"Hey, what's this?" Ruby asked from the back of the van.
Weiss and Whitley, having both just finished settling into the front passenger and driver's seats respectively, glanced back at her. The girl held up a standard white and blue soldier's uniform—it was either authentic or a very convincing replica.
"A disguise," Whitley said as he adjusted the mirrors and put the key into the ignition.
"For what?" Weiss said.
"I had to break you out of there somehow, did I not?" he said. "It would have been a very lengthy process to remotely crack the base's systems, and time is a luxury I did not have."
"So . . . what, you're saying you just walked in?" Weiss said.
Whitley pulled out of the garage, activating the door with a small remote that he then dropped outside before rolling up the tinted window. "It was simpler than you think. With the prison breakout, the hunt for escaped convicts, the preparations for security for the Vytal Festival, and the explosion at Schnee Tower, things are rather hectic for the military right now. As an added precaution, I also allowed myself to be sighted not too far from where you were held to draw out even more personnel long enough to ensure I could slip in and out."
"Wow," Ruby said in awe. "You sure you're not a criminal mastermind?"
"A criminal, yes, technically," Whitley said. "We all are, for the time being. But I'm not so arrogant as to describe myself as a 'mastermind'. And let's not be so generous when referring to our adversary. They merely have advantages that we lack. If we can ascertain their identity, we'll be far closer to an even playing field."
"Do you have any ideas?" Weiss said, quietly reassessing her brother. It wasn't the subterfuge or willingness to take calculated risks that surprised her—she'd just never thought of him as the type to readily put himself on the front lines, so to speak.
"I'm afraid not—none that hold water. I had been hoping you two might have learned something I hadn't."
"The only lead we've been following is you."
"That's disappointing. As of yet, all we know is that Partridge is an enemy of Father who is technologically capable and has considerable resources at their disposal."
"And that your dad was jealous of them," Ruby added.
Whitley cast a confused glance back at her. "Say again?"
Ruby started to explain the story of the inventor and his nephew until Whitley interrupted her.
"I see," he said in understanding. "Yes, that is one possibility. But a partridge holds many different forms of symbolism from many different cultures. For all we know, our adversary simply sees themselves as the child of God, though that is admittedly less likely. It would be presumptuous to interpret the meaning behind the symbol they mask themselves behind without more information."
"Oh," Ruby said, sounding a bit deflated.
"What about whoever was behind getting Jacques and the other board members indicted?" Weiss said. "Do you think that was Partridge, too?"
"I've heavily considered that possibility," said Whitley. "They could very well be the same person, or same people—we do not know for certain that either was a single perpetrator. But I do have to wonder why, if Partridge is indeed behind the STC's fall, they've waited so long to enact their current plans. It is also worth noting how Partridge's recent actions have been far less subtle and careful than those that transpired a year past."
"What actions?" Ruby said. "Why are you so sure that there's anyone 'behind' any of that?"
"How else could it have happened?" Weiss said. "You know the kinds of things trillionaires constantly get away with."
"I mean, if there's concrete evidence—" Ruby started.
"Then Father just pays off the right people and it magically goes away," Whitley said. "Unless someone else has already gotten to those people with even larger bribes, blackmail, or both. Only then is there nothing preventing the justice system from functioning as it's intended to."
"So you're saying the people in power had to be corrupted in order to . . . not be corrupted?" said Ruby, a bit dumbfounded.
"In essence," said Weiss.
"I always just thought that it was because the media and, well, everyone made such a big deal out of everything that came to light," said Ruby.
"That's the idea," said Whitley. "But Father's and the other executives' crimes never would have been revealed to the general public in the first place without outside interference."
"Then how do we find whoever did it?" said Ruby.
"If they and Partridge are not one and the same, we don't," said Whitley. "I've been passively researching the incident almost since it occurred, and I've learned nothing. Our priority is on the present threat."
"What do we have to go on?" Weiss said. "If you don't know who Partridge is—"
"We will. It's hard to say for certain what their ultimate goal is, but we can be confident that framing me is only part of it. Looking at the list of people Tyrian Callows has murdered so far, a significant number of them are people that either refused my offers to join my company and/or would stand in competition to me, such as the Lachs siblings. Others had history working against the STC, which can be tied to me wanting retribution for the company's fall. The rest are more difficult to attribute a motive behind me allegedly having them murdered.
