Penny was still deep in thought when Blake returned from dinner. She set aside enough resources for Thesaurus to engage. "Welcome back, Blake! Where are Weiss and Yang?"

"Working on their team attack," said Blake. "The timing on it is pretty tricky, so Weiss asked for more practice."

"That is characteristically responsible of her," said Penny. "And also very convenient. I need to talk to you separately."

Blake backed up some.

"It is nothing about you, nor anything bad," said Penny.

She thought she'd read the situation correctly when Blake stopped retreating. "What's it about, then?"

"The mystery subroutine," said Penny. "Incidentally, it has become tiresome to call it that. For ease of reference, I've come up with a name for it."

"Oh?" said Blake.

"Butthole."

Blake blinked, hard, and started snickering.

"I think it's a suitable name," said Penny with a twinge of annoyance.

Blake progressed to full laughter. "Sorry, Penny, just the idea of you saying... saying that..."

"Saying what?" said Penny. "Butthole?"

Blake covered her face with both hands; if that was supposed to contain her laughter, it was failing miserably. "But... why?" she said between snorts.

"Naming something gives it dignity," said Penny. "I even gave my maintenance equipment the name 'Turchina' because of how important names are. However, this subroutine is something I don't want and dislike, so I chose to give it an undignified name. Also, as I understand it, the anus is unclean and spews waste, and what this subroutine projects into my mind is equally unclean and unwelcome. Hence, Butthole."

Blake's composure failed again. "Penny," she said between shallow breaths, "everything you just said makes sense, but it doesn't matter. I can't take this seriously if you keep saying 'Butthole'."

Penny's annoyance grew. "I have heard Yang and Nora say that word thirty-eight times, and you take them quite seriously."

"They don't say it when they're trying to be serious, is the difference," said Blake, finally dropping her hands to reveal a flushed face. "Context matters. We speak differently to each other than we do to our teachers, haven't you noticed?"

"Is this like what Yang says about how there's a time and place for humor?"

"Exactly."

That was unfortunate. Formality was good if she could use it as a constraint: if, for example, she could tag some words as "informal" and screen those in formal situations, she would limit her options and so construct language more quickly and easily. On the other hand, the number of dictionary definitions that had "formal" or "informal" tags was very small. Were the others multi-purpose, or did she need to individually retag them over time?

And what defined what situations were 'formal', anyway?

All Penny knew for sure was that Thesaurus would always have something to do.

"So I should not name the subroutine 'Butthole'," said Penny.

Blake looked like she was choking down another laugh. "No, you shouldn't. Go ahead and trash that name."

Penny blinked. "Wait. Trash!"

"Huh?"

"I'll name the mystery subroutine 'Trash'," said Penny with growing excitement. "It remains undignified and retains the 'wastage' aspect I liked about Butthole."

Blake started to laugh but didn't. "I think that's better," she said.

"Is Trash informal?" said Penny with sudden worry.

"It's good enough," said Blake.

Before Penny could wonder if Blake had actually answered her question or not, Blake spoke again. "So, what do you need me to do?"

Penny refocused. "The reason I haven't been able to trace Trash's effects is because my other subroutines and processors have no logs of its orders. It must be sending them, though. It's impossible for something to come from nothing. My theory is that when Trash sends its orders, part of those orders is to delete the record of the order's receipt."

"So it cleans up after itself?" said Blake.

"I believe so," said Penny. "That way, the orders seem to be coming organically or spontaneously. What I spent the last 25 minutes doing is creating a new requirement for certain processors. They are to inform higher consciousness on receipt of an order. Trash may clean up after itself, but if I can catch its orders coming in, I can be certain of their origin."

"And that will help you know when something is interfering with you?"

"Step one is to demonstrate that something is," said Penny. "I have insufficient evidence to prove that Trash exists. I need more."

"That's an important thing to help you with," said Blake. "Tell me how."

"I need you to say things that will provoke a response from Trash," said Penny.

Blake swallowed. "No offense, Penny, but that sounds dangerous for me."

