Chapter XXXII - The First Warning
Beacon Tower, post-Breach…
Ding!
“Enter,” Ozpin called, not taking his eyes from the hologram map that lay across the broad, geared arc of his desk. But as the elevator doors slid open smoothly, admitting a tall, lanky figure into the spherical room, he pressed a button and the hologram winked out to darkness. His eyes moved upward and a solemn look seized his expression.
The figure’s footsteps were light, clicking in tune with the gears that turned above. “Ol’ General Metalskull thought I might find you up here, so he did. So. You summoned me, Oz… what for? You’ve no need of me, especially as I’m about to head off on a mission of spy work for you… more like a suicide trip, if you ask me.”
“Now is no time for foolish behavior or game-playing.” Ozpin said grimly, and stood, staring down the scythe-wielder with somber copper eyes. “This could very well be a fatal endeavor. If you do not return…” He shook his head, as if banishing the thought. “You must return, Qrow.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow rolled his eyes and knocked back a swallow from his flask. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled and trap shut. It’s the least I can do, huh? Seeing as this lovely peace we’ve been basking in is gonna to go to hell in a handbasket, so you’ve told us… I would have thought after Summer, they’d be satisfied…”
“I have seen them; I know them. There are enemies are out there more dangerous then we have ever encountered thus far… and if we are to prevail, then we must know what we are facing,” the headmaster said, bristling slightly as he gripped his cane, before his eyes softened. “I forget myself. You shall be in greater danger than I for now. I know the journey will be treacherous, and the peril you shall have to face, I can only guess at—”
“Oh, drop it, you lout! You didn’t see them,” Qrow snarled, knowing he was the only one who could talk to Ozpin like this and get away with it. “I’ve been out scouting before. I’ve seen the terror they wreak. I’ve got a better idea of what they can do than anyone! Do you honestly believe that I would let anyone come to power with the cruelty like they’ve got—”
“If you do not return successfully from this mission, Qrow,” Ozpin said quietly, his words weighing enough to cut through Qrow’s angry outburst, “then it is far more than I who shall pay the price, and you know that very well. What is there to be gained? Only thousands of innocent lives!”
“My nieces and their team,” Qrow said in a voice that was more like a growl. “”Surely you cannot mean…”
“They are far more than a just a team,” Ozpin said quietly, turning and looking out the window. “Be it as they don’t know it yet. Fate has a curious habit of tweaking our strings to bring those whom we need together.”
“And you think they just so happened to get their strings tweaked, Oz, is that it?” Qrow’s voice was dry.
“In a manner of speaking, perhaps,” Ozpin said in a measured voice, before he swiveled his head around, regarding Qrow with even, calm eyes. “But you know it’s far more than coincidence that all the pieces are falling together. It’s a manifestation of hope.”
Qrow’s lips twisted in a grim smile. “Team RWBY. It kills ya, doesn’t it, seeing them all together? It’s like the results of all your failures are there, Oz, mocking you, circling you and taunting you. There is Yang Xiao Long, my niece, the daughter of Raven Branwen, the one Maiden who turned corrupt and ran. There is Ruby Rose, not my blood, but just as good as— child of a warrior, the very image of her deceased mother, down to her silver, silver eyes— and who knows— maybe the same explosive power that killed Summer is inside of her, too. There is Weiss Schnee, blood-related to Ivana Schnee, who died as a Maiden, and she is the daughter of a power-hungry tyrant. And then Blake Belladonna, the Faunus with all those secrets, a renegade of the White Fang, the organization that turned away from peace and sought violence instead. All of them have fates that will likely destroy them. And you can’t tear them apart from each other, Oz. The webs that connect them are stronger than blood. Ruby and Yang are family. Blake and Yang are Bonded, and Weiss and Ruby would never separate; you try taking partners away from each other. And Blake and Weiss are two opposite sides of a coin: a Faunus and the daughter of a killer of Faunus. But all of them would die for each other in a heartbeat. Perhaps the ties they have may aid you and perhaps not, but either way, they will not play nicely as the little pawns in your game.”
