprise… and gave a crooked grin fit to strip paint.

What was left of the yacht was utterly obliterated. Cinder could only cover herself as so much of the chrome exterior shrapnelized, and still was tossed several yards from the blast.

"We make a good demolition team, dearie!" Tock's voice echoed over.

Cinder's eyes shot open as she turned to see the faunus, like a shadow against the towering flames, unmoved by the conflagration. In fact, she'd used the moment to retrieve her other cutlass, and was racing in once more.

Cinder barely got to her knees to guard with her bow as Tock leapt into a forward flip to slam both cutlasses down. She was nearly pinned onto her back as Tock leaned over, snapping her jaws like a feral animal. She rolled back, planting her feet into Tock's belly and kicking her away as she rolled to her feet.

Tock only laughed as Cinder charged in. She plunged both blades into the green predator's chest, but her lime Aura flared as both glanced off.

Yes, flared, not flickered, or sparked. She'd never seen such a thing. It was like hitting a wall. Tock had let her get the strike in, and it had done nothing.

Still laughing, Tock grabbed a wrist and pulled her into a smashing headbutt. As if by comparison, Cinder's own golden Aura flickered at the trauma as she fell back. In the back of her searing head, she knew that, even now, she was being played with. Tock's awful, sadistic steel teeth could readily have snatched her nose off at that moment…

I'd never fought anything so ferocious or powerful. It didn't feel real. And yet, if I didn't find a way soon, I knew I was dead.

Tock couldn't naturally be so strong. There was something she didn't understand. Even now, with Cinder on the floor, she wasn't waiting around to gloat. She was still charging her, the ever-present ticking of the clock on her hip like a metronome, as if time were of the essen—

Wait…

Taken with a sudden idea, Cinder rolled out of the way as Tock barrelled past. Keeping her momentum, she pelted into the dense jungle, tearing past thin trees and gnarled roots.

"I'm the best tracker you'll ever meet, bindt!" Tock told her as she leapt branch to branch, a sudden anger in her voice. "You're barking mad if ya think you'll slip off!"

It was true. Cinder was sure of it, as she swatted away Tock's blades while she took passing swipes every time she changed course. Branches and whole trunks toppled as she ducked those sterling blades.

The clock… a minute… It wasn't some sick play at intimidation or bravado. It wasn't a boast… it was a necessity. How much time had passed?

Not enough. Though Tock was becoming increasingly aggressive.

The wreckage of a bullhead appeared ahead, nose buried, its gun bay still open. Cinder beelined for it, hopping over the dorsal section and using her blades as hooks to swing under and into the bay with a spray of sparks. Tock's brows rose as she saw the hanging turret swing her way.

Cinder held firm to the handles as jolts of plasma sprayed ar Tock with a high-pitched series of snaps. The scaled killer was slowed as she blocked it with her crossed blades with a grumble, unharmed but pushed back by the force even as her cutlasses began to glow with the heat.

"Cheeky TWIT!" Tock cried, tense blades slashing in an X-pattern from her block as the same slicing burst of air missed Cinder herself, but snipped off the hanging gun and —for an encore— split the very fuselage into four distinct pieces.

They barely began to shift as Cinder fled into the trees, dodging limbs and leaves that fell as collateral damage to Tock's attack. She barely made it far though, as the faunus kicked off a high limb at her out of nowhere.

"AUGHH!" Cinder shrieked as the blades got in a clean hit on her side, toppling her over.

She grabbed a low branch to support herself as she twisted towards a running river of blue flame.

Yes! Aura or no Aura, it wouldn't matter one bi—

"AAAAAAAARGH!"

A weight planted onto her back, and Cinder screamed as something clamped onto the flesh of her neck and trapezius. Her Aura burst all at once, leaving her naked to the assault. She could feel the wet heat of Tock's breath on her neck, the disgusting lash of her tongue along the fresh punctures.

And yet, as Tock's nails dug into her biceps, those awful teeth sank deeper as Cinder struggled and screamed.

But at last, the girl in torn, mud-streaked scarlet was released to fall onto her hands and knees. All the while, the faunus' mouth ran red, even as her tongue traced her lips in victory, idly smirking at her ticking timepiece. "What a tasty li'l thing you are… I think I— Oi!"

It was her last chance. Her Aura was gone, and while superficial, the bite was like a creeping fire in her pounding nerves. Tock could kill her at any time now with a decisive blow. A pall of dread came over her as she hadn't felt in years, like a cloak of icy venom. It was like she hadn't felt truly mortal in such a long time.

She'd make her feel that same dread soon.

Cinder was barely upright, gravity itself pitching her forward as she sprinted for the blue river. She barely caught herself before she leapt, holding her breath and throwing herself across. The world in her sight was lethal blue.

"Ack!"

She landed partly upon the searing shore, and rolled as part of her poor dress immolated to snuff it out beneath her. She'd vaulted the frying pan and been licked by the flames. She scrambled on her hands and knees again.

Take the bait… I'm beaten, show off, show me how low I am…!

She looked across the azure flames to see Tock hurry to the edge, her own blood still sticky on the scaled killer's chin.

Cinder busied herself looking pathetic, crawling backwards. She couldn't make Tock know she was waiting.

Tock's steely teeth idly sank into her bottom lip as she stared between Cinder… the flames… glanced back at her hip.

It was only an instant's hesitation, all Tock could afford… and then she pointedly rolled through the flames, grinning maniacally as she was swathed in the flaming blue sludge and leapt at the seemingly downed devil.

Cinder took another huge breath before springing to her feet, weaving out of range of Tock's swinging blades and firing her last triplet of arrows… with a bonus. Tock was only momentarily surprised as the arrows threw a capture net around her upper body. She wasn't bound, merely hobbled, but as she flailed, bit and tore at the netting —and burned, if only by the molten sulfur— the critical hazard of her flaming body sloughed off of her as she heaved and rasped with exertion. The net was her own work, sewn together from a hardy filament she'd gone to some special lengths to acquire. She'd recalled the weapon of the winner of the Vytal Tournament, and she had to admit… it was effective.

"Flighty TART!" Tock cried, as she finally worked through the net, and coughed violently, her voice getting rougher as she heaved, eyes laden with confusion. Then finally filled with shock.

'*BRI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I…!*'

The alarm clock's little twin bells rattled, a split second before Tock's lime green Aura burst altogether into gossamer shards. Her mouth parted as her pupils shrank, chest still heaving, before her teeth came together in a snarl.

Still, she closed the distance and whirled, no less deadly or brutally strong as Cinder remained on the back foot. Her hands rattled as her arms absorbed the constant impacts.

"You're NOTHIN', ye TRAMP!" Tock insisted, felling branches as they danced through the trees, hacking and coughing even as Cinder winced from nicks and cuts from the very air passing by. "Runnin' my timer out doesn't make you better n' ME!"

Cinder was tempted… but didn't seek the coup de grâce. One foolish move, and she'd be right… and Cinder would be dead. She bore no false illusions. If there was a Hell… Cinder was going there.

But not today.

She fell back as Tock paused, glistening beads on her mottled skin. Her eyes were bloodshot, and looked herself over as she rocked with every breath. "What've… you done? Why'm I…?"

Cinder chuckled, a touch winded herself. "An invincible Aura is a handy trick… but it doesn't filter toxins from the air, does it? Like the fumes from volcanic sulfur…?"

Tock didn't respond with words, just a bestial snarl as she gave another underhand slash with both blades. Cinder cried out as the air sliced her up the center, knocking her against the knotted roots of a thick tree as dirt, wood and leaves sprinkled around them.

