Let Us Dance in the Flames

by GodSaveTheKings

Team RWBY are in over their heads. Sent to Atlas by their manipulative Headmaster, the four Huntresses must survive a new, dangerous Kingdom that seeks to exploit, abuse, and destroy them. With the Vytal Festival looming and few allies to turn to, Team RWBY must struggle to escape a world defined by violence, hate and blood. A Sequel to Let Us Be Your Poison

100. RWBY, ATMC, and Those About to Die

BIG AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well... it's finally here. After two and a half years, Let Us Dance in the Flames comes to a close. This story has definitely evolved as it was written. Originally intended to be a shorter, lighter sequel to Poison, it's become a behemoth in its own right, nearly matching its word and chapter count while having plenty of darkness along the way. I guess I can't always help myself when it comes to drama... or suffering. I do want to end things on a lighter note though, which is why this last arc has been focused on Team ATMC, the worst OCs I can possibly think of. Take this big-ass chapter as a joke, and it is a big-ass chapter. Pretty sure it's the longest I've ever written, five times the normal length (which is why it took so long getting finished, apologies). There's also a lot of set-up in here for what comes next, and speaking of next...

Yeah, of course, we aren't finished. This is only the first half of what I intended to write. Ever since the end of Poison, I've wanted to write a tournament arc. The best tournament arc. And while that was originally planned to be the final arc of Flames, it has grown so massive that it deserves its own story. Don't worry, it won't just be fighting. There's gonna be a lot of lore and character drama and big emotional payoffs too. I want to make it a spectacle that's worth its own story. You'll find out more when I post Let Us Drink Their Blood, coming... whenever. Maybe a month or two from now. I'm taking a short writing break until after the election when I'll see how my brain survives all the anxiety.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL.

Because I can officially announce that this Vytal Festival isn't just a story; it's interactive! If you hop onto my discord server, you can take part in a fun (NOT FOR PROFIT IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM) game where you can predict who will win and lose in this ultimate tournament of death. It's super low stakes and purely exists as a tool for theory crafting, but you can get additional insight into the competitors, get some early Vytal lore, and learn the brackets before anyone else. I already got some sign-ups, but I would love to see more people participate. Again, purely for fun, and absolutely no pressure to join, but you can find more details on my discord server, linked below.

Well, I think that covers everything. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope to see you next time. Enjoy.

Discord link: /3FdZCcZefc

---

The Longing of CSVR

"We… we shouldn't be doing this."

"We don't have anywhere else to turn."

"But all of this attention on us… the whole world? What if they find out…"

"They won't. Rachel guaranteed that."

"Though I don't know how for how long."

"Then we just have to work quickly, right?"

"R-right…"

"Look, Rachel, you are sure that artifact is what you were feeling?"

"Yes."

"And Vic, you said they are putting it up for the Vytal Festival, right?"

"I've been monitoring them for weeks now. That General guy, Ironwood? He said whoever wins this tournament gets that artifact."

"Then that's our ticket. Smash the competition, take that artifact, and figure out what the hell is going on."

"If we can win. With my powers the way they are…"

Mari gently placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders, trying to comfort her. The poor thing trembled under her touch, her confidence shattered.

"Don't forget who we are. Things might be different now, but these kids don't stand a chance against us. Don't be afraid?"

Jessica traced over the back of her hand with her fingertips. It came to rest over the sturdy, green ring that she always kept on her finger. She nodded, finding her willpower.

Her? Afraid? Never.

---

The Battle of ATMC and RWBY—Part 1

Ruby took a deep breath. Okay, she thought. Let's see what we have to work with.

The arena: King Tyrus Combat Arena. She stood in the centermost of three massive, rectangular grids. Fifty feet across and thirty wide, the flat plane gave her plenty of room to maneuver, but no cover.

The crowd: every one of her classmates at Beacon. Team JNPR and CFVY. Team JJWL. Team CRDL. Every single team that she had bribed to get to where she was now.

Her teammates: injured. Weiss, still dealing with the residual effects of a concussion, but stable. Blake, sword drawn and ready to fight. Yang: stuck on the sidelines. Her older sister sat cross-legged, just outside of the battlefield, longing for the chance to compete. With nagging injuries and a weapon still in the shop, Ruby had asked her—sorry, them—to sit this out personally. Yang asked her for the different pronouns, and Ruby wanted to be supportive. But after sixteen years of calling her sister one thing, changing it was going to take some getting used to. Still, she was happy Yang was finding themselves. Themself?

Ruby would really need to work on that. Either way, they—and this time, she was thinking of all of them—couldn't take any risks for what came afterward.

Her opponents: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

Okay, so she didn't really remember Team ATMC that well. The night before, she rewatched the tape of their original encounter and was surprised at how much of that fight she had forgotten. Like, she didn't even remember that Crescent Rose was destroyed during that battle. Sure, she got it rebuilt in a week or two, but it was her beloved weapon! She felt like she should have remembered it exploding. Perhaps it was a damnation not of Team ATMC, but rather of her sense of normalcy. In the time since she battled with Team ATMC, her team had dealt with two separate Grimm encounters, the destruction of Beacon, their dissolution and reestablishment, Yin, Belle, and Adam, the twins from SPIDER, the move to Atlas, the God's Arm, Winter's rehabilitation, the entirety of the Vault, and a beach vacation that probably should have been more relaxing than it truly was. Of course, they wouldn't remember a team that they had dispatched long ago and should no longer be a threat.

Then again, when Team ATMC made their way onto the battlefield, she remembered that, yes… they were pretty uninterested.

Tia Arancia. Orange hair. Snooty, artistic tastes. Weapon: a painter's palette coated with various forms of elemental Dust. Creative, but insubstantial. Semblance… something.

Mattis Brown. Curly hair and a scrawny face. Slumped shoulders when he walked. Could stretch his limbs like rubber. Also carried a Morning Star for some reason.

Cyrus Cedarman. Ill-looking fellow. Could spit toxic, flammable clouds of mist. Apparently had a good sense of humor, but as far as Ruby could tell, he had never told a single joke before.

And then there was Aqua, entering the arena from the tunnel on the far side flanked by Professor Ozpin. Her arms swung like a monkey as she walked, a boisterous gait unbefitting of a woman about to get her face pounded into mush. Her spear was firmly in her grasp, sharpened and ready to stab bitches. Ruby could faintly hear the makings of a discussion between the two.

"Aqua, are you sure you are prepared?" Ozpin asked worriedly.

"Duh, I'm always prepared," Aqua stated, keeping her eyes on the prize ahead of her.

"It's just that this is the most important battle of your life."

"So far."

"No, not so far. It does not get more important than this."

"It does not get more important than this so far."

Ozpin groaned. Of all the possible candidates for Beacon, why did he have to accept Aqua Lilliota of all people? There were plenty of other good trainees around Vale. She was a strong warrior, but she might have been the single dumbest person he had ever met, and he met a lot of people. Still, there was no use complaining. If he didn't play the hand he was dealt, he would lose everything. Team RWBY could not enter the Vytal Festival, and if that meant Team ATMC would take their place, so be it. Fortunately, he had prepared them for this very moment. Even with as little as a day to make it work, he had done well to ready Aqua for her most challenging encounter.

"You are going into this fight with a number advantage," Ozpin reminded her calmly. "As long you remember the key weaknesses of each member, you should be fine."

"Yeah, I know their weaknesses," Aqua insisted. "I'm gonna stab them with my spear. Poke their fucking eyes out."

"Aqua, be serious," Ozpin stated. "I meant their weaknesses from the dossier I provided."

"The…" Aqua turned around and stared at her headmaster, dumbfounded. "What did you just say?"

"The dossier?" Ozpin asked curiously. "That I gave you last night?"

Aqua stared at him.

"The file containing all of the data I've accumulated on Team RWBY. Their strengths and weaknesses, gathered over the past year of training them?"

Aqua stared at him harder.

Ozpin rolled his eyes. "The manilla folder?"

Aqua stared extra, super duper hard.

"The… tan folder? With all the papers inside."

Aqua's eyes suddenly went wide with revelation. Yes, yes, of course, that big ass stack of papers he handed to her last night. The one that he said contained the "key to victory" or some bullshit. She shook her head with furious disbelief.

"You expected me to read all that?"

Ozpin nearly exploded in rage.

"You didn't read it?" Spit flew out of his mouth, and his fury echoed throughout the arena. "Those files contained every bit of information I had on Team RWBY, every one of their tactics, every strategy, every idea that has ever passed through their heads! Reading that would let you know Team RWBY better than they know themselves! You could walk into this battle already knowing victory is in your hands!"

"Dude, stop spitting. It's gross."

"Why didn't you read it?"

Aqua threw up her hands in frustration. "It was like a thousand pages, man! I can't go through all of that."

"It was five!"

"Yeah, but that font was so tiny, it might as well have been a thousand," Aqua said defensively.

"You… I don't…" Ozpin balled his hands into fists and cursed the very concept of fate itself. Aqua didn't seem all that bothered by it.

"Look, it's really not that hard," she said confidently. "Team RWBY are a bunch of suckers and losers, and they suck, and they are gonna lose. I'll stab 'em, and Tia will set them on fire, and then we will pin them down and force them to sell us their merch at a discounted price."

"What?"

"Kill them. I'll kill them dead. Those are the words I said."

Ozpin growled. "Aqua. Child. You have no idea what you are up against."

"And they don't know what they are up against. I've been planning this for months, Profess. Trust ol' Aqua. I'm gonna kick their ass and make you super proud."

Ozpin did not trust ol' Aqua. He had absolutely zero fucking faith in her whatsoever now. As she strode proudly onto the silver, gridded terrain to join her teammates, Ozpin stayed behind, repeatedly bashing his face into the tunnel wall.

Aqua arrived on the battlefield with swagger and self-assuredness. Her teammates seemed to be the opposite. She could see the trembling in Mattis's knees, the solemn, almost mournful gaze Cyrus had at his feet, and Tia nervously fidgeting with his Dust Brush. She slapped Mattis on the back and picked up her chin.

"Hey, look alive, boys! We got the fight of our lives over here!"

Mattis muttered under his breath.

"Aqua, are you sure you want to do this? Healthcare sounds pretty nice."

Aqua gasped in horror. "Mattis, you want to give up? After Ruby Rose said that your mother sucked cocks in hell?"

Mattis frowned. "Ruby said that about my mom?"

"I mean, probably," Aqua scoffed. "I'd say it."

From across the battlefield, Ruby, Blake, and Weiss huddled together by the edge of the arena, Yang sitting close beside them.

"Okay, so what's our plan to take these guys out?" Blake asked.

"We'd say just overwhelm them," Yang suggested. "Think about how much stronger you've all gotten since we last fought. Weiss can chain them up and throw them out of bounds. You can beat them in under a minute."

"I… don't know about that," Weiss said nervously. "I haven't tested my chains since the Vault. I'm worried I'm going to start feeling the effects again."

"You've been all right since yesterday," Ruby said. "It probably should be fine, but if you don't want to risk it, we can try another path."

"Like Rosaline-ing all over them?" Blake asked.

"Rosaline-ing?" Ruby said, slightly perturbed.

"I mean, I don't have a better word for it. Petaling? Flowering? No, those sound like sex things."

"I'm not using Rosaline to beat up these random students," Ruby said firmly. "Aside from the fact I don't even know how I triggered it in the first place… her powers were able to cut the Maiden in half. I don't want to kill Aqua, no matter how annoying she is."

"Then it looks like you are doing some old-school Team RWBY fast-paced assaulting," Yang said with a light smirk. "Stick together, rush them down, don't let them separate you. Charge in head first; give them the Yang special on our behalf."

"I'm… not so sure that's a great idea," Ruby admitted. She cautiously looked over her shoulder. Team ATMC was debating something stupid among themselves. On the surface, they seemed like they should be pushovers. Background characters. Merely another obstacle on their path. But as the memories of their previous encounter returned to her, she became less certain of their worthlessness. Team ATMC had managed to successfully divide and conquer, and ambush them with bizarre and out-of-the-box strategies that required heavy sacrifices to overcome. They had only grown craftier, more determined on their course of vengeance since then. Aqua had spent months fantasizing about a rematch, spending every waking moment dreaming about how to defeat them and them alone. And now, with Weiss possibly unsteady and Yang stuck on the sidelines, they had the perfect opportunity to do it.

And with a desperate Ozpin watching their every move, she didn't want to take any chances.

"So, got any ideas, Ruby?" asked Weiss.

Ruby nodded. "Yeah. Here's the plan…"

Several minutes later, the two teams had finished their planning. An announcement came over the loudspeaker. It was finally time to begin.

"Greetings, contestants."

Ruby looked up at the viewing booth suspended high above the rafters. She could not see within, but she recognized the voice as belonging to General Ironwood. Was he really forced to oversee this match?

God, he sounded depressed…

"The rules for this match are standard for a Challenge by the Honors. Eliminations occur when a student touches the walls or floor outside of the ring, surrenders, or is incapacitated and cannot continue. Once all members of the opposing team have been eliminated, the last team standing will be victorious. Per the agreement beforehand, the victor of this bout shall continue to the Vytal Festival. Is everything understood?"

Ruby, Blake, and Weiss nodded. Yang left the vicinity, retreating to a safe location. Before they left, they and Blake exchanged a long, silent smile. Yang had all the confidence in the world in their girlfriend. Huh. Girlfriend. So that was a thing now.

Aqua stamped her foot and shouted at the heavens. "Okay, okay, let's get this show on the road." She turned toward the audience, raising her arms to hype them up. "Y'all ready to see me kick Team RWBY's collective asses?"

The audience did not cheer… mostly. Separated from the rest of their peers, sitting several rows back and above, Team JJWL—primarily Vivian—cheered on the incoming battle.