Ozpin, struck silent by the cold truth of his words, stared into his cup as if held the secrets of the universe. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt, Qrow. And yet she is winning. She is winning because of our own emotions and our own human natures.”
Qrow chuckled rustily. “You, Oz? Human? But of course, you aren’t a fool… you are much more than that.”
“And yet, for all the faults in the world, all the years have not taught me that human nature is an inherently corrupt thing. I have seen many things both great and terrible. But I do not think I am mistaken in opposing… her. And it will take much to defeat her… all our Maidens, our guardians, our Huntsmen and Huntresses…’”
“And my niece.” Qrow pierced him with that ruby-colored stare. “Your so-called smaller soul. If a thing as inconsequential as her eye color can hurt her, well, none of us are safe. And she doesn’t know a single thing about how we’re a damn sight far away from a peaceful world, does she, Oz?”
“I— no. She doesn’t. Not yet. It is far too soon.”
“Point is, pal, she doesn’t know about the enemy. And she is the mother of the darkness, after all, our enemy is. It’s what we stand up for that makes us who we are, Ozpin. I think you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Qrow. I know it. And I am none the wiser. You are right: I am a fool for thinking that I could delay the inevitable. Darkness is coming, no matter what, and it would be just as abhorrent of me to use the children, our only hopes, to stand against it.”
Qrow’s lip curled in smirking sort of smile, one that bore an eerie resemblance to his sister’s. “It doesn’t matter who you use, my friend. We’re damned anyways. Or… hadn’t you heard?”
Ozpin turned around; stared out the glassine window to where the sun was sinking, sinking in streaks of fire, in the colors of autumn. “We all are poor fools in a pawn's game in the end,” he said quietly, and spoke no more.
Downtown Vale, post-Breach…
“I can’t believe you saved that girl,” Mercury complained for the fifth time. “It would have been so easy to let the Grimm take a simpleton like her.”
Emerald curled her lip at him, restraining herself from cuffing him around the head. “We need everyone to make it to the Vytal Festival, dipstick; it’s part of the plan. You just want to kill everything that moves and isn’t one-hundred percent arrogant bastard inside—”
“Enough.” Cinder’s eyes narrowed at the both of them, cold amber flickering with annoyance. “She is right. I expect better than such foolish actions from both of you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused in unison, shooting nasty looks at each other. Cinder’s steely gaze held them for a moment longer, before she turned and looked out at the sunset.
“All in all,” she said, her voice smoothing out like the glassy surface of a lake, hiding poisonous creatures below, “I would venture to call today a success. Foolish of Roman, perhaps, and it sets us back slightly… but we were not caught. The plan can still go on without a hitch. The trust that is placed in Ozpin by everyone has wavered. That is a gain, not a loss.”
“But we did lose stuff,” Mercury said sullenly, hedging on a complaint, but not daring to outright challenge Cinder. “A lot of Faunus died in the tunnels thanks to those little brats, wrecking the train. You honestly think the White Fang’s gonna listen to us now? We’ll be lucky to even persuade them not to seek revenge against us, for crying out loud.”
“Yes. You are right in assuming, human, that it would be lucky… for I am very displeased with what your species did to my followers.”
Mercury and Emerald’s heads snapped around as a low, snarling voice echoed from behind them. A broad-shouldered figure approached them in a leisurely saunter, his face chilly and impassive. In the bloodred light of the falling sun, his mask shone like a wound.
“Adam Taurus,” Cinder said, raising her head as he stopped a few meters away from the three of them. “You are leader of the White Fang now. Heavy lies the crown. Much is the burden of others’ wellbeing, is it not?”
His eyes gleamed gray behind the eyeholes of his mask. “Indeed,” he said softly. “You play a dangerous game, Cinder Fall. I only hope you know what it is you think you are doing.”