"I am not offended, and I concur, which is why I am taking precautions," said Penny. "Before we start, I will cut motor control to my limbs so I cannot move, and I will turn my volume down to the bare minimum so that you cannot hear anything it makes me say."

"But you'll still see the commands being issued, so you'll have the records you need," said Blake.

"Precisely."

"What kinds of things should I say?" said Blake.

"We know it has reacted to derogatory statements about Atlas," said Penny, "and to statements of apology or support for the White Fang. Perhaps we start there."

"And you're sure this is safe?" said Blake.

Penny hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was cause Trash to tag Blake as an enemy and mess with her memories again. Then again, leaving Trash unmolested was the more dangerous option. "Moving out of my line of sight might help. And do not imply that you are a member or supporter of the White Fang. See if you can use abstract language."

"Okay," said Blake. "I'll try."

"Excellent," said Penny. "I will enforce my precautions now. Give me ten seconds from my mark to ensure they are in place, and then you may begin."

"Roger," said Blake.

"Mark," said Penny.

Higher consciousness enacted her precautions swiftly. It was so quick she even had time to contemplate why words of coordination happened to also be the names of men. Etymology was always difficult, but fascinating.

Blake spoke. "Atlas has the worst trafficking-in-persons problem on Remnant."

"That cannot be demonstrated," said a voice, but at such low tones even Penny struggled to hear it.

"Atlas instigated the Faunus Rights Revolution by trying to suppress the cult of Panzoa."

"Atlas acted to protect its security from unaccountable fanatics."

"Atlas' military buildup is so that it can have a decisive edge if it ever wants to attack another kingdom."

"This is an age of peace. The only enemy of humanity is the grimm."

"The White Fang is the only protector the Faunus have."

"If the Faunus were innocent, they would not need protecting."

"Menagerie was not a gift. Menagerie is a cross between a prison colony and a deportation scheme."

"Menagerie is a haven and only those lacking gratitude would say otherwise."

"Can this be enough?" said Blake. "I don't like the way your face looks right now."

Oh. That had been an oversight in Penny's precautions. She'd frozen her limbs, but not other parts of her body, and she supposed Emotion Signifying might also be vulnerable to Trash.

Penny relaxed her precautions, waved and smiled at Blake, and restored her standard volume control. "That was splendid, Blake, you did exactly what I needed you to do."

"I'm glad I could help," said Blake dubiously. "So… did you find it?"

"Yes," said Penny. "My logging scheme worked perfectly. Each time you said something, Vocal replied with words that didn't come from higher consciousness, and it reported receiving orders that are absent from its logs. If I extend this screening technique to all my subroutines, I will always be able to tell when Trash is interfering with me."

"Does this mean you can fix it?" said Blake.

"Not at all," said Penny. "At least, if by "fix" you mean excise or remove. This helps me understand where I end and where it begins. It's a start."

"Then this was a good use of my time," said Blake.

Ding ding, ding ding.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun," said Tukson reflexively. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Good," said a gravelly baritone, "because I'm looking for something pretty specific."

"I'd be happy to help you," said Tukson. He finished marking up his inventory and set it aside. The customer was easy to spot, as he was quite tall and gangly, and even with a severe stoop he loomed over the shelves in the front of the shop. "What are you looking for?"

"Books on fermentation, for starters," said the gangly man, running a hand through unkempt and graying black hair.

"Left wall," said Tukson, "second shelf, two-thirds of the way from the door."

"Nice," said the customer when he'd gone to the right place. "You've got books on the brewing, the serving, and the drinking."

"And if you get carried away," Tukson said jokingly, "I've got self-help books for recovery."

The customer made a laugh that was sort of a cough. "Recovery ain't in the cards for me. But I am looking for something else, now that you mention it."

"Oh?" said Tukson.

The customer turned to look at Tukson for the first time, and so for the first time Tukson saw how unnerving and intense the customer's red eyes were. "I'm looking for Paul's Commentaries on the Omnium, Second Edition."

