"I always wanted to make a blanket fort."
Yang's words were so absurd Penny wanted to laugh. She couldn't manage it.
She'd been about fifteen minutes from low-power shutdown when they finally got her plugged in to her charging station at the crown of Tower Four. That came after raiding a lower-floor linen closet for all the pillows, blankets, sheets, and mattress pads Blake and Yang could stuff into the elevator.
The plugging-in process was nearly disastrous itself. In her haste to chase Neo, Penny had rushed out of her bed, forgetting in the moment that she'd been plugged in there. The charging cord hadn't been up to the task of restraining an enraged gynoid and had snapped, leaving the head of the plug embedded in Penny's false navel. Removing it had been tricky; Penny's touch sensors were off to save power and Blake's hands wouldn't stop shaking, so Yang had been left to the task, which she accomplished dexterously enough.
Her next showcase of dexterity had been playfully stretching some sheets across the gap from the charging station to Penny's desk.
Penny thought she saw the shape of what Yang was doing and pointed to Turchina. "Arms Eighteen and 27 have grasping hands."
Yang peered at Turchina. "Huh. I guess they do. Here we go…"
Using those arms to hold up more sheets, Yang put up walls around the women, until they were inside a soft, white linen triangle. "It's a little too big to cover up the top," Yang said, settling in with them, "but this'll do, I think."
Blake didn't reply. She'd surrounded herself with pillows, including one she'd grasped with both arms and was squeezing the stuffing out of.
Yang tried to force a chuckle. "I guess you didn't make many blanket forts as a kid, huh?"
Blake shook her head a bare amount. Penny, of course, had never been a kid.
"They're supposed to be a thing," said Yang, nestling in and pulling a blanket over herself, her back to Turchina. "Put up the sheets, and there's no outside world anymore. Just us, here, together, safe in our own little world."
Blake sniffed and spoke for the first time in seeming hours. "That was supposed to be Beacon."
Any pretense of cheer curdled.
"Well," said Yang quietly, "you can't blame a girl for trying."
There was so little sound up there in the crown of Tower Four. No ambient noise reached them, and there was nothing else in the tower to make a sound they might hear. The distant klaxon of the dorm fire alarm was long silenced. Penny could almost pretend that they were isolated, as Yang had said, in their own little world.
It just wasn't true.
"This is as safe as anywhere on campus," Yang pointed out. "All those security measures Penny had to zip us through? No one's following us. We're safe here for now."
"For now," Blake said dully. "Too bad we can't live here, huh?"
"I almost came here earlier," Penny said quietly.
Blake's ears swiveled in Penny's direction at that. Penny was glad that Blake had gotten into the habit of sleeping with her ears unguarded. It showed comfort with her situation and familiarity with her team. Tactical had even suggested that those ears being uncovered, along with Blake's light sleeping, were an excellent security measure.
Not excellent enough to catch Neo.
"I recharge much faster here," Penny said. "I was at low power this evening, so Tactical recommended I come here."
"Tactical?" said Yang.
"The subroutine that handles situational awareness, sensor control, and combat heuristics," Penny said. She struggled to understand what it might be like for a different kind of mind than hers. How did they even function without subroutines, all alone in their own heads? "It's like if your combat instincts had a voice."
Yang nodded, but Penny was under no illusion that she understood. "So it told you to come here tonight?"
"But I disregarded it," said Penny. "I stayed in the dorm instead."
"And a good thing you did, too," said Yang. "If you hadn't been there…"
"I can't claim credit for anything," said Penny with force that surprised her. "I didn't ignore Tactical for safety reasons, I had no expectation an attack was coming, it was a fluke! I take no comfort that I was there to protect you tonight because there was no reason for it, it was random! And if I had listened to Tactical, as made sense, then she would have… you would have…"
"Well," said Yang bracingly, "I'm still glad you didn't listen to Tactical."
"Except I did!" said Penny. Fear was rising up in her. Yes, it was fear for sure, gripping her tight and making her feel stabbed even with her touch sensors off. "When the chase started, I threw all system resources to Tactical. I had literally no other thoughts. I didn't let myself think of anything but eliminate the threat. It was so… so…"
"Scary?" tried Yang.
"Easy," said Penny. Yes, it had been easy to lose herself in battle, to give herself over to the fight, to nothing more than strictly martial concerns. No, more than easy—it had been gratifying. Fulfilling, in a way, to give it all up and become nothing more than a war machine.
It'd been a relief to bury her horror and shock, to let higher consciousness recede and let something… simple, direct, uncomplicated rule her.
Seductive.
Dangerous.