Cinder looked up as Tock charged her. She formed her bow. She had no arrows left, but she had one last new trick.

Her last flask of sand sprinkled out as she reached for a rapidly forming arrow of black glass. She nocked. She drew. She released with a snap.

Tock's yellow eyes saw the motion, and with an overhand lunge, she tossed her whirling cutlass into the arrow's path. Cinder leaned out of the way, as she focused the tiny amount of Aura she'd built back, her shield still unformed.

It would have required the reflexes of a fly to notice it, but as the arrow approached the blade's edge, it's component parts broke away, flowing around the cutlass like vapor. On the other side, it reforged into the deadly projectile once more, as Tock's eyes and toothy upper lip registered surprise.

"Ugh…!"

Tock went almost limp as the arrow whizzed and struck over her heart with a meaty impact, mere steps away as her other blade went slack in her hand. As she fell forward, her eyes managed to trace Cinder dropping her bow to catch the whirling cutlass in both hands. She strained against its momentum, and gave a blood curdling cry as she aimed the cutlass to swing for its owner's neck…

Tock's body slumped as it fell at Cinder's feet, made considerably shorter than it had been mere seconds ago. Something wet and heavy struck the jungle floor, bouncing only once before rolling out of sight.

The light of dawn was on the rise as Cinder sat against the tree, heaving as she finally allowed herself a moment of respite. The flames from the blasted yacht were licking the furthest trees in her vision, crackling merrily as some measure of peace filled the jungle again.

She clutched her still bleeding shoulder, kicking away the assassin's still form as it exsanguinated into the bare jungle floor.

I'd won the fight… but all was not yet finished. Little did I know, but my life was about to change all over again.

Cinder's eyes widened, and she froze as Tock's pack began to twitch. She grabbed the cutlass and braced, as its surface bent and distended, rustling like a burgeoning pupa.

"...What?"

It shook more and more violently, until finally it burst open, and a black and white mass of red tendrils rose from Tock's corpse like some vengeful phantom.

The seer's mantle was sliced off as Cinder threw the cutlass without hesitation, and out of it poured a fountain of smoke. Blacker than black, it swirled to the center of the clearing before her, a misty red glow at its center. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen of a Grimm before as it slowly took shape.

But before all that, she heard a voice ooze out of it, at once strangely familiar… but off.

"You've slain my servant… No small feat," the haze praised, as it emerged as a larger than life woman in a stark black cloak. Pale as bone, with a crown of strangely braided white hair that was somehow less ghostly than her skin, she stared down curiously from the slit pupils of her blood-red eyes. Her black varicose veins had not yet marred her host's youthful skin. The faint red glow centered itself somewhere in her chest as she floated, a ten foot tall specter of a woman. "And who might I have the pleasure to credit?"

Cinder wobbled to her feet, separating her bow, still holding her wounded shoulder as she held one blade up in warding as the other clattered to the ground. "Y-you first!" Cinder warbled. "Stay back!"

The pale vision smiled, looming over her. "I am the one poor Tock called master… I've no names… no titles. You needn't be so guarded. This is a mere projection; I'm rather far away. Perhaps as far as anything could be."

Cinder still jumped as she took a step forward, clucking her tongue as she examined the empty husk that had been Tock. "Poor fool. I did warn her about using her semblance to assure victory, when the foe is worn… not as a device for shock and awe. She fell into her greatest weakness willfully, until at last a mighty challenger exploited it. Her loss might be gain for both of us…"

Cinder backed harder into the tree as the master leaned to look her in the eye. She couldn't fight vapor…

"Your eyes are gold," she noted, frowning. "How did the two of you come to blows? You're hardly her sort of target…"

Cinder's nostrils flared. "She killed my mother!" Cinder said, blinking rapidly as she averted her unreasoning feelings. "Used me…! I couldn't let her just…"

The specter blinked in surprise. "Strange… The progeny of silver… but not silver in kind?" She peered lower, a transparent hand waving over her middle. "And unable to birth a more sterling generation… I do regret your mother's fate. I have my reasons of course, but…"

Cinder shook her head. "Don't bother… I should hate her anyway… She abandoned me. It's better this way… Cinder… My name is Cinder."

The phantom's smile returned. "Dear Cinder… by silver spurned… by HEAVEN spurned… by strength graced… What is your profession?"

"I'm…" Cinder considered, standing straighter. "A survivor… A killer."

The pale shade's smile didn't fade. "And who do you kill?"

"Doesn't matter… They're all the same."

The giant stood up tall, taking a step back. "Then perhaps you can supplant late Tock, and kill on my behalf?"

Cinder leered, the absurdity of it all taking root. "Who are your enemies? What side are you on?"

"I thought it didn't matter?"

"It doesn't… but what do we stand to gain?"

"My foes are many… as are yours," Salem told her, as Cinder gasped and gripped her blade at the sight of a hundred black beasts lining the clearing, their red eyes glaring her way. "For we are those cast out by man… We stand to gain a foothold in a world that made us monsters, by patience and by tact."

Salem's hand reached out, as if to caress Cinder's chin as she still watched the tamed Grimm with utter fear. "But I know what you'd ask… 'what's in it for you…?' " She stood straight again, as the Grimm stood as sentries. "And to that I ask… What, Cinder… do YOU want…?"

Cinder still took a moment to calm herself, as she realized the significance of the Grimm, and saw that they would not attack. She swallowed, stood tall.

She wanted to fulfill her Destiny, but what did she want that to mean? What was fulfillment to the part of her that hungered?

"I… I want to be strong…" she said simply, but saw Salem's smile urge her on. "I want to be feared… I want… to be powerful…"

The spray of the false sea spritzed them as its fluorescent blue glowed. Neither she nor Frieza paid it any mind.

"The rest, as they say, is history," Cinder told him —certain he was actually awake this time— as she peered into the churning grey skies. "Salem showed me a new world of possibilities. Contacts. She helped me refine myself from a mere mercenary to a leader. Not merely an assassin of kin, but an assassin of Kingdoms. With no past history, no one would see me coming. I received preternatural tools, kinship with the Grimm… I was promised as the vessel for the four Maidens, a power unequaled on Remnant!"

Frieza hummed. "And yet, by the sight of you, not all was as planned?"

She shut her eyes ruefully at the sight of her black, skeletal arm. "For all the talk of Silver Eyes and her reasons for hunting them down, Salem NEVER prepared me for the truth! My plan worked… I brought the Kingdom of Vale screaming to its knees… I conquered the Fall Maiden and took what I was promised… The strongest of Huntsmen, the greatest of the Academies, all left reeling. I even destroyed Ozpin… and their 'Invincible Girl…' "

Frieza's eyes seemed to glow with life as he watched a shaking hand form a golden sphere. She chucked it into the distant waters, which plumed hundreds of feet high, gleaming an agitated blue as the horizon of the false sky was overtaken by a grand swell. The waters rose higher than the rocks they stood on, racing past their knees, past the Vault entry to pour into the moat as fresh and glowing blue saltwaters clashed like a river meeting the sea.

"And there she was! A stupid, barely trained fifteen-year-old brat, screaming her name! Unearthing a power beyond anything I'd ever seen or attained, rising into the air on silver wings, like an angel of death!"

"Indeed?" Frieza asked, sufficiently entertained as the ocean rippled back and forth. "She was so fierce an adversary?"

Cinder's eye burned as she recalled it. "It took everything to even TOUCH her… The light… it burned… But when I had her, I hesitated… Her voice…" Cinder clutched her temple. "SHE stopped me… Salem never told me the weakness that came with the Maiden's power. It didn't stop me slaying Ozpin, it didn't prevent me crushing Nikos… But the damn GIRL…! Why her?!"

