Cover Art by CHE3ZY
Yeah, yeah I know. This took way longer than I wanted to finish but here we are. Better late than never. I hope you all enjoy this one. Enjoy.
Atlas Academy:
Winter stood at attention. Her uniform was as impeccable as her posture. The elder Schnee daughter stood in front of the desk of General Ironwood. The general sat at his desk with his fingers interlaced with each other and next to him stood Dr. Haze. The Chief Atlas Scientist had a more relaxed posture and held a steaming mug of coffee. Winter normally didn't tolerate anyone, civilians or military, to present themselves with such indifference in the presence of General Ironwood, but Winter knew better.
Cassandra Haze was not to be talked down to or reprimanded. No one, not even General Ironwood, dared to invoke her wrath.
"Sir, Specialist Schnee reports as ordered," Winter gave the general a crisp salute.
Ironwood smiled and returned the salute with one of his own.
"Thank you for coming Winter. Please," he gestured to the empty chair next to her, "have a seat."
Winter nodded and did as the general said.
"Let me cut to the chase, Winter," said the general, "the state of the world is not looking good, and we need your help."
"How can I be of assistance, sir?"
Dr. Haze brought up a holographic display of the world map of Remnant. A red blip was flashing steadily over the city of Vale whereas the entirety of the Kingdom of Mistral was flashing red more frequently.
"These past few weeks have been hectic for all of us," Cassandra took a sip of her coffee before she continued. "As things died down, we were able to do some digging and get our bearings better."
A second holographic display brought up three images. They were the student registration photos of Cinder Fall, Emerald Sustrai, and Mercury Black. Winter's eyes narrowed at the sight of the photos. She'd been briefed on the situation. Or at least as much as General Ironwood told her. Those three had assisted the White Fang invasion of Beacon, but Winter suspected that there was more to this than General Ironwood let on.
"Thanks to Unit 117, we have some leads on the attack of Beacon that point elsewhere besides the White Fang. The three were registered from Haven Academy; their paperwork checked out. I reached out to Headmaster Lionheart, but he didn't have anything useful to offer. The fact this breach of security happened under his watch, combined with his absence from the tournament has raised our suspicions."
Winter looked a bit surprised.
"Sir, you think Headmaster Lionheart had something to do with this?"
James looked uneasy before he replied. "I'm honestly not sure. My heart says no, but my mind is telling me that something more is going on in Mistral and by extension Haven Academy."
In truth, Ironwood didn't trust Lionheart anymore. Ozpin's circle might have been compromised. There were just too many coincidences for James' taste. Lionheart was the only Headmaster not present and three "students" from his school were Salem's agents. Cinder Fall was confirmed by Unit 117 to be the new Fall Maiden. Now, James and Cassandra had to admit that the paperwork for Cinder, Emerald, and Mercury would have fooled even Atlas' scrutiny, but the point stood. Lionheart might have been compromised, but it wasn't 100 percent certain. Cassandra certainly felt he was a puppet of Salem now, but James wanted to hold out a bit for his old friend.
Cassandra advocated sending in Unit 117 to interrogate the lion, but James forbade it. James would have preferred sending the Guardians in to retrieve the Relic of Knowledge, but without the Spring Maiden to open the vault it would be impossible to do so. That was one silver lining to all of this. The Spring Maiden's whereabouts were unknown to all within Ozpin's circle and without her, the Relic was safe from Salem for now.
"Out of curiosity," said Winter, "where has Unit 117 been? I haven't seen them since they left for Beacon."
James and Cassandra exchanged a brief glance before Cassandra spoke.
"They're here," replied the doctor. "They've been busy is all."
Winter wasn't buying it. There was something else going on.
"Winter, stay focused," said James, changing the subject, "your mission specs are here." He handed her a file with the markings Top Secret covering the file. "Read it, memorize it, then destroy it. But the short and sweet version of your job is to head to Mistral and investigate any leads that can help us determine the true state of affairs within Mistral."
Winter nodded before Ironwood continued.
"With global communications down we're going to need to get a bit more hands on with our intelligence sources within Mistral. Of course this means you'll need to be discrete with how you gather intel on Haven Academy, the White Fang, and the geo-political situation within Mistral."
James pondered all of the threats within Mistral at the moment. If Salem's next major move was to be made, it would originate in Mistral. The Tin Man was willing to stake his life on it. The White Fang were headquartered in Mistral and if Lionheart had indeed fallen to Salem's influence, then Haven Academy was next on the list. He needed to play this smart and delicately. He couldn't just send an invasion force to seize control of Mistral. That's exactly what Salem would want him to do. With what just happened in Vale, they couldn't afford to risk throwing the world into greater chaos and negativity for the Grimm. No. He would play this his way.
"My initial instinct was to declare a Dust embargo against Mistral, but after Dr. Haze's counsel, I have determined that closing the borders between Atlas and Mistral is the safer option for now. This way we avoid hurting our own economy."
"Yes sir, I understand."
"Winter, dear," said Dr. Haze, earning the former heiress' attention, "to have your curiosity put at ease, you will be accompanied during this mission by Zero-One-One, who will be with you at all times to protect you and your team. We will brief him separately on his assignment, but please refrain from telling Marrow any of the finer details."
Winter's face flushed red as Dr. Haze gave the young Specialist a sly smirk. James merely raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Am I missing something here?" Asked James.
Cassandra chuckled. "Oh, never mind, James. It's not important. Winter, you're dismissed."
Winter wasted no time in giving the general a quick salute before turning on her heel and exiting quickly leaving James puzzled and Cassandra smirking.
"That was odd," said James.
Cassandra rolled her eyes.
"When do you plan on telling her and the Ace Ops the truth about this whole thing?"
James sighed. "Not until Winter returns from Mistral."
"Fair enough," replied Cassandra, "just don't wait too long."
Location Unknown:
Cinder Fall clenched her teeth, staring down at the blackened tendrils writhing across her new arm. They pulsed with life, moving like serpents under her skin, eager to lash out. Sweat dripped from her brow as she tried to will them still, commanding the Grimm appendage to obey her. It didn't listen. A sudden jolt of searing pain shot through her shoulder, and Cinder hissed. The limb twitched violently, and the claws at the end extended involuntarily, gouging deep ruts into the stone floor beneath her feet. Frustration boiled inside her, but she bit it back. She couldn't lose control—not again.