"Cooper Myrtle, for one, had been cleared of the same crimes as his fellow directors and retired following the dissolution of the STC. There are also victims who only ever worked toward the benefit of the company, which clashes with the other victims who did the exact opposite. It wouldn't be easy to establish a concrete reason why I'd want to kill these people other than them having a mere association with the STC, which is flimsy at best. Putting myself in the true Partridge's shoes, I wouldn't have included these people in the list of Callows's targets—I'd have been far more selective. Thus, I can only conclude that said list includes not only those whose deaths serve towards the purposes of framing me, but also people with whom Partridge has a personal vendetta."
"Finding out what those vendettas are would narrow down a list of potential suspects," Weiss said.
"Indeed," Whitley agreed. "That was what I was working on before the tower incident, but I didn't have enough time to make significant progress."
"Well, let's start with you, then," said Ruby. "Who out there do you think has it out for you?"
"Truthfully? No one, as far as I am aware," Whitley said. "I surmise that I'm a target for the same reason they targeted Winter by sabotaging her plane—our last name, and nothing more. I just happen to be the perfect person to take the fall for Partridge's crimes—I have the right intelligence and skill sets, an easily identifiable motive, and the youth/lack of experience to lend towards me being just incompetent enough to eventually get caught."
"What about Tyrian Callows?" said Ruby. "How would you of all people be able to control him?"
"That is a good question," said Whitley, "and one that still perplexes me. I can't imagine anyone other than Salem using Callows as anything but a last resort. That's what leads me to suspect that something didn't go according to Partridge's initial plans—contrary to what I said to you in your cells—and that the Supermax breakout was a fallback."
A realization came to Weiss. "You don't."
"Pardon?" Whitley said at the same time Ruby said, "What?"
"You don't control Tyrian Callows," Weiss said. "If you're arrested and plead innocent—try to defend yourself—it leaves open the potential for cracks to form. So you'd have to die in a way that wouldn't exonerate you postmortem. If Tyrian is the one to do it, no one would question why he suddenly turned on you since no one would be able to figure out why he'd agree to cooperate with you in the first place."
No one said anything as the weight of this statement took hold.
Whitley was the one to break the silence. "You may be right. It seems my days are numbered."
"Don't say that," Weiss admonished. "I just—" Her voice caught in her throat. She was going to say, "got you back," but it wouldn't really fit as she'd never truly had him in the first place. Instead, she said, "I don't want to lose you already."
Whitley turned his eyes away from the road long enough to give her an awkward attempt at a comforting smile. It looked strange on his face. Weiss was used to only ever seeing him hiding behind a carefully-crafted mask. It was a pleasant change.
"Partridge's plans for me ending in my death was always a possibility," he said. "A likelihood, even. Let's hope we can stop them before it gets to that."
Weiss wasn't reassured.
"We still don't know how Partridge is able to control Tyrian," Ruby said.
"Control is a strong word," said Whitley. "They must simply have something Callows wants."
"Revenge for Salem?" Ruby suggested. "But Pyrrha's already gone."
"He thinks Cinder betrayed her," Weiss said. "She's what he wants."
"Who is Cinder?" Whitley asked.
Weiss didn't have a concise answer to that question. Before she could think of one, Ruby said, "The woman who killed my mom."
"I . . . see," Whitley said, nonplussed.
"She's a paragon who can control people's minds," Weiss told him. "She worked for Salem, and now she's leading her own criminal organization of some sort in Vale. And two years ago, she murdered Ruby's mother. We've been trying to find out why."
"Two years ago," Whitley repeated. "This was before or after the assault?"
"After," said Ruby. "She was a detective—my mom, I mean. The best. We think she had to have learned something she wasn't supposed to."
"And Callows believes this Cinder betrayed Salem, and is thus partially responsible for her demise?"
"Yes," said Weiss.
"How do you know this?"
"There was a memory in his head that—"
"You were in Callows' mind?" Whitley interjected. "You encountered him—in person?"
"Right," Weiss said after a moment. Whitley always carried himself with the air of someone who knows everything, so it wasn't instinctual for her to speak as if he didn't. "We were trying to talk to people you'd spoken to at the manor, and we found Cooper Myrtle's body while Tyrian was still there. We only got away because my semblance made me immune to his."
Whitley pulled over and parallel parked so he could turn his full attention to Weiss. "People I'd spoken to. This would be the information your friend took from my laptop?"