Frieza said nothing. In spite of himself, he couldn't help finding her anguish… delectable.

"I meant to burn her to nothing, but Ruby… she turned my flames back upon me. My arm… my… my eye…!"

Frieza beheld the hate in her face, her teeth grinding even as sadness fought to be seen.

"She took everything from me… I was haggard, scarred… I'd never been stronger, and yet I felt so weak! I was rescued by my disciples, from a CHILD! She came away without a scratch!"

She eased her breathing, the misery crawling onto her face.

Frieza considered. "This girl… describe her?"

Cinder leered. "Shorter. Dark red hair… and of course, that bright red hooded cape."

The despot's eyes lit up. "Ah! The slight little cherub with the weapon nigh her size? Yes, I recall her attempt to restrain me, lest I retire her monkey friend. Rest assured, I did not rob you of your revenge."

"I know… She's stubborn like a stain. Putting her out will require a concentrated force of will. Salem could never have helped me, I see that now. I spent months recovering. Everything I'd built was broken. From a supreme being, to the child huddled in the bare cellar. Salem grafted me with this arm. She said the bloodlust of the Grimm would quell the Maiden's voice, and yet at Haven I still couldn't finish the Ark boy… Ruby… she didn't even remember what she'd done to me… Can there BE a greater insult than that…?! To take my beauty, my peace of mind, the acme of a life so filled with hardship and pain… Crumbled to pieces, and she didn't even remember! Couldn't even deliver the fight I prepared for, just HID behind her friends!"

Her eye was flush with regret as she wound down. "Branwen was right," she said, squeezing her black shoulder. "I'm marked. Salem… she owns me now. I'm just a slave again, with a longer leash… I traded… lost so much. And only NOW, only when you arrived did I finally see what I could do… the reason I'm still alive."

"Oh?" Frieza asked, smirking.

"I want to leave this world behind," Cinder said, before shaking herself. "N-no… I'm MEANT to…! YOU are what I've waited for, Lord Frieza, I'm certain! You can set me free…"

"I'm at a loss as to how, if this is a matter of your being," Frieza droned. "Am I meant to bargain with your master? Were it my own men, I'd not let such betrayal stand."

Cinder sighed with a smile. "I've given that some thought… You already possess the Sword of Creation. I've studied the nature of the Relics in Evernight, and their compounded effects are all the more if their tasks correspond. If I can find the Summer Maiden, take the Staff of Destruction from Atlas, the two could be used to rid me of Salem's influence, and restore the body I've lost."

"Most interesting," Frieza said. "And certainly your retrieval would be for my own gain… I agree to nothing as yet, but you have chosen a wise path my dear."

Cinder couldn't help a thrill as she prepared her next words. "There is… one more thing, Lord Frieza."

"Yes?"

"Salem is playing you for a fool."

Frieza laughed. "I suspected nothing less… Rest assured I am on my guard."

"You wouldn't know how, but I do… The Relics can only be used properly by one with a human soul. She will draw you to a moment where either might destroy the other… but the Relics will not obey YOU… Nor your Supreme Commander."

Frieza frowned, turning to meet her eye. "Indeed? Such a detail would foul my works… had I not witnessed Ginyu perform this very feat myself… or had you forgotten?"

Cinder hadn't. Ginyu had indeed used the Sword to create statues. "But she couldn't TRULY use its full power… I could prove it if you lent it to me. But the Relics only provide trace effects to non-humans. Salem was hoping this would pass your test long enough to ensnare you."

Frieza's frown deepened. "I was under the impression this world was unused to extrasolar contact. What beings beyond your mistress and themselves have they encountered to know of this behavior?"

"Humanity was… fond of testing the Relics to know their limitations. And lax on qualms when it came to involving species from other worlds in those tests."

"And you're certain a body is not enough? Is your master not masquerading in human form?"

Cinder shook her head. "The soul of her host still lingers. You need an intermediary who can use the Relics for you, enact your will through them. I can fill that part."

Frieza chuckled his humming laugh, eyes shut as he smiled. "So either you are a most fortuitous ally, or she has deliberately sent you to assuage my caution and become my executioner… Unless you personally believe yourself so bound for illustrious heights…"

Cinder took a step back. " 'Executioner…?' I…"

"Come now! Placing yourself in command of these Relics of power, could you not then destroy myself as readily as your master? Would I not be entrusting you with my very life?"

Cinder's face fell, she shook her head, terrified at the insinuation. "I wouldn't betray you…! I… I'll prove myself! Regardless, you NEED a human being. Who else COULD you trust in this world? I alone have told you the linchpin of her plan!"

"Yes," Frieza admitted, "regrettably I shall require another, and if this is not a greater ruse then this information would hasten you to the place of most-trusted among your kind." He strode to the shoreline as another massive spray of glowing ocean fountained high against the cliffs. "But I would be a fool to trust so rashly one who has already betrayed a former master… One besotted with purpose, who might see in this an opportunity to slip the yoke of both masters and command the very Cosmos herself…"

Cinder froze, as if the very idea had truly never occurred to her. "I swear, I… I couldn't…!"

"Yes," he said sharply, "you could not… I admit, I've yet to reconcile how to approach your Relics, bound to humanity as they are, but if I must abstain till that solution removes all risk, I shall."

She nodded solemnly. "I WILL prove it to you. I don't need to rule… So long as I can prove my own strength, I'm content to serve at your side."

"Yes yes… I know you seek the other two Maids of your number, and you have glimpsed that the full measure of my power far exceeds the form you see before you. Understand, that be it by treble or multiplicity, their power shall pale before my own." He grinned at her wickedly. "And lest you consider that my erasure would remove the need of such strength, know that there is one other in this Universe who even I cannot supplant."

Cinder seemed surprised. "But you…"

"Among mortal beings there are none that compare… but beyond is a god… Beerus The Destroyer. A whim of devastation that answers to no authority, and favors no sides. I fear my rise in the Universe has attracted his gaze, and he may one day look upon me as an imbalance to be corrected. Such is my pursuit of immortality, and greatest godhood unto myself, that I might be rid of the final barrier to dominion over all."

Cinder couldn't help but gawk, and noticed her jaw had slackened, closing it suddenly. "I never suspected…"

"For this and many other reasons, you would do well to know the limits of your ambitions. Were you to succeed in destroying me, such a grand shift in the Cosmic order would force you under his eye… to languish."

She had nothing to say. She truly hadn't dreamed of causing his end. It would be like spending a lifetime in darkness only to finally see the Sun… and seek to extinguish it. Replace it with her own meager light.

No… she wanted to bask in that brilliance.

Frieza laughed again at her expression. "My dear Cinder… You are a being of cunning and tenacity, all notion of conscience driven braying into the night like a starved animal… All pity wrung like a rag…"

Frieza paused, as Cinder took in the praise.

"It is not all you are, however," he added with mirth. "I must temper my hopes, for it is not merely your ovarium that is stunted by your formative trauma."

"I… What do you mea—?"

"Dear dear… Even you seem to have fallen for your own child's fantasy. Skilled enough as to be quite the peril, certainly, familiar enough with the means of criminals to connive in kind… Yet the child within still pines for mother, even as she adorns herself with finery, sways her haunches and pretends herself this scarlet femme fatale…"

Cinder blinked, stunned at this cold appraisal. " 'Pretend…?' But…"

"Shown for a mere sophisticant the instant she's truly undermined… A pretender, serene and confident so long as she believes herself possessed of the upper hand. An enraged, embittered little beast once falls the veil. Cast aside her very name to shed her own weaknesses, merely forging a woman she desires to be… A woman who does not exist. Is it any wonder your rival is that pubescent little pixie that vexes you so?"