"Enough," Salem's voice cut through the air like a dagger, cold and unforgiving. Cinder turned toward the immortal witch standing at the edge of the room, her serpentine gaze fixed on her like a predator to prey.
"You must learn to control it," Salem said slowly, her voice as smooth as poison. "This is no ordinary power. It will devour you if you let it. If you are to serve me, you must master it."
Cinder's jaw tightened, anger simmering beneath her calm facade.
"I gave you this gift, not as a reward, but as a reminder." Salem's crimson eyes darkened. "Those who fail me are discarded. Those who serve must be useful."
Her meaning was unmistakable. There was no room for failure. Not again. Cinder's fists clenched, the claws on her Grimm arm flexing as if in defiance of her. But she swallowed her frustration, bowing her head in submission. She would master it. She had no other choice.
Atlas Academy:
The moment the buzzer sounded, all three moved at once. Chap sprang into a low stance, his body coiled, anticipating attacks from both sides. Melon shot forward, fast and precise, while Doc pivoted smoothly, already sizing up both of his brothers. No hesitation. No alliances. This was a pure free-for-all, and they fought like wolves in a cage.
Doc reached Chap first, firing a quick, brutal jab toward his ribs. Chap twisted away, the punch whistling past his side, and countered with a sharp elbow toward Melon's temple. Melon ducked under it by inches, his hands already shifting to trap Chap's arm. Chap wrenched free, but the half-second delay left him vulnerable. Doc capitalized. From Chap's blind spot, Doc lunged with a snapping front kick aimed at Chap's stomach. Chap barely had time to cross his arms and absorb the impact, his feet sliding back from the force. Before he could recover, Doc's follow-up—a vicious spinning back fist—swung toward his head.
Chap dropped under the strike, both hands hitting the mat as he flipped backward, narrowly evading Doc's knuckles. The movement was fluid but not effortless—a slight lag in Chap's speed, just enough for his brothers to notice. Chap was still not at 100 percent from his surgery. Melon pressed the attack immediately. He feinted with a high kick, forcing Chap to guard, then shot low, hooking Chap's leg with his own. Chap hit the ground with a heavy thud but twisted mid-fall, locking his legs around Melon's waist. In a flash, Chap flipped Melon over him, slamming him onto the mat.
Doc appeared out of nowhere, launching a knee strike at Chap's ribs as soon as he stood. Chap blocked just in time, forearms colliding with Doc's knee. The impact jarred him, but he kept his stance tight, retaliating with a quick jab that grazed Doc's cheek. Doc grinned. The first hit only made him hungrier. Melon was already back on his feet, closing the distance with terrifying efficiency. Chap caught the movement in his periphery and spun on instinct, fists flashing like a blur—one aimed at Melon's sternum, the other toward Doc's jaw. Doc parried and countered, his knuckles slamming into Chap's shoulder.
Melon, meanwhile, sidestepped Chap's strike and drove an elbow toward his ribs. Chap twisted away, gritting his teeth as fatigue clawed at his muscles. He was holding his own, but every movement felt heavier than it should. The fight didn't stop. Melon pivoted and swept a leg toward Doc's ankles, trying to take him down, but Doc leaped clear, flipping through the air and landing smoothly behind Melon. Without missing a beat, Doc launched a sharp kick toward Melon's back. Melon twisted just in time, catching Doc's ankle in mid-air. With a sharp yank, he flipped Doc toward the ground, but Doc rotated his body mid-fall, planting both hands and springing back up with inhuman agility.
Chap moved fast, surging toward them both. He planted a foot against the wall for momentum and launched himself into the fray, his fists striking with relentless precision. A flurry of hits—jab, cross, hook—aimed at both brothers. Doc ducked, deflecting a blow with his forearm, and retaliated with a brutal knee toward Chap's ribs. Chap twisted to avoid most of the impact, but the strike still glanced off him, leaving a dull ache in his side. He hissed through clenched teeth, refusing to slow down. Melon cut in next, throwing a lightning-fast combination of punches and kicks. Chap bobbed and weaved, narrowly avoiding each hit, but his stamina was wearing thin. Melon's fist shot toward his jaw, and Chap leaned back just far enough for the blow to graze his chin. Doc took advantage of the distraction.
He grabbed Chap's arm mid-swing and twisted into a brutal hip throw. Chap hit the mat with a hard smack, but he didn't stay down. His legs shot out, catching Doc's calf and dragging him down as well. In a blink, Melon pounced. His knee drove toward Chap's chest, but Chap rolled aside at the last second. Melon's knee cracked against the mat with a dull thud, and Chap used the moment to push off the ground. He swung at Melon's ribs, but Melon caught his wrist, his grip like a vise. The two locked eyes—Melon's gaze cold and focused, Chap's filled with grit and frustration at his subpar performance.
Chap twisted, breaking Melon's hold just in time to avoid another strike from Doc, who was back on his feet. Doc grinned. His brothers fought hard, but it only made him more eager to keep going.
"You're slowing down, Chap," Doc taunted, circling them both. "What's wrong? Getting tired?"
Chap didn't answer, his breath coming fast and sharp. His body was screaming for rest, but he refused to yield. The three clashed again—limbs flying, muscles straining, sweat dripping. Every strike was faster, harder, and more precise than the last. Melon's kicks cut through the air like whips, Doc's elbows slammed with bone-crushing force, and Chap matched them, despite the weight dragging on him. For a moment, it was beautiful chaos. The three brothers moved in perfect synchronicity, their strikes seamless and relentless.
It didn't matter who hit or who blocked—each exchange was its own storm of skill and stamina. Then, just as Chap was about to plant a spinning back kick toward Doc's ribs, a sharp voice cut through the room.
"That's enough boys!" The three froze mid-motion, muscles still coiled with tension.
Dr. Haze stood cross-armed at the entrance, her authoritative tone demanding their discipline.
"You're needed in Ironwood's office," she said curtly, eyes flicking between them. "Get cleaned up and report there." She turned sharply, her heels clicking against the floor as she left without waiting for a response. The brothers glanced at one another, breathing hard but steady. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But for now, they had other matters to attend to.