This was a road to becoming someone Penny didn't want to be, to doing things Penny didn't want to do, and she'd embraced it wholeheartedly.
It was even worse than that. Tactical could be counted on to make judgments only for things pertaining to immediate danger. But Tactical, of all her subroutines, had been the one least opposed to the mystery subroutine… had, in fact, been only too willing to help advance the mystery subroutine's agenda.
Only her other subroutines had been of any help in fending off the mystery subroutine. If she lost herself like this again, if she gave over 100% of her listed capacity to Tactical, there'd be nothing left to fight the usurper.
And that was terrifying.
Who knew what she would do, what she would become, if she let that happen again?
What would Ruby think of her if she saw Penny like that?
"Adam," Blake said like she was choking on the word. "He… he did what you're afraid of. He let himself hurt people. Just a little, at first. Then a little more. Then… a lot more."
Just hearing that made Penny curl in upon herself—like Blake did, Analysis noted distantly.
"He always had words about it afterwards," Blake went on. "It was an accident. Then it was self-defense. And then... Panzoa preserve me, it all seemed so… reasonable, at the time. I was a fool. I didn't see what he was. I didn't want to see. But now I understand. All those words? They weren't apologies. They were excuses. They were his way of saying… it was all okay. That nothing he'd done was wrong.
"And when you think you're never wrong, you can put the line wherever you want."
Blake looked up at Penny; Penny wanted to honor that, wanted to meet her eyes, but couldn't manage it.
"You're not like him," said Blake firmly. "You're not. You see where that thinking leads and you want no part of it. You can tell when you've done wrong. I trust you with power more than I ever should have trusted him."
Blake tightened up, like she was trying to squeeze herself into oblivion. "It's me who shouldn't be trusted with power."
"Blake—" tried Yang, extending a hand in her direction.
"No!" said Blake, burying her face in her knees. "He knows me! He knew what this would do to me!"
"So don't give him that satisfaction," said Yang.
"You think it's that easy?" Blake said, voice still muffled but with a keening note to it. "Because he's right! This is all my fault! You could have died and I'd have no one to blame but myself!"
"How can it be your fault," said Penny in confusion, "that he did something bad?"
"Because I led you into this," Blake said. "You didn't know what Adam's like, but I did. I should have known he'd pull something like this, that he'd punish me by attacking you. I put a target on all of you just by being near you. The Cursed Black Cat. That's what I am."
"Him being a bad guy doesn't make you bad," said Yang.
"But I knew he was bad, and still put you all in his sights," Blake said, trembling like a leaf in the wind. "It's like Oobleck said. A leader of great energy, but poor character, can lead her whole team to ruin or infamy. Well, here we are. This is where I led you."
"You are implying our choices were irrelevant," said Penny, and she felt a flicker of emotion. "I do not concur. Did you forget? We all agreed to follow you. We all agreed to fight the White Fang."
"And you did it in ignorance!" Blake sobbed. "I don't get that excuse! I knew!"
"You knew Adam was gonna send an assassin to our dorm in the middle of the night over semester break?" Yang said skeptically.
"I knew he would do something!" said Blake. "And that it would be bad! That he'd hurt you all to get to me! I didn't know how, but I knew it would happen sooner or later!"
"We're teammates," said Penny, holding on to the thought for dear life. "We couldn't let you face that alone."
"Then I shouldn't have let you be my teammates," Blake said hoarsely. "I shouldn't have put you in that position. I should have run away."
Yang recoiled as if she'd been slapped.
"But if Adam was coming after you," Penny said, unable to keep herself from following this train of thought to its logical end, "then you would have been certain to die alone."
"At least then it would be just me," Blake murmured. "Not all of us."
"Oh, shut up!"
Yang had stood up, her hair starting to glow and her eyes an angry red. "Why are you acting like us wanting to protect you is a bad thing?!"
"Because you can't beat him," Blake said, looking tearily at Yang. "He'll kill you to get to me."
"And you think I don't want to be there?" Yang demanded. "You think I wouldn't put myself in harm's way for you? Because I would, ten times out of ten!"
"I can't let you do that," said Blake.
"You don't get to make that choice for me!" Yang roared.
"But why?" said Blake, shaking her head. "Why would you do that to yourself?"
"Because it's worth it!"
For a moment, Blake was stunned. Penny leapt into the gap. "Please do not undervalue yourself," she said quietly.
"She can if she wants," Yang seethed, "but I never will. Blake, you know my semblance. I eat damage and dish it right back out, with interest. And the best way to power it is to take hits so other people don't have to. That's the only gods-damned reason I'm still alive!"