All cheer vanished from Tukson's mind. "Oh. So you're that kind of customer."

"Second edition specifically," the messenger said.

Tukson felt himself tensing. "You aren't like the other messengers. You're not who I was told to expect."

The messenger's gaze hardened. "Your princess nearly got stabbed in her sleep the other night," he said.

Tukson flinched hard at that gross but unavoidable truth. Blake—another Faunus, a revolutionary, one of them—wasn't supposed to be a target for the Fang. Adam had tried to play up Blake's treason, insisting that strong action against apostasy was necessary. It made Tukson sick, and he knew that more than a few of his fellow Fang were just as sick.

They all knew Sienna Khan never would have ordered such a thing. They knew, both from Blake and their other contacts, that Sienna and Adam were in breach. This just helped prove it. Adam was out of control.

Blake—and the possibility she represented, the possibility the Fang might heal itself—was the only reason Tukson hadn't fled for Vacuo already.

"It's more dangerous for her to make the rounds these days," the man continued. "So she got some help. Called in some bigger guns. Told us what we needed to know to get the right information. Or maybe not," he added as he fixed Tukson with those red eyes. "Maybe she was wrong about how helpful you would be. I'd hate to be the one to tell her that she put her faith in the wrong friend."

Tukson winced. It hadn't been a threat like he normally understood the idea—as a Faunus he'd received more than his share over the years—but it felt like one. "Alright, alright. Here. Like I told Blake, the core doesn't tell reservists where base camp is, but they have assembly points to bring core and reservists together. I've got time and coordinates for a meeting like that."

"Sounds swell," said the messenger, and he walked to the counter.

Tukson held on to the paper in his hand. "Don't try to follow the core back to their base camp. They'll know you're there."

"Sure they will," said the messenger.

"I'm serious," said Tukson. "That's Rover's actual semblance. He can sense when he has a person's attention. When you're out in the woods, there's only animals around, so having the attention of a person is a big warning signal to him."

The messenger smirked. "How 'bout you let me worry about that part, alright?"

Tukson's grip tightened. "I'm giving this over only for recon reasons, so we can figure out what Adam's actual plan is. If you attack this gathering or the people there, I'm out."

"I know the terms, bud, relax," said the messenger. "No weapons, no confrontation, no nothing. Just listening. Promise."

Tukson would have felt much better getting that reassurance from one of Blake's subordinates. Still… he had to know, and if Adam didn't trust the reservists with the truth, then that truth had to be something disturbing. He put the paper on the counter.

The messenger put a book on the counter. Tukson raised an eyebrow. "'The Booze Encyclopedia'?"

The messenger shrugged. "Just seeing if there's anything in there I haven't tried."

Tukson looked over his contact and decided said contact was an authority on booze in his own right. That did little to calm Tukson's nerves about giving him information. Still, a customer buying a book provoked an instinctive response. Tukson rang up the messenger's purchase; the messenger paid cash, then took Tukson's paper and slipped it between the pages of the book.

"Pleasure doing business with you," said the messenger, and he walked for the exit. Each step brought Tukson more relief.

Except that when the door shut behind said messenger, the bell hung on the door fell from its mount and clattered to the floor.

"Ugh," said Tukson. "What rotten luck."

Classes in the new semester were notably less intense than before. Penny was puzzled by this at first, but Weiss and Yang helped her understand. All the visiting students from the other academies were unknown quantities, academically speaking. The lesson plans for the academies didn't necessarily match up, even if they covered the same overall curriculum. This meant there was no way for a teacher to know if their students were ready for the new material, or if they'd already covered that material.

This led to a great reluctance by the instructors to cover anything new, since it would be hard to help the exchange students learn and retain it. "Besides," said Yang, "with everyone super hyped for the tournament, who's got time to think about boring old classes? …Weiss, put your hand down."

Instead, most classes were full of practical events, review, or minor work that was quickly dispatched. The exception to all of this was Dr. Oobleck, who was as hyper and devoted to his craft as ever, to the chagrin of all involved except him.