The boys stood before General Ironwood and Dr. Haze dressed in their WRAITH suits. When they returned from their failed battle with Salem, their armor was unrecognizable. It took Cassandra weeks to get their suits fully repaired and it was a labor-intensive process too, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered to her was that her boys were alive and well.
"Thanks for coming boys," said James, "it's time you received your next assignments."
The boys nodded. They knew it was only a matter of time before they were returned to active duty. These last 5 weeks had been spent mostly recovering and training in the aftermath of the fight against Salem. They knew that eventually they would return to active duty and that time was now.
"As you all know, the state of the world is in a precarious situation. Tensions are high between Kingdoms and between humans and faunus. Atlas is not viewed kindly on the world stage at the moment," James said that last part with disappointment in his voice. "Vale is still recovering, the state of Mistral is uncertain, and Vacuo is surprisingly still the same. Salem made her move and successfully removed Beacon Academy from the board. She may have won the battle, but this war is far from over and you three are instrumental in ending this shadow war."
The boys said nothing and merely listened. They had accepted that they failed to kill Salem, but it still angered them slightly when they thought about it.
"While we failed to kill Salem, your combat footage has allowed us to learn so much more about her than we ever knew before," said Cassandra.
That was certainly saying something considering Cassandra and James analyzed over 60 hours of combat footage, taking detailed notes along the way. The good doctor continued.
"I would hypothesize that the Witch is effectively unkillable by most means of physical attacks, however, we have yet to see how magic affects her. Whether it be the Maidens, Relics, or Silver-Eyed Warriors, we have other avenues to explore when it comes to defeating her."
James nodded. "Which brings us to your assignment, Zero-Six-Nine," the general handed Melon a file labeled Top Secret. "As you'll see your assignment isn't much different than your previous one."
Zero-Six-Nine quickly skimmed the mission specs before looking back at the general.
"Miss Rose's powers left Cinder Fall in a severely wounded state based on your report, and if that's the case then it's quite possible she may become one of Salem's targets. Zero-Six-Nine, your mission is to watch over and protect Miss Rose. She will be a valued asset in the fight against Salem."
Melon was conflicted. On the one hand, he trusted Ruby's safety to no one else except his brothers. On the other hand, he didn't like the idea of Ruby facing off against Salem. Ruby as she was stood no chance against Salem, and that was based on his firsthand knowledge of fighting her. In any case, it didn't matter. He had his orders, and he would see his mission through.
"Yes sir," replied Zero-Six-Nine, "consider it done."
General Ironwood nodded before turning his attention to Doc. The general handed him a similar file before speaking.
"Zero-One-One, your mission is to act as Specialist Schnee's bodyguard in Mistral. You can read up on the finer details, but the short version is that you will protect her from any hostile threats in Mistral while she investigates the state of affairs within Mistral. Mistral is currently a wild card, and we need as much information as we can get. While she is doing this, I want you to analyze all intel collected and try to determine Salem's next course of action. Special Operative Schnee still does not know about Salem and it will stay that way until I deem otherwise. Do what you need to do to keep Salem's existence hidden. Understood?"
Doc nodded. "Simple enough, sir. I've got it."
James gave Zero-One-One a small smile before turning his attention to Chap.
"Zero-Three-Seven," said General Ironwood, "as of now you are to remain here in Atlas. You've yet to fully recover and I want you at 100 percent before sending you into the field. I have a couple of tasks in mind for you, though."
Chap nodded. Internally, he was initially eager to get back out into the field but the general had a point. He wasn't at 100 percent yet, but that would not be a problem very soon.
"What assignment can I expect?" Asked Chap.
"For now," replied James, "focus on getting back to 100 percent and when that's done I want you to train the Ace Ops. I want them better prepared for the future fight. As for the other assignment, the details are still being sorted out."
"Understood sir," replied Chap.
"Good. As it stands, you two," James looked at Zero-Six-Nine and Zero-One-One, "will ship out in 72 hours. Get your gear ready and best of luck to you."
"Yes sir!" The Guardians replied in unison.
"If there aren't any more questions then you're dismissed," said James.
Doc raised his hand, earning the general's attention.
"Just one sir," said Zero-One-One.
"Ask away."
"Sir," said Doc, "I understand the need for Miss Rose's continued protection, but on this note would Miss Schnee or Miss Nikos be in any danger from Salem as well?"
The question earned a pair of curious looks from the general and the good doctor. General Ironwood was quick to respond, however.
"I understand the sentiment," said the commander of Atlas' Armed Forces, "but Dr. Haze and I took this into account. Miss Schnee is far more likely to be a target of the White Fang than of Salem. She will remain here in Atlas where she'll be safe from any threats of the White Fang and where we can keep an eye on her." James paused, observing his Guardians take in the information before he continued.
"As for Miss Nikos, the chances Salem would want anything with her are very low. Had she succeeded in taking Amber's half of the Fall Maiden powers then we'd be having a different conversation. Having an idea of how Salem operates, she won't waste time dedicating resources to go after Pyrrha. Pyrrha is still recovering in Atlas General Hospital, and she is being kept under our watch until she returns home to Argus. I hope that answered your question."
"Yes sir," replied Doc.
"Good, then you're all dismissed."
Somewhere in Vale:
The cracked neon sign of a run-down bar buzzed softly above the door, casting a flickering red hue over the pavement outside. Inside, the air smelled of stale liquor and cigarette smoke, with only a handful of patrons slouched over tables. In the farthest corner, away from the murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses, sat Neo. She stared into her half-empty glass, twirling the liquid with a slight motion of her wrist. Resting beside her on the table was Roman Torchwick's hat, frayed at the edges—a ghost of better days.
Touching it gave her no comfort. It never did. The hat was a reminder of what she had lost: Roman, the closest thing she had to family, was torn from her by the chaos of Beacon. She could still remember their last moments together—fighting Ruby Rose. They had been so close to victory, to freedom. But then everything went wrong. One moment she was fighting, and the next, she'd been kicked off the airship. When she finally found her way back Roman was gone. Ruby had been the last person to cross his path. In Neo's mind, that made her guilty.