Blake gaped at Yang. Penny estimated she was fifty-two minutes from being able to formulate words.
Yang's hands were curled so tight she'd squeezed all blood from her knuckles. "You think I don't know about danger? You think I've got any illusions about what being a Huntress means? My mom was valedictorian of her Beacon class, Blake. Look it up. She was the best. And she was dead before I turned seven.
"So, yeah, I get it. It's effing dangerous. I'll probably die doing this. But Ruby…"
Yang's voice hitched. Her hand went to her bicep. The sash wasn't there. Yang didn't sleep with it on, and there'd been no time or attention to spare for it in the face of the attack.
"…Ruby died, too," Yang said through gritted teeth. "She never had a chance. It was just… stupid. I figure I'm gonna die either way, so I want it to mean something. I want to go down swinging. I want to die keeping hope alive. I want to be protecting someone when I die.
"And I won't let you take that away from me," she said, hair glowing bright.
Blake sniffled and looked up at Yang with a face of abject misery. "Neo would have killed you in your sleep," she whispered.
Yang staggered. Her face went slack.
"No triumphant sacrifice," said Blake. "No blaze of glory. Just a bloody bed and sadness."
"Shut up," said Yang again, but it was a wheeze this time. The glow in her hair had extinguished.
Blake opened her mouth to speak, reconsidered at the sight of Yang's distress, then pushed on. "Just like how Ruby died."
Yang collapsed to her knees, her head bowed and choked sobbing noises escaping her.
Now Penny felt even worse for holding in the secret of the two Rubies, because maybe Yang wouldn't be feeling this badly if she knew or even suspected Ruby hadn't died like that. Penny was so bad at keeping secrets and knowing…
Penny's emotions were tying her in knots all over again when Yang gave another sob, and higher consciousness refocused. How selfish could Penny be? How dare Penny make this about her. Out of all of them, the person who had nearly died should be the one receiving the most comfort. "Yang, please come here so we can show you how much we care about you."
Yang looked up and forced a swallow, as if trying to push her feelings back down. "You… take care of me?" she said. "No, no, I'm trying to help you! You feel like you're out of control, and Blake feels awful and hyper-responsible, and you're both wrong, just, just let me figure out how to make you both see it…"
"You're suffering too," said Penny.
"I'm the strong one," Yang insisted with desperation. "I can take it."
"But you don't have to," Penny said, extending an arm in an open invitation for a hug.
To her shock, Blake did the same with her outside alarm. "Not all the time," she continued Penny's thought. "Not with us. Here, it's okay."
Yang looked at them with tear-filled eyes and trembling lips. Slowly, as if expecting their arms to drop at any moment, she knee-walked forwards until she was between them and turned around so all three had their backs to the charging station, and then they all took hold of each other as if trying to keep each other from flying into space.
It was difficult for Emotion Signifying and Tactical to come to terms, because Penny wanted to give the snuggest hugs ever, wanted to squeeze her friends tight to ensure that they would stay, that they were secure, that they would feel surrounded by safety and friends and love, and she could only think to do that with ever tighter hugs. At the same time, using that much strength when everyone's nerves were on edge might induce panic and fear of helplessness. Those were the last two things Penny wanted her friends to feel.
So Penny kept her arms loose around her friends, but grabbed fistfuls of their clothes and squeezed so tight she thought her fingers might tear through the cloth.
Penny suppressed her chronometer, because she didn't want to know how long this was taking, didn't want to speculate on what the proper time interval was for this manner of embrace. She wanted to try and infer, react, to the emotional states and needs of her friends. And if she was bad at that, at least she would be sincere.
The hug went on for a long, long time.
Eventually, Yang sniffed and said, "Well, this sucks."
"You can say that again," said Blake.
When she didn't, Penny obligingly repeated, "This sucks."
Somehow, against all odds, Blake and Yang both chuckled. Penny was glad for them even if she didn't understand.
"It's like everything about this night was designed to hit us where we live," said Blake. "Physically and emotionally."
"That is awful," Penny concurred.
"But you know," Yang said, her almost-casual tone somewhat sabotaged by how her voice trembled, "I feel a little better than I think I should."
"I'm happy for you," said Penny.
"Me too," said Blake, "but why?"
"Sucky things have happened to me before," said Yang. "But you know what's different this time?"
"What?" said Penny.
"I have you two," said Yang, squeezing them tight. "And that doesn't make it better, this still totally sucks, but… I feel better about it. Knowing you two are with me, that we're in this together and we're helping each other through it. It means everything."
Blake flushed and looked down. "But Yang, I—"
"You didn't run away," interrupted Yang. "You said you wanted to, but you didn't."