"Semester break was long enough for your brains to be idle," he said in response to student groans when he put his notes up for the day. "The brain is a muscle like any other, it needs exercise lest it become flabby! No one likes a flabby brain!"

Penny's modeling software struggled mightily to envisage a flabby brain.

"All instruction time is precious to me," Dr. Oobleck continued, "so I will continue to waste none of your time in the hopes that you won't waste mine." Penny appreciated this outlook. She was unique in this regard.

The light course load left ample time for students to work on projects of their own. For many of those students, that meant drilling their teamfight styles and combos. This was particularly important to BXPS and the visiting teams, since the Vytal Tournament was imminent, and they hoped to compete and do well.

Other students were working on their weapons. Penny was ahead of the curve, there: Ruby's design advice had helped Penny complete her most recent upgrade, and she finally got the chance to show off what she'd wrought.

"You added even more?" said Blake.

"Indeed! To compensate for the underwhelming rifle damage, I added a mechanism to each rifle to apply a Dust coating to the bullets when I fire. I have six different types of Dust available, which are selectable by a control in the grip. It's not as effective as using specialty rounds, but it adds much versatility all the same."

"So that's why you were asking me about Myrtenaster's mechanisms," said Weiss.

"Correct," said Penny. "You were the inspiration for the idea, in the same way that Gambol Shroud was the inspiration for the Gravity Dust weapon chain."

"Seems like you're borrowing ideas from everyone on the team," said Yang.

"I like to think it's more profound than that," said Penny. "Our weapons are extensions of our souls. As you all get closer and closer to my soul as people, it only made sense to have an outward reflection of our intimacy."

"Wow," said Blake. "That's really deep."

"And touching," said Yang. "So, when are you going to add something that represents me?"

"I already did," said Penny.

"You did?" said Yang.

"My very first upgrade shifted from one weapon to two, matching your two weapons, while mirroring the way you explode, and renaming it to integrate a pun," said Penny.

Yang looked touched. "I hadn't even realized. Right from the start?"

"You were my first friend," said Penny. "It's just logical."

"Leave it to Penny to describe sweet sentimentalism in logical terms," said Weiss.

Penny anxiously rolled her swords in her hands. "Was that a compliment?"

"For you, yes."

"Oh. Thank you, Weiss!"

Other people, judging from how often the topic came up, were more concerned with the upcoming Vytal Dance. Penny didn't know what was so interesting about it, but she was confident she'd find out.

Evening came. Blake had grabbed a book and left the dorm. Yang had asked if anyone wanted to join her in the gym and, getting only negative responses, had made noise about inviting Nora to go with her before departing herself.

Penny was modeling different ways to contact Ruby, while Weiss studied; both of them were content to remain in the quiet of their own heads. Penny would have preferred to play heavy metal in the background, but only by five percent over this configuration, and seeing as that genre of music would have lowered Weiss' contentment by much more than five percent, this compromise was acceptable.

Tactical idly noted that Weiss might not have been making much progress in her studies. She hadn't turned the page in her book in seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

With that in mind, it was unsurprising when Weiss pushed her chair away from the desk and looked to Penny. "Could I talk to you?"

"Always," said Penny.

"There's something about your situation that's been bothering me lately," said Weiss. "Actually, I was thinking about your situation all through break."

"I am both flattered and surprised," said Penny. "You were thinking about your teammates all that time?"

Weiss closed her eyes, which made it unfortunately difficult for Penny to get any sort of read on her. She was quiet a long time, though, so Penny presumed that whatever Weiss was feeling, it was intense.

"It was comforting to think of all of you," Weiss said.

"That is very sweet of you," said Penny.

"Don't tell Blake or Yang."

"If you say so."

"The point," Weiss said, opening her eyes and looking firmly at Penny, "is that the picture that's coming together is disturbing."

"What kind of picture?"