But not as guilty as Cinder, and she would pay for it in time. The bar door creaked open, the faint bell above it jingling. Neo didn't look up—she knew how to recognize trouble without needing to. The heavy footfalls of boots on old wooden floors were distinct, followed by the smooth, deliberate stride of someone who thought very highly of themselves. She sensed two figures approaching before they stopped at her table.
"Neo," came a familiar voice.
Neo slowly raised her gaze, her expression cold and detached. She recognized Adam Taurus immediately—his signature red hair and grim, scarred mask were hard to forget. They'd crossed paths before, through Roman's dealings with Cinder. Adam had always radiated an air of danger, but tonight there was something different about him. He wasn't just dangerous—he was determined.
The second man, though, was unfamiliar. Arthur Watts. His appearance was a sharp contrast to Adam's—polished, smug, and exuding a quiet menace. Neo's eyes narrowed. She didn't trust either of them, but she made no move toward the parasol resting at her side. Not yet.
"Mind if we sit?" Watts asked, though the question sounded more like a formality.
Neo's silence was all the answer they needed. Adam pulled out a chair and sat across from her, while Watts leaned against the table with an easy, condescending smile.
"You've been hard to find," Watts said, as if it was a compliment. "But not impossible."
Neo's expression didn't change. She reached for her scroll, typed a few words, and spun it around to show them:
What do you want?
Adam exchanged a glance with Watts before leaning forward.
"We need your help."
Neo's lips curled into a sneer. She wasn't interested. Not in helping anyone—not after everything that had happened. She tapped quickly on the scroll again:
I don't work with Cinder's people.
"We're not here on behalf of Cinder," Watts said sharply. There was a trace of venom in his tone, and Neo caught it instantly. "I'm not very fond of her, either. But the person we do work for... let's just say even Cinder is afraid of her."
Neo remained stoic, but internally she was a bit surprised by what she heard. Someone far more powerful than Cinder? Was that even possible?
Adam cast Watts an annoyed look from beneath his mask.
"Neo," said Adam, "I think your anger towards Cinder might be misplaced." The faunus extremist could see the mute girl's anger beginning to rise and he so moved to speak again. "What I mean is, who was it that killed Roman? Was it Cinder? Because if I remember correctly, she was busy destroying the tower."
Neo's eyes narrowed dangerously before she typed away another message.
She wasn't there when he died but he'd be alive if she never came to us.
Adam didn't look like he bought the explanation.
"You and Roman knew that there was always a risk of dying on any sort of job. You're looking at this the wrong way. If you want justice for Roman, then you need to go after the people who directly hurt him. Who are those people?"
Neo looked at the faunus extremist for a moment before she typed another message.
Ruby Rose and General Ironwood.
Adam smirked.
"Then there you have it," said the faunus, "those are the people who need to pay. Not Cinder."
Watts chuckled softly. "Cinder is... useful. But she's not the one in charge. We report to someone far more powerful—someone who's going to change the world. And if you're not on her side..."
He let the thought hang in the air, the implication sharp as a knife.
Neo's fingers paused above the scroll. The expression she shot toward Watts was that of fearlessness, just shy of defiance. Watts, however, leaned in slightly, meeting her glare with a thin smirk.
"The world is already shifting, Neo," he continued smoothly. "Atlas, Vale, Mistral—they won't survive what's coming. The only question is, will you be on the winning side, or will you get left behind?"
Neo's gaze flicked to Adam, searching for a reason to care. She didn't want to play games—she wanted revenge. On Cinder, on Ruby, on Ironwood. The people who had taken everything from her. She tapped again on the scroll:
What's in it for me?
Adam leaned back in his chair, his tone quiet but heavy with meaning.
"Considering how you mentioned Ironwood hurt Roman, I'm willing to bet that when Roman was being held by Ironwood he was tortured. Wasn't he?"
Neo's fingers clenched involuntarily, which Adam noticed. His suspicions were confirmed. Now, Adam's words stirred a fresh wave of anger in her chest.
"The fact you're still here means that Roman never gave up any information," Adam continued. "Even when they broke him physically, he said nothing. To protect you."
Neo's heart twisted painfully at the mention of Roman's loyalty. He protected her, and she hadn't even been there in the end. But now, these men were offering her something—a chance to strike back at the people responsible.
"There's someone in an Atlas prison," Adam said. "Someone who knows things—things we need. But the prison is impenetrable. We can't get in without someone like you."
Neo gave him a skeptical look, tapping out:
Why me?
Watts smiled knowingly. "Because your semblance makes you the best. No one slips through security like you do. With your illusions, they'll never see us coming."
Adam leaned in again, his voice low and intense. "Help us, Neo. Help us get what we need from Atlas, and you'll get what you want. Ruby, Ironwood... they'll all pay."
Watts added with a sly grin, "And if you decide not to help? Well... let's just say the people on the wrong side of our employer tend to regret it."
The unspoken threat lingered in the air, cold and sharp. Neo knew they weren't bluffing. Whoever these men served, it was someone powerful—someone even Cinder feared. That alone made her pause. If she refused, she would be painting a target on her back. But if she helped them... she would be one step closer to the revenge she craved. She tapped out one last message:
If I do this, I do it my way. No orders.
Adam gave a curt nod. "Deal."
Watts smiled. "Welcome aboard."
Neo didn't return the smile. She simply stood, grabbed Roman's hat, and placed it on her head with quiet determination. This wasn't loyalty. It wasn't trust. It was an alliance of convenience, nothing more. But if it brought her closer to her enemies, then it was worth it. Without another word, she walked toward the door, her parasol resting lightly on her shoulder. Adam and Watts followed, their footsteps echoing behind her. For now, they were allies. But Neo had her own plans—plans that ended with Ruby Rose's and Ironwood's blood on her hands.
Atlas Academy:
The door to Dr. Pietro Polendina's lab slid open with a soft hiss, the sterile light of the room spilling out into the hall as three towering figures stepped inside. Zero-One-One, Zero-Three-Seven, and Zero-Six-Nine filled the space with their presence, their advanced armor gleaming in the overhead lighting, plates of steel shifting with every calculated movement. At over seven feet tall in their suits, they looked more like machines than men—figures born from war rather than academy classrooms.
Pietro turned from his workbench, startled. His small frame seemed to shrink even further under the weight of their gazes, though his expression quickly softened with recognition.