"Yeah! Fight fight fight! Oy oy oy!"

Ironwood cleared his throat over the loudspeaker. "All right then. Let's get this over with. You know how this works. Team RWBY: declare yourselves."

Ruby didn't immediately respond. She had to wonder—were Ozpin and Ironwood still on horrible terms? Were the General's days still numbered? He actively tried to arrest Ozpin in front of them, and Ozpin wasn't known for his forgiveness. Was Penny still with him, watching them battle from the booth? What did she think of all of this? Hell, how was she holding up at all? Despite everything that had happened, Ruby couldn't help but worry about the android. She had betrayed them, blinded by her own self-preservation, but Ruby couldn't bring herself to hate her. Not yet. She had taken a massive gamble and it failed to pay off, and Ruby feared that Ironwood might turn his wrath against her out of spite. She didn't deserve that, no matter how much her teammates might have wanted it…

"Hey, Ruby, you gonna do the honors?" Blake asked.

Oh. Right. The declaration. Ruby stepped forward, twirling around her scythe before slinging it over her shoulder. She stared down Team ATMC, three-fourths of which seemed to cower beneath her stare.

"Team RWBY!" she announced, releasing the last of her inhibitions. "Go fuck yourselves."

Ironwood sighed heavily into the microphone. Such language from a student? In his walls? He wished he could expel her on the spot.

"Team ATMC. Declare yourselves."

Aqua smirked at her teammates. "Don't worry guys, I got this."

"Got this?" Cyrus asked. "It's three words."

"Not anymore it isn't," Aqua stated. "I changed it."

"What? When?"

"Half an hour ago."

"Were you going to tell us?" Tia asked.

"I literally just did. Don't worry, you'll love it."

Aqua proudly stepped forward in front of her team. She tried to twirl her spear around the same way as Ruby did, but it looked way less cool and it almost fell out of her hands, like, twice. Eventually, she planted it into the ground, and gave her brand new, totally perfect team motto.

"Team ATMC: Team RWBY are the biggest pieces of—"

---

The Pride of NDGO

Vacuon cuisine was filthy.

There was something so… homely about it that made her sick to her stomach. The cooking techniques were unrefined, the ingredients often lesser cuts of meats or barnyard animals killed on factory floors. For this celebration, finding a high-quality Vacuon restaurant was impossible. It took a great deal of effort to find an Atlasian spot worthy of their presence. It took a great deal of effort to book the entire restaurant for one night for a single table of four.

But daddy's money spent just as good as anyone else's.

The dining room was vast and gaudy, with golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and clean, white tablecloths so thick they could blot out the sun. The four young women who were the star of the night's show sat at a table in the exact center of the room, dozens of empty chairs as their audience. They wore expensive dresses and diamond earrings, picked by their team leader. A passerby might have mistaken them for nobility rather than fierce warriors. The servers never left them unattended, filling their wine glasses the moment they dipped beneath half empty. If they didn't, they were met with biting insults. But they did not protest. Daddy's money paid tips as well.

The four weren't well known outside of the walls of Shade Academy, but soon, that would change.

Octavia Ember: long red hair and bitter, olive eyes that always seemed to be searching for threats.

Gwen Darcy: wide-faced and blank expression, sitting unmoving in her little grey dress.: bored

Dew Gayl: dirty-blonde and bored out of her mind.

And their studious leader: Nebula Violette, with whipped hair the color of her name and bright pink lips that were currently pouting. She held her glass of wine aloft in a single, glitter-gloved hand, swirling it around gently.

She snapped her fingers diligently. A server, small and feeble, rushed to her side. "Yes, ma'am? How may I help you?"

"This vermouth. You said it was '88, correct?"

"Yes," the server explained. "Would you like another glass?"

Nebula's pout turned into a snarl. "Another glass of this? It tastes like it was stored in an old shoebox. Ask the sommelier to bring me something edible." She slammed the wine glass on the table, and the precious red liquid nearly splashed over the edge. The server bowed his head, embarrassed, and rushed off to find something to please his only customer. Nebula sighed, returning her gaze to her meal. She had ordered Dover sole for the table—because it was the best fish—but the server had taken so long to debone it that it had gotten lukewarm. For the best Atlasian cuisine in Vacuo, this sure wasn't living up to expectations.

"I thought the wine tasted fine," Dew said tiredly.

Nebula held back harsher words. "It was garbage. I'm getting us something better."

Dew rested her elbows on her table and then leaned on her palm. She rolled her eyes as she picked up her own glass and swirled around the mostly untouched beverage. "I mean… it all kind of just tastes like grapes to me."

"It is an inferior wine, and I'm not settling for anything less than perfection," Nebula explained. "Where the hell is that waiter—"

She tried to stand up, but a strong hand suddenly grabbed her forearm. Octavia pulled her back down into her seat with a sneer.

"It's not a big deal," Octavia sighed. Nebula relented, though Octavia's frustrations did not stop. They never stopped. "I've eaten much worse than this."

"Again… perfection," Nebula stated. "Ladies, think about it. After years of studying and fighting our rear ends off, we are finally in the Vytal Festival. We made it. This place is ours. You should have higher standards."

"This is fine," Octavia insisted. "Stop making a scene."

"I mean," Dew sighed. "The burger I had for lunch was better than this."

"A burger?" Nebula gasped. "I told you not to eat anything before tonight!"

"Jeez, mom, I was hungry. Gosh."

Nebula groaned. "Gods… Gwen, what do you think? You haven't said a word all night."

Gwen tried not to participate in the conversation. She was carefully dissecting her Dover sole with her fork. She held the utensil in her fingertips and made slight, subtle movements as she drew the fish into her mouth. She chewed it daintily, careful not to drip any juices on her vintage dress. When she finished, her smile was so small it was barely perceptible. Her voice was a high-pitched whisper.

"I enjoy the fish."

Dew gestured broadly to her teammate. "See, she enjoys the fish. Let Gwen enjoy her fish or whatever."

Nebula slumped in her chair. "Where the hell is that waiter at? This is supposed to be a five-star restaurant?"

The server eventually returned to them with a new bottle of wine. Vintage Cabernet Sauvignon, '78. Nebula stared down the server as he poured her a new glass. His hand trembled slightly, resulting in the wine slightly splashing within the confines of the glass. It was enough to boil Nebula's blood. The server finished his work, but he didn't realize the damage was already done. Nebula lifted the glass, but not to drink it. Her fingers suddenly transformed in front of the server's eyes, silky smooth skin crystalizing, mutating into pure, glistening diamond. With her flesh now harder than steel, Nebula pinched the stem of her wine glass, and the frail little vessel shattered, spilling blood-red wine all over the pristine white tablecloth. The server gasped in horror, and Octavia and Dew flinched. Nebula stood up straight, jabbing her brilliant, diamond finger into the server's scrawny chest.

"You idiot!" she shouted. "Is this your first day on the job? Do you know what happens if you don't pour the wine smoothly?"

The server stammered. "I… my apologies, I—"

"A smooth pour allows for the proper aeration of the wine, allowing certain compounds within to oxidize and release their natural flavors!" Nebula lectured him. She snatched the bottle out of his hands, waving it in front of his face. "Without allowing the flavors to develop, you might as well be serving us spoiled grapes. Pathetic! And you call yourself a sommelier? Where did you train?"

Before the server answered, Octavia rapped her knuckles against the table, trying to get Nebula's attention. "Nebula, you are making a scene."

"A scene? We are the guests of honor here!" Nebula announced. She spoke to the server. "You should be fired at once. Bring out your manager so I can tell him what a disgraceful job you have done."

She pushed the server away, and he scampered away in his little black suit. He disappeared in the back. Nebula looked once more at the bottle in her hands and scoffed. What a waste of a good vintage. She lay the bottle firmly on the table, crossed her arms, and huffed. Octavia was disappointed in her, wanting to just get this fancy bullshit over with. Dew had pulled out her Scroll and started texting her sister, spilling all of the drama without a second thought. Gwen continued to meticulously eat her fish, understanding this argument was none of her business.

A few moments later, the server returned with a middle-aged man in tow. He wore a tan suit and his slicked blond hair made him look like he was trying to be ten years younger than he really was. He adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves, gold little nobs that indicated his high status. Nebula just tapped her foot as he approached her, assuming him to be the manager. When he spoke, his words passed with a heavy sigh.

"Is there a problem here, ladies?"

"Yes, there is a very big problem," Nebula claimed. "My team has been thoroughly disrespected by your staff. The fish is dry and barely flakes. Your sommelier cannot pour a simple glass of wine, and I was explicitly told that there would be ambient piano music. Do you hear that?" Nebula leaned forward and let the room be filled with the beautiful sounds of silence. "Absolutely nothing. This is a disgrace of an Atlasian establishment if I have ever seen one, and as your VIPs, I will not tolerate this."

The manager simply shook his head. "Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you and your teammates to leave."

Nebula gasped in horror. "L-Leave? After what we paid to be here?"

"I don't tolerate abuse of my staff… or the destruction of my glassware," he said bluntly.

"This is an outrage!" Nebula shouted. "You serve me dry fish and bad wine, and now you won't even make amends?"

The manager just shook his head. Nebula closed her diamond hand into a fist, but behind her, Dew just stood up from the table, eyes never drifting from her Scroll.

"Hey, since the dinner sucked, we should stop at the Taco Hotel. They're open to, like, one in the morning. Anyone want anything?"

Nebula snapped at her. "Put your damn Scroll away!"

Dew shrugged. "But if I pre-order with the app, I get points. Octavia, do you want a taco?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Octavia sighed. "I'd just like to leave."

"Gwen, taco?"

Gwen very slightly shook her head. "I'm happy with my fish," she whispered.

"Nebula, taco?"

"I am not eating the artificial crap from the Taco Hotel!" Nebula screamed at her teammate. Dew, once again, just shrugged and started flicking through her app.

"Okay, so one Crunchy Taco Deluxe box…"

The manager snapped to draw their attention. "Are you going to leave now, or am I going to have to force you out?"

Nebula nearly blew a gasket. Part of her wanted to take that old bottle of wine and crack it over the manager's head for the disrespect he showed her. She wanted to send the chandelier tumbling down from the roof. But such petty violence was beneath her. She had lost enough of her temper with the broken glass, whose pieces crunched beneath her heel every time she stomped her foot. Yes, if she wanted to, she and her teammates could easily destroy this pathetic man and this sham of a restaurant. But she was not going to exert herself this close to Vytal and drop to a repugnant level. She was simply going to tell her parents about this awful experience and leave the nastiest online review she could possibly think of.

"Listen here," Nebula announced. "You have not heard the last from me. When you turn on your television in two weeks and see me victorious, I hope you know what excellent clientele you let fall through your fingers. Come, ladies. Let us get out of here."

Nebula strode out of the restaurant without spending a single Lien more. If they wanted her to repay the damages, they could ask her legal team about it. Octavia, thankful this night was over, followed close behind, eager to get out of her stupid dress. Dew continued texting as she left, and Gwen gave the manager and the terrified server a polite courtesy before she joined her team in leaving the restaurant behind.

The manager sighed. An entire night's worth of revenue, sacrificed to appease these miserable brats. He did not care how famous they might have been. A manager in the service industry deserved to have a little self-respect. He gently calmed the server down and told him he had done an excellent job. He instructed him to clean up the mess that was left behind. The uneaten Dover sole, the wine, the broken glass—such an unhappy customer left him quite bitter. The server nodded and began to clean up the mess, swiping up plates and stacking them neatly. However, he soon stopped when he realized something strange.

All of the knives on the table were missing.

---

The Battle of ATMC and RWBY—Part 2

A million years later, Aqua closed her mouth and smiled, proud of herself. Her teammates stared at her in disbelief. Her classmates stared at her in disbelief. Team RWBY, as vile, crude, and childish as they could sometimes be, stared at Aqua in fucking disbelief.

Blake slowly turned to Ruby and Weiss, her face beat red. "Did… did that bitch just call us every slur?"

Weiss slowly nodded in shock. "I think she made up some new ones, too."

"That's…" Blake had to take a second. She had to take a second. "Oh my god…"

Ironwood very slowly groaned over the loudspeaker, torn between his hatred for the obscenity and his happiness at seeing Team RWBY insulted. "Ummm… is that it?"

Aqua patted herself on the back. "Yep. That's all."

"All right then. Let the battle commence."

Commence?

Oh, shit—commence!

Ruby suddenly snapped to attention, taken aback by the General's unenthusiastic tone and trying to process half of the words Aqua had even said. She rapidly transformed her sniper into its scythe form, and screamed to her teammates. "Fire!"

Ruby planted herself on one knee and opened fire. Blake and Weiss followed suit, the former unleashing a hail of submachine gun fire, the latter summoning three glyphs to launch fireballs. Ruby had chosen a strategy. Keep distance. Avoid Team ATMC's powerful Semblances. In terms of pure firepower, RWBY had ATMC beat. As long as they had room to maneuver and managed their space, they would come out all right. If all went well, the fight would be over after a single magazine.

And then Aqua yelled at her teammates.

"Do the thing!"

Tia leaped into action. The mad artist of Team ATMC dipped his Dust Brush into a large pile of blue Dust on his Palette weapon. It was one of the more unique weapons in Beacon, high reliant upon elemental Dust in lieu of traditional projectiles. Ruby recognized it would be a problem, but she thought she would be safe at her current range. Whatever Tia threw at her, she had plenty of time to prepare for. But Tia didn't aim at her at all. Instead, with brush in hand, he painted large swaths toward the ground, and the Dust transformed into sheets of thick ice at his feet. He painted fervently as soon as the round began, and by the time Ruby, Weiss, and Blake had taken their shots, there was more than enough ice for Aqua to make magic with. The insane ATMC leader lifted her arms, and the many sheets of ice suddenly raised into a mighty wall over a meter thick. The bullets pierced into its surface, but merely embedded themselves into its surface; even Weiss's fire balls were unable to do more than skim its surface.