"You're a marvel of technology," said Weiss. "We can barely get Atlesian Knights to shoot at the right things, and AKs require constant babysitting to make sure they don't mess up. People stopped trying to make AI answer phones or do other human interface tasks because it kept getting things wrong, and it doesn't really save money or effort if you have to double check everything the AI does. And then there's you," said Weiss, pointing at Penny. "A synthetic being so advanced you make everything before you look like tinker toys."

"Thank you? I think?"

"And not only do you represent a huge leap in AI technology," said Weiss, "but your physical body and your ability to project Aura are all completely unprecedented. I know you don't know where you came from, but wherever it was, they spent a huge amount of money and time and effort on you."

This, too, sounded like a compliment, but it didn't feel like one, and the difference made Thesaurus stumble. "I am unsure where these arguments lead," said Penny.

Weiss folded her hands and looked anxious. "Whoever made you, if they find you, is going to want you back."

"It would be nice for someone to want me and tell me so," said Penny.

"They won't want to give you a choice in the matter."

Penny frowned. "You don't think so?"

"I know the type," said Weiss gravely. "Rich people didn't get rich by giving things away."

"I know the law," said Penny, Emotion Signifying insisting on a frown. "As a student at a Huntsman Academy, I'm under the Academy's protection. The Academy cannot be compelled to turn me out. It can only voluntarily agree to extradition."

"That argument works for me," said Weiss, "and it works for you, because we agree that you're a person. Other people won't."

"Professor Ozpin is headmaster," said Penny, with more conviction than she felt. "He believes that I am a person. He will hold that line for me."

"I hope that's true, Penny," said Weiss. "Because I have to think it's the Atlas military that built you."

"What would make you think that?"

"Remember the 'money, time, and effort' thing? Atlas is the most advanced Kingdom on Remnant, the only one with the money and tech to throw at a project like you. Plus, all of the things unique to you smack of a military project. Your fighting ability, of course, but other things, too, like your sense of smell. You can smell blood and only blood."

"Maybe that's the only smell they knew how to program for," said Penny. "Or maybe they intended to give me more smelling power and didn't have the chance."

"You know the Simplicity Rule, right?" said Weiss. "'The option with the least assumptions required is probably correct'."

"We can argue which option requires the least assumptions," Penny said.

"Okay," said Weiss, "explain Trash, then."

No content.

Weiss filled the void Penny's silence left. "A subroutine that's suspicious of Faunus, demands you fight the White Fang, and prompts you to spew pro-Atlas propaganda at the first pushback against the kingdom. Do you really think some private contractor in Vale put that in there?"

Penny fed resources to Analysis and Tactical. "And the Atlas military is strong enough to give Professor Ozpin pause," she said.

"I don't know all politics in play here," said Weiss, "but just you existing at Beacon seems like it could cause an international incident."

"That is important to think about," said Penny. "I will keep my distance from the Atlas military until we have more information and a better plan."

"Will you?" said Weiss.

Penny cocked her head. "I said I would, didn't I?"

Weiss looked tentative, unusual for her. "If I'm right, then it adds serious complication to… to your relationship with Garnet."

"No," said Penny, automatically, though it was unclear where the response was coming from. (It wasn't even from Trash.) "There's no obstacle between me and Garnet."

"Even if Garnet is also with the Atlas military?" said Weiss.

"No one said she's with the Atlas military," said Penny, Emotion Signifying amping up her obstinance.

"Penny," said Weiss, her face squished in unusual ways, "she showed up at Beacon after the Atlesian Air Fleet squadron did. She's a weapons project—you told me that yourself. She has a miniaturized particle beam, tech that's never been seen outside the Atlas military. Now she's commuting by airship, and not just anyone has those."

"Everyone rides on an airship to leave Beacon's grounds," said Penny reasonably.

"Sure," said Weiss, "but was she using one of the scheduled airships or one of her own?"

"I didn't see her board," Penny said, "because I was cleaning up at the Forge, so I can't say for sure."

"You know the airship schedule, though," said Weiss. "Is it reasonable that she was taking one of the public ones, or was it too far away that it had to be something ad hoc?"