"No, we only got the interrogation video from your laptop—and the folder name, 'Wrath of Partridge'." Ruby kneeled on the floor behind them, poking her head in between the two front seats. "We got the security footage when we went back the day after. You can just call me Ruby, by the way."
"That is impressive. I'd stopped staying at the manor after Father was attacked. The reason I asked you to meet me there was that I was already planning to lay down extra safeguards against Partridge, as unlikely as they were to amount to anything. I like to think my protections are fairly advanced, yet you broke through with remarkable ease."
"Uh, well . . ." Ruby scratched the back of her neck. "It wasn't me. Not really."
"I don't understand. Forgive me for saying so, sister, but I know it wasn't you."
Weiss and Ruby exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement. Weiss pulled out the Skeleton Key and offered it to Whitley.
"What is this?" he said.
"The Skeleton Key. It does all the hacking for you," said Ruby. "You just give it a search radius, select a device it sees, and you've got almost full access to it."
"Any device?" he repeated. "Full access?"
"More or less," said Ruby.
"That's impossible. Hacking isn't something that can have a catch-all solution. It's about using ingenuity and adaptation to come up with new techniques to combat unique and ever-evolving obstacles. What works against one security method will more than likely fail with another, or even the same one if used again once the vulnerability you discovered previously has been patched. The only way I can imagine this device functioning as you say it does would be if it contained an artificial intelligence far more advanced than modern technology is capable of."
"See for yourself," Ruby offered. "It doesn't work on everything—we think it only sees anything with STC tech in it. Oh, the command is . . ."
Whitley had powered on the Key and then figured out how to get it to work in only a few attempts.
"Remarkable," he muttered.
He found a scroll from somewhere nearby and quickly skimmed through the data without changing anything, then moved on to remotely turning someone's vacuum cleaner on and back off. A dog began barking madly from an upper floor in the building across the street.
"This isn't hacking," Whitley said. "This behaves as if it's accessing a pre-established connection."
"That's what I said," Ruby grumbled, upset that he'd so easily managed something that had taken her days to do.
"I've been wondering about whether we could take it apart and see how it works, but I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Weiss said. She said 'we', but it would've been Ruby doing it.
"Yeah, no. Wouldn't want to void the warranty," said Ruby. Weiss ignored her.
"Where did you get this?" Whitley asked.
"Roman Torchwick gave it to us," Ruby said.
Whitley stared at her. "That crime boss who's been operating in Vale?"
"That's the one."
He waited for any sort of elaboration, but Ruby chose not to give any.
"He was working for Cinder and only targeting places protected by STC security systems or systems that were documented to incorporate at least a bit of STC technology," Weiss said. "We didn't know it at the time, but this was why. Those files I asked for helped us find the STC warehouse he was using as a hideout, which is where he must have found this."
"You believe this was just lying around in a random warehouse," Whitley said flatly, not looking at either of them. "That doesn't seem likely."
"Well, he left in a hurry after he gave it to us," said Ruby. "Didn't really explain much."
"And why, exactly, did he give it to you?" he asked almost with an air of disinterest, most of his attention consumed by the object in his hands.
"Cinder was controlling the mind of someone close to him," Weiss said, "keeping him under duress until I freed her with my semblance. I suppose he wanted to thank me."
For a few minutes, Whitley continued to stare at the Key in silence—just staring, not even pressing anything on it. When either of the women started to say something, he held up a finger to silence them. Seeing him so deep in thought, Weiss kind of wished she could go back into his mind to know what was going on in there. Finally, he held down the power button, handed the Key back to Weiss, and turned back in his seat.
"I took a gamble on you." He shifted out of park and watched his side mirror until the way was clear for him to pull back out onto the road. "Immediately, it has paid off."
"What—?" Ruby started to ask as she moved back to her seat, as bemused as Weiss.
"The feats Partridge has achieved—the ease and expeditiousness with which he's done them," Whitley said. "I could not have accomplished the same myself. Until this very moment, I had wondered how his skills have so far surpassed my own. Even with months of planning and capable co-conspirators, the odds of me successfully orchestrating a mass breakout in the most secure prison in the country are slim. Partridge could very well have had both, but again, I do not see someone as proficient as he's proven himself to be including a wildcard such as Tyrian Callows in his initial plans.