"Oh! Oh my— You must be…" He fumbled for words, his fingers twitching anxiously. "You're Penny's friends, aren't you? The ones from Atlas Academy?"
Zero-One-One stepped forward with a courteous nod. "Yes, sir." His voice was low and precise, giving away little emotion. "She always spoke of you."
"Highly," added Zero-Six-Nine, his helmeted head inclining ever so slightly.
Pietro smiled at the thought. "Did she now? That sounds like my Penny."
He looked at the three boys in awe, taking in their size, the state-of-the-art armor, the careful way they moved, as if every step was planned beforehand. They looked far too precise, far too practiced to be mere Specialists. Penny told him that they were early graduates from Atlas Academy. It unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
"Please, come in," Pietro gestured toward the center of the lab. "I wasn't expecting visitors, but it's… good to meet you."
The Guardians filed in silently, their boots making no sound on the metal flooring, as if even their movements had been engineered to perfection. Pietro couldn't help but notice the way they scanned their surroundings—habitually analyzing every corner and entry point. Soldiers, he thought to himself, not students. The boys didn't sit. Their armor didn't seem designed for it. Instead, they stood shoulder to shoulder, quietly surveying the lab. Their gazes eventually settled on the far table, where Penny's lifeless body lay.
The sight was as strange as it was painful—a brilliant soul in a shell now empty. Penny's face was serene, as if she were merely sleeping, but the damage across her body told a different story. Jagged tears ran along her frame, still waiting for repairs Pietro hadn't yet been able to finish.
"We heard you were working to bring her back," Zero-One-One said quietly, his eyes lingering on the unmoving form of the girl they had once called their little sister. His tone was neutral, but there was something deeper there—something buried under years of conditioning.
"Yes," Pietro replied, his voice softer now. "It's… it's taking time. I've run into a few setbacks, but…" He trailed off, suddenly unsure of what to say to these boys. The way they stood there, armored giants staring at the girl they had failed to protect, stirred something in him. "I'm not giving up," he added, with a note of resolve.
Zero-Six-Nine's voice came through the filter of his helmet, flat and precise.
"We don't doubt you, Doctor."
The three Guardians approached the table together. For a long moment, they simply stood there, motionless, as if lost in thought. They had been trained to feel nothing. For as long as they could remember, emotions were a weakness to be eradicated, distractions to be ignored. But here, looking at Penny, it was difficult to silence the guilt.
"We should have been there," Zero-Three-Seven murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His voice was low and tight, laced with frustration.
Pietro frowned, confused. "You couldn't have known what would happen at Beacon."
"No," Doc replied, his tone even. "But we were supposed to protect her. That was our mission." His words hung in the air like a heavy weight.
The Guardians knew better than to dwell on failures. It wasn't part of their training. But Penny's death was different. She wasn't just a mission; she was family. And that made everything worse. A flashback stirred in Zero-One-One's mind, the memory sharp and vivid. After their initial recovery from the battle with Salem, General Ironwood debriefed them personally alongside Dr. Haze. He remembered the cold room, the flicker of the holographic screen, and the footage they had been shown.
On the screen, Penny faced Pyrrha in the tournament arena. The Guardians watched the footage in silence, studying every frame, every angle. It was all so clear now—Cinder had orchestrated the entire match, pitting the two girls against each other. Pyrrha hadn't known that Penny was a synthetic being. Her semblance of Polarity, meant to control metal, had reacted instinctively the moment Penny's components came into range.
The Guardians could see the panic in Pyrrha's eyes, a terror that seemed so out of place. And then it happened—Penny was ripped apart, her body bisected in a single, terrible moment. Pyrrha's scream of horror echoed in the video, her knees hitting the ground as she cried in remorse. It was clear that she hadn't meant to hurt Penny, let alone kill her. But intent didn't matter. Cinder's plan had worked perfectly.
The flashback ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving the Guardian standing once again in Pietro's lab. Neither he nor his brothers said anything, but the weight of the memory lingered. They knew that Penny and Pyrrha had both been pawns in a cruel game.
"We failed her," Chap said quietly, breaking the silence. There was no anger in his voice, only a dull acceptance of the truth. "We were pulled away for another mission, but… if we had stayed, she would still be alive."
Pietro looked at them, sympathy written across his tired face. "You couldn't have known."
"It was our job to know," Melon replied, his tone devoid of emotion. "We were supposed to be there."
They stood in silence for a while longer, each of them lost in their thoughts. Pietro could see the strain in them now—the burden they carried, even if they wouldn't admit it. These boys weren't just soldiers; they were something far more complicated. Finally, Zero-One-One straightened.
"We're leaving in a few days," he said, glancing at Pietro. "We have missions away from Atlas. We won't be back for a while."
Pietro nodded slowly. "I see."
The Guardians turned back to Penny's lifeless form one last time. There was no ceremony to their farewell—no grand gestures or emotional goodbyes. But there was something in the way they stood there, quiet and unmoving, that spoke volumes. Zero-One-One rested a hand on Penny's head, his touch surprisingly gentle for a literal killing machine.
"We'll see you soon, little sister," he whispered, barely audible.
Zero-Six-Nine gave a short nod. "Take care of her, Doctor."
Pietro smiled sadly. "I will. I promise."
With that, the Guardians stepped away from the table. Their mission was far from over, but they carried with them the hope that when they returned, Penny would be waiting for them. As they turned to leave, Pietro called out after them.
"Thank you… for being her friends." The Guardians paused at the door, but none of them looked back. They didn't need to.
"She was family," Chap said simply. And then they were gone, their heavy footsteps fading into the quiet hum of the lab.
Atlas:
The room was dimly lit, the pale glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains and casting faint silver lines across the bed. Marrow rested on his back, one arm draped around Winter's waist, holding her close to him. Her head rested against his chest, her fingers tracing light, absent-minded patterns along his skin. The cool night breeze wafted through the cracked window, but the warmth of their bare bodies tangled beneath the blankets was more than enough to keep the chill away.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but it was loaded. Marrow could sense that Winter's mind was elsewhere, and for once, he didn't press her. Things between them had been rocky the past few weeks. The strain of secrets and responsibilities had chipped away at what peace they had managed to build between missions. But tonight, he felt her softness again. A rare moment of vulnerability she only seemed to show when the two of them were alone. Winter shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow as she looked down at Marrow. Her icy blue eyes shimmered in the moonlight, but there was a shadow of hesitation behind them. She brushed a lock of hair from her face before speaking quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
"I have to leave in a few days," Winter began, her tone even, but there was a weight behind her words. "I'll be gone for a while in Mistral."