Blake swallowed. "I guess."
"I believe Yang was correct in something she said earlier," said Penny.
Yang scrunched up her face. "I said a lot of shit."
"Specifically, I mean when you said we must have greatly bothered Adam Taurus," said Penny. "For him to do something this extraordinary, we must have made him quite upset."
"You're right," said Blake slowly. "And… all of this showed me something else. That people get dumb when they're angry."
Thesaurus stumbled. "I am uncertain if I should feel insulted by that," Penny admitted.
Yang made almost a snort as Blake flushed. "I didn't mean it like that," Blake said. "It's just… how people are."
"Well… do you think Adam made a mistake?" said Penny.
"What, by trying to kill me tonight?" Yang said.
"Yeah," said Blake slowly. "I think he did."
"Well, I can tell you he'll regret not finishing me when he had the chance," Yang said. "Because now I'm pissed."
"But Blake just said people get dumb when they're angry," Penny said with alarm. "Friend Yang, please don't become dumb!"
Yang smiled. "Never change, Penny."
"There's something here, I can feel it," said Blake. She shook her head. "Ugh. I'm too tired to think and too wired to sleep."
"So rest," said Penny. "I can tell you certainly that a person doesn't have to sleep to rest."
"And if you accidentally get some sleep, even better," said Yang. "Buuuut I'm gonna scooch down first. Hand me that pillow, would you?"
After a few moments of scuffling and rearranging, Blake and Yang both had pillows and blankets to their liking. (Penny needed neither but shared a blanket with them out of solidarity.) As they settled in, Yang said, "I think it's pretty neat that you have a place like this, Penny."
"Yes and no," said Penny. "It was always a very useful place, but I rarely much liked it."
"Oh?"
"Most of the times I came here before," Penny said, "it meant being alone. I had to come away and be isolated to deal with my differences. That made it far inferior to our dorm room."
"Yeah," agreed Yang, seeming at last to betray fatigue. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."
Blake's ears twitched and she couldn't help glancing about the room again. "Penny, you'll stay awake, right? You'll keep an eye out, just in case…"
Her voice choked before she finished, but Penny understood. "I do not need to sleep," she said. "I will keep watch for all of us."
"Thanks." Blake gave one more full-bodied shudder, curled up into the warmth of Yang, and went relatively still.
A few minutes passed, as the meat people in the room grew more and more still despite Blake's profession of restlessness. And then, in a voice so quiet Blake might not have meant for it to be heard, she said, "I always thought a blanket fort might be fun."
Penny turned off all her alarms. She didn't know what damage a hostile wakeup inflicted on meat people's sleep needs. Between that uncertainty and a general reluctance to impose, Penny resolved to let them rest as long as they desired. Not having their scrolls helped to keep them isolated, too. It really was like they were in their own little world, set aside from everything that had just happened.
It didn't last, of course. Some time in mid-morning Professor Goodwitch arrived to "respectfully request" they join the Headmaster in his office. This, according to Blake, was not actually a 'request' as Penny understood the word, so a few minutes later, still disheveled, still in pajamas (for Blake and Yang), still dirty from scrabbling on the ground with a desperate assassin (for Penny), the three of them headed for the Emerald Tower.
Penny felt eyes on them as they went. Campus was as busy as ever, and on top of that, a crowd had gathered around the distant dormitory. She supposed it wasn't an everyday occurrence, what had happened to them.
She realized another reason with a start: Blake wasn't wearing her bow. She didn't wear it to sleep these days, she hadn't had time to grab it from the dorm during the chase, and she hadn't had a chance to return to the dorm and retrieve it. She was walking with her head held high all the same. Penny admired that.
She wondered if she'd ever be that confident in wearing her differences openly.
A secretary waved them into the Emerald Tower's elevator before they could so much as speak. "The Headmaster's expecting you," they were told, so they obligingly went to meet him.
Penny had been in this office before. It felt fuller this time, if only because of the numerous tablets and papers (and three empty coffee cups) strewn about the headmaster's desk. "Team BXPS," he said without looking up, eyes tracking across a screen. "I'll be with you momentarily. Please be seated."
There was only one chair across from him at his desk, but Penny spotted several more lined up near the wall with the elevator, and soon the teammates were all seated before the headmaster.
Professor Ozpin seemed to finish reading something, danced his finger across the screen (perhaps to sign a form?), put it down on his desk as if relieved to be rid of its weight, and sagged back in his seat. "Good morning, ladies," he said, manners impeccable despite how weary he looked.
"Good morning, professor," BXP_ chorused back.