"Nevertheless, it's the plane crash more than anything that validates my line of thinking. The information I have on that is limited, however. Could you describe your experience for me?"
"You keep saying 'he'," Weiss observed.
"I'm getting there," said Whitley. "Please, answer my question. The details are important."
"Fine." Weiss did her best to recall the event as accurately as she could. It was only a few days ago, but a lot had happened in a very small amount of time. "It started when we were almost to Atlas. There were two explosions from outside the plane, and then we started to drop. Dr. Polendina— Right, it was only us, Winter, the two pilots, Dr. Pietro Polendina, and his daughter, Penny, on board. Dr. Polendina opened his window and we could see the entire wing was gone—they both were. Winter came in from the front with a parachute and told us the pilots were electrocuted by the console."
"Electrocuted," Whitley repeated. If he recognized Dr. Polendina's name, it didn't seem to interest him. "You're certain about that?"
"That's what she said," said Weiss.
"Understood. Please continue."
"That was when the plane split. Penny went to the back to grab more parachutes, and then that half was ripped away and her with it. Then Winter left me to dive after her."
"I'd told her about my semblance," Ruby said. "That I can teleport. She looked at me, and it was sort of like an 'I'm trusting you with my sister's life' kind of look, and also an 'I'll murder you if anything happens to her' look. Would've been pretty scary if not for, you know, everything else. So I Blinked us and Dr. Polendina to the ground, and she managed to catch and save Penny."
"I see," said Whitley. "What happened after that?"
"Well I passed out because using my semblance took a lot out of me, so . . ." Ruby gestured to Weiss.
"We built a fire and waited for a rescue team to find us," Weiss said. "That's the end of it."
"There's nothing you've failed to mention?" said Whitley.
"No. Wait, yes. My scroll didn't have any service in the woods where we landed."
"Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning that," said Ruby. "There was like a dead zone, apparently, which caused the plane to disappear from the military's radar right before it went down."
"Interesting," said Whitley. "It would have needed to be a fairly large radius to cover the distance the plane traveled between the initial explosions and its final impact on the ground. How much time passed between Winter arriving in Vale and you departing for Atlas together?"
Weiss took a moment to think out loud. "I think Torchwick held me captive for four days, which was right after Ruby got shot. Winter probably would've come as soon as I went missing. I escaped the same day Jacques was attacked, and we left the next morning. So four or five days."
It took a bit for Whitley to decide how to respond, mildly disconcerted by what she said. "It is an interesting life you lead, sister. Tell me, is this what you had in mind when you moved away from Atlas?"
"Just tell us who Partridge is already," Weiss snapped, more annoyed by the answer to his question than the question itself. "You've figured it out, haven't you?"
"Indeed. Just answer me one more thing, first. The plane—what model was it?"
"Do you honestly think we know that?"
"Right, of course not. Apologies. I'll go simpler. Where were the engines located?"
Weiss was about to give a similar, more exasperated response, but Ruby spoke first.
"They were on the wings," she said. "I remember because I'm used to most jets having them on the back and I thought it was kind of interesting."
"As I suspected," said Whitley. "Our government is never stingy when it comes to purchasing flashy new items for its military.
"Now, let's assume Winter was Partridge's only reason for crashing the jet. The earliest he could have known she would be aboard it would have been after she already left for Vale, which is being generous. That's five days at the most to prepare and set up this sabotage, fewer if we're being realistic. None of it could have been done through purely remote or virtual means under normal circumstances. There would have needed to be physical devices in the dead zone radius and an explosive device placed on each wing of the plane. Tampering would have also been required to be done to the console by hand for a lethal amount of current to pass through to the pilots at a specified time. None of this sounds at all plausible to me in such a short time frame. Do either of you disagree?"
"You said 'under normal circumstances'," Ruby said.
"I did. Let's say there is a way that Partridge could have done all of this without any preparation whatsoever, with as little notice as minutes prior to the first explosion. Say he possessed a device that gave him an inordinate amount of control over the plane and almost anything within it, so much so that he could trigger an electrical surge in the control console to murder the pilots, then two more to ignite and detonate the fuel in the engines, and also temporarily block all incoming and outgoing signals from the plane itself and your scrolls."
Weiss understood where he was going before he'd even finished speaking. "You think he has another Skeleton Key."