Her vision obstructed, Ruby kept a steady flow of orders to her teammates. "Keep firing! Bring the wall down!"

The onslaught continued, but with every bullet that struck ATMC's defense, Ruby realized that the wall was growing thicker. Tia had brought nothing but ice Dust into the battle. With Aqua's Semblance allowing her to control water, he essentially provided her with limitless toys. Ruby couldn't see anything past the wall of ice now completely halving the arena. She thought of maybe clamoring on top of it to get a superior vantage, but she suspected Aqua's scheme wasn't done yet. They weren't going to hide forever. For now, they were firing blind.

"We got anything to knock that wall down?" Blake shouted over the gunfire.

Explosives? Had none. Fire? Weiss needed more Dust than she currently carried. Yang? Shit, of course Yang would be able to do it. They would crack the wall with ease. But that wasn't an option anymore. The only thing she knew for certain could break through that ice was…

No. She wasn't doing that. Absolutely not.

"Save your ammo," Ruby ordered, and her teammates halted. They stood back and readied themselves for what would come next. Ruby kept her eyes on the edges of the ice wall attuning herself to any sign of motion. If an attack would come, it would be lobbed over the sides. But she barely heard any sound at all from behind the ice. No matter how hard she strained, she saw only the opaquest shadows through the thick white, their movements imperceptible.

Then, she heard a cry—not from the arena itself, but from the audience.

"What is she doing?"

"She's going crazy!"

"Ruby! Ruby!"

The last voice was Yang, sitting front row within the audience. From their perspective, they could see everything, and the panic in their eyes was enough to make Ruby pay attention. They leaned over the guardrail and shouted.

"Get to higher ground!"

"W-What?" Ruby asked. Higher ground? There was no higher ground. It was a flat arena.

Yang pointed up at the sky. "Go up! Up!"

The ground began to tremble. Water started to pool around the base of the ice wall. Ruby could see the makings of a large shadow form. More screams and gasps from the audience. What the hell was she…

Wait…

"Weiss, lift us up."

Ruby's words were sudden.

"What?"

The dam broke.

The ice wall melted all at once, and in came a tidal wave, twenty feet high and foaming at its edges. Aqua road the wave. Her team were carried by the strong waters. It took an incalculable amount of Dust, more than she could afford, enough that she had to raid the closets of Atlas Academy just to get what she needed. The massive wave consumed the arena in a matter of seconds; it curled around the areas, forming a wall of ice at the boundaries of the grid. The wave only seemed to grow stronger, taller as it shot toward Team RWBY. Ruby's screams became desperate.

"Lift us up!"

Weiss acted as fast as she could. She drove Myrtenaster into the ground, embedding it into a glyph at her feet. The chambers revolved within her sword, clicking into place, and a new pillar of ice formed beneath her feet. It shot into the air, sending Ruby, Weiss, and Blake soaring up toward the ceiling. Ruby and Blake lost their balance, falling stomach first onto the cold, slippery surface, while Weiss focused all of her efforts on sending them higher, higher, higher. They rose nearly to the light fixtures hanging above the grids, stopping several yards short of the metal girders that held them in place. She could feel the heat searing into her skin, but kept her Dust creation secure. The pillar came to a halt just as the wave crested, crashing into the ice, foaming rippling over its surface and spilling over Ruby and Blake. Cold mist to the face started them back to their feet. Ruby gasped, scanning the arena around her.

Everything had been submerged under twenty feet of water. A solid wall of ice formed a basin around the arena's edge, chilling the air and trapping them very high off the ground. The water churned within the new boundaries, its cold waves threatening to drown whoever stepped within. Their pillar was narrow, barely large enough to fit the three of them. Definitely not large enough to fit all three of them and a fully extended Crescent Rose. From far below, the audience had lost its view of the battle, blocked by impenetrable ice. The most invested students scrambled for seats higher in the auditorium, hoping to peer over the frozen tub. Team JJWL didn't bother moving, deciding that the unpredictability added to the fun.

Team CFVY, nor Team JNPR, could move either, stricken with fear.

"Uh, what the hell is that?" Coco asked aloud. "Aren't these guys supposed to be losers?"

"Is that even legal?" Velvet questioned.

"They didn't drown, did they?" said Nora. "Like, they'd tell us if they drowned, right?"

"With Ironwood? Who knows," said Ren.

Deep in the front row, gripping the rails eve tighter, Yang gritted their teeth. "Come on guys. Please be okay…"

High above the arena, Ruby looked around for any escape. There was not an ounce of floor visible. They could drain the basin, but they had nothing to break the ice that thick. If they could, would it even drain in time? Ruby had to think of something. They were trapped in the middle of a frozen sea, with nowhere to move, all alone. Well, almost alone. The water burbled, and on the other side of the arena, where they had originally made their stand, Team ATMC emerged from the waters. A new platform of ice rose from the depths, and Team ATMC sputtered soaking wet as they gasped for air. All except Aqua, of course. Drenched from head to toe, blue hair faded as it clung to her face, her maniacal grin was as bright as the spotlights. She spread her arms and gestured to the landscape she had created.

"Like what I've done with the place?" she taunted. "I call it: Aqua's Lake of Doom. Pretty great name, right?"

No. It wasn't. Ruby thought it was a terrible name. Dammit, she couldn't even name things right. Her dislike of Aqua somehow grew even further. She pulled at her shirt, trying to unstick her sopping clothes from her chest. She considered putting a bullet right through Aqua's stupid face, but she couldn't position Crescent Rose without knocking her teammates into the water. Blake nervously pressed her back toward the center of the pillar, trying to avoid that fate.

"Uh, guys?" she said uncomfortably. "Would this be a bad time to mention that I don't know how to swim?"

Ruby grimaced. Of course, she didn't.

"What do you mean you can't swim?" Weiss asked, shocked. "You grew up on an island!"

"Where the beaches were polluted!" Blake countered. "Did you not notice how I never swam at the villa?"

"You couldn't have mentioned that at any other time?"

"When was I supposed to bring that into casual conversation? Wow, sucks we're being chased by a giant robot, but did you know I'm also an expert at drowning?"

"There were literally many other times you could have brought this up!" Weiss argued.

"I know, I'm just being defensive!"

"Focus!" Ruby ordered. They were not in the place to argue. The rest of Team ATMC had recovered from their dip under the sea, and they had regained control of their weapons. RWBY still had the distance, but the environment was lost. As much as Ruby hated to admit it—yeah, this was a pretty great plan on Aqua's part. She had engaged in some terraforming during her fight with Yang, but this was on a totally different scale. Somewhere, watching in the audience, Ozpin must have been flabbergasted. This stupid little nobody continued to one up the most manipulative team in Beacon. If Ruby wasn't desperately searching for a solution to her problem, and if she didn't despise Aqua this much, she might have even asked her for tips.

"All right, boys!" Aqua declared. "Phase Two. Make 'em suffer!"

Aqua jumped off of her ice platform, and landed onto the water. Her soles skimmed the surface, and then she took off, flying across the face of the sea like some murderous jetski. Jets of cold water were cast on either side of her as she closed the distance to Team RWBY, forming monstrous, misty wings. Her wings covered the actions of her teammates well, forcing Ruby to focus on the incoming threat. She shoved her way as close to the front of her platform as she could, extending Crescent Rose far in front of her. She aimed down the barrel, focusing on the flashy whites of Aqua's teeth. She took a spot, but Aqua launched herself high into the air, disappearing into the brights of the light fixture. With Team RWBY all collected in one spot, they were easy pickings. Aqua laughed as she pointed down her spear—and then suddenly flicked it upwards. Ruby tried to get another shot off, but as interrupted as the ice beneath her erupted.

The three members of Team RWBY were thrown into the air.

Ruby recovered most quickly, transforming into petals and flying toward the edge of the icy wall.

Weiss created a glyph on her descent, catching herself before she flew over the furthest edge of the chamber.

Blake's angle was the harshest, sending her nearly sideways. She had no way to recover before she was plunged into the icy waters.

Ruby touched down on the narrow wall of ice, nearly slipping and falling off the ledge. The ground beneath her feet was narrow, and she had o awkwardly cross her feet just to attempt to stay balanced. She turned back toward the waters and let out a hallowed cry.

"Weiss… Blake!"

The frantic splashing caught Ruby's attention. Blake struggled to stay afloat, splashing haphazardly in the middle of the artificial lake. Ruby could see the panic glow in her golden eyes as she desperately tried to keep her head above water. Ruby immediately prepped herself for takeoff, but she was interrupted as Aqua careened toward her from above.

"Where do you think you're going?" the blue demon screamed. She rode a cresting wave toward Ruby, and Ruby had to the shuffle out of the way along the barrier avoid getting swept off the side. The water splashed over the edge, raining droplets onto the stands below. Aqua landed effortlessly on the ledge, grinning sadistically. Balancing deftly, she pointed her spear at Ruby, eager to cut her to pieces. "Let's dance, motherfucker!"

Aqua lunged forward along the ledge, jabbing at Ruby repeatedly with her spear. Ruby braced herself as she deflected the blow, the wide swing of her scythe nearly causing her to lose balance and plummet. Aqua didn't let up. She jabbed again at Ruby, keeping her distance and her balance at the same time. Ruby swatted away the spear with each attempt, slowly backtracking along the thin, icy trail. Aqua thrust toward her head, but Ruby hooked the spear and redirected it into the water. Aqua's momentum pulled the weapon through like an oar, but she kept her feet planted on the ledge. As she pulled the spear free, she whipped around, and all the water that had been swept from the lake was pulled behind her. Aqua threw the water at Ruby's head, and Ruby braced herself with her scythe, digging its edge into the ice to keep her footing. She withstood the blast of icy water, teeth gritted, shivering against the brutal cold.

In the lake itself, Blake gasped for air. Her arms flailed, trying to grab any floating patch of ice to keep her afloat. The bitter water caused her muscles to seize. It splashed into her mouth, and she pathetically coughed it out. She felt herself begin to sink. There was no way she was dying like this. Not to these losers. As her head sunk beneath the water, her fingers grasped toward the ceiling…

But her savior came from beneath. She felt a sudden rush of power beneath her—a gravity glyph. Without warning, she was propelled out of the water, flipping through the air like a porpoise. The world seemed to slow down as she tumbled. She saw Ruby and Aqua battling on the razor's edge, and she saw Weiss, standing upon a flying whit glyph, sword pointed in her direction, her quick-thinking having save her life once again. Weiss's eyes motioned up to the ceiling, and in a split second, Blake understood. The assassin flung her grappling hook high into the air, and before she felt the icy plunge of the lake, it snagged on something within the light fixtures. The rope went taught, and Blake found herself suspended in mid-air, held aloft only by a tight grip on the hilt of her sword. She shivered, water still clinging to her sleeveless arms, chilling her to the bone.

"Blake, are you okay?" Weiss shouted.

"I'm f-f-f-fucking freezing!" Blake shouted back. She checked across the lake to see her opponents, and her jaw slacked open. "Oh, what the fuck?"

Mattis Brown. A nice, innocent boy who no one thought would amount to much of anything. But with a Semblance that let him stretch his limbs like rubber, he had some use cases where he was quite helpful. Like right now—with his arms stretched over ten feet long, he clung to the metal bars above and swung across them like a monkey. Each swing carried him high above the lake, allowing him to close the distance to Blake and Weiss. Blake had no means to defend herself, merely a dangling target to be swatted back into the lake below. Weiss aimed her sword at the swinging Huntsmen, hoping to knock him from his perch, but she heard Blake call to her in a panic.

"Weiss! Dodge!"

She did not.

An ice ball, launched from across the room by Tia and Cyrus, collided into her, sending her flying from her glyph. Blake tried to follow her as she skimmed across the water, but was forced to turn her attention back toward Mattis. Desperate as he drew closer, she flicked a switch on Gambol Shroud's handle. Mattis reached for her with a stretchy limb, but her rope retracted, and she was quickly pulled up into the rafters. Blake grabbed onto the scaffolding for dear life, and hurriedly climbed on top of it. Up in the rafters, she could feel the heat from the lights warm her up, loosening her muscles. She stood up atop the metal frame, looking down below toward the morphed battlefield. Ruby and Aqua were still dueling on the arena's edge. Weiss was nowhere to be seen through the metal. She needed to get back down there to help.

Actually, the rules said she was eliminated by touching the walls or floor. This… apparently didn't count? Neat.

What wasn't neat was seeing Mattis's fingers wrap around the scaffolding beneath her, and the little stretchy freak fling himself up to her level.

Blake fired a few shots toward him, but his rubbery frame slipped around the bullets as he ducked back beneath the scaffolding. Blake tried to trace his movements beneath her feet, taking potshots. He scuttled under her, swingingly wildly in different directions to throw her off. His nimble hand crept around the scaffold and grabbed at her leg, but she deftly jumped away. The little runt was smart. He couldn't beat her head-on. No way. So he was gonna hit her where she least expected it. He would pull her off the ledge and cast her into the water below, and he was safe from her attack underneath. All she could do was swipe at his fingers as he came near, and dodge along the narrow, slippery light fixtures.