"Please excuse me for making you wait," he said, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. "The past eleven hours have been…"
"A mess?" offered Blake.
"A debacle?" tried Penny.
"A shitshow?" said Yang.
Despite himself, a smile tugged at the edge of Professor Ozpin's mouth. "All that and more. I'll admit, putting you in Tower Four was partly for your safety, and partly to ensure I would know where you were when I needed you. This way I didn't have to track you down."
Penny could appreciate efficiency. "What do you need us for?"
"Everything," Professor Ozpin said, before shaking his head. "Apologies, that was too grandiose. What I mean is, you three are my only source of primary information on what happened last night. I arrived on the scene too late, and Neopolitan has been… less than communicative."
"It's not her fault," said Penny. "Assuming her file is accurate, she is mute."
Professor Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "That's generous of you."
"It is her fault she tried to murder my friends," Penny said, "but not that she cannot speak. We should take care when we assign responsibility."
"Admirable thinking," said Professor Ozpin. "That said, I am fluent in three forms of sign language, and Neopolitan adamantly refused to respond to any of them. Which brings us back to you three."
He shook his head, reached for a cup, noted it was empty with visible disappointment, and turned his attention back to the students. "I would like everything you know, please. About Neopolitan in general and this night in particular, from before, during, and after her attack."
"Are you sure you don't want us to write it down?" said Yang with a raised eyebrow. "No offense, but you look like warmed-over death. What's the point of telling you if you won't remember?"
"Your concern for my well-being is appreciated," said Professor Ozpin warmly. "But you needn't worry. My memory is outstanding, and I have mechanisms to help me."
Blake and Yang looked at Penny, then back to Professor Ozpin.
"Not the same sorts of mechanisms that Miss Pallas uses," Professor Ozpin clarified.
"Just checking," said Yang.
They shared with Professor Ozpin their latest experiences in their anti-Vale Branch missions, their understanding of Neo and her role, and their theory about Adam's frustration leading to the night's attack.
"Plausible," had been the sum total of Ozpin's judgment on the matter. "How did you detect Neo's entrance?"
"There were several minor environmental changes," Penny said. "Added together, they met an alert threshold."
"I'm still trying to figure out how she got in," said Yang.
"You're not the only one," said Professor Ozpin. "There are no signs that the door was forced."
"The first warning sign was a beep," Penny said. "The same sort of beep the locks make when we scan our scrolls."
"She had access," Professor Ozpin said as his eyes tightened.
"You mean, like, faculty access?" said Yang.
"Not even Professor Goodwitch has the credentials to get into students' rooms," said Professor Ozpin. "Granted, no door could stop Professor Goodwitch if she were determined to enter, but her methods would not be this subtle. Neo had something she should not have. Hm… we recovered her scroll after you all departed for Tower Four. I think we should take a closer look at it."
"You'll be very careful when you look, I hope," said Penny. "You don't know what else is on that scroll."
"Your prudence will serve you well," said Professor Ozpin.
Penny took over the bulk of the narrative from there, describing in the flattest possible terms her pursuit of Neo to the fence line, the intervention of Yang's rocket locker ("Hell yeah!" exulted Yang) and the ensuing melee.
She got as far as Neo's last attempt to run before stalling out, unwilling to describe anything more, and finishing lamely, "You saw the rest."
"I believe I did," said Professor Ozpin mercifully. "Thank you, ladies. I know it was difficult for you to relive all of that, but this information will be important for tracking down those responsible."
"I don't know how this is supposed to lead you back to Torchwick or Adam," said Yang. "I mean, you were looking for both of them already, weren't you?"
"With varying degrees of intensity. I don't have sole control of the mission board, to say nothing of Vale's other resources." His expression, for the first time, seemed to take on some ferocity. "I daresay the events of last evening give me a more compelling claim to those resources than I had before.
"But that's for me to worry about," he said as his eyes scanned from one to the next. "The question for you is, what do we do with you?"
"It would feel insane to just go back to our dorm," said Blake.
"We could return to Tower Four," said Penny a little too eagerly.
"You're the only one who has security access," Yang pointed out. "And as comfortable as we are with each other, I don't feel like dragging you with me every time I have to pee."
"I would want you to return to your dorm eventually," said Professor Ozpin. "But until I improve the security situation, it would be grossly irresponsible to demand that. For the short term, I will reassign you to quarters in the faculty building."
"Is there more security there?" said Blake.
"After a fashion," said Professor Ozpin vaguely. "You'd be a much more difficult target there."
"I guess we'll take it," said Blake.
"Good. You'll have an opportunity to move over whatever you think you'll need. In the meantime, there is one more thing. Public relations."