"But the Key only has so much range," Ruby said. "It couldn't come close to reaching something a mile off the ground, or even a tenth of that."
"I do not believe Partridge possesses another Skeleton Key," said Whitley. "I believe he possesses the Skeleton Key, the final version of which yours is a mere prototype, or at the very least an intentionally restricted model."
Neither Ruby nor Weiss had anything to say in response to that. Weiss couldn't even see a single one of the dots he was connecting to get to this conclusion.
"Allow me to explain," said Whitley.
"Yeah, that's kind of what we're waiting for," Ruby said.
"You say your Key only affects STC technology. There is only one way I can think of for it to function as it does, and that is for the objects it manipulates to have been designed in order to allow it to do so. One person and one person alone is capable of pulling this off without ever being discovered."
"Jacques?" Weiss said uncertainly.
"No," said Whitley. "Father is many things—a businessman, a delegator, but not an engineer. He would have needed to instruct someone or multiple people to put this into action, and that is not a secret that would have survived the STC's fall. It would have been someone who could design a small, sophisticated component and hold a high enough position to ensure it gets incorporated into almost everything the STC manufactures, while obscuring the component's malicious secondary purpose."
"Arthur Watts," Weiss realized.
Dr. Arthur Watts, the man who, for many long years, served as the Schnee Technology Corporation's CTO as well as its chief scientist and engineer. After Weiss's grandfather retired from the company, some could argue that Watts was the primary reason the STC was able to retain its status as a leading symbol of quality and innovation for as long as it did, until he was fired only a couple of years before the company's downfall.
"Who is now operating under the alias of Partridge," Whitley confirmed.
"Wait, you met with him," Ruby said. Of the faces they'd been able to identify in the Schnee Manor security footage, Watts was among those they weren't able to track down.
"I did," said Whitley. "He would have been an invaluable asset to my company. I thought the offer could at the very least serve as some small form of apology for what Father did to him, and a way to begin making reparations. I now suspect he took it as an insult, and it could very well have served as a catalyst for his recent actions."
"What do you mean?" Ruby asked. "What did your dad do?"
Weiss also wanted to know the answer. As far as she was aware, Watts had been fired for a more than just cause.
"Arthur discovered the defect in time to prevent the malfunctions," Whitley said. "It was someone else's error that slipped through quality control. He brought it to the board and explained the potential ramifications, but Father didn't like his proposal to recall an entire generation of new products when they were set to hit the market within a matter of days and there was so much buildup for their release. It would have been a considerable setback and would have lost quite a lot of money. He didn't believe the issue was as serious as Arthur made it out to be. So, despite fervent warnings, the STC pushed forward without taking any action.
"You know what happened next. Numerous new products were released worldwide, people bought them, and days later the disastrous malfunctions began. A lot of consumers got hurt, some even died, and everyone was outraged. Someone needed to take the fall, and Father had already butted heads with Arthur multiple times in the past, so it was an easy choice. Father made sure he was so thoroughly discredited that he stood no chance of defending himself. His career and reputation were utterly destroyed."
"So, all that stuff about stealing credit for other people's work and making a bunch of other mistakes that got caught before they wound up as bad as that one?" Ruby said.
"Complete fabrications," said Whitley.
"Okay," Weiss said. "So if that's true, he has a motive, but . . . is that it? A lot of people have a motive. If he made the Key and there's another one out there, it doesn't mean he's the one using it."
"I understand your skepticism," said Whitley. "There is indeed some speculation that leads me to this conclusion—speculation that is not unfounded—but I can tell you with absolute certainty that Arthur Watts is the only one who could have possibly made that Skeleton Key of yours. That is something that would have taken many years to do, so it is not something his successor could have done during her brief tenure. That he would do such a thing establishes a malevolence in his character I was not previously aware of.
"I also find it almost an impossibility that Arthur would misplace that Key you now possess so that any crime boss who happens to take residence in an abandoned STC warehouse could stumble onto it. This is especially considering that a majority of the STC's warehouses in Vale were purchased following Salem's assault due to the resulting drop in real estate prices, which took place after Arthur's departure from the company. Roman Torchwick would have needed to acquire that Key from someone. Based on the information you've given me about Tyrian Callows, the only thing Partridge could give him in exchange for his cooperation is retribution against this Cinder. For Partridge to offer that, he would need to know of her existence and potentially even be acquainted with her. If Partridge is Arthur Watts, then she would have acquired that lesser Key directly from him, and thus been able to lend it to Roman Torchwick."