Back in the lake, Weiss remerged from the lake, rising on a glyph like a life raft. She pulled damp strands of hair out of her eyes. She lay her focus onto Cyrus and Tia. The former's Seblance stuck like a craw in her brain: spewing toxic fumes. When combined with elemental Dust, it could take all manners of nasty forms. Right now, on the far side of the lake, the two were controlling the environment. Any attempt to move toward them would result in toxins to the face, and she didn't exactly have room to maneuver. Gods, if only she could use her chains without her head wanting to split open. It would have been perfect…

But dammit, she was Weiss Schnee. She was nothing if not creative, and she had grown far too reliant on her gift from the false gods. She would give them some classic Schnee innovation.

She twisted the hilt on Myrtenaster. Four glyphs materialized in front of her, spread wide over the lake. Each were angled toward each other at different heights. She knelt on the glyph beneath her, wiping freezing water out of her eyes. With her targets in the distance, she launched herself like a missile to the first glyph. Cyrus took a deep breath and spit his poisonous gunk. Tia waved his brush and sprinkled it with Dust.

A ball of frozen ice sailed past her face as she landed on the next glyph.

"Again, my sweet!" Tia cried. "Fire!"

Cyrus puffed out his cheeks, and another ball of toxic gas was spit in her direction. She took another leap, using the glyph as a momentum boost to launch across the lake. Her feet skimmed across the surface of the water as she avoided another frozen gas blast.

"Again! Again!"

Cyrus fired one spitball after another, hoping to knock Weiss clean out of the air. Yet, the heiress was too fast for the sluggish teen to keep up. She zoomed across the lake in wide, zigzagging motions, new glyphs opening up in front of her as she closed the distance. When she was within range, she drew back her sword, and made a final lunge toward the platform.

"You disgusting—whoa!"

Cyrus threw up a massive cloud of toxic gas in a wide net, creating a shield in front of him. Weiss summoned a glyph to stop herself before she collided with the cloud, and she froze in mid-air. Realizing she was a sitting duck, she acted instinctively, throwing herself into the lake. Her nimble frame dove beneath the deep waters. Cyrus and Tia glanced over the edge as she vanished from view.

"Uh, that seemed like a bad idea, no?" Tia asked.

"Yeah," said Cyrus. "It's cold down there."

"Very cold."

"Hope she knows how to swim."

Weiss did know how to swim. She also knew how to launch a surprise attack. Weiss erupted from the waters behind them, and Tia and Cyrus let out panicked screams as Weiss landed on the ice platform. She groaned in fury as the two helpless Huntsmen realized how absolutely fucked they were.

"Ahh! Not my face!" Tia screamed.

"Not his face!" cried Cyrus.

Weiss lunged toward them, sword drawn, aimed directly at Tia's face. She took a forward step to pierce them—and then slipped and fell directly onto her chest.

Ice, as it turned out, was slippery.

Ruby was learning the same lesson. Her dance with Aqua continued on the basin's edge, every movement threatening to send her tumbling off to the arena below. Aqua grinned maniacally at her as she repeatedly stabbed at her heart.

"What makes you think you're better than me, huh?" she asked with venom. "Cool merch? Good friends? What a bunch of fucking bullshit."

She swung aggressively at Ruby's head, knocking her on the back foot.

"It's always Team RWBY. Everything is about Team RWBY. You care so little about us, you think you can just bribe everyone into making you the center of attention, like a bunch of manipulative, evil jackasses!"

Another hard swing, powered by her hatred. Ruby wobbled as she struggled to stay balanced.

"You hog all the spotlight while the rest of us rot in your shadow. These dipshits love sitting in your shadow! But you can't buy me!"

Aqua dipped her spear into the water. A thick sphere of ice formed around its tip, turning her weapon into a massive, deadly sledgehammer.

"So go fuck yourself, ya dumbass bitchface!"

Aqua drove the hammer as hard as she could into Ruby's side, and there was little Ruby could do to counter it. Crescent Rose took the brunt of the impact, but the force was more than enough to send her spiraling off the edge of the basin.

She plummeted.

She plummeted hard.

This… this was not how it was supposed to go. Everyone was counting on them, and they had risked so much to get themselves into the Vytal Festival. Team ATMC was a joke, and yet, they were kicking their asses, their single-minded obsession with revenge paying off in spades. The worst part was… Aqua wasn't exactly wrong. They were being manipulative. They had preyed on the very real vulnerabilities of their fellow students, deprived them of a genuine opportunity that they would never get again, all so Team RWBY could take the spot in a tournament she wasn't even sure they could win. They were doing it all for a greater good, of course. Surely, no one could fault them for trying to save the world! But she wondered if Ozpin once thought the same thing, if he still thought the same. Bribes. Lying. Maybe she had pushed her luck a little too far. Maybe this was some kind of punishment. Maybe she was…

Wait a second.

Was she seriously reflecting on her actions while fighting Aqua?

Nah, screw that. She wasn't letting that whiny nothing of a Huntress lecture her about a damn thing. The fate of their entire race rested on her getting that Grail, and she was going to push every boundary she could to do it. Maybe sometime later, during a thematically appropriate time, she could consider the full extent of her actions, but now? She regretted nothing.

Well, almost nothing.

She regretted not kicking Aqua's ass yet.

Ruby swung Crescent Rose as she fell, its spiked end hitching into the icy wall. Ruby used her downward moment to swing up onto her weapon, balancing herself along its side. She pushed herself down, and like a spring, she launched herself back up the ice wall, transforming into a burst of petals as she flew toward her target. Aqua peered over the edge, curious to see if Ruby had fallen. Instead, she received a fist right to the jaw.

Aqua was knocked into the icy water as Ruby landed triumphantly on the ledge. She tensed her knuckles; Aqua had a strong jaw, her muscles strengthened by never shutting the fuck up. For now, however, she was incapacitated. She surveyed the battles ahead of her. Weiss, Tia, and Cyrus were all piled on top of each other, huddled on their narrow ice float. Every time one of them tried to attack, they slipped and fell back into a heap. Up in the rafters, Ruby couldn't see much through the blinding lights. She did notice the shadow of Mattis, elongated and bouncy, as it weaved around the scaffold, trying to find an opening to attack Blake. Ruby needed to get back in the action and start whittling away at ATMC's numbers.

Unfortunately, her thoughts were interrupted as a water tendril wrapped around her ankle. She screamed as she was dragged into the water.

Submerged, Ruby struggled to move. The chill was overwhelming, locking her body in place as if electricity was coursing through her. She could barely see in the deep blue. Air. She needed air. She pushed herself upward, but was caught off-guard by a sudden punch to the gut. Ruby's mouth was forced open, the last of her air seeping out of her. Aqua was on top of her, moving gracefully through the lake like a malicious salmon. She grabbed onto Ruby's throat and squeezed, locking eyes with the helpless Huntress. Aqua began to laugh, bubbles pouring out of her throat and rapidly rising to the surface. Her muffled cackles of glee filled Ruby's ears as her strength began to fade.

"Hey, stay still!"

"Ack! You fiend!"

"Unhand me!"

"Why are you talking like aahhhhh!"

Weiss was having as difficult a time as anyone. She, Tia, and Cyrus were currently taking the form of a human mountain, spilling on top of each other in horrid, uncomfortable ways. This wasn't what Weiss had in mind when she wanted to get in close. The ground was so slippery that even trying to crawl on all fours left her spiraling. What the hell did they smear on that ice? Oil? It was the slipperiest damn ice she had ever encountered, that was for sure! She just wanted to stab those putrid boys and be done with it, but she couldn't get an angle on them. Was this their master plan all along, to lure her into a slippery trap? Probably not. They were pretty stupid. But like, still, she hated it.

Tia tried to grab her from behind, wrapping his arms around her throat. "Aha! I've got you!"

He pulled her back into an arch, but he pulled too hard and fell back over on himself. Weiss fell on top of him and drove the hilt of her sword into his abdomen. Cyrus rockily rose to his feet and attempted to swing his sickles down upon her. She retaliated with a boot to his scrawny, sickly jaw. He nearly careened into the lake.

"Whoa! Close on!"

"Not close enough," Weiss growled. She jammed her sword again into Tia's side, and his arms fell limp beside her. At least these losers were weak. Maybe once she could stand probably, she could go and help— "Ruby!"

Weiss finally noticed Ruby's disappearance and hurried to her knees. She peered over the side of the ice platform and gasped in fear as she saw Ruby struggling beneath the surface. Aqua was going to drown her! She had to take action. She raised Myrtenaster and prepared to plunge it into the lake.

"No, you don't!"

Then, Tia decided to do something very stupid and grab onto the blade of her sword.

"What are you—"

Tia screamed through the pain. "Cyrus! Blast her!"

Weiss's head spun on a swivel. She was able to witness Cyrus sucking in as much breath as he could, before he decided to do something stupid as well. The distraction and the surprise were enough to catch her in a bad way.

"Dammit."

Cyrus expelled a cloud of smoke from his lungs, coating the entire platform in toxic gunk. Weiss tried to cover her mouth with her sleeve but was too late. She breathed in a lungful of poison and was quickly reduced to a sputtering mess. She felt the pain shooting up her chest and constricting her throat. She couldn't see anything past the mustard-colored haze surrounding her. Tia coughed beside her, also clogged by the fumes. Cyrus, however, went on the immediate offensive. He was able to balance himself for a single second, and that was enough time for him to knee Weiss in the gut. She rolled onto her back, struggling to make sense of anything in the fog.

She… she couldn't fail her team again.

Not like this.

Beaten by a bunch of low-class hooligans. Unable to throw a punch or use her powers.

It made her so damn furious.

A strange thought entered her mind as Cyrus drew his sickles back. What would Winter say if she saw her like this? You can't defeat these losers? How pathetic of you? Weiss had crawled through hell to get her sister back. She stood up to the strongest Huntress in their school, holding her own—screw that, she got a real victory over Pyrrha Nikos, even if it was in an unofficial capacity. She was so much better than this. Certainly better than these nameless fools.

So was she really going to give up so easily? Would she kneel before the stupid might of Team ATMC.

Never. Not when Ruby needed her.

Weiss felt a pulse of energy inside her. She lifted up her fingers to the sky. Something greater than her came forth…

Up on the rafters, Blake was struggling to keep up with Mattis. "Stop! Fucking! Moving!"

The rubbery teen obliged, just not in the way she hoped. He suddenly leaped on top of the scaffolding and swung at her with his Morningstar. The spiked tip narrowly missed her head as she ducked its heavy blow. She countered with a slash to his torso, but he dodged away effortlessly, simply bending his chest backward to weave around the sword.

"God, your fucking Semblance grosses me out so much!" Blake groaned.

Mattis frowned. "That's… that's really mean."

"It's meant to be mean!" Blake shouted, swinging again at his curly-haired head. He ducked her blow, dipping his head into his neck like a turtle.

"Well, that sucks. I mean, I think I'm a pretty decent guy," Mattis sighed.

"I don't know anything about you!"

"Then that's less of a reason to insult me!"

"I don't know, I'm under a lot of stress, okay!" Blake admitted, punctuating each failed strike with an explanation. "I'm freezing. I'm soaking wet. I'm really high up in the air. The headmasters hate me. I just hooked up with my friend who I have a really complicated past with. A lot of shit is going on!"

Mattis found an opening in Blake's attack but didn't even attempt to counterstrike. He just scratched his head. "That… wow, yeah, that does sound like a lot."

"It is a lot! Now let me hit you!" Blake roared. She swiped viciously at his head. He swooped beneath the frame, swung a few rungs beneath her, and popped out on the other side.

"Have you considered therapy?" he suggested. Blake spun around, furious.

"I'm in therapy!"

Mattis smiled. "Oh, that's good to hear. You know, I actually suggested Aqua go get some therapy last year. She was just angrily ranting every single day and it was definitely causing her some mental health problems. Unfortunately, I don't think she took to it very well. Some people just bounce off that stuff, which is kind of ironic when you think about it. A person who has difficulty opening up is the kind of person that needs therapy the—"

And everything suddenly came to a halt.

There was a blinding light and a crash of thunder.

Mattis looked up to the ceiling in shock.

Blake looked up to the ceiling in shock.

There was a giant-ass toad sitting up on the rafters with them.

Poor Large George didn't know what it was doing, summoned in such a confined space. Usually, it was summoned in a big open field with lots of room to hop about. The rafters were dark and cramped, and the engineers hadn't built the rig to support the weight of however-many-ton frog resting on top of it. Time seemed to freeze as Blake stared into its beady little black eyes.

"The fuck, Weiss—"

The ground collapsed under the toad's weight.

Metal supports, bright lights, and cables all broke at once, the loud groan like a metallic screech as the arena was torn apart. Blake instinctively threw Gambol Shroud's blade into the ceiling, wedging it into the roof. She held on for dear life as the scaffold caved beneath her. Mattis was much less lucky. He fell screaming down toward the lake, the giant toad falling right behind him. Luckily for Mattis—or very much unluckily—he did not have to worry about hitting the water, since Large George took one look at the scrumptious lad, shot out its sticky tongue, and ensnared its rubbery treat. Mattis was yanked into George's gullet, where its slimy throat would serve as excellent cushioning as the toad bellyflopped into the lake.

The resulting tidal wave was tremendous. Nearly a third of the water was displaced as George sank like a stone, and the audience screamed as the freezing waves were cast directly toward them. A few of the unlucky ones got wet, but the real carnage occurred within the basin. It turned out having a giant toad crash into a tub of water would lead to serious consequences. On the surface, the patch of ice Tia and Cyrus stood on was overcome with a massive wave. The toxins were washed clean, and the two members of Team ATMC were flung far away, sailing over the edge of the ice basin. The couple screamed as they were cast overboard, descending with the waterfall. Weiss was blown back by the force of the impact, cast over the side as well—but her wits were sharp. She desperately thrust her sword, and in the froth of the waves, the point made impact to the wall. Her momentum was halted, and she was left dangling over the basin's side, shivering but unharmed. She coughed out the last bits of toxic fumes as her head began to clear.