Marrow's heart sank, though he tried not to let it show. He tightened his arm around her waist slightly, pulling her closer.
"How long?"
"I don't know," Winter admitted, her gaze dropping briefly before she met his eyes again. "It's classified."
There it was—the secrecy again. Marrow exhaled through his nose, his disappointment settling into the space between them like an unwelcome guest.
"Of course, it's classified," he muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He didn't want to ruin this moment, but the secrecy was starting to wear on him. "Everything always is."
Winter sighed, brushing her hand along his shoulder in a soothing motion. "I know it hasn't been easy, Marrow. With everything that's happened… with the Guardians' mission at Beacon."
He rolled his eyes at the mention of it. The Guardians had been sent to Beacon undercover, and neither he nor the rest of the Ace Ops had known a thing about it until it was far too late. They were supposed to be Atlas' elite unit, yet it was painfully clear that the true elite was Special Mission Unit 117—the Guardians. Marrow and the others weren't even given a chance to help. They had been kept in the dark.
He scoffed quietly, though he kept his frustration muted.
"Yeah, it was a need-to-know only."
She glared at him, brushing her fingertips along his cheek. "Marrow… I didn't tell you or the others because I wasn't allowed to. I couldn't. Believe me, I wanted to."
Marrow exhaled and gave her a small nod. He knew she was being honest. Winter always followed orders to the letter—sometimes to a fault—but he also knew that she cared. Even if she couldn't always show it, she cared deeply about his team—and about him.
"I'm going to miss you," he said softly, his voice more vulnerable than he intended.
Winter gave him a small, grateful smile, though there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes. "I'll miss you too." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "Zero-One-One will be accompanying me as my bodyguard. That's Ironwood's order."
Marrow blinked, the mention of the Guardian catching him off guard. "Zero-One-One?" he repeated, a note of surprise in his voice. "One of the Guardians?"
Winter nodded. "Yes. But you can't tell anyone, Marrow. This has to stay between us."
The elder Schnee daughter was grateful Dr. Haze wasn't around to see this.
He stared at her for a moment, absorbing the information. "I promise," he said quietly, though his mind was already spinning.
The last he'd heard of the Guardians was through Harriet, who had mentioned that she had seen them when they first arrived back in Atlas. According to her, the Guardians had been on the brink of death, carried away by medical personnel the moment they landed. It had been a startling revelation, and it was a story Harriet only shared with the rest of the Ace Ops, keeping it a secret.
Out of curiosity, Marrow asked, "Have you seen them at all in the past few weeks?"
Winter shook her head, her expression thoughtful. "No. I haven't heard or seen anything about them."
That confirmed it for Marrow. Whatever happened to the Guardians after they returned, Ironwood and Dr. Haze had kept it tightly under wraps.
"I think Harriet was right," Marrow murmured, his voice low. "Ironwood and Dr. Haze didn't want anyone to know what happened to them."
Winter frowned slightly, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated for a moment, then decided to trust her with what Harriet had told them. "Harriet saw them when they got back. They were in bad shape. Barely alive. She said they looked like they'd been through hell."
Winter's eyes widened slightly, genuine shock flickering across her face. She knew the Guardians were powerful—almost godlike in their abilities. For something to have brought them to the brink of death was almost unthinkable.
"That… doesn't seem possible," Winter whispered, more to herself than to him. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.
She hadn't heard anything about the Guardians in weeks. If they had been recovering from such severe injuries, it explained their absence. Marrow nodded slowly, reading the unspoken questions in her eyes.
"They went on some kind of mission. Probably something dangerous. And Ironwood and Dr. Haze didn't want anyone knowing how bad it went."
Winter pressed her lips into a thin line, her mind racing with possibilities. If the Guardians had nearly died… what else were Ironwood and Dr. Haze keeping from her? And why? But there were no answers tonight. Only more questions. Winter exhaled deeply and leaned down, brushing her lips against Marrow's in a brief but tender kiss.
"I won't say anything," she promised softly. "And let's not waste the time we have."
Marrow smiled against her lips, his hand trailing up her back.
"Agreed."
The two of them settled back into the quiet comfort of each other's arms, choosing to savor the fleeting moment of peace before duty called them apart once again. For now, there was no need for words. Just warmth, closeness, and the silent promise of a reunion somewhere down the line.
Two Days Later – Atlas Academy:
The locker room was quiet, save for the soft clinks of armor plates locking into place and the occasional hiss of hydraulics as weapons were checked one last time. Melon stood by his locker, running through his equipment with mechanical precision. His green armor gleamed under the harsh lights, the segmented plates fitting together seamlessly.
Across from him, Doc was adjusting the sight on his rocket launcher. Sitting on a bench nearby, Chap watched his brothers work in silence, his grey armor shimmered underneath the light. His sharp, observant gaze flicked between the two from behind his helmet visor, taking in their preparations without a word. There was something both reassuring and unsettling about how natural it was—this quiet, methodical routine before a mission. None of them needed to ask about each other's assignments. They already knew.
Tomorrow, Melon would be on his way to Patch, tasked with quietly keeping an eye on Ruby. Doc would accompany Specialist Schnee to Mistral as her bodyguard. And Chap? He was staying in Atlas, grounded by General Ironwood's orders. Melon finished securing the last of his gear, his green helmet rested under his arm as he turned toward his brothers. His expression was as steady as ever, but deep inside, he was quietly relieved that Ruby's safety had been entrusted to him alone. No outsiders. No distractions. Only him.
"All set," Melon said, his voice low and steady.
Doc gave a curt nod, slinging his weapon over his shoulder. "Ready."
Chap leaned back slightly on the bench; arms folded. He hadn't moved much since they'd come back from paying their respects to Penny and meeting with Pietro. The silence between them was heavy—not uncomfortable, just weighed with the things they didn't say. They didn't know when they'd see each other again. Melon adjusted the knife at his side and gave a small nod to both of them.