Cinder looked lost, sullied, as if every word was a bucket of ice water thrown on her. If anyone in the world had said such things she'd have already been after their head. With Frieza, this would never work, but moreover… coming from him… she believed it.

"Then… Why even bother with…"

"Ah, my dear," Frieza oiled warmly. "Do not take this cutting summary for a rejection… merely cause to reflect. As I've mentioned, my underlings have historically held predilections and compulsions most strange… Eccentricity is frequently a mark of genius, and only a second-rate dilettante would cast out uncultivated talent in deference to petty normalcy. Even a child can be useful."

Cinder didn't know what to feel, but thankfully Frieza wasn't finished.

"It is ambition alone that I'd have you excise…" With but a hop he made his way beyond the door. "Think carefully to your future. Master yourself, but forget not the master beyond you."

With a soaring leap, he was gone, and she was alone. Her mind heavy with all that lay before her, she made her way up to the school, and then out to the city. She hovered over, and found the little hovel where her long journey had started.

She barely recognized the old tailor at all, its storefront changed to an after-dark black and purple scheme, its front windows blacked out. It had been converted into some kind of musician's bar, "Three Sheets to the Wind," emphasizinga sheet of music. Cute. It wasn't even open yet. She saw the little alley and her opd window, looking like so much more of a squeeze. Whoever owned it now seemed to have put in the money to finish it.

She wandered off to the dunes, surveying that place where she'd slipped off into the Void. Or as near to it as could be gleaned in a sandbox that so constantly changed.

But she was not alone.

"Emerald…?"

She had been followed. The girl sought her eyes, fear and concern alight in their vermillion gleam.

"Cinder, can I… Can we talk?"

Cinder leered. "Out with it then."

The sands rustled in the wind around her ankles. Emerald hesitated as she peered in every direction —including up— for any that might have listened in.

"Yes?!"

Emerald spat it out. "I-I'm worried about how close you're getting to Frieza!"

There was a silence as Cinder's annoyance grew, and Emerald's mouth went dry as she tried to steady her breathing.

"Are you?" Cinder asked unhelpfully.

"Yes…" Emerald waited a beat, but when nothing happened, she dared further. "I know it's not my place to question, but I wouldn't be saying if I didn't KNOW with my everything that he's going to be the end of all of us!"

Cinder's face didn't change a twitch from her leering stare. "You're that certain?"

"I don't trust Salem either, but I trusted you… No matter how strange or… well, scary it all got… But him… I…"

"You're just scared."

"YES!" Emerald admitted, as if she finally understood. "I look into his eyes, and all I see is the death of everything! I'm scared he's going to lead you right to your own destruction, and the way you look at him, I—"

"Shut your mouth…" Cinder snapped, not hiding her irritation. "This isn't up for discussion, and it's the last I want to hear of your cowardice. I'll drag us to glory, whether you wish it or not," she finished, turning away.

Emerald froze. She was like a grinding machine, straining to clear a blockage. But at last… "No…" she managed, sweat on her brow as she shook.

Cinder stopped altogether, eyes bulging. "What…?"

Courage seemed to fill Emerald as another side of her twitched in fear. "I won't sit quiet while you destroy yourself! You need to listen! Forget him! Forget Salem! We'll get away and figure out how we stop—"

Emerald hadn't even seen it, only felt her face on fire as her Aura burst like a bulb. She barely glimpsed the backswing of Cinder's open palm before she sailed down into the sand, which plumed like a bomb as she was driven into the dune diagonally.

When she stopped, face half buried, she swooned with the pain. Cinder hadn't held back at all. It was like being hit by a train. Shakily, she lifted herself up, tears already budding. But no sooner had she risen than she felt a clawed hand grab a fistful of her hair and smother her back into the sand. She fought back, unable to breathe, panic in her voice as she moaned.

"You're the one who needs to shut up and LISTEN! Who do you think you are, speaking to ME that way?! After failing me at Haven, questioning me before Frieza, you think you're in ANY place to tell ME what to do?!"

Emerald groaned desperately, unable to pry Cinder's hands away as she fought for air. But her ears were well above the sand, and heard every syllable as Cinder hissed, "If you EVER take that tone with me again… so much as BREATHE in a way I don't like, I will KILL you…! Do you understand that?!"

Finally, Cinder lifted her up by her hair, face to face as she rose to her full height. Emerald choked out a mouthful of sand and sputtered as she breathed again, sniffling.

"Well?!"

Emerald let out a sob, her tears washing the sand out of her eyes as she met Cinder's. "I-I d-don't know WHO I am to you, Cinder…" She gasped her next breath as she sniffed. "But to me… you're my f-family…! You're everything to me… and I LOVE you…!" she managed, eyes pouring as that feeling burst out of her. "I can't see you get hurt again… N-not again…!"

Cinder blinked, her mouth small, her brow furrowed as she felt something akin to confusion and disgust. She let Emerald go. Her disciple collapsed onto her hands and knees, still sobbing openly. Cinder turned away, flitting off deeper into the desert. And even she wasn't sure where, so long as it wasn't there with the girl who worshiped her so.

A/N: I am so sorry this is so long. I tried this time, I really did…

Firstly…

Holy crap, been a RWBY anime spinoff AND a Dragonball movie in just these many months. So, I should probably touch on each briefly.

Ice Queendom:

Man has THIS been a surreal experience…

I'm not sure how I'd feel about ANY of this spinoff being canon, but it's been a fun novelty that I'm legitimately glad exists. I predict the English dub will be strange, given the replacement voices that will be necessary, and the very different interpretations of the characters' personalities. We got some seriously rockin' animation at times… and LESS rockin' towards the end, which I really hope gets finished up. We got some awesome character redesigns. I think Ruby vs Torchwick with "Capabilities Unseen" playing is still my favorite part.

I'm still not ready for Volume 9, but this has been a nice palate cleanser.

Dragonball Super: Superheroes:

…It was okay.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE what's been done character-wise with our heroes. A Piccolo-centered movie is an awesome concept, just keeping Goku and Vegeta from dominating everything. Pan was awesome, and I want more of her.

…But I HATED the antagonist side of this movie. These are the worst villains since the old hour-long DBZ movies, and spending the first ten-odd minutes with nothing but them to carry the story was TRUE DEATH. They're boring, or in the case of the Gammas leave virtually no impact… and the less I say about the final boss the better, as the laziest, worst pallete-swap of the worst version of… Well, if you know you know…

And I won't say the movie LOOKS bad, but… I can't get over what an awful decision it was, right after KNOCKING IT OUT OF THE PARK with "Broly's" animation style, to do this movie almost entirely with CGI. I HATE that hand-drawn animation gets so much disrespect these days, and how trend-setter Disney in particular has all but abandoned a tradition and an artform that they themselves developed and refined. Anime has been one of the few bastions where drawn animation is not only practiced, but respected, and seeing Dragonball pull this grosses me out.

By no means a bad movie, but for me this ranks at the very bottom of the modern Dragonball films, from "Battle of Gods" and onward.

So hopefully this is a better origin for Cinder than the canon gave us. Certainly not as brief as the canon, but I felt V8's version was such a nothing-burger that explained so little it was almost pointless. This doesn't GET AWAY from the Cinderella formula by any means, but at LEAST it's more obfuscated and complex…

Anyway, before all that, I tie in some of the characters and plot from "Before the Dawn," like Carmine herself —who I'm envisioning with Tara Strong if you wondered— cutting a deal with Frieza for her own empowerment and survival.