Battling within the water, Aqua and Ruby were distracted by the sight of a giant toad plunging to the depths next to them. They felt a rush beneath them, water trying to quickly fill the empty space left above. It wasn't enough to propel them out of the lake, but it was enough to give Ruby a distraction. She grabbed tightly onto Aqua's shoulders and gritted her teeth. Aqua's cocky smile vanished. All of her vanished; she and Ruby transformed into a swirl of red and blue rose petals, whipping icy water around them like a whirlpool. They quickly rose back to the surface, exploding out of the water in a purple spout of petals and waves. The crowd gasped at the dazzling sight before the two split apart, each sailing in a different direction. Ruby gasped for breath, finally free. As they broke apart, Ironwood's growling voice crackled over the loudspeakers.

"Mattis Brown, Tia Arancia, and Cyrus Cedarman have been eliminated."

Aqua's eyes shot open.

No.

No.

Nononononononononononononononononoononononononononononononono.

No.

Nuh-uh.

No.

No way.

Not a chance.

No.

No.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo—

She crashed back into the water, sinking like a stone. She screamed, her muffled cries turning the surrounding water to ice.

No no no no no no.

That cunt. That stupid fucking frog cunt and her fucking cunt frog. Maybe it was a toad and not a frog, but regardless, it was a cunt and so was she! They were ruining everything. Her plan, her beautiful, vengeful plan was falling to pieces, all because of those magical bitches and their special magical powers. Those rotten monsters were taking everything from her again, and they truly thought they could use their special little gifts they got by doing god bullshit and rob her of her destiny. She was Aqua Lilliota! The Blue Demon! Queen of the Motherfuckers! She didn't need to go on secret missions every other week to be important, or befriend robots who would constantly betray and disappoint her, or get in bed with billionaires, or party at a beach villa, or enter a mystical, ancient Vault where she uncovered the secrets of Humanity. How did she know those parts? She didn't. Totally random guesses. But like, it sounded cool. But regardless, she didn't need to do any of that. Do you know how Aqua was special? She had a big fucking personality, and an even bigger fucking Semblance, and an even biggest fucking mouth.

She was going to make them pay. She was going to make them suffer. She would win. And then she'd go to the Vytal Festival or whatever.

Ruby floated to the edge of the basin. She sunk beneath its edge and grabbed onto Weiss before flying her back to the top. They stood atop the thin patch of ice, staring at the reduced pool.

"Well, that was convenient," Ruby sighed. "You okay?"

Weiss nodded. Summoning George gave her a nasty headache, but she was still conscious, so she would live with it. The battle was almost finished anyway.

"Yeah. Should probably get him out of George's mouth though," Weiss stated. She pointed to the pool. In its center, dropping further and further to the bottom, was her beloved summoned toad, still with a student in its mouth. George didn't seem to mind sinking to the bottom of the lake—especially as the water level slowly sunk with him. It took Ruby a moment to notice, but when she finally did, it caused her some concern. The water was steadily dropping, or more accurately, it was getting sucked away. A single blue spot on the opposite side of the lake was pulling all the water toward it. The water floated above her like two great angelic wings that only increased in size every moment, and before a full minute had passed, all of the water in the basin had been sucked dry. Large George sat back on the gridded arena floor, dripping but otherwise unaware of what had transpired. Ruby and Weiss stood high upon the ice wall, looking down at Aqua.

"You fucking pieces of shit!" Aqua screamed. She clenched her fists. "You won't win this! You will never win!"

"Give it up, Aqua!" Ruby shouted back. "Your whole team is eliminated. You don't have a chance!"

"We'll see about that!" Aqua screamed. The wings of water began to drift toward Aqua, encompassing her arms. It soaked into her skin, and she reveled in the power it gave her. She stuck out her hands, and giant orbs of water formed within her palms. Those bitches wanted a chance? They would get a chance? She didn't need her teammates anyway. They were a bunch of useless scrubs who only got in the way of her destiny.

The orbs of water grew bigger and bigger. Everything she had, everything she was, she would put into this final strike.

She thought about her mom, her dad, and all the friends and enemies she made along the way. She thought about the fun adventures she had gone on, and the numerous highly creative, dark, and twisted story arcs she got to be a part of. Everything had built to this one moment. Her glory. Her ultimate, worthwhile victory that would make the entire arena burst into cheers. This would be the day she was waiting for. It was time to say goodbye to Team RWBY, and when they fell, she could finally just live.

This would be her triumph.

Something something rising something trusting love every life something inside something.

Ruby and Weiss braced themselves for a final attack, whatever it may be.

Aqua screamed at the top of her lungs the name of the move she came up with all by herself.

"Team RWBY Ultra Murder Death Attack!"

She thrust out her hands—and then noticed the shadow falling on top of her. She looked up too late to stop Blake Belladonna from falling directly on top of her, crushing her in one fell swoop.

The great water wings fell into tiny little puddles.

Ruby and Weiss dropped their guards.

Blake groaned, lying in a heap on top of Aqua, who was kind enough to cushion her fall.

A dull silence fell over the entire arena.

Was… was that it?

Really?

Eventually, Ironwood's voice came over the loudspeaker. He was audibly heartbroken.

"Aqua Lilliota has been eliminated. Team RWBY… wins the match."

A victorious cry cracked through the silence. Yang threw up their arms and screamed as loud as they could. "Let's fucking goooooooo!"

And then came the rest of the flood. Nora jumped out of her seat and hollered like a mad woman. Coco began applauding, leaning back confidently in her chair. And then the other students joined in celebrating. They may have been soaking wet and could barely follow the action, but they knew what a Team RWBY victory meant. Healthcare. Retirement benefits. A better future. And while they may not have cared if Team RWBY did well in Vytal, they definitely cared about those things. They jumped up and high-fived, hugging each other in joy.

Ruby stood quietly atop the ice wall. She almost couldn't believe it. The sounds of cheers were like a beating drum, motivating her, filling her with life after nearly drowning. Weiss smiled at her. Blake flashed her a thumbs up from the ground as Aqua groaned in defeat beneath her.

Yeah… this was happening.

They had done it. Without Fable powers, without Yang… without Rosaline.

Team RWBY had just won their way into the Vytal Festival.

In the shadowed entranceway, Ozpin watched in bitter silence. His plan had been spoiled, or perhaps it had been doomed from the very start. Team RWBY had defied his expectations yet again, and now they were closer than ever to obtaining the corrupting power of the Grail. His fate—the fate of the world—now rested in the capable hands of Team JJWL. Ozpin watched them from afar. They did not react to RWBY's victory. They simply nodded in silence, eager to accept the new challenge. They were all that stood between RWBY, their friends, and limitless power. Well… almost all. He may have had a trick or two left up his sleeve. The Vytal Festival would be long and arduous, with many pieces to be set in motion.

He turned and left the arena in silence, flanked by a cloaked Glynda Goodwitch, who hissed curses under her breath. Team RWBY had won the battle. He would ensure they wouldn't win the war.

But for now, the battle was worth celebrating, and Ruby did that. She pulled Weiss in for a giant hug, and with the knowledge that she was out of view of the audience, gave her a big smooch on the lips. Weiss sank into her embrace, and the two spun around, dancing on the ice. On the ground, Blake threw her head back and sighed, glad to be back on solid land. From the stands, Yang cheered on their friends, eagerly awaiting the chance to prove themselves in battle.

It had been a long journey. But they made it. Team RWBY was in the Vytal Festival, and Team JNPR and Team CFVY were right beside them. They would fight. They would struggle. They would wage war for their happily ever after. But they would win. They had to.

At least, one of them would...

---

The Pain of ABRN

Blood dripped from her knuckles. Her bare soles moved frictionlessly against polished wood floors, her knees locking into place. She stood wide, rooted firmly to the world beneath her. Her robed chest rose and fell as the sun and moon did, slow and calculated, unchanging with the troubles of the world. A lion's mane of blonde hair was swept back out of her golden eyes.

She stared down the barrel of a gun. She held her hand out in front of her, printless fingertips pointed at the metal, reaching out toward the possibility. She felt the pain shoot through her bloody palm, through the heavy wound on her shoulder. She breathed as steadily as she did when she slept. She did not blink. Her upper lip trembled very slightly, but she told herself this time would be different.

This time, she was going to catch it.

The first weapons Humanity ever learned to use were its fists. As it crawled out of the muck, beset upon by monsters on all sides, it used its fingers to pry apart its prey. Its palm and forearm were its shields, its knuckles its most cherished weapon, never at fear of failing or falling away. When Humanity discovered its Aura, it learned it was more than another animal. With its Semblances, it could shake the very laws of nature itself, folding reality to its whims. But over thousands of years, the techniques that made Humanity valuable were displaced. Dust. Guns. Bombs. An infinite parade of technological "wonders" that corrupted the blood, stripped dignity from combat and turned Humanity into a slave of itself.

The Solemn Faith cursed modern technology—the few to understand the truth. A proper warrior did not need a weapon with a million forms, nor did they need to defile the world to mine Dust. With fist, Aura, and Semblance alone, they could defeat any opponent. They told her from a young age to push past the boundaries of what she perceived to be possible, to spend every waking moment training, studying, and honing her skills into something perfect. Their way was shunned by the world at large. But she was going to prove them all wrong soon. She would be the greatest weapon of all.

As soon as she could catch a bullet.

A muzzle flash, a crash of thunder—and she felt a bullet ripple through her bicep.

Her stance broke. She stumbled back, clutching at her wound. Blood pooled beneath her fingers as they massaged the torn flesh. She felt no exit wound. It was still inside.

"Again."

The monk's instruction was clear. She gritted her teeth, flexed her muscles, and dug her fingers into her flesh. Digging through her tissue, she quickly found the revolting, foreign object and pulled it free. She tossed it onto the ground and flooded the wound with Aura. A normal Huntress's Aura would take up to two days to heal a bullet wound. She could do it in ten minutes now.

But she didn't have time for that. Vytal loomed around the corner. She reassumed her stance and reached toward the gun, fingers extended outward.

For Arslan Altan, pain was her greatest teacher.

…

He rested on his surfboard. His chest law flat against foam. Sun streaked down his pitch-black hair. Gentle splashes of sea foam lapped his knuckles. The air was thick with the smell of salt.

A wave rolled toward the beach. Vacuo's western shore had the best waves, but this one was inferior. It crashed before it reached him, water rolling beneath his belly. It hit the shore upon low, mountainous rocks. He sighed. Another one would come in eventually. He rotated onto his back and let the midday sun caress his cheek.

Two-week vacation? Shade Academy was the best. Not everyone took the opportunity, but his team had splintered off into their separate ways, living life as it came to them. Headmaster Theodore wanted them well-rested before Vytal, and this is where he chose to spend his time. The hollow was mostly abandoned, and while he missed the chatter, it merely meant he could spend time with the few, mellow thoughts that drifted between his ears. He would crest and fall with the waves, one with the universe.

Would a new wave form to sweep him off his feet? Part of him hoped so, but then again… wasn't it nice just lying in the ocean? He could hear the seagulls squawking in the distance. It was supposed to rain later in the afternoon. Maybe he would stay out and see if he could spot storm clouds over the horizon. Hopefully, his fingers wouldn't prune too badly. But hey, whatever happens, happens. Right?

His surfboard rose and fell with the gentleness of the waves. No surfing today, it seemed.

Should he train? He doubted it would do much good now. Vytal was right around the corner. If he started training, what new skills would he learn? He was never much for training to begin with. Training was more likely to reinforce strict movement patterns. Studying opponents just left him unprepared for when they tried something new. He preferred to go with the flow, taking each battle as it came to him. It had worked out so far. Maybe it had a short shelf life, but that was okay, too. He didn't want to win Vytal. Not like the others. If he fell in the first round, he could live with that. Another opportunity would come along eventually.

He picked his head up, looking out onto the ocean. Maybe he would just let the current carry him away, far, far away. That wouldn't be so bad either. He would like living out at sea, catching fish as they swam by him, bathing in the sun forever. He could swim as long as he wanted. No deadlines. No teammates. Just the ocean. Just a fleeting existence.

He spotted a new wave forming in the distance. The biggest so far. He began to paddle toward it. He looked forward to riding it and hopefully not drowning. But hey, everything came with risks. He would just give it his best, and everything would turn out fine.

For Bolin Hori, pain was what it was.

…

She stood in the middle of an empty suburban street. Beneath her arm, a black and green hoverboard lay ready for action. She plunged her hands into her hoodie, teal eyes following the path. It sloped at a steep angle, rocketing up fifty degrees. Beyond the ramp, nearly twenty cars were laid out, door-to-door. It took a lot of convincing to let her neighbors give her their cars. She promised they would return in one piece. She was maybe eighty percent confident she was telling the truth.

Her parents told her not to do this. They also told her she shouldn't become a Huntress, and where did that get her? They wanted her to be a good little girl, go to law school, and make safe and easy money—she had a great understanding of insurance, after all. But there was no fun in that. She didn't want to waste her life like the rest of her neighborhood kids. What was the point of living at all if you spent it hating every moment? Deep down, her parents agreed. Otherwise, they wouldn't be filming her, watching her alongside a dozen other parents and kids hoping to see her soar—or crash and burn.

She tossed the hoverboard to the ground. Without any visible propulsion, it flew, sharp, bladed edges pointed toward the ramp. On its back, small boosters had been attached, loaded with Fire Dust.

She turned to the camera, raised her fist, and stuck out her tongue. "Let's frickin' go!"

Jumping onto the hoverboard, it erupted. Flames spurted out behind her as it launched her down the street. The audience cheered on her foolish antics. She wobbled only slightly as she tried to keep balance. The ramp was rapidly approaching. Faster. Faster.