Penny could do that math, but she didn't want to know. "Let us say for the sake of argument that is correct. What does it matter if Garnet is part of the Atlas military? The Atlas military performs several vital functions. There's nothing inherently bad about being part of it."

"Is that you saying that," said Weiss keenly, "or the voice in your head?"

Penny opened her mouth to answer, but it seemed that Emotion Signifying had gotten ahead of higher consciousness, because she had no words.

"And also," said Weiss darkly, "isn't it just typical for the Atlas military to refer to a person as a project instead of a person?"

"None of this changes who Super Friend Garnet is or what I feel about her," said Penny.

"I'm not saying it should," said Weiss. "I just want you to be careful."

Penny felt herself bristling. (At least that's what Thesaurus said she was doing.) "What danger do you think I'm in?" she demanded.

"You have no memory," said Weiss. "I have to think there's a reason for it. And if you're loaded down with pro-Atlas programming, and the Atlas military is right there looking at what we're up to, you might find answers you don't want."

Weiss didn't know the half of it, Tactical noted. If Ruby could track down Penny by her scroll, there was no reason Ruby's handlers couldn't…

The discomfort Penny always felt at discussions of her memory rose up in her again. Nothing Weiss had said was outside of the possibilities Penny herself had considered, but it sounded much worse coming from someone else. Penny wasn't sure why.

"Do you think," Penny tried, "that it might be your resentment towards Atlas that is making you think this way?"

"I don't know how you can have something pro-Atlas in your head and not resent it," said Weiss. "And I wasn't forcibly programmed the way you were."

Penny didn't understand. She didn't understand what she felt or why, and she felt herself growing more upset, which drew cycles away from Analysis which kept it from helping her to figure out why which just made her more upset…

Weiss must have seen her, because she relented. "You don't have to answer now, okay? Just think about it."

"I will," said Penny, and hiccupped.

Blake flipped a few more pages in her copy of the Omnium. Down two paragraphs, two lines, seven words, there.

She was getting back to her top speed when it came to reading these ciphers. She had read more in the past two months than she had in the two years prior to that. Talking with her parents was easier, she could do that directly and they were good at circumlocution; Blake's parents had been revolutionaries for longer than Blake had been alive.

Her conversations with her parents were her primary means of getting insight into White Fang HQ. Intel on the Vale Branch had to come through Tukson and the other reluctant Fang she'd cultivated over the past couple of months. Their information came sporadically and encoded. It was worth it. She felt like they were getting somewhere, like the fissures were getting bigger.

She hadn't been able to pick up messages from her contacts herself since the attack on her dorm, but Professor Ozpin had said he'd be taking care of that. She had little choice but to believe him.

Imagine her surprise, then, when this message came to her from her parents, fully ciphered. It held her complete attention.

One, two more words that she decoded, and there, she was done. Now what did it…

Oh. Was that real?

Blake stood and pocketed the message, keeping her hand on it to keep it secure. Excusing herself hurriedly, she made a beeline for the Emerald Tower. The secretary was absent, but she was let into the headmaster's office all the same.

Did Professor Ozpin ever sleep? A question for another time.

"I have new information for you," said Blake.

"How serendipitous," said Professor Ozpin, "because I have new information for you, as well."

"Do you want to go first?" said Blake.

"I don't need the illusion of primacy," said Professor Ozpin. "Please go ahead."

"The headquarters of the White Fang is sending an observer to the Vale Branch," said Blake. "High Leader Khan is tired of her communications being ignored and plans to get to the bottom of things directly."

"Do you know when this observer will arrive?" said Professor Ozpin.

"Sometime in the next two weeks," said Blake. "Hard to say for certain, travel is dangerous even when you're not undercover."

"True," said Professor Ozpin.

"But the fact that Sienna sent someone means that she's out of patience with Adam. This might be the break we were looking for."

"One of several, I think," said Professor Ozpin. "I've just been informed that Roman Torchwick broke Neopolitan out of jail and the both of them are headed out of the Kingdom."

Blake's ears went flat against her skull. "How is that a break? That's terrible news! They'll come after us again!"