Briefly afterwards, Frieza follows Cinder, intrigued enough with her to want to know more, setting the stage for this entire chapter.

I guess I should hit the interlude too first. Frieza's scene with Ginyu adjusting to —and ultimately accepting— her newfound femininity was fun to write. I love the idea that she's awkward and embarrassed about her situation, but reveres Frieza's opinion so entirely that just his suggestion is enough for Ginyu to lean STRAIGHT into it full-force.

I definitely had some reservations about Frieza being almost strangely progressive about this, but while I won't attempt to answer that in TF, my working theory is his species HAS no gender… which means everyone is equally strange in his eyes, and he just doesn't care.

Now to the meat of this thing…

First of all… I know. I know people don't like Cinder, and I tried desperately hard to understand exactly why, basically coming down to "she's boring and ineffective." I haven't exactly changed much about her personality, as I'm more adept at emulating an existing character than reinventing them… though in some cases like with Raven, I've certainly managed that before, as with characters in general that you can see who they SHOULD be better than the writers apparently did.

For that matter, the reincorporation of the likes of Robyn Hill and the Ace Ops might be contentious to some people too, though there I think it's a mix of character traits and the VERY intentional moral loggerheads that made the Ace Ops infuriating at times, Elm and Harriet in particular. Though while I'm hoping to make her dialog less cringe, I never really understood why anyone had it in for Robyn besides her occasional impulsiveness.

Point with THEM is it's a lot easier to rehabilitate a character people already know than to try and make them imagine an entirely new one. The things these characters represent in Atlas are positions that must exist anyway, so why fight it to the point of reinventing the wheel?

Anyway, Cinder… Here, I'm more trying to make her slightly sympathetic to show how hard she's had it, and that her life MIGHT have amounted to more if so much, the worst aspects of humanity, hadn't gotten their teeth into her so early and so constantly.

I wanted to show Cinder not merely dealing with abuse, but abandonment, to really lean into what she said to Raven back at Haven. She trusts that everyone is out to hurt you if they can, one way or another. Obviously she's wrong, and had a few genuine benefactors, but she either considers them outliers or disregards them because said person ultimately abandoned her. The only way to trust anyone is to make them fear you.

I wanted her to find empowerment, and realize just how little she feels for the people around her. I wanted her to decide what power WAS, and show how she ultimately sought it to the exclusion of everything else. I wanted to chart her declining sanity, and how she gained and clung to the notion that she's special, and meant for something more. There must be a reason she's come so far…

And I wanted to show that in spite of it all… she's still just a child at heart. She thinks like a child, and plays at adulthood. I suppose we all do to an extent, but it matches what we've seen of her. Her rash decisions, her cool demeanor when she has the upper hand. She plays the silken-voice femme fatale like she's imitating something she saw on TV. She plays dress-up to look the part too. I think it really hit me that this is what Cinder does when I wrote the bit about her V7 —but red— style outfit looking like a pirate costume to the other thieves. It was one of those things where I felt it before I could put it into words.

Anyway… oh yeah, that name.

Ashley is just color-naming to remind of dull grey, which doesn't describe Cinder a bit… but perhaps it's what her mother felt about her. "Rhodopis" is just the name of the oldest version of Cinderella as a story, the Greek/Egyptian version of a girl sold into slavery…

I REALLY liked the idea that Cinder wasn't even her real name, just another false front to build her own legend. The name Ashley is so relatively meek and commonplace, such a plain-Jane, that it felt perfect as this identity Cinder has fought to escape. Even Emerald has never heard her real name, and yet Cinder is so desperate to prove she isn't that person anymore… or that she never was.

The Puces are obviously just gender-flipped step-family, and aren't particularly deep. As criminals, Cinder learns a fair bit from them by osmosis to apply later. Small-time, barely a blip in the underbelly of Vacuo, they're perfect oppressors for a child.

The Bruse Brothers barely have lines, but basically exist because Ian needed some identifiable thugs. Their name sounds vaguely like "bruise," for color sake, but comes from the original language title of "The Three Billy Goats Gruff." Note how they all have names that are variants of "William," because billy goat. They don't have the same Australian dialect as the Puces, more hillbilly.

Faye is effectively Cinder's version of the fairy godmother. A memory-addled seamstress who is almost the only kindness she receives, helping to empower her by teaching her a skill that she could use to earn herself a living.

Oh, and the whole "pretty pumpkin" thing is just a wink at the pumpkin carriage from the story.

Mouse is… well, in reference to the mice known for the Disney version. Another kind face, with his ties to prostitution meant to vaguely comfort Cinder and remind her of her mother. He finances the pittance that Cinder ultimately grows into a lucrative side hustle. That she finds him, a gay man, attractive is just another link in the sadness chain, even if she does get a chance to indulge his services…

Sapphire herself is a knife in Cinder's heart, a full circle of misery. The mother who never wanted to be, but needed an excuse to leave her daughter in another's care… regardless who it was. I like to think the choice was very hard for her in the beginning, but over the years she justified her monstrous act to herself and grew to openly resent her daughter for driving her to poverty. Ultimately she paid for her sins, but left Cinder to a still darker fate with Salem. Having not inherited her mother's Silver Eyes, we're left to wonder if Cinder's gold eyes mean anything. Has her blood nonetheless endowed her, and explained her rise to power? Who knows…

Orco Arcobaleni is basically the shape-shifting Ogre from Puss In Boots, and Cinder is hardly shy about slaying the figures of other stories, or rubbing shoulders with them. I don't think I need to explain Ingwer, or the forty thieves…

Oh, and a few times the Atlas folks mention a General Stannum, who is just James' predecessor, based on "The Steadfast Tin Soldier."

But let's back up a bit.

I think I relished adding such a moral landmine to my own characters with Jackie Magnus shattering poor Cinder's perspective on Huntsmen. She still had her own reasons to find them fascinating, but the notion of heroes was broken.

The Vytal Festival makes its return here, and man… you don't know the spreadsheets I had to make to keep the timeline and character ages in check. Of course, I had to DECIDE ages too. Won't share, but I know them.

I wanted Cinder to glimpse power before she realized she could attain it herself, and of course, we needed a ball for her to flee from at the stroke of midnight. The Tournament that follows is both meant to break things up, add some cameos, and flesh out the Tournament by showing a version that wasn't ruined by Grimm terrorism. Opening ceremony, the winner's trophy, a name for the final arena… I really wanted to fill in the details. Fun fact, the Mistral winners from the prior Tournament all have names taken from Qrow's Volume 5 list of prospective Huntsmen.

And of course… Team STRQ. I apologize if anyone was hoping for some grand past revelation, but mostly I wanted to show them interacting. Raven and Qrow are still WAY tense from being so fresh off the Tribe. While not quite a caveman, Qrow isn't half as laid back and casual as he is in the present after years in the Kingdoms. His lack of embarrassment wearing a skirt speaks to his time of free love in the Tribe, and he sees no problem pinch-hitting for either team. And after Raven toys with Tai to upset him, Qrow responds in kind… and well… Tai is a randy teenager figuring things out. What chance did he ever have?

As for Summer… I wanted to differentiate her from Ruby a little. She's more grounded than Ruby is, but you can see where the enthusiasm comes from. She's also more brutal with her halberd, and has a true speed semblance. If you found it hard to picture, it's basically the Pikachu up and "B" move from "Smash." I figured she could make it far without this tournament being mentioned later, so long as they didn't win. Writing her fight with Clover was fun, and Gibbous Briar gave me just enough to work with.