She was going to fly.

The boosters gave out as she hit the ramp, Dust extinguished. She leaned back, and as she leaped, she tumbled through the air. The crowd gasped as she soared, and she smiled back at them. A little street punk flying like a god.

She passed over one car.

Two.

Three.

Four…

Oh fuck, she was nowhere close to making it, was she?

The hoverboard flew away. A teal glow flickered over her body. Her smile didn't fade.

She called it Crash Test Dummy. A state of near-invincibility—at the cost of being able to control her limbs. The crowd watched her ragdoll through the air like some wildly thrown toy, before she crashed hard into the windshield of the seventh car. It crumpled beneath her, and the hood bounced as she ricocheted off it, tumbling onto the floor. The impressed gasps were replaced with a blaring car alarm. As she was splayed out onto the floor, her parents put down the video camera and rushed to her side. They screamed her name as she lay motionless.

When they eventually turned her over, they saw her smiling at them, unable to move even the muscles in her face. Her body flickered with Aura, and suddenly, the life returned to her. They checked her over for scratches, but they would find none. Didn't make it hurt any less.

She glared at them.

"Why did you stop recording? That was amazing."

For Reese Chloris, pain was a thrill.

…

Bleed and weep.

Sin and suffer.

Grow strong. Stay true. Do not wilt in the face of punishment.

He kneeled at the altar, shirt removed. Dark thin was firmly pulled over tight muscle, formed through years of diligence. His pink hair was pulled tightly into a bun. He bowed his head, deep in meditation. Smoke from burning incense filled the room, and his dour face was lit only by candlelight. A sword was lay at his knees, parallel to the mat.

His Scroll also lay next to him. He had opened an article from Modern Huntsman. It was a terrible mistake.

Team ABRN: An Overview of the Unique Team Leading Shade's Sophomores.

Number 4.) Nadir Shanko—not likely to progress past the first round. With a weak Semblance and uninteresting weapon, one has to wonder how a generic Huntsman made it to a top team in Vytal…

Generic.

Huntsman.

Generic.

Huntsman.

Why care what some stupid journalist thought? She was highly uneducated, writing a stupid article for clicks. He was a trained swordsman, a master of the blade. His skills had been polished to a mirror sheen. He was on this team because he earned his place, fighting alongside his teammates side by side through every trial and tribulation. It literally did not matter what this journalist thought of his abilities.

Really, it didn't.

She was a nobody seeking to gain clicks off his names, but he didn't care about clicks. He cared about the honor of fighting.

Which he would do beyond the first round.

Seriously, who would think he couldn't make it past Round One? His technique was perfect. He could make it all the way to the finals—he would make it. No could. Would. Definitely would. He would cut through his opponents like butter.

And then she would have to write an article about how wrong she was.

That was how it worked, right? Not that he would read it. He didn't read those clickbait articles. He only read the scrolls of those who came before him, the works of masters in the art of combat. He wasn't some nobody.

But he didn't care if she thought he was a nobody. He didn't care at all. There was too much else to concentrate on. Arslan was training for the fight ahead, burning herself out. Bolin and Reese were undoubtedly goofing off, wasting time on something foolish. He would rest and build his body into a sacred temple, one that was in pristine condition for the many, many—as in more than one—battles ahead of him.

He closed out the page, and turned off his Scroll, casting the article away.

He kneeled deep in thought.

Several minutes later, he opened his Scroll, went to his search history, and pulled the article right back up.

For Nadir Shanko, pain was an old friend.

---

The Strength of BRIR

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was the best fighter in the world.

They called her a prodigy among Huntresses. She was quick, strong, and adaptable, brave, loyal, and kind. They put all of their hopes on her shoulders, and she carried them with pride. With two golden swords and a Semblance that let her counter any technique, she defeated challenger after challenger. She became the leader of a glorious team, one feared throughout the Kingdom of Mistral. In time, they became her closest friends, and she led them as well as any leader could dream.

Through tournaments, they conquered. Undefeated, they broke barriers, their golden leader carrying them to victory time and time again. The headmaster had such faith in their abilities she let them into the wild, allowing them to train and study with true Huntsmen and Huntresses. Throughout the years, they grew stronger. Closer. But despite their pride, they never lost their way. They would never falter, cheat, or violate their oaths. They would be the purest Huntresses they could be. And she would be their shining example, a beacon to guide them toward the best version of themselves.

She was a prodigy. She was unstoppable. And then, suddenly, she wasn't.

But that was a long time ago.

The Branwen Tribe. Once, they used to be feared. A band of merciless bandits, they scoured Southern Mistral, robbing families, stores, and even entire towns. Huntsmen who attempted to go after them were left impaled on spikes as warnings. But time hadn't been kind to the Branwen Tribe. Their leaders died, replaced with constant infighting that broke the Tribe into smaller factions. Many of their would-be strongest warriors left the family, seeking greener pastures in an honest life. These days, they were forced to higher outsiders from the broader Mistran underworld to sustain their numbers, and their activities dwindled in scope as other crime syndicates took hold of the Kingdom. In battles between birds and SPIDERS, the once proud Tribe never stood a chance. Yet, that wasn't to say they weren't dangerous; their desperation had reduced them to savagery, and many career Huntsmen weren't risking their lives against such ruthless enemies for a pittance of a reward. But for a group of students with something to prove… they were easy pickings.

The camp was small, surrounded by thin woodlands. Thirteen total men, each with a submachine gun strapped to his filthy waist. Six tents. A single watchtower was on the south side. The perimeter was made of a thin wall of freshly chopped logs. In the camp's center was a massive bonfire, where four members sat around eating chips and drinking booze. In one of the tents was a stack of electrical equipment. Monitors. Radios. One bandit was inside there. Sitting outside the tent was the cache: stolen medical supplies from a local town. Mostly vaccines, but also ointments, painkillers, and disinfectants. They were all piled on top of each other, towering six feet high.

From the shadows, four young Huntresses watched, going over their strategy one last time. At sundown, when the guards changed their shift, they would strike.

The sun set beneath the trees, casting the sky in an orange haze. The bandit on the watchtower began his descent down the ladder. The bandits by the fire were distracted by their drunkenness. In some ways, it was far too easy.

The first strike came from the shadows. A long, green whip reached out of the tree line, its thorny surface wrapping around the neck of the watchtower bandit. It squeezed his throat and silenced him, and he was yanked out of the encampment in pure silence.

The next came as a distraction. A loud knock registered outside the perimeter, enough to catch the four by the bonfire off-guard. Realizing the lookout was missing, they assumed he had gone out to piss and stumbled somewhere out of sight. Two of them left the camp to search for their missing friend. They were quickly ensnared in vines and dragged off into the forest, snuffed out with not a scream. When they didn't return after several minutes, the remaining two bandits by the fire stumbled into the wilderness as well. Their fate was the same.

The next step was to disable their reinforcements. The attack came from beneath. A bandit inside his tent was sleeping when he was awoken by a sharp tug on his back. He let out a shocked cry his sleeping back was suddenly pulled into the earth with him inside it, phased through the dirt without so much of a trace. A shadow ran beneath the ground to the next tent. Two more bandits were fast asleep. One was quickly sucked into the earth, vanishing beneath the floor. However, that was where the first mistake was made. His scream of panic awoke his partner. Startled at seeing his friend disappear beneath the dirt, he let out a bloodcurdling scream that alerted the rest of the camp. The remaining bandits came pouring out of their tents, scrambling toward the center of the camp. The shadow moved quickly beneath them, but could not ensnare them before they had successfully armed themselves.

Their attempt at stealth had been a failure, but with only six bandits left, it hardly mattered. They launched the next phase of their attack.

"My turn!"

A fierce, wild cry shot out from the forest. The bandits pressed their backs to each other, each aiming their guns in a different direction in the forest. They decided to stand their ground—a terrible mistake when the perimeter suddenly burst into flames. A brilliant orange fire spread rapidly around the outside of the camp, trapping the bandits within. It spread to their tents, their radios, and their food, burning everything to cinders faster than any natural flame should have. The bandits fired their shots wildly into flames, hoping to strike down their attackers through sheer luck. But luck was never going to cut it.

They descended on the bandits all at once: four powerful warriors bursting from the ground and falling from the sky. The final attack was quick and efficient, and as the bandits looked up at their attackers, they recognized their faces. Anyone in Mistral could tell their names and their stories, the reputation they had written in blood and fought honorably to protect. In that moment, they should have realized it was over. The four Huntresses rained down hell.

A monster of flames and wild red. A Semblance to embolden any fire in her vicinity to burn without limit. With a giant flamethrower on each arm, she torched the world, laughing with glee as she set her enemies alight. Roane Ashwood—the Demon from Argus.

A studious and brutal master of whip and vine. With plants under her control, she ensnared and coiled, sliced and swallowed. Strict and cunning, with green-yellow eyes that could pierce steel. Ivy Thickety—the Venus.

The younger. Hair of orange and oversized goggles. Two giant drill gauntlets fitted to either hand. She swam through the earth like a shark through the sea, smiling as she lived among the dirt and debris. Her innocent cheers when she defeated an opponent were overshadowed by her shortcomings. Ruda Tilleroot—the Sweet.

And then the leader, emerging last from the fire. Hair of whipped bleach blonde, and a glorious cape thrown over her shoulders. Two swords of cracked gold that had pierced through more bodies than she could count. A Semblance that allowed her to copy that of another. She bore the mark of her team on her face: a spiral of bramble, tattooed on her jaw in commitment to their mission together. She was the best to ever do it—and now, she had come for them. The Legend. The prodigy. Bianca Prisma.

Maybe it was unfair to the bandits after all. Team BRIR had never lost a battle as a team, at least never in an official match. They made such quick work of the lonely, loser men that it was less a battle and more a curb stomp. The submachine guns were whipped or melted out of their hands. They were knocked off their feet by Roane's power and Ruda's drills, choked by Ivy's vines, and had their arms slashed by Bianca's blades. In the fire, in the heat and chaos, they were powerless against Team BRIR's onslaught. It took under a minute for them to be defeated, bound, and depowered, left bleeding but alive to see justice properly brought by their victims.

When the battle ended, the flames died down as well. The four young Huntresses stood proudly amidst the ashes, another real-world mission under their belt. A few of them had lost track of how many of these they had done. The important thing to remember was that it was never enough.

"Good work, ladies," Bianca said proudly, clipping her swords to her belt. "The supplies from the village look untouched. Good fire control, Roane."

The demon cockily placed her hands on her hips. "You know it."

"And Ruda…"

The youngest among them nervously touched the tips of her drill hands together. "Y-Yes?"

"You were a lot faster with sinking those bandits than you were last time. Good job."

Ruda tried to smile, but Ivy suddenly cut her off by grabbing onto her arm. "Hold on, what are you so happy about? You alerted them to our presence!"

"S-Sorry," Ruda stuttered. "I was just trying to—"

"If there are two enemies in close proximity, you have to take them out together," Ivy said firmly. "Otherwise, you are just going to cause them to panic."

Roane sighed. "Lay off her, Ivy. She did well."

"She was supposed to go for the weapons first anyway," Ivy stated. "We had to reveal ourselves. If one of us got shot—"

"That's enough, Ivy."

Bianca raised her voice, and it was all it took to force Ivy's retreat. She released her hold on Ruda and grumbled to herself as she checked on the bandits' restraints. Ruda didn't relax, however. She slipped off one of her drill gauntlets and sheepishly ran her fingers through her orange locks. Bianca steadily approached her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Hey. You did fine, Ruda," she insisted. "But let's go over combat priorities again tomorrow. I think we could all use a refresher."

Ruda nodded shamefully. Bianca smiled at her, but the sadness was apparent. It said what had been on all of their minds for months: she wasn't ready yet. Bianca would never say it outright. Ruda was confident in that if nothing else. She would get a second chance, and a third, and maybe infinite more, but until she was flawless, it would never be good enough. They had won the day, but the possibility of failure was enough to break her spirits.

Well, at least only her spirits. Roane excitedly wrapped an arm around Ruda's shoulder, grinning wickedly.

"Lighten up, ladies. We just stopped some bandits!" she said cheerfully. She tipped down her sunglasses, bright red eyes blazing with temptation. "Hey… think the bandits got any more booze lying around?"

"No drinking," Bianca said simply. "We have to return these supplies to Ikari Village, and get the rest of these bandits to the authorities."

Roane rolled her eyes. "Boooo. Buzzkill," she moaned ironically. "Ruda, can you help me take stock of what they have?"

"Of course," Ruda said, eager to make herself useful. She and Roane sauntered to the tower of supplies, leaving Bianca to survey the damage.

The leader of Team BRIR crossed her arms. Burning tents. Defeated bandits. A town saved. A year ago, she would have been elated. Hungry. Now, it just felt slightly hollow. As she watched her teammates tend to their tasks, she was forced to reckon with the fact that something was… missing. She tried not to be too mad about Ruda's mistake. How many mistakes did they all make when they started? But little failures could slowly build into mountains, and they had already fallen from enough peaks.

Maybe it was knowing that it was all building to nothing. The Vytal Festival was fast approaching, and she couldn't be there to carry her friends when they stumbled. Or maybe it wasn't really them she was concerned about. Yes, it really could have been that, still on her mind. That catalyst for everything. She smiled despite herself.

God, how embarrassing was that? The Prodigy, shaken with doubt over seeing her again.

She tried to let go of her fears. Everything would be okay. This was meant to get her ready, to get them all ready for the battles ahead. If they could face the wild, if they just worked hard, they could climb back to the peak. They could be whole again—or as close to whole as they could be without her.

Team BRIR would be all right. She would tell herself that as many times as she had to before it became true.