Ruby gasped. "The bomb threat!"
Weiss and Whitley were equally confused.
"Remember when Jaune told us about why Pyrrha turned herself in just before the assault?" Ruby said. "Someone hacked her scroll and showed her footage of a bomb beneath the city plaza. If she didn't turn herself in or if anyone tried to defuse it—" She flicked her hand open and made an explosion noise with her mouth.
"And you believe this person could also be Partridge?" Whitley said, not dismissing the idea.
"Cinder told Salem their 'newest member' had completed some sort of task in one of Tyrian's memories," Weiss recalled with dawning comprehension. "And Salem said that it took care of the 'vigilante problem', which was the last thing she was waiting for before beginning her assault. Partridge was probably this new member, which is how he's able to get Tyrian to cooperate with him. Getting Pyrrha to turn herself in was his plan to keep her out of the way during the assault, but she broke out and sacrificed herself to stop Salem, and Tyrian thinks Cinder was the reason why."
"Why have her turn herself in, though?" Ruby asked. "Why not kill her?"
"Either Salem had plans for her following the completion of her assault," said Whitley, "or she didn't believe killing her was feasible. Pyrrha Nikos did ultimately wear a metal suit into a metal machine to confront a paragon who possessed the ability to manipulate metal, after all, and still survived long enough to destroy the machine and kill said paragon."
"Yeah," Ruby said wistfully. "She was really cool."
After a mournful silence, Weiss said, "It makes sense. But what do we do with this? What if you're wrong? Everything we've pieced together still fits if it's someone else entirely who somehow acquired both Keys—they would've been the one to give ours to Cinder and use the other to sabotage the plane. We don't have anything definitively proving it's Watts."
"If we did, our job would be a lot simpler," said Whitley. "'Definitive' is our end goal, our victory condition. We achieve that by following leads, and unless anyone can argue otherwise, Arthur Watts is our best lead."
He waited, but no rebuttal came.
"I do not know him well," he said. "We've interacted a handful of times, as I was set to one day take over his seat within the STC, but never extensively. From what I do know about him, he's too intelligent and prideful to willingly let something as powerful and sensitive as his Skeleton Key into what he sees as undeserving hands. Yours you say only works within a maximum radius, which is likely due to it being limited by the range of an internal antenna. It would not be difficult for the same creator as that device to make another that utilizes external signals instead—wireless networks, cell towers, satellites, et cetera. Thus, from almost anywhere in the world, he'd have the ability to control almost any device in the world that contains his illicit component—let's call it a 'warded lock' for thematic purposes. If this was used to sabotage your plane, I do not see anyone but him having been the one to do it. In theory, he could have given the Keys to someone else, or they could have been extorted from him, but those are unlikely options that we need only consider if our findings prove Arthur innocent—well, as innocent as the creator of such a device can be."
"But how can he have put something like that in everything the STC made without anyone noticing?" Weiss said. "I know I'm not as knowledgeable as either of you when it comes to technology, but it seems far-fetched."
"It would need to be something small and ubiquitous," Whitley said. "Something that serves an essential primary function that obscures its hidden secondary one. It's likely integrated into a number of very baseline components for the widest possible spread. Something complex like a scroll could contain numerous warded locks. You're not wrong that it is a difficult undertaking, but Arthur Watts is an intelligent man and he's had over two decades to accomplish it."
"I mean, it makes sense to me," Ruby said. "But what does he want, then? Other than revenge, I mean. Like, what's he getting out of all this?"
"My best guess," Whitley said, "is to clear his name. His reputation and status were taken from him, so naturally he'd want those back. As to how he achieves that, we can only hypothesize. Everything he's done so far has served towards setting me up to take the fall for his actions, actions which simultaneously achieve retribution against those who've wronged him—namely Father and a number of the people Callows has murdered. We've yet to see the next phase of his plan."
"I can't imagine what that phase could be," said Weiss. "If proving to everyone he's been slandered and libeled is his goal, surely he'd be able to get all the evidence he needs with his Key. If the evidence doesn't exist, killing the defamers is counterintuitive."
"But he didn't kill your dad," Ruby pointed out. "He wanted the prisoner he gave the knife to to wait. And since your dad is the one who ordered everyone to lie about Watts, he's the only one who would need to stay alive long enough to confess."