And afterward, Cinder's path to power begins after unsealing her Aura and semblance, gradually mastering her gift, hardly ever thinking of it as a weapon.

Before things truly pop off though, we get a glimpse of Harriet Bree… and her original partner, Salvia Tortuga.

A "Tortuga" was only mentioned by Harriet in Volume 8 while discussing people replaced on the Ace Ops, with no further details added, so Salvia is largely my invention as a sort of Hispanic Samurai. As she's the tortoise from the Tortoise and Hare story, her kasa hat represents a shell, with the claws extracted from her dao sword as the digging claws a tortoise possesses.

Funny story with her… the initial cameo was originally all there was, because as much as I wanted to tie her death into being Cinder's doing, I couldn't think of a reason for an Ace Op to show up in the deserts north of Vacuo. I actually wrote an entirely different fight scene with a different original character based on a Chinese legend. It was okay, but the man was not particularly memorable and just a sellsword from Vacuo. And frankly his moveset kinda sucked.

When I realized I could have Salvia acting in defense of Atlas interests, I rewrote it entirely, and was so glad she got to fight. She had so many more moves, and my original fight was largely indoors, without Cinder being so callous as to endanger the townsfolk as a distraction, which felt like such a Cinder thing to do.

Also, yes, I'm aware in hindsight that Clover and Tortuga were the only ones Harriet mentioned, suggesting the Ace Ops were either not around that long or had only suffered one major casualty before. I'm definitely not suggesting that at this point — roughly a decade before the present— that Marrow took Salvia's place. They make it pretty clear that Marrow is really green even for a Huntsman, let alone an Ace. And I'm pretty sure a decade on that team would have beaten the individuality out of him.

Back to Cinder though… man she has a rough few days.

I know even as an unsuccessful attempt, going as far as the brothers trying to force themselves on her is pretty extreme… but let me explain. In the Cinderella story, there's the moment after making her dress for the ball that the stepsisters realize she's used their unwanted things to make it and rip the dress to bits. Given those characters are MALE in this version… I saw that act in a very different light. Cinder explodes in panic and kills them brutally, if by accident, which just becomes this Carrie-style rampage that forces her to fight or die. All stark naked and covered in blood. Using Ian's glass eye against him was just the cherry on the cake, and I set that up from the start.

I won't go TOO far into her long trek through the desert, except that it was all a huge metaphor for death and rebirth. Cinder naked, covered in blood and viscera… The long passage through the underground river, which has very yonic —ie, vaginal— symbolism. The blind worm, a creature from "After the Fall," a book where another RWBY character gets eaten and escapes —Coco, actually, who is a claustrophobe— devours Cinder, implied to be the death of Ashley, but the womb for Cinder herself.

And yes… I'm definitely implying that the trauma, starvation, dehydration, isolation and extreme heat damaged Cinder psychologically. Her brain literally fried and made her a more violent person, not helped by the revelation of how little she cared about having slaughtered her keepers.

She's allowed to foster this cold rage with Axiom until her bloodlust begins to exceed their need for it, and after Axiom falls she unleashes her worst instincts and begins to savor the act of killing.

Until of course, it all comes full circle. I like to think that sparing her mother shows some glimmer of humanity left in her. Not enough perhaps, but a dying spark of the innocent girl who was twisted to become The Devil of The Malikine Void.

And of course there's Tock. There's no Maria in this version, so there's nothing binding this cool character concept to some time half a century in the past. In keeping with my notion of "echoes of canon," Tock receives much the same fate, but at Cinder's hands this time.

Speaking of echoes… there's Frieza's part in this. I hadn't intended his summary of Cinder as being a calmer version of Watts' rant in Volume 8, but there you go. Frieza largely entertains himself with her story, and is brutally honest. He seems to think she might be a worthy underling, but that doesn't mean he'll praise her petty behavior and obvious flaws. And of course, hearing the mushy parts literally puts him to sleep.

Unlike Watts though, this time you can buy that Cinder isn't faking when she chooses to listen and better herself. Expect her to be far more dangerous in the future…

Finally, poor Emerald…

She's only trying to protect Cinder, loyal to a fault, even when she's treated so terribly. To be absolutely clear, Emerald's "love" isn't romantic. She just isn't sure if Cinder represents a big sister, a mother, an aunt or what. She just knows Cinder is the one who offered her hand and embraced her when the world had long cast her out. Now though, Emerald is questioning her judgement, and is showing signs of disobedience as a means to shield Cinder from harm. But how far is she willing to go to free Cinder?

Before our regularly scheduled comment replies, I'm afraid there's two points of contention… and a few people I need to drag out and address. And no, it's not for good reasons. Before we can have dessert, we need to have our vegetables —unless you just want to skip, your call— and last chapter's round of reviews had some points I REALLY took issue with. Some WAY too old, some new and already bad as it gets…

For these I'll be forgoing my usual reply-only format as needed to better address them. That said, out comes the birch switch… down come the pants.

Topic #1: Krillin vs Raven, and the stupidity of power levels…

This always crops up whenever DBZ crosses over with anything, and it's probably the most toxic aspect of the whole fandom…

anon9919

compared to the saiyans, the rwby cast will always be fodder, and krillin is too advanced in martial arts for them to catch up. but the series is good, just please dont nerf dbz characters to make rwby characters look better —

Some people are just too dense or eager to jump on ANYTHING that doesn't give DBZ immediate, exclusive preferential treatment to recognize they aren't in RWBY's canon Universe, and the rules have been changed a bit to prevent utter steamrolling. I have NEVER "nerfed" DBZ, and Chapter 14 stands testament to that fact, when the RWBY cast were scrambling to even remotely escape the battle they couldn't even SEE when it got going. But don't worry, this brain-trust elaborates on all of this in a second so we can really give them what's coming.

anon9919

i cant believe krillin namek lost to raven. why do you need to make the characters so op and make people like krillin look so bad? he has both the experience and the power to not be bested by her. —

This is just so utterly asinine and I'm sick of seeing it. Non-Z characters scraping by against the weakest Z character (available) due to exotic circumstances like Maiden powers in a fight that doesn't even require exhaustion… that forces Krillin to use as little power as possible because Frieza is watching… and your take is that I'm making Krillin "LOOK BAD?"

No, you child, you sissy-baby who needs to see one series CLOBBER the other to make you feel good about them… Krillin looked like a TITAN to the Branwens, and especially Raven.

Dumbass, WE ALL KNOW KRILLIN WOULD WIN AN ALL-OUT FIGHT! That wasn't the POINT, because Krillin is still an outsider to these events, and it was Yang's business to stand up to her mother. CHARACTERS matter more than machismo bullshit. Characters are MORE than just a number, and while you should respect power scaling for the sake of world realism, finding ways to bridge those gaps and allow for more interesting interactions and fights between characters is what a writer SHOULD do.

Do you not understand that it's a FAILURE of Dragonball that after a certain point, certain characters aren't allowed to do anything interesting or impactful because some characters climb so much higher than others? Isn't it sad that Goku and Tien will NEVER carry on their interesting friendly rivalry, because power scaling has gotten so out of control, and if you're not a Saiyan you're literally worthless?

And I want to dispel the "experience" thing, because no… Krillin isn't more experienced than Raven at fighting. Raven is older and has been fighting longer, she just doesn't have experience fighting in the way or in the degree of power that Krillin has. Just like how Roshi is more experienced than Goku, or how any of Team RWBY are more experienced than Gohan. One may be STRONGER, but that doesn't mean they've been on the battlefield. Gohan was third strongest when the Saiyans showed up on Earth, but a year with Piccolo hadn't prepared him for staring down a stronger opponent out to kill you. Gohan choked MULTIPLE times before he stopped being paralyzed by fear.