---

There was something so beautiful about a plan coming together.

She had long thought her compassion was dead. The world had snuffed it out. Betrayal was her closest companion for so long that extending mercy to another seemed to be an act of mockery. But she had to admit, she took pity when the poor thief entered her door. She gave her food, water, and medicine. She had those goons whip up an artificial eye for her—it did not match, but she did not complain. She let the thief sleep on a pillowy bed with a full belly every night.

She didn't have to do any of that. She only needed her for her skills, and the thief was more than eager to provide.

Tap tap tap went the little keyboard, and that was it.

The Atlasian firewall was a joke. Their systems had already been penetrated, and with the bug already in place, it was effortless to gather the information she needed. How delightful it was when they played their little roles. She listened to their secrets spoken in hushed tones and jotted them down in her grey matter. They spilled themselves for her, their insecurities open and festering. They gave her everything she could have ever wanted.

How wonderful when a plan came together.

The witch woman thought she was dead. For someone with a limitless reserve of power, she was lacking in wisdom. Maybe that was the trade-off she accepted when she took the poisoned fruit from her master. The blow had failed to do its job, and the witch played the rest of her part well. She warned Ironwood of a potential intruder, terrified for the safety of the Vault. She was coming for the prize within. She had to be stopped. And sweet, paranoid Ironwood happily obliged. She never could have defeated the Maiden on her own. But the robot? Well, it seemed more than capable, and if it failed, the elimination of Ironwood's toy would have been all the sweeter.

But then Team RWBY got involved. And like a dream, they gave her everything she could ever want. The Maiden: destroyed. The Vault: emptied. The Holy Grail… out in the open. Ripe for the taking.

Of course, there was the hitch. The Vytal Festival. But fate had already found a funny way of working through that problem.

"How are you going to get to Vytal?" the thief asked her. "They'll recognize you immediately."

She wished she could have taken a photograph of her face when the mask came off. Those widened red eyes were precious.

"Y-You? But that's…"

"Impossible? Trust me… you can't even comprehend what's possible?"

"Do you really think they'll let you in? Won't they wonder where you've been all this time?"

She just smirked at her. "Let me in? I already have an invitation…"

---

The Rise of MNSS

One of the more popular late-night talk shows in Mistral was Happy Hour with Chanden McMichael, currently in its eleventh season and running strong. A fixture of the eleven o'clock political comedy scene, it was often a top broadcast for the coveted eighteen-to-forty-nine demographic. Its non-controversial yet often left-of-center political leanings gave it a safe repertoire of jokes while never advocating for anything particularly groundbreaking or worthwhile. Chanden McMichael's long career as a television writer gave him a sharp wit yet casually disarming persona that allowed the viewer to relax into the ease of celebrity and skit, always delivering shows that were, at the very least, decent—with the occasional "must-watch" segment that would be forgotten about in two weeks. It was, in a word, comfortable.

Neptune Vasilias was very much the opposite of comfortable.

It wasn't because it was unfamiliar territory. He had been invited on late night once before to excellent effect, and he was prepared. A sharp, navy polo shirt and jeans gave the impression of "formal, but high school kid formal, like you can tell he's trying his best but keep it chill around him." His spikes of blue hair had been gelled to maintain their trademark, well, spikiness, and he even tried that new cologne Scarlet recommended that made him subtly smell like cherries. He definitely looked the part of a teen sensation.

It wasn't because he was nervous about performing well, because he was never nervous. In fact, he probably had way too much confidence that he could nail the interview. All he had to do was smile and say he loved his supporters, and the audience would lose his mind. It wasn't like Chanden was known for grilling his guests.

No, the single reason that he was so uncomfortable was that he hadn't shown up yet. And they were on in five minutes.

Neptune paced nervously around the dressing room, bright lights distracting him from the pit of his stomach. The couch was taken up by the bulky frame of Sage Ayana. Scarlet David was brushing his red, styled locks as he looked at himself in the mirror. The former picked the tightest suit he owned, which barely contained his rippling muscles. The latter picked… well, Neptune wasn't sure what the shirt was called, but there were a lot of frills. Scarlet seemed to love it, or else he would have thrown it off long ago.

"Neppy baby, I can see you hovering," Scarlet muttered, never breaking eye contact with himself. "He will be here."

"Yeah, I know," Neptune sighed. "But if he isn't?"

"Then we will make up an excuse for him," Scarlet stated bluntly. "You are good at those. Isn't he, Sage?"

"Hmm?" Sage snapped back to focus. "Oh, yes. You are great at improv."

Neptune laughed nervously. "I wouldn't say great."

"I didn't say great," Scarlet clarified. "Though remember that one class you took? You never said no to anything that lady suggested."

"Because that would be rude," Neptune stated. "And she was so nice!"

"See?" Scarlet blew himself a kiss. "Improv it. We're counting on you."

Neptune opened his mouth to protest, but there was a knock, and an intern burst into the room. She looked around, disheartened. "You're coming up after this break. Is your fourth guy here yet?"

Neptune shook his head. "He's, uh… not usually like this. I swear."

Scarlet and Sage exchanged awkward glances. Hopefully, the intern could not tell how full of shit he was.

There was no time to back out. The show demanded its guests, and they were here to entertain. As Neptune, Scarlet, and Sage were led through the backstage area, Neptune tried to think of a great explanation for his absence. He really, really did not want to improv it, not in front of a live crowd. They were led to just behind the main curtain, the stage lying beyond. Neptune tried to shake out his worries as he heard the show return from its commercial break. Chanden McMichael's smooth, welcoming voice greeted the cheering audience.

"Welcome back to the Happy Hour. Our next guests have officially been entered into the Vytal Tournament, representing the Sophomore Year of Haven Academy. I know you all love them, so give it up for Mercury Black, Neptune Vasilias, Scarlet David, and Sage Ayana. Team… Moooooooooooooooooons!"

The curtain was lifted, and Neptune had to shield his eyes from the blinding spotlights. In the darkened crowd, he saw dozens of teenage girls losing their minds over him. He flashed an affable smile, and his nerves wilted. He led his teammates across the stage as the local band played an upbeat, funky entrance theme. The set of Happy Hour had a large white couch, prepped for the four of them, and they all shook Chanden's outstretched hand as they took their spots. As they sat down, the high-pitched cheering extended forever.

"Welcome to the Happy Hour, boys!" Chanden said graciously.

"Thank you. Thank you!" Neptune grinned and waved, prompting further cheering. "Very glad to be here."

"Very happy," said Scarlet.

"Likewise," said Sage.

Chanden looked at his notes. "Team Moons. M-N-S-S. I am pronouncing that correctly, right?"

"You nailed it," Neptune said, pointing finger guns. The crowd died down, and Neptune could hear some whispers in the distance. It turned out even the most mindless fans could count to four.

"Now I notice… one of you happens to be missing," said Chanden. "I've heard there was a problem getting Mercury Black to the studio."

"Uh, yes," Neptune stated. "Mercury is unfortunately… out sick. But he's totally going to be fine for Vytal, and he looks forward to seeing all his fans there."

Neptune swallowed the disappointed groans from the crowd. Ugh, he hated lying to such nice people! But once again in his life, his team leader had put him in a bind. Melting under studio lights, for the rest of the interview, no matter how much Neptune smiled and charmed and laughed with the audience, he knew he could never fully regain their trust—or his own. He could only hope that Mercury hadn't gotten himself lost, or injured, or had decided to up and quit the team again. Wherever he might have been, Neptune just hoped he was happy with himself.

…

As Mercury sidestepped a set of bloody knuckles, he smirked.

He drove his knee hard into his opponent's stomach. The man was older, burly, and balding. He had been doing this for years, but experience couldn't make up for youth.

The man stumbled forward into the wire cage. Hot spotlights seared his skin. He looked beyond the mesh into the darkened crowd. Dozens of drunkards cheered on the carnage. They had poured in from across the underbelly of the City of Mistral, eager to see a homegrown star show off his moves one last time. So far, they weren't disappointed.

"Come on, old-timer. That's not really the best you can do, is it?"

The man spun around. Mercury was a lean kid; nearly flat across his torso despite being made of solid muscle. Only a faint glimmer of sweat was visible on his bare chest. His legs were bulky, though mostly hidden beneath baggy trousers. He brushed his hands through slicked silver hair, wearing a cocky smirk that showed he walked this road a hundred times. His face was far too unburned for a slum kid. That would have to be corrected. The fighter growled and charged at the Huntsmen, but Mercury slipped his blow.

"You're letting all of them down."

Mercury's words were cold and calm, even as he bounced on the soles of his feet. The fighter tried to tackle him, but Mercury rolled out of the way and the man's momentum caused him to careen into the steel.

"You're going to get beat by a kid. That shit's embarrassing."

"You little…" The man growled, picking himself off the floor. He was going to punch that pretty boy's head clean off his shoulders. He wound up his next attack, throwing all of his strength behind his next attack. The crowd cheered him on and called him slurs. He would prove them all wrong. He threw his punch toward Mercury's face.

He was met with a swift kick to his groin. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain. The crowd laughed at him.

"That shouldn't hurt, should it?" Mercury shrugged. "You barely got anything going on down there."

Mercury's boot was tipped with silver, with small wings patterned on either side. The man familiarized himself with the detail as it was thrust into his jaw. Teeth and blood splattered across the pit. The man collapsed into a heap before the spectators.

There was no bell. No announcement. No ref. That wasn't how things were done here. Everyone knew when the fight was over. The cage door opened, and another aging man—maybe one of his friends, or maybe someone foolish enough to put money against Mercury Black—tended to the man's injuries. Mercury was handed a towel, which he used to wipe blood away from his cheek. He had to admit it. He was going to miss this place. Vytal was glamorous and all. Hell, it paid a lot better. But he loved the smell of cigarettes wafting through the air, the strong heat from the spotlights as it singed the back of his neck, and the endless parade of talentless schmucks who thought that just because they were big, that meant they could fight. It was a hell of a lot better than that fucking late-night show he was supposed to be at.

"You… you piece of shit."

Oh. He was still conscious.

"This ain't over between us," the man garbled between his broken teeth.

Mercury just snickered. "Really? Looks over to me."

"You think you are so tough," said the washed-up fighter. "When my boys get their hands on you."

"Don't think so, gramps," Mercury whistled. "My star power is a little too big for you."

Mercury turned to leave the cage, but the man gave a laugh of his own despite his friends' plea.

"Yeah, I know who you are. You think you can walk out of this life?"

Mercury ignored him, stepping outside the cage door.

"Getting lucky doesn't make you special. You're nothing, Black. You'll always be nothing. Go play dress up with the rest of your little faggot team."

Mercury froze. He could feel the stares from the drunkards in the crowd, having gone from a ravenous, bloodthirsty cry to a chilled silence. They knew what was coming next. Perhaps this nameless, worthless man would have too if he was really as informed as he believed. Mercury turned around slowly and re-entered the cage, his face showing not a sliver of emotion. The fighter grinned as Mercury towered over him, feeling like he delivered a cutting insult. Mercury was barely amused as he lifted his left and hovered it over the man's thigh. The fighter then noticed another detail of his boot—the strange barrel sticking out of the end of his heel.

Mercury tensed his leg just right—and a shotgun blast exploded from his boot, severing the man's leg clean from his body.

The fighter didn't scream. He stared silently at his stump as it pulled away from the rest of his leg, blood quickly spilling over the pit. His friend screamed plenty for him, and so did the crowd; not at the violence, but at the mess it created before the next fight. Mercury calmly left the cage once more, smoke rising from his footsteps, as the old fighter's stunned shock eventually gave way to mad horror.

Mercury calmly brushed past several patrons as they rushed into the cage, hoping to stem the bleeding. Mercury shrugged them off. If the man died, he died. That was life down here. He walked to his locker to check his belongings. Thankfully, no one swiped his wallet, though they'd have to be stupid not to know the consequences of fucking with him. He opened up his Scroll to see a dozen messages, all from Neptune, all in capital letters.

"Sorry," he wrote back. "Got caught up in a few things. Will make it up to you."

That was a lie. If anything, Neptune owed him for all of the success they had. They were only in the Vytal Festival because of how hard he worked to make it here, and while they wasted away smiling for semi-prime television and took in the ogling of fangirls, he was pushing himself to his limits. People died in Vytal, something they had seemingly failed to recognize. He was ready to do what was necessary to win the tournament. He had always been ready. No distractions.

If he had to piss off a few of his friends to make something of himself, he wouldn't bat an eye.

Celebrity was for the weak, and he anything but weak.

---

The Hype of FNKI

"0h yeah…"

Twenty-thousand, three hundred and six fans.

"0h Yeeeaaahhh…"

Stuck in the pitch black, packed like sardines, twenty-thousand people were dressed in multi-colored merch. Twenty thousand young men and women, all shapes and sizes and sexualities, screaming their freaking heads off. Twenty-thousand neon glowsticks raised alight, casting the stadium in a wash of glorious rainbow covers. The stadium trembled, a rapid, pounding base pulsing through the earth, sending shockwaves through their bones. The stage in front of them was vast, a huge canvas on which a glorious, artistic painting would emerge.

"0h, Prissssssssssssssssmmmm…"

She didn't have the voice of a goddess, slightly too squeaky and autotuned by a half dozen producers. But when she spoke, they worshiped.

"Let me hear y0u say… 00000000000hhhhhhhhhhh Yeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

The crowd roared as one.

"Oh, yeah!"