"You raise a valid point," said Whitley. "That begs the question, how exactly does he get Father to make an exonerating statement in the middle of all this while keeping suspicion off himself? To restore your reputation with the public while also avoiding drawing attention to yourself are, on paper, mutually exclusive."
"Who says he doesn't want attention? He could frame himself as one of your victims who survives, get people to feel bad for him," Ruby said. "Or maybe he paints himself as the hero who helps get you captured."
"Those could be individual aspects of a larger whole," Whitley agreed, "but do not alone solve the question at hand."
"Where are we going?" Weiss said. It was a question she hadn't found the opportunity to ask until now as she was so focused on the conversation, but she noticed they were now entering the Old Mantle part of the city—it was a small, poorer enclave that lingered from before the city had begun its accelerated expansion and been renamed to Atlas about a century ago.
"Somewhere safe, for the time being," Whitley said. "I have a list of viable abandoned locations I've been switching between since I stopped staying at the manor and I've selected the one farthest away from Schnee Tower. As I said, it's best not to stay in one place for too long. We'll arrive within a few minutes. There, we'll have plenty of time to consider Arthur's next course of action and devise a counterattack."
Weiss watched the surrounding area as they passed through. The military presence here was rather minimal to begin with, and the current crises also probably lent to why there were no military vehicles in sight. In all, things around here actually didn't look too bad, at least compared to what she was used to. There were a few potholes along the edge of the street, but even more that were recently filled in. The road lines looked bright and crisp-edged. The sidewalks were worn and crumbling with weeds growing from the crack, but were swept clean of litter. Graffiti persisted on various walls but with fresh coats of paint plastered to combat it. Weiss had moved away not too long after Mayor Hill had taken office, so this was the first time she was seeing her campaign promises being fulfilled. Old Mantle was still leagues behind the rest of the capital, but this was progress.
She suddenly felt a brief vibration in her pocket, but that couldn't be right. She'd never turned her scroll back on, and she never knew the Key to have any sort of vibrate functionality, nor could she see a reason for it to. She pulled it out of her pocket, but there was nothing special on its screen—it was just waiting for an input.
"I thought you turned this off," Weiss said.
"I did," was all Whitley said.
Since he was evidently unconcerned, Weiss held down the power button and put it away once more. But it lingered in her mind.
Then a terrible idea came to her. "If Partridge made this, then isn't it possible he has a way of tracking it or controlling it with his own?"
Whitley had no response.
"Ruby?" Weiss ventured.
Silence.
Weiss looked over her shoulder to see Ruby frozen in her seat, her bad arm quivering twice as much as the rest of her. Weiss's eyes widened in horror as she turned to her brother, his knuckles white with how tightly he gripped the steering wheel. He gazed straight ahead, unfocused, making no signs of slowing down for the stop sign they were approaching. Before Weiss could say or do anything, there was an impact toward the back of the van, and then the world turned upside down.
Glass shattered, airbags erupted. The seatbelt dug into Weiss's chest as she was jerked around by the tumbling of the vehicle. With the final roll, it teetered at an angle for many heartbeats until it dropped, settling into an upright position.
There was a stillness, broken by an intense ringing in Weiss's ears and the sound of her own heavy breathing. Her brother was motionless beside her, his face buried in the deflating airbag. She craned her neck to see that Ruby—thank God—had been sensible enough to strap herself back in once they'd started moving again. She looked conscious but her eyes were glazed over, unseeing, with a look of pure terror on her face.
Weiss fumbled for the buckle, her hands shaking and bloodied. She struggled, failing to undo it, until she heard the maniacal giggling she was dreading. Whitley's door opened and she caught a glimpse of Tyrian's grinning face before someone else opened the one on her side. She turned to stare down the barrel of a revolver, held by a tall and lanky man with green eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a bushier mustache. She clenched her eyes shut and waited for the bullet, but it never came. A hand searched her pockets until it found and pulled free the Skeleton Key.
"Oh, Cinder." Arthur Watts's voice barely reached Weiss. "For once, your incompetence has panned out in my favor."
Weiss opened her eyes just long enough to see the handle of a gun flying toward her face, and then there was darkness.
A/N: Credit to my beta readers: I Write Big and Bardothren. They're great writers who are a huge help with making this story as good as it can be.