"Alright. Good luck."
"See you, Melon," Doc replied without looking up, still checking his grenades.
"Later," Chap added, his voice quiet but firm.
Melon gave them a final glance, a brief moment of silent acknowledgment, and then turned toward the door. His boots thudded softly against the metal floor as he left the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a quiet hiss. Doc remained standing, carefully re-checking his gadgets and ammunition. His movements were deliberate, but not rushed. Chap's voice broke the silence.
"You think Weiss will be safe here?"
Doc paused, and for a moment, he didn't answer.
"All I can do," Doc said finally, "is trust the general's judgment."
There was no conviction in the words. Just a flat, matter-of-fact statement. Chap shifted slightly on the bench, watching Doc with that same steady, unreadable gaze.
"Why do you ask?" Asked Doc.
Chap didn't say anything for a moment, taking a second to think on his response.
"I'm honestly not sure. Just curious what you thought."
Doc nodded.
There was silence between the two of them for a few minutes as Doc finished prepping his gear.
"I'll catch you later, Chap. I'm going to check on Weiss," Doc said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact as if he were talking about grabbing coffee from the chow hall.
Chap blinked, tilting his head slightly. "What do you mean?"
Doc shrugged; his expression as nonchalant as ever. "I mean, I'm going to make sure she's okay. Nothing stopping me from doing so."
Chap frowned slightly behind his helmet, processing the words. "Ironwood didn't authorize that."
"Ironwood didn't say I couldn't."
The simplicity of it caught Chap off guard. There was no hesitation in Doc's voice, no second-guessing. Just a quiet certainty that he would do what he felt needed to be done, regardless of orders. Doc stepped closer, resting a hand on Chap's shoulder in a rare gesture of reassurance.
"While Melon and I are out, you should check on Pyrrha. No one's stopping you either."
Chap's jaw tightened slightly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable—something between frustration and understanding. Doc gave him a small pat on the shoulder, then stepped back, adjusting his gear one last time.
"See you around, Chap."
Without waiting for a response, Doc turned on his heel and made his way to the door. The hiss of its opening and closing echoed softly through the room, leaving Chap alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Chap just sat there, staring at the door his brother had walked through. Doc's words echoed in his mind, simple yet heavier than they had any right to be. Nothing stopping me. His gaze drifted to his grey armor resting beside him. Maybe Doc was right. Maybe he should check on Pyrrha.
Atlas:
The air in the Soleil family home felt strange—both suffocating and vast. After five long weeks in the hospital, Ciel had imagined coming home would bring relief. But instead, it left her hollow. The walls still carried the faint, familiar scent of cleaning supplies, but it did nothing to soothe her restless thoughts. It was only earlier that day that she'd been discharged from the and her parents brought her home, and already, the silence gnawed at her.
She sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, her back ramrod straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. It was a position she had perfected during her time in Atlas Academy—discipline embedded into every muscle—but today it felt forced, like a mask she wore to keep from crumbling. The message from the academy had come shortly after she returned home:
All classes are suspended until further notice. Students are advised to remain at their residences or seek temporary leave if required.
No further instructions. No timeline. Just uncertainty stretching out endlessly ahead of her. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm. There was no curriculum to focus on now, no orders to follow. The structure that had always kept her grounded was gone, and with it came the flood of memories she had spent the last five weeks trying to suppress. The battle at Beacon had been a nightmare—one she couldn't escape, not even in the sanctuary of her mind.
She remembered the chaos of it all: the deafening roar of Grimm, the clashing of weapons, and the cries of fallen comrades. But what haunted her most were the moments after the dust settled, when the White Fang terrorists had found her, injured and defenseless. Strained by her injuries, she had been too weak to fight back. Her aura had been shattered, her limbs heavy with exhaustion and pain. She could still hear the twisted laughter of the White Fang thugs as they circled her, taunting her with promises of what they intended to do.
At that moment, she had never felt smaller or more helpless. She had failed her mission. Failed Penny. The thought had seared through her like a hot blade. Penny had been the focus of her mission, the one she was supposed to protect. Ciel clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. Her failure had cost Penny her life, and no amount of rest or recovery could change that.
But then, in the darkest moment, salvation had come. Three soldiers—tall, imposing, and relentless—had descended like shadows from nowhere. In the blink of an eye, they eliminated the White Fang thugs with lethal precision. Ciel remembered lying there, stunned, as they cut them down with terrifying ease, their weapons silent, their faces hidden behind helmets. When it was over, one of them had extended a gloved hand to her, his voice calm but commanding. They tended to her wounds and sent her on her way and then they were gone, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared, leaving nothing but the bodies of her attackers in their wake.
In the hospital, she learned from Team FNKI that those same soldiers had encountered them earlier before the chaos at Beacon began. FNKI had spoken about them with awe—and confusion. They had described the soldiers as ghostlike, operating outside any known chain of command, their actions methodical yet shrouded in secrecy. A covert unit. A special operations team. That was the theory.
Ciel leaned back on the bed, resting her head against the cold metal frame. The ache in her muscles was a constant reminder that she wasn't as strong as she needed to be. She couldn't protect Penny, and she couldn't protect herself. But those soldiers… they had been everything she wasn't—fast, precise, unyielding. She wanted to find them. Not just to thank them, though she owed them that much. No, she wanted something more. She wanted them to train her, to make her stronger. If she was going to move forward, if she was going to be a Specialist who was worthy of her mission, she couldn't afford to fail like that again.
She figured that General Ironwood and Specialist Schnee knew who they were; they simply had to know. When she asked them during their visits, every inquiry she made about them was met with a deflected answer. They were clearly not wanting to speak about them. Why the secrecy? She exhaled sharply through her nose, her jaw tightening. But Ironwood had said nothing, his face unreadable during their brief conversations. Winter had been no different—formal and distant, as if Ciel's questions were too dangerous to entertain.
Her mind drifted onto the thought of Penny. The guilt twisted in her chest like a vice, suffocating and relentless. It was a weight she carried alone, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could bear it. But then, amid the sorrow, a flicker of resolve ignited. She couldn't change the past, but she could shape what came next. And to do that, she needed to be stronger—stronger than she had ever been. She rose from the bed, her limbs protesting the movement, but she ignored the pain. It didn't matter. What mattered was moving forward, no matter how slowly.