Then, she appeared. What once was a shadow transformed into something spectacular. The crowd only saw her in glowing pieces: two arms covered in neon bands, a shirt lit up in ultraviolet, and platform boots with LED lights lined up the sides. Her hair formed two giant pigtails of blue and orange-pink, split in two equal halves and streaked with gold. Glow-in-the-dark makeup was streaked across her face. In the furthest rows in the highest bleachers, they could see the streaks covering her eyes, and her wide grin shaped by sparkling, pink lipstick. The moment she appeared, the crowd turned into a frenzy. Their screams could be heard far outside of the arena, throughout the crystalline, Mistran city.

But even that scream was nothing compared to the music blaring over the speakers. So dense, so violent that it could collapse buildings. A trap dance beat hard enough to break legs, aggressive and feminine and electrifying. She let herself stop for just one moment to soak in the adoration of the crowd. But not for too long. She had a show to do—and Ne0N Katt always put on the best shows.

"Hey b0y, hey b0y, hey,

I see y0u l00king at me,

I see y0ur eyeballs gazing, splitting,

tryna catch all 0f me,

Please d0n't just stand there, baby,

I'm way t00 fast 0n my feet,

I'm shaking, skating, breaking ceilings

When they l00k d0wn 0n me…"

Six neon dancers emerged on either side of her from the shadows. Together, they all moved in a steady rhythm, kicking and gyrating to the intense beat as the crowd sang along. Her words were on a delay, echoing slightly over each other; a distinct layered sound that was a signature to her hottest songs.

"N0w d0n't ap0l0gize (hey)

Y0u're l00king hella fine (damn)

Y0u g0t them muscles bulging,

Pulling me to hazel eyes (h0t)

But in this gritty city,

I'm just an itty bitty witty

N0w c0me and kiss y0ur pretty Kitty

Let's get wild, let's get silly."

The lights on the stage burst on, and she stood in its center, bathed in the overwhelming glow. The full scope of the band was revealed behind her. Numerous DJs, dancers, elaborate stage props of wild, waving tube men, and light strips around every corner. Massive signboards behind her displayed her name in ten-foot letters. The crows jumped up and down in tune to the rhythm as her full glory was revealed. She may have been small, and an outside observer might not have even understood the hype around her—a bobby teen with a heart tattoo on her cheek a bit too pasty for her own good, dressed in fashion that was so mismatched it seemed to have been pulled randomly from a thrift store.

But the audience knew.

Her band knew.

The world knew—eighteen sellouts in a row. Million Lien gates. The Hypest Huntress was here, and it was so effin' glorious.

She dropped down to her knees, microphones in hand. She reached out to the screaming audience clamoring at the stage as the chorus began.

"We're jumpin' t0 0ur feet!

We're taking t0 the streets!

Since y0ur life's inc0mplete,

Why d0n't we kiss-a, kiss-a

And th0ugh it's bittersweet

0ur l0ve stuck 0n repeat

But 'til it's 0bs0lete

We'll never miss a, miss a…"

She jumped back, grinding with the rest of her dancers. She whispered huskily into the microphone, keeping in perfect step with those behind her as they gyrated.

"Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, yeah.

Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, yeah.

Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, yeah.

Never never miss miss, never missin' ya

Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, yeah.

Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, yeah.

Never miss a beat, never miss a beat, yeah.

Never never miss miss, never missin' ya…"

In front of the crowd, the show was wild. Unpredictable. A fan couldn't go two seconds without seeing a seductive dance move, or a blinding strobe light, or someone in a ridiculous cartoon costume running onto the stage to dance. It was the beauty of a Ne0N Katt concert: wild, pounding, in-your-face dynamism. It had propelled her to four number-one singles, millions of downloads, and the very successful C0l0urz T0ur, traveling the entirety of Mistral—and some parts of eastern Vale. It was a respectable, career one could be proud of without her side gig as a student in Haven Academy.

But behind the scenes, there was a very different kind of chaos. A Ne0N Katt show was more than one teen in makeup singing and dancing—especially because half of the time, she wasn't actually singing. People had to run those lights and test the speakers. Backup dancers had to be coordinated. Music had to be balanced. The merch stands required restocking. And when hundreds of people were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, they would usually go to one person for the job. They could find him far away from the stage, where the thumping music was mostly drowned out behind the complex metal framework keeping the set upright. Unlike the dancers in glow-in-the-dark parachute pants and the producers dressed in all-black tees, he would wear a prim shirt, vest, and tie, a trademark fedora tipped on his head. He would usually be in the middle of contemplation, stroking the pointed hairs on his chin.

And there would usually be four of him, all trying to fix a billion things at once. Thanks to a cloning Semblance, he could worry about everything all the time.

Flynt Coal did not imagine growing up to be a producer for this kind of music. His type of music was, to put it in a less offensive manner, good. But when he was paired with a young up-and-comer in his first semester at Haven, and she saw firsthand his outstanding ear and excellent knowledge of theory, she had asked him to assist her. She was already mildly famous before his help, and he assumed he would mostly provide some advice here and there that would be swiftly ignored by a girl with vastly different tastes than him. His mother always taught him to be helpful, after all. But then she blew up with a hit single. Then another, and then another. And while Flynt didn't care for any of it, she was his teammate, and he wasn't going to let the potential for good music rot on the vine. Not while he could help it.

That being said, it was a distraction. Music was never supposed to be his big break, and mother said to get a good job before pursuing one's passions. Being a Huntsmen should have been his primary focus, not reminding the costumer that the giant banana costume was to be used after the D0uble Time number, and reminding the lighting chief that the strobes went green, yellow, orange, not yellow, green, blue, and telling the snacks dude that Ne0N hated firm cheese and that if she saw semi-firm cheese in her room after the show, someone was getting slapped and then fired and then slapped again.

No, Flynt didn't imagine his life going like this at all. But at least it was almost over.

"No, no, that's wrong," said one of the Flynts, pointing to his keyboard. "I thought we weren't doing L0lip0p."

"She said she wants to do it," said the producer, half-distracted by a conversation going on in her headpiece. "It's the last show."

"Well, we don't have the lollipop visuals programmed."

"She just wants the words to say L0lip0p."

"With O's, or with the zeroes?"

"What do you think?"

Flynt sighed. "It's gonna look terrible. We still have some of those circle lights?"

"I think so."

"Okay, set everything to pink and red, we'll have big spotlights running across the stage to look like lollipops. That's at least some visual."

Another Flynt walked by him, holding two different outfits in each hand. One was a short, sequined dress with long threads dangling at the bottom. The other was a fuzzy red long-sleeve shirt, cut just above the midriff. Both gaudy. Both terrible. But Ne0N wanted to mix things up, and he had to pick one of those outfits to run with. If only Ivori was here, perhaps some sense could be talked into the pop starlet. But Ivori and Kobalt were smart enough not to go on tour, and didn't care to get distracted by all this meaningless, glitzy tripe. A third Flynt was in talk with an audio technician. He insisted there was far too much base. The technician insisted there could never be enough base. The fourth Flynt was eating one of the croissants from catering, trying to stock up on energy while his duplicates were making themselves useful. One mind, four bodies. It was a powerful Semblance wasted handling all this busywork, but he wouldn't complain. Not out loud. It was all for the good of his team. His friends. What greater purpose could there be?

Back on the stage, the song had finished to rapturous applause from the audience. Ne0N, not even slightly out of breath despite the constant dancing, stuck out her tongue and waved at the crowd. She flipped a switch on her microphone, and the reverb effect from her song was amplified.

"Hell000000-0-0-0, Prism! Did y0u m-m-miss m-me?"

The crowd cheered wildly. Ne0N laughed.

"H-Hell yeah, that's w-what I'm talk-talk-talking ab0ut! I wanna thank-thank-thank every0ne f0r c0ming 0ut t0night! The C0l0urz T0ur has br0ken rec0rd after r-r-r-rec0rds, and I c0uldn't have d0ne it with0ut e-each and every-every 0ne 0f y0u! N0w…" She leaned forward, grinning cheekily at the dark faces in the crowd. "I d0n't kn0w if y0u heard, but y0ur fav0rite some0ne just g0t ann0unced f0r the Vytal Festival."

They chanted her name in celebration. Twenty-thousand, screaming a name that just a year ago, they never knew existed.

"Rum0r had it, they didn't want t0 let me in. But they c-c-c0uldn't keep away from me, c0uld th-th-they?"

The audience booed, just as she hoped they would.

"And d0 y0u kn0w w-w-why they c0uldn't? B-B-Because all of y0u f0ught hard to get me in!"

It was no lie—Team FNKI was only the second-ranked team in their year. A public poll had pushed them into the spotlight, plus a few album sales to the proper parties. She waved her microphone broadly, and the audience cheered her on, glad to be part of the act.

"Th0se H-HHuntsmen d0n't kn0w-kn0w wh0 they are m-messin' with! They think I'm j-j-j-just g0nna lie d-down and take their lil' rules. A-A-Am I?"

"No!" screamed the audience in unison.

"Am I gonna p-p-play their game?"

"No!"

"Why? Because they ain't n-never seen a f-f-freak like me before! They-they ain't never seen freaks like u-us!"

The multi-colored crowd went wild, glow sticks dancing and bracelets bouncing. And it was about to get even wilder.

"And hey, it s-sucks I have to cut my t-tour off for the month so I c-can fight," Ne0N explained. "But that means t-tonight… tonight we're gonna lose our freakin' minds-minds-minds-minds!"

The word repeated indefinitely as the base dropped again. The crowd jumped in time with the beat and the arena trembled. She began her next song: Freaks Like Us. The dancers began to grind. She felt the music overtake her. This was where she belonged: in the rainbow spotlight, surrounded by loving fans. This is who she was always meant to be.

But that was only one side of her. She had seen the negative comments on KnightsPage. They called her entry into Vytal a joke. A meme. But was this love a meme? Was the power she held over a crowd a meme? Was changing the world just a little gag for the music world? Hell no. There was no bigger stage in the world than the Vytal Festival. Nothing even came close. She would stand in front of a crowd five times as big and watched by millions all over the globe, and they wouldn't see her sing out her little tunes. They were going to watch her dominate.

She was the Hypest Huntress. The Real R0ck 'N' R0lla. The Biggest Superstar in Remnant. The Baddest Bitch. The Queen 0f Music.

She was Y0ur Fave, and soon, the whole world would Live in Ne0N.

---

The Dream of NTMR

A young thing lay alone in her dorm room.

A girl with a sense of wonder, wanting to see the unseen.

Alone in the pitch black.

Legs strengthened on her bed, calves molded against the cold, metal frame. One arm, lain over her chest like a waking corpse.

Her head pressed against a pillow that formed new uneven shapes around her curls.

In her other hand, a knife.

She threw the knife into the ceiling. It twirled in the darkness, out of sight, before plummeting toward her head.

She hesitated, not a second too long, not a second too short.

Her fingers snatched the steel from the air before it pierced her eye.

She smiled—and tossed the knife into the air again.

"One pill makes ya larger…"

She hummed to herself with a smile the song she heard in a dream.

"And one pill makes ya small…"

Catch.

Toss.

Catch.

Her whistle and her song the only noise in the abyss.

"And the ones that mother gives ya… don't do anything at all…"

Two young things were alone in the dorm room. A girl, lying on her bed, throwing knives at the ceiling—and a boy, sitting silently in the corner.

He said nothing, tapping a distorted hand against the floor in rhythm to her melody.

She sang to him.

"And if you go off… chasin' rabbits…"

She twirled the knife effortlessly between her fingers. The boy looked at his own hand. Knives were strapped to each of his fingers.

"And you know you're gonna fall…"

A chill ran down her spine as the sharp blade kissed her skin. He ran his hand down his face, caressing his cheek.

"Tell 'em a hookah smokin' caterpillar… has given you the call…"

Three young things were alone in the dorm room. A young girl humming her song, a boy with blood silently dripping down his cheek, and a golem, hovering over her.

The golem stared at her through the darkness, yellow eyes unblinking. It stood in suit and tie, hunched over, waiting for instruction.

The young girl merely tossed her knife in the air.

"T… Tibium…"

The golem croaked. Its voice was a baritone rattle, gurgled through dry lips.

"Tibium Ash…"

The young girl caught the knife between her index finger and thumb. She felt the golem's breath on her neck.

"Soon, soon, soon," she chirped.

The golem reached for her knife, and she jabbed at its palm. It dripped hot blood onto her sheets, groaning softly.

"Tibium… Tibium Ash…"

"Soon, soon," she whispered. "All things soon. Shush now."

She hummed again, but was stopped. The fourth was in the room, in the dark.

"Hey… hey, boss."

The maniac. The young girl tilted her head.

"I'm busy."

"No, no, look. You have to look at this."

"Let me sing."

"It's news. It's such delicious news…"

The maniac approached her, rolling in her metal chair. A sudden light flooded into the room. The glow of a Scroll.

The golem recoiled. The young boy stared at the floor. The young girl leaned forward, leaning into the light. It shimmered in her blue eyes.

"See this?" the maniac said excitedly. "Someone new is joining Vytal. Some very fun people?"

The girl read the headlines. She saw four faces she recognized. Four supposed heroes, smiling for the cameras. Four girls who thought they knew everything there was to know.

The maniac jammed her finger into the image. "I want the one in red."

The young girl just started to laugh.

Oh, perfect. How wonderfully perfect this all was.

She let her laughter consume her, and the maniac joined in laughing as well, spinning gleefully in circles in the dark. The golem choked out something to join them. The young boy remained still.

Throwing her head back into the pillow, the girl threw her knife as hard as she could. She lay both her hands down and decided she would not move them. The knife twisted in the air and then plunged.

It fell toward her face.

She finished her song.

"Feed your head…"

The knife missed her face by a fraction of an inch. Stuffing spilled out of the pillow next to her.

"Feed your head."

Her singing turned to ravenous laughter.

"Feed your head!"

Team RWBY in the Vytal Festival.

"Feed your head!"

They were going to have so much fun together.