Blake's ears went flat against her skull. Penny wished hers could.
"I know," said Professor Ozpin in anticipation. "I know we would all prefer to keep this quiet. Unfortunately, that's impossible. Everyone in that dormitory is aware that something bad happened last night, and between the cosmopolitan nature of an Academy and the continued arrival of students for the festival, the news will trickle out to all corners of the planet no matter what we do. The only option left is to get ahead of it."
"So," said Yang, "are we gonna tell 'em why the bad guys were out for me?"
"I was actually going to say that Miss Belladonna was the target."
"But that would be a lie," objected Penny.
"It would be a half-truth," said Professor Ozpin. "Targeting Miss Belladonna, scaring her, compelling her to stop—that was the idea, was it not?"
"I suppose," said Penny, even if it still felt dishonest.
"It was all going to come out eventually," said Blake, her undisguised ears twitching. "When we competed at Vytal at the latest."
Ozpin said nothing, but waited patiently for Blake.
"Yes, you can mention that I'm a Faunus," said Blake.
"A difficult choice," said Professor Ozpin, "but a courageous one."
"There's no better way to show how far Adam's fallen," Blake said, though she shook with every syllable. "To show this isn't what we stand for."
Ozpin inclined his head at her. "Very well. You have today and tomorrow before classes resume. I suggest you take some time to decompress. Your second semester will likely be as challenging as the first."
"The White Fang isn't decompressing," said Blake. "They'll keep on doing whatever it is they're up to."
"Not to be a workaholic," said Yang, "but Blake has a point. Besides, I've had eleven hours to internalize that someone tried to kill me last night, and I really, really want to punch someone about it."
"Perfectly understandable," said Professor Ozpin. "Your group was uniquely suited to certain tasks thus far. But that doesn't mean you're the only people who are a part of this, nor are you even the best option.
"I would hope to spare students any of these burdens. You are all unfortunate that you came to this school already carrying yours. That doesn't mean you have to carry them alone. Get some rest while I take action, and if I again have need of your team's specific skillsets, I'll let you know."
Penny watched as Blake and Yang shared a glance. Ooh, she wished she could be a part of that. Verbal communication was hard enough for her; nonverbal communication was a labyrinth.
Professor Ozpin, at least, seemed fluent. "One more thing. Should an opportunity arise to deal a heavy blow to the Vale Branch, I will invite your team to come along."
The words seemed to leave Blake and Yang too stunned to speak, so Penny filled the gap. "Sir, from the way people talk about Adam Taurus, he seems most formidable, more than we could be expected to handle."
"Nor would I expect that of you," said Professor Ozpin. "You wouldn't be running point on any mission against him. Rather, you would play a supporting role in a larger expedition, letting you participate without putting you at the highest risk. There's great value in slaying one's own demons, don't you agree?"
Blake nodded jerkily.
"Very well." Professor Ozpin stood. "Speak with the secretary below on your new sleeping arrangements, and feel free to transfer what you need for now. I will set about putting your information to work."
"Thank you, sir," said Blake.
By the time they got outside, it was almost noon, and the heat of a late summer's day was fully on them. They walked lazily towards their dorm, favoring routes with shade.
"So," said Yang when they were well away from the Emerald Tower, "are we actually gonna stop? Because Ozpin can say whatever he wants, but we found a warehouse in two days that the Vale authorities never found, and we found those supply routes they were nowhere close to finding."
"Professor Ozpin implied he would be bringing new resources to the fight, though," said Penny. "Perhaps they will be more effective."
"We'll see," said Blake. "Adam showed last night that he thinks this is personal. It's not going to stop being personal if we take a break. We'll give it a week. If it seems like Ozpin's new resources are making any headway, then we'll play the good students. Otherwise, we may have to kick-start things again."
Penny cocked her head. "Does 'things' refer to the White Fang?"
"I wish it did," said Yang.
Metaphor again. Drat.
"I concur with your plan," said Penny. "Even if it contradicts something you said last night."
Blake looked at Penny with evident confusion.
"When you so naturally step into the role of leader, making plans and setting our course, it's so very plain that you should be trusted with power," said Penny. "As I trusted you with it from the beginning. You had, and continue to have, my full support."
Blake's jaw dropped, and over the next few seconds her eyes filled with water. She looked away. "Thank you," she whispered.
"And I'm not afraid of you losing yourself," Yang said to Penny. "Not when you're so determined about the sort of person you want to be."
Blake sniffed before looking at Yang. "And I'm happy that you're staying with us," Blake said, and Penny almost heard her adding the words and staying alive.