She walked over to the window and looked out at the city of Atlas, its streets bustling with life as if nothing had happened. But everything had happened. The world was different now, and so was she. Her scroll buzzed on the nightstand, drawing her attention.
A message from Neon: How's it feel to be free? Want to grab dinner tomorrow?
Ciel smiled faintly, the smallest crack in her otherwise stoic demeanor. Neon was insistent—always trying to bring light to the darkest situations. But Ciel wasn't ready for that yet. Soon, she told herself. She would see them soon. But she needed to find those soldiers—the ones who had saved her. She needed answers. And more than that, she needed to learn. If they could become unstoppable, then so could she. She would make sure of it. She wasn't the same person who had gone to Beacon. And she never would be again.
The grand bedroom felt as cold as the winter night outside. Weiss sat on the edge of her bed, dressed in a soft white nightgown, her hands resting on her lap, fingers absentmindedly twisting a strand of hair. Moonlight spilled across the room through the large windows, casting silver patterns on the polished floors and elegant furniture. Everything about the room—the carefully arranged ornaments, the pristine sheets, the lingering scent of lavender—was designed to feel luxurious. But to Weiss, it felt more like a gilded cage.
She leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, her head heavy with thoughts. The silence pressed down on her, broken only by the occasional soft tick from the ornate clock on her wall. It's been weeks. Why does it still feel like it just happened? Weiss closed her eyes, and the memories flooded her mind once again. The roar of chaos at Beacon, the sight of Grimm swarming the academy grounds. Penny... gone. Her heart ached at the thought of her friend. A sweet, innocent soul who didn't deserve what happened to her. And Jai, Terre, and Rahm... now nothing more than ghosts that haunted her memories. Why did it have to be them?
The corners of her mouth tightened, and she clenched her hands into fists. And Blake. The thought of Blake stung like a fresh wound. After everything, Blake ran away. Just... vanished. No goodbye. No explanation. Only silence, leaving them all behind to pick up the pieces. It felt like a betrayal, one that Weiss hadn't come to terms with yet. Weiss sat there in silence, swallowed by grief, frustration, and helplessness. She hated that she was here—back in Atlas, locked away by her father's orders, with no way to help anyone or even see her friends again. Ruby, Yang, everyone—out there somewhere, and she was stuck in this manor, useless.
Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes.
I want to see them again...
Her chest rose and fell in a long, shaky breath.
I just want things to go back to the way they were...
But they wouldn't. And Weiss knew it. After sitting still for another long moment, Weiss finally stood up, her bare feet brushing against the soft rug. She made her way toward the window, her delicate hands resting on the sill as she gazed out into the night. The city of Atlas stretched out far below, glittering with lights under the pale moon. It should have felt beautiful, but all Weiss felt was a distant emptiness. Her fingers curled against the cold glass. Weiss's lips pressed into a thin line.
"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered to herself, her breath fogging the glass for a brief second.
She stood there for a while, staring into the dark, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come. And just as she was about to turn away, something flickered at the edge of her vision—a slight shimmer, like a ripple in the air. Weiss's heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking it this time—something was there, just beyond the glass. A shimmer in the darkness, barely perceptible, less than a few feet from where she stood. Her breath hitched as her pale blue eyes searched the shadows just beyond the window, scanning for... something.
The night outside seemed empty. And yet, she knew she'd seen something. Weiss stared hard into the darkness, her forehead pressing lightly against the cold glass. For a moment, her mind tried to conjure the shapes of a figure, but the shimmer was gone, leaving only shadows behind.
She narrowed her eyes, her breath fogging the window once more. "Is someone there?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
No answer. Only the cold hum of the night breeze against the manor walls.
Her pulse thudded dully in her ears.
You're imagining things.
Weiss, she told herself, forcing the tension from her shoulders.
It's nothing. Just a trick of the light... or maybe you're just tired.
With one last glance at the night, Weiss slowly pulled away from the window and turned back toward her bed. The fleeting sense of unease lingered at the back of her mind, but she forced it down. No ghosts were watching her from the shadows. At least, that's what she thought.
Just beyond the glass, less than three feet from where Weiss had stood, a faint ripple in the air shimmered briefly before vanishing completely. Zero-One-One stayed perfectly still, his armor's active camouflage rendering him nearly invisible, blending seamlessly with the shadows of the manor's exterior. He watched her from where he stood, only inches from the window, close enough that he could have tapped the glass if he wanted to. But he didn't. He had no orders to be here. He was here on his own accord.
Weiss was his charge once, and even now, he still felt a lingering sense of duty toward her. Through the window, he saw her hesitate, her pale eyes searching for something just out of reach. For a moment, it was as though she knew he was there—just on the other side, watching her with silent vigilance. He could almost feel the connection, a quiet understanding that neither of them could explain. Weiss lingered at the window for a few moments more before she turned back toward her bed.
Zero-One-One remained where he was, unmoving, watching as she slipped beneath the covers and rested her head on the pillow. Her expression, even in sleep, was troubled—her mind still weighed down by memories and emotions she couldn't shake. He watched over her for a while longer, ensuring she was safe. His hand hovered near the edge of his helmet as if considering some small gesture of comfort. But no words came. There were no words that could ease the burdens she carried. Instead, he gave her one last protective glance through the window—a silent promise that she was not alone, even if she didn't know it.
Then, with a slight shift of his weight, Zero-One-One turned away. The shimmer in the air flickered once more as his armor's camouflage adjusted to his movements, and he vanished completely into the night. There was nothing more for him to do here. She was safe. And for now, that was enough. He moved away from the manor with silent precision, slipping back toward the perimeter and into the shadows. By the time morning came, he would be back at base. But tonight, at least, Weiss Schnee was safe under his watch.
Not a lot of action. Still setting the stage for this Volume. The Ace Ops are going to get some training from Jai. Ironwood is going to need them better trained for what's to come. What's Jai's other assignment? Looks like Rahm has a bit of a soft spot for Weiss eh? Please let me know what you think in the reviews. See you all next time.
-Dude64