Meanwhile, RNJR had suffered through Beacon and were journeying to save Haven from Cinder.

RenegadeForLife

It's hard to swallow Krillin losing to someone on ravens level or the general fact that the RWBY characters in this fic have the power levels to rival DBZ characters but don't know it. It honestly feels like remnant humans are more broken in this fic than Saiyan's are. Especially when you consider there's no way they've trained anywhere near as much. And it makes every battle they've had with Grimm feel kind of pathetic in hindsight. Unless the Grimm also have hidden power, which feels unlikely, even elder Grimm should be easy for most huntsman to curbstomp. —

Please read ahead. Raven and Cinder can only do what they did because the Maiden powers have magically endowed them. Magic is virtually all Remnant has, and the humans of Remnant having inaccessible power is done out of necessity and doesn't even bring them to Raditz level. And in Chapter 19 I make it plain how clearing their mental hurdles takes everything they have and almost isn't achieved at all. Not lumping you in with the other guy, but since this is related I'll address it.

Topic #2: "Out of Character" Vegeta…

This is an attack on Vegeta and Weiss' relationship as a whole, but specifically Chapter 19's aside between Goku and Vegeta, with the latter low-key rooting for Weiss to be the more capable fighter among the Remnant folk. The premise being that Vegeta wouldn't see any value in a non-Saiyan, or side with the motivated fighter instead of the specially born prodigy.

anon9919

horrible OCC vegeta, i think someone else said it, but this fanfiction is ruining his character by trying to make ruby and weiss into a "goku and vegeta" of their universe.i think there could be better ways to make vegeta stay with weiss, but emotional attachment or something like potential is not, since this is the same vegeta who looks down in all humans and weaklings, like he only respected gohan in canon because gohan at 5 gave 2 form frieza a beating. —

(Absolute Fury also opined this, but the post is incredibly long)

I'm gonna be blunt here: you guys are utterly wrong, and you are being extremely reductive and disrespectful towards Vegeta as a character by trying to shove him into this box.

You're ALSO showing an enormous bias to the breadth of Dragonball by appealing to the length of Vegeta's development, as if such development could ONLY take the length of time that it took and no less. This ignores what the original intent of the series was.

See, the reason it's called "Z" is because it was meant as a capstone to Dragonball. Goku was meant to ultimately face off with Frieza, the ultimate power in the Universe, and his story would end with avenging the Saiyans and losing his life when Namek exploded.

But as we all know, Z was too popular to die, and Toriyama kept extending it two main sagas further.

Which means Vegeta got three different points when his character was MEANT to be resolved, but kept getting kicked down the road. First was being beaten by Frieza, reduced to tears, his walls falling as he BEGS Goku to finish it. He admits that Frieza made him what he is, showing a level of introspection exists. Not even two months after first encountering Goku, and some choice events have bade him to be vulnerable and shed his pride if for a moment.

Then after Cell, Vegeta realizes he cares about Trunks, is totally devastated by Goku's actions and his fearlessness in death. He vows never to fight again.

And of course, during Kid Buu, Vegeta finally gives up on chasing Goku's heels and admits him the better man.

All of these were points where Vegeta was meant to end as a character, but got walked back on as the story was spread across the years.

This has given some people the mistaken notion that it HAD to be this way, it HAD to be years and years, because it's how it wound up… as if we haven't seen a million movies where characters have a change of heart in a story told in ninety minutes.

It's not TIME that decides character growth, it's a series of landmark events that challenge them. By this point, Vegeta has already been humbled on Earth, and surpassed by Goku on Namek to the point of being utterly outclassed. And in Chapter 16, Vegeta is forced to reckon with Saiyans, Earthlings and Remnant humans all being part of the same whole.

The reason I call your assessment of Vegeta reductive is because you're removing all ambiguity about the mystery of what's going on in Vegeta's mind and heart. You're outright saying what he thinks and feels.

…But the fascinating thing about Vegeta is we knew he was SMARTER than the things he would say. Not always of course, but his mouth and mind share a very complicated filter. For the sake of his pride, he says what he feels he MUST say, the truth that fits his paradigm. But is this REALLY what he thinks, or is he in denial? Does he powerfully assert these things to convince himself "fake it till you make it" style? When Vegeta saves Gohan from Frieza's attack, is his stated motive the truth?

His actions frequently betray the thoughts he won't admit. Or perhaps even HE doesn't understand his own compulsions?

So when it comes to Weiss, they've hardly been fast friends. She's largely been trapped between appeasing him and protecting others from him by being assertive and bold. She doesn't see him as a good person or a role model, but he sees something of value in HER. This isn't that long before his tryst with Bulma, and this isn't even romantic.

It's clear from his words that he's making odd exceptions to his usual creeds regarding her, as if subconsciously finding loopholes in his own fixed pronouncements. Jaune or Ruby would be better candidates per his standards… but he doesn't care for them, especially Ruby. Oddly, he's rooting for the girl who, like himself, was humbled before a fool with unexplainable power.

Don't you think it's possible that even VEGETA doesn't know why he's gravitated towards Weiss? Is it impossible that he just finds her intriguing by merit of her behavior, her past? Does he NEED a reason beyond the excuses he might make for the sake of others?

If you think about it —and don't dogmatically appeal to future events in this alternate Universe story where nothing is certain— you'll find I'm playing a less rigid game than you are… but a more realistic one. One that allows for Vegeta to be a deeper, more complicated person.

Regardless, their relationship is never going to be as close as, say, Trunks. So I don't even know what you're worried about. Vegeta isn't going to be dispensing hugs and singing karaoke in this story. I haven't heard much if any complaint about Vegeta in this story besides THIS, and maybe when he got rolled by Cinder at Haven, so let's stop with the dramatic "zomg, RUINED" nonsense.

And back to more happy reviews… mostly!

Monster King: Thank you-thank you!

Jackalope89: Always a pleasure! Yeah, I'll admit I'm probably not overly consistent with titles and the like.

Anyway, the WB business has me on edge personally. With all of Discovery's slew of cancellations, Rooster Teeth as a whole feels vulnerable, let alone RWBY…

Bashleyz: You've been very positive… but man your one-word style is exhausting.

Guest1: Pairings are something I see less as an end to themselves and just a symptom of the human condition. People under the right circumstances just gravitate, and stressful situations incubate what's already there.

OOF! "Better genetics?" Forgive me, but that's uncomfortable. I know what you mean, but… yeah. The reason I went for that explanation was both the science angle, and the fact that it explained things on the Z side and the RWBY side all at once, and the fewer explanations you need for phenomena, the better.

Oh Jesus, I forgot the rest of this comment… Here we go…

Tai DID say something though? He's… CLEARLY hurt and distressed, but just can't deal with it right now? And the others are honestly just happy she's still alive. People don't process things as instantly as you're suggesting. The beginning of the very next chapter ABSOLUTELY deals with this. I'm talking ambush intervention type stuff.

But I think the part you've so wildly misunderstood the most is this notion that Ruby did this out of vanity or some need to "be the hero" or whatever.

No… Ruby feels responsible for not living up to her creed, and thus every life she fails to save is her fault, an indictment against herself, her mother, and Huntsmen in general. She feels she's the only one holding to that sacred standard, making it all the more incumbent upon her to meet it. Otherwise it means nothing, and what Ozpin told her was true.