"Alright," said Yang, dropping an arm over each of them, "Blake's got the plan, and we're all on board. For now, let's go get moved in."
Weiss was back in Jacque's study. As ever, it was uncomfortably cold. A Huntress with Aura did not need to suffer the health effects of cold, but that didn't make it enjoyable.
Jacques seemed to pay no attention to her while she stood there. She understood that gesture for what it was: belittlement. He was implicitly stating she was less important than his call, that he had no compunction against wasting her time and forcing her to stand idle.
And it was, as ever, a test. A test of her bearing and control. Complaining about this treatment was failure. Weiss could not fail. Could never fail.
"Alright," said Jacques with a chuckle. "It's been a pleasure talking to you, and I'll see you at the Marigolds' gala next week. You too. Bye." Jacques hung up and slapped his scroll down onto the surface of his desk. "What a tedious, miserable man," he said, all the joviality from his call vanished like a mirage. "He isn't half as clever as he thinks he is, he just has enough wealth to insulate himself from the worst consequences of his stupid decisions. If decorum didn't require I notice him, we would never speak again."
Jacques raised an eyebrow at her, and Weiss got the message. She wasn't just secondary to business, she was secondary to even the least pleasant parts of his business. He would rather do his version of chores than talk to Weiss.
He was expecting her to buy into his attacks, to tell him how obviously correct he was to despise this person. Weiss wasn't sure she could speak in anger and not have her target be Jacques himself. She held her tongue.
"Hm," said Jacques, managing to cram a sea condescension into such a small noise. What a waste of perfectly good subtlety. "Well, I suppose you're running off to Beacon again, then."
As if he hadn't chartered her flight himself. "Yes, father."
"I trust you'll be giving your studies the attention they deserve. You can mingle with the riffraff only to keep your social skills sharp. Otherwise, I expect your nose to be in your books. Are we clear?"
"Exceptionally clear," said Weiss. Because keeping her isolated from her classmates would keep her dependent on him for approval and validation. Weiss was getting better at reading him, at using all the skills she'd been taught for navigating these situations back on him.
It had been easy, once she'd realized she should never assume goodwill from Jacques.
Sometimes she had to wonder: was any of this for her? Did Jacques believe on any level that the wringers he put her through were for her good? Or was all of it for his own gratification? Even having heirs seemed less about ensuring the long-term survival of his institutions or values and more about meeting expectations.
It made Weiss think of Penny. Gods, if Jacques could have built himself an heir, programmed it to his specifications, would he have even bothered with children?
She barely suppressed a shudder.
"Good," he said at length. "You're free to go."
He was going to make her ask. Damn him. "May I please have my scroll back?"
"Oh, I'd almost forgotten," Jacques said insincerely. He reached into a drawer of his desk and retrieved the device. It'd been sitting there for the entirety of break. He'd "relieved" her of it the moment she arrived, telling her transparently that not having it would help her relax.
An isolation chamber. That's what Schnee Manor was to her, now.
"Here," he said, holding it up near his face, making her go that extra step around the desk towards him. "Just remember," he said, holding tight against her first grasp, "I'll be monitoring your performance. You have these luxuries—your allowance, your scroll, even your permission to attend—based on my goodwill. My goodwill is based on your performance. Take care to maintain both."
"Yes, father," she said, and tugged on the scroll again. He let go abruptly; she nearly stumbled, turned it into a sort of withdrawing bow. "By your leave, father."
"Go on," he said. She fled as quickly as she could while maintaining her composure.
Even as she bolted, she still felt elation. She was done with this place for a few more glorious months. She was going back to Beacon, to her team. Finally.
She made it almost all the way to the front door before seeing another person. That person, who fell into step beside her as she walked for the exit, was her brother Whitley. Three years Weiss' junior, he seemed to be made completely out of sticks of chalk. He was taller than Weiss, but weighed less, and was somehow even paler. "I see your interview with father went well," he said in a voice like Styrofoam cups rubbing against each other.
"I got what I wanted out of it," said Weiss.
"A successful negotiation, then," said Whitley. "I hope you didn't pay too much for it."
Transactional thinking, transactional relationships. This for that. Everything for a price. For the longest time, Weiss had thought that was just how the world worked, how people worked. Her team had challenged that view. Whitley was still firm in its grip.
"I still can't believe you're running off to play Huntress," said Whitley.
"It's an honorable profession," said Weiss.
"And what price do you put on honor?" said Whitley with the exceptionally annoying smile of someone who's being a snot for the fun of it. "It can't be that expensive. We buy and sell Huntsmen and hardly even notice. They're a smaller expense than trains."