"I think not," said Professor Ozpin mildly. "Before Torchwick made his jailbreak, one of my operatives contacted him with an offer of tepid pursuit if he leaves the Kingdom. Torchwick didn't need to leave anything behind when he broke out his partner, but he nevertheless did."

He tapped a key and an image appeared in the air between teacher and pupil. It was a note that said, "So long, suckers!" in the largest possible font.

"Not the message one sends when one is sticking around," said Professor Ozpin.

"I guess not?" said Blake uncertainly.

"Sometimes," said Professor Ozpin, "it's more profitable to let someone escape than to try to hold on to them. As long as it means they're off the board going forward."

"If you say so, professor."

"In addition, my Huntsmen intercepted another shipment of Dust out of the city. Once more they followed the parameters we established," he said with a nod in her direction. "They confiscated the airship and the Dust and returned the people to Vale."

"So whatever the Vale Branch was planning is going to be critically under-supplied," said Blake.

"Yes," said Professor Ozpin. "Even if we assume that the Fang budgeted for losses, I doubt their budget was this expansive."

"Meaning delays for whatever it was they were trying to do," said Blake.

"Perhaps indefinite delays," said Professor Ozpin, "depending upon where we go from here."

"And where do we go from here?" said Blake.

"I have some possibilities," said Professor Ozpin, "that I'm tracking down a little more. Give me a few more days and we'll speak again."

"Thank you, sir," said Blake, but then she looked down as embarrassment overtook her.

"What is it, Miss Belladonna?" he said.

"It's funny to hear you talk like that," said Blake. "Treating me like an equal when I'm a student and you're headmaster."

"Not an equal per se," said Professor Ozpin. "Just someone with a similar investment in the same fight and the same outcomes."

"Same outcomes," said Blake roughly. "Right."

Professor Ozpin sighed and hit another button on his desk. "I have introduced variations of this bill in the Vale Council on four separate occasions."

"A bill to recognize Menagerie as the fifth Kingdom," Blake said as her eyes widened, "and establish trade and diplomatic relations?"

"I've been turned back before," he said, "but I'm close this time. If we can stop the Vale Branch, I think we may achieve it."

"I mean, it's a start," said Blake.

"We cannot finish a race if we never start," said Professor Ozpin.

"It's long overdue," said Blake.

"I don't disagree," said Professor Ozpin.

Great. Now Blake was annoyed.

She'd learned to distrust authority, and with good reason. Authorities had failed her, or worked against her, all too often. She'd worked with Ozpin against the Vale Branch only because she had no other choice. But now, he was starting to… well… seem worthy of respect. Which was annoying.

No. She didn't dare extend her respect to him. "If this bill passes," she said, "we'll talk more."

Ozpin gave a minute smile. "Incremental progress is all I can hope for. Hopefully, this means your team will maintain its discipline?"

"I don't know what you mean," Blake lied easily.

"Miss Belladonna, please."

Blake felt a small twinge of guilt. "We've done what you asked. You asked us to give you a chance using the information we'd gathered, and, well…" she gathered herself. "It looks like you're doing a decent job."

"High praise," said Ozpin with raised eyebrow. "Can I count on you to behave a little longer?"

"A little," Blake said grudgingly.

"Excellent," said Ozpin. "After all, the dance is coming up, and I'm sure that will be a wonderful time for your team. I'm almost envious. And, of course, I will keep my end of our bargain. When the time comes to break the Vale Branch, your team will participate."

"If you can manage it, that'd be more than 'incremental progress'," said Blake.

Ozpin seemed to enjoy her words. "Miss Belladonna, I pray that you'll one day experience the joys of being proven wrong. For now… why don't you go about ensuring your team makes it to the dance?"

"Is that an official mission?" she said playfully.

"Have any of your missions been official?" he said in the same tone. "I could make it one, if you wish."

Against her will, she smiled. "You know me. I'd rather stay off the books."

"And I know just as well you're incapable of that. I'll see you this weekend. Have fun."

Next time: Of Currents and Coils