Ruby doesn't care who a Saiyan is, or what that means. She feels that if she fails here, fails to contribute, lets the opportunity to attain REAL power and REALLY help people slip by, that it will be her fault if they come up short in the end. After all, it's not about HER, it's about proving that all of her friends and allies from Remnant can DO IT. They've been told the only way to stop Frieza is TOGETHER, and Ruby hated herself and her failure so intensely she felt that she deserved to die if she couldn't pull them through this.

Ruby puts an unfair, unreal amount of responsibility on herself, and she's blind to how hard this sentiment is on the people who see her torture herself.

TF2 Crossover Man: Thanks so much man. You know I believe in this story, so I put everything into it. It's just good that others see it.

X3runner: I like the underoos idea. I don't think Goku really did the farming thing until Super, or at least they never showed that before. I didn't show it much, but Gohan, Krillin and Vegeta HAVE been training in the chamber at high gravity. Just not at the same time as the others. Qrow said himself that Maiden powers don't seek out older women, they just don't leave until the death of the wielder, allowing for Maidens to grow old. I guess it's true that Ozpin could have forced Amber's power into Glynda in canon…

…but I have a VERY specific reason in TF for why Glynda could never be the Fall Maiden. You'll see one day.

Yeah, I couldn't believe I came up with that bit about Jaune's measurements. When that popped into my head, I think I just laughed to myself for several minutes, because usually my jokes aren't THAT good.

Tristen343: Thanks dude, though easy on the espresso.

Guest2: Your review? Yeah, I agree…

Scott Kanouse: Yeah, I really wanted to pay homage to Roshi's training. Multiform definitely gets too little love, so yeah, I wanted to make use of a tool like that. Personally, while I respect that Super wanted to acknowledge the Mafuba, I think if Piccolo Junior was so handily able to get around it, then more powerful beings would laugh at it. Pietro meeting Bulma will ABSOLUTELY happen, and believe me, I'm looking forward to that day more than anyone. You're seriously on the right track there!

Mattysteel: I'm not doling out spoilers, but while I want fitting arcs for characters, I also wouldn't write a story like this if it went beat for beat the same way. I wouldn't bother.

And while I'm not against energy weapons, the RWBY cast won't need them, for the same reason Trunks didn't need an energy sword. You can imbue objects with ki no different than you can imbue your body to make it strong against attack. Nobody is getting rid of Crescent Rose on my watch…

Temsen: The Ruby gravity chamber scene? Heh, yeah, it was certainly meant to be dramatic.

Coreldecortavar: I'm trying dude, haha.

Kage-kitsune9001: I think I watched the first two seasons of Naruto, like, over a decade ago. So if that's a thing, I don't remember. I was more referencing Popo's training with the bell from Dragonball. Yep, definitely knew the Raven/Qrow thing would skeev people a bit… but hey, insular bandit tribe.

Honestly Vegeta picking out Ruby's ability is more because he can see it happening since he's so fast. I did want him to be the one to bring it up because I wanted him to push her in his own infuriating way.

GymNatty321: You take Team Four Star too seriously. As a planet trader, Frieza doesn't leap straight for planet destruction. Planets are valuable, and he's more likely to purge them of life than destroy them. Actually, we've only known him to have destroyed two, ever. Vegeta, given the threat the Saiyans represented, and then Namek only after being brought to his mental breaking point. He tries Earth afterwards because of Goku, the Saiyan who made a fool of him. These are extreme examples.

Ultimatrix bearer: I guess "improving" isn't inaccurate…

Piccolo removes his cape because it's weighted. I'm not arguing that capes aren't a liability, but we're talking about Ruby Rose here… The hood and cape are kinda huge to her identity. Yes, I know I.Q. dream Ruby didn't have a cape, but I'm not messing with this stuff.

Ruby not instantly dying is more a matter of Huntsmen being low-key superhuman.

You're welcome. Ginyu's attitude towards Frieza is really more necessity than anything, but it ALWAYS felt like there was mutual respect between them. Ginyu sees Frieza as more than just her really strong boss. Ginyu has at least SOME notion more than most of just how powerful Frieza really is, and I think she finds the responsibility and reality of that power terrifying.

You're exactly right. This always made the infamous V7 debate so frustrating, that people took it at face value and didn't consider possibilities beyond… when ultimately RWBY DID choose a third way to solve it all.

Son Kenshin: I've pm'd you already, but Ironwood isn't dead… just mortally injured and comatose.

Goku and Ruby's scene was a proud moment for me for sure, but I'm pleasantly surprised by how positively people have responded to the Kamehameha stuff. I thought it was really obvious, but I can't complain.

Gobert600: Don't worry, I've got plenty in store for Krillin.

ilikefreedom: Ooh, "terrifying?" How so? Thanks, by the way!

Knackles: I knew it wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea.

Matthew: Definitely what I was going for.

Guest3: It would help if I knew specifically what you meant. Everyone's line in the sand is different. Do we mean nude scenes? Incest references? Fart jokes? Lewd references? The crotch-shot? Nudity?

You're painting with too broad of a brush. Always be specific, or I just have to shrug.

RandomPeon: (C10) Thank you so much! The power balance has been one of the hardest things to deal with, and engineering a system that plays into both was work. And yeah, being positioned at the time to refute V5 was an opportunity I refused to miss.

(C16) Don't feel inadequate, feel encouraged to aim higher. Chapter 16 was literally YEARS of planning to put together how I wanted it. It didn't spring out of my head in one night. Still, I'm so happy to have touched people with the story that I shed a lot of tears writing MYSELF.

fangs of death: Thank you much!

SuperSaiyajin4Vegeta: I LOVED writing Vegeta going hard on Ruby in the chamber. In general, really.

Also, yes… Yes it is… Muahahahahaha!

Voskaeon: Don't know that one, but glad to have been of help.

G119: You are such a smartass… Never change.

Guest4: Oh, Salem COULD probably have done that. But this was Cinder's plan, not hers. Salem is ever-patient, and her endgame isn't served by throwing all her Grimm at Kingdoms. Cinder's manipulation of the Grimm was all her own doing, and whether she succeeded mattered little to Salem. What's another century, as old as she is?

Salem's control can be broad or granular. Usually they're like blood cells in her body, but she CAN direct individuals as needed if she focuses. Mostly it all goes unnoticed day to day. If she needs a swath to attack though? She can do that.

Her control being so potent brings the inevitable question… If she can just DO THAT… why doesn't she? And that question should haunt you.

Guest 5: Emerald's semblance works on human minds… but Frieza's mind is alien to her. She cannot interfere with it the same as others.

JensenDaniels32: …Oh, yaaaay… How 'bad-ass and coo'...' [/s]

J the Rider: "Waited?" Yeah, I don't know if you remember the hiatus between Volume 5 and 6, but confidence in the writing of RWBY was so poor at that time that there was no reason to expect they'd ever actually do something like that.

Still, much as I like how succinct the canon version was, I like my version too.

(2nd review)

Ew indeed… Well, technically I don't have a moral issue with incest, but that's another topic.

Yeah, I knew I could only get away with actual toilet-humor ONCE, and I chose to use it for character moments, a one-time glance at a lesser-seen topic to remind readers that "oh yeah, cute anime girls are still humans with unsightly human needs."

I've written smut stories before, and… yeah, I really just don't feel there's much to enjoy in pure fantasy. I prefer grounding things, at least a little. It feels more real when it follows real rules, no different from writing anything really.

In TF though, the trick is that these scenes aren't MEANT to "get people off," they're purely character moments. As such, I kinda have no problem trolling the person doing that.