He meant Huntsmen contracts; that was the vernacular used in these circles. Idle talk of buying and selling people meant something completely different to Weiss, now. "The world doesn't function without Huntsmen," she said.
"Perhaps," said Whitley, "but the world also doesn't function without janitors. Should I expect you to apply to the janitorial staff, next?"
"You sound too much like father," said Weiss in irritation. She stepped up her pace.
Whitley flushed, either from the remark or the strain of actually having to move or both. "Father usually has a point," he said, much less playful now.
"I know you're not defending him," said Weiss.
"Hardly," said Whitley. "He doesn't need the help. I just can't figure out why you're debasing yourself in a profession so far beneath your station."
They had gotten to the Manor's grand foyer. Weiss stopped her march and turned towards one of the great statutes along the perimeter of the foyer: a titanic replica of a suit of armor. "Do you suppose it was beneath our grandfather's station?"
Whitley scowled; he knew as well as Weiss the story of that armor. Nicholas Schnee had worn his fitted version of it on personal and often messy trips to clear the mining sites the nascent SDC would later exploit. "Well, he stopped fighting in person when he made enough money. He rose above that role."
"No, Whitley. He didn't stop going into the field when he got rich. He stopped when he threw out his back. When his body, even supported by his Aura, could no longer bear the armor's weight. He hated that. 'No SDC employee should have to work where management dares not tread', he said."
"Well, obviously that view cost him, didn't it?" said Whitley, crossing his arms and looking away.
"You might not understand our grandfather," said Weiss, "but I do."
"Don't let me stop you," said Whitley with a vague wave. "Keep on trying father's patience. Maybe he'll disown you next, finally put me in line."
"If that's what you're after, it's disgusting," said Weiss. She turned her back and walked for the door, ignoring the noise of distress that escaped Whitley's training.
She'd gripped the handle and was about to leave when a thought occurred to her, one that sounded annoyingly like Yang's voice.
You never know when's the last time you might see family.
True enough—Weiss had nearly gotten vaporized first semester… and things were unlikely to get any safer.
If she didn't come back, did she really want those to be the last words she'd said to Whitley? Let that be his last memory of her?
She looked back at him. He was standing at a distance and scowling, his arms crossed defensively. He looked, for all the world, like a petulant child.
Which… he kind of was, now that Weiss thought about it.
Weiss searched for words, words that had never been said in this house, and came up empty. Wait… what would Penny say at a time like this?
"Good luck with father," Weiss said. "And I hope you succeed with… whatever it is you're trying to do."
Whitley's face screwed up like Weiss had spoken in Old Mistrali. Open affection was harder for a Schnee to understand than a foreign language.
Now somewhat embarrassed at herself, Weiss opened the door and, once more, fled.
"Good morning, Miss Schnee," said Klein, who was waiting at the curbside with a limousine.
"You wanted to take me yourself instead of using our driver?" said Weiss as she walked towards him.
"Well, I can't let him have all the fun," Klein said with a smile obvious even beneath his mustache.
Weiss smiled at him. "Thank you, Klein."
"My pleasure, Miss Schnee."
Weiss settled into the car with her scroll as Klein eased them away from the house. She felt lighter with every car length away from Schnee Manor. She felt even lighter when she opened her scroll.
236 unread messages.
The great majority were from Penny, but there were also some vague but anxious-seeming check-ins from Blake, and a double handful of selfies from Yang. And more—Jaune had sent her several messages that showed… remarkable restraint and consideration? That was disorienting. Even Pyrrha had sent a few messages in the extra-stilted language of someone unsure of what level of formality to use.
People cared.
After all those cold days and lonely nights in Schnee Manor, to think this little plastic rectangle could bring her so much warmth…
Weiss choked down a sob. She had a new mission: to catch up on all this traffic! She decided to start with the most recent. Some of the older messages she could skip entirely if newer ones made them moot.
It's not like much could have happened over break, after all.
From Penny: When you return to Beacon, have your belongings delivered to the faculty building. Our dorm room's door hasn't been repaired, and more assassins might target that room in the future.
Weiss read the message.
Read it again.
One more time.
No, the words were still there, and yes, Penny meant them.
"Three and a half more years," she chanted. "Three and a half more years with these psychos, three and a half, three and a half…"
Author's note: when writing for Schnees, at once the most fun and the most difficult part is the repression. Whitley is even more emotionally constipated than Weiss was; he can't just come out and say what he wants or what he's feeling or what he's afraid of. Conveying all of that can be tricky, too.
But maybe you, unlike Weiss, can spot what he's really after, and pity him appropriately.
Next time: The Dregs of the Season