She smiled, the glint of her teeth like the grin of a wolf before it tore out your throat. “And your people are not pleased, Taurus, are they?”
“No,” he said coldly. “But they will listen to me, as they must; as they are obligated to do so. And as long as I am bound to your will…” His eyes flashed to Cinder; behind the mask, they caught the light so they looked like glittering bits of obsidian. “They will follow you, as well.”
“Perfect,” she said, but she did not seem surprised by his half-hearted declaration of loyalty. “And how curious… your leader was killed. Does that not upset you?”
Adam’s mouth thinned to a hard line, and he was quiet for a long moment before he dipped his head to her. “We all die eventually. And in this world of injustice, some of us die… sooner than we should. He was murdered, yes, but I know that I will have my revenge on his killer in the end. He was killed by a Huntress. A former Faunus of mine, actually… she’ll pay for it, rest assured. I will follow you… just as long as I can watch her burn at the end. If you promise me that, I will hunger for the blood of any enemy, so long as I can make her pay.”
“Is that so.” Cinder did not sound interested, as she only examined her nails before looking back at him with glowing amber eyes. “A good of a reason as any, I suppose. How swiftly does revenge make us eager to spill blood… do you know her, this Huntress apprentice who slew your leader?”
Adam looked at her quickly through narrowed eyes, as if measuring her motives for querying, but all he said was, “You could say that she and I have a… history together.”
For the first time, Cinder sounded genuinely amused. “I see; a past crime that makes you hunger for revenge in future times," she murmured, her eyes as gold as the autumn leaves. "Isn’t there always a past misdeed.”
The General’s Atlas Airship, post-Breach
Help me. Help me. Help me…
It was his prayer, his call… his mantra. He, who had never needed help, who had always relied on his on quick wit and ability to evade every danger, was now trapped. Irrevocably shut up. He had never needed help, truly; he’d never been in a situation where his skills were worth next to nothing. But now…
“You can’t keep me locked in here forever, you metal-headed bastard!”
His throat raw from constant hours of shouting and cursing, Torchwick kicked the door, his foot ringing against the steel, sending a jolt of pain spiking up his leg. He knew the effort would prove to be fruitless. No one answered his screams, and no one ever opened the damned door… he was trapped… trapped in a tiny capsule of darkness and stale air.
It was hell.
He could feel madness setting in, almost, like every hour, every minute, every second in isolation chipped away another flake of his sanity. Maybe this was a part of the plan… but Cinder had left him… Mercury and Emerald had left him… Neo had left him.
And now he was all alone.
Torchwick fell silent as he heard— or he thought he heard; his senses were becoming a bit fuzzy, from being isolated so long in darkness and quiet— the sound of rumbling voices behind the door. His heart leapt as the door gave a great click-click-click, the sound of displaced air shifting as it popped open, admitting light to flood inside. He blinked at the sudden change from shadow to sunshine. It was so bright, so sudden, that it felt as though something were sinking cruel claws into his eyes; he screwed them up, vision blurring as they watered.
But a shadow fell over him once more, allowing him a bit more lenience with his sight. He cracked open an eye and instantly recoiled in hatred and disgust; the General himself was frowning down at Torchwick as if he were nothing more than an insect, a bug to be squashed underfoot and wiped away, deemed to become nothing but an unpleasant memory. Torchwick despised the man, right from the top of his thinning hair down to the tips of his Atlas-uniform boots, and he knew Ironwood felt the same, for he regarded him as little more than the pettiest of street-rats— a criminal to be locked away and forgotten. They had no love lost between them, and Torchwick didn’t bother concealing the defiant, malicious hatred emanating from his glare.
“Leave us,” he rumbled to the guards, still eyeing Torchwick with that faintly disgusted and disappointed air, as if he was a schoolboy who had made an error in some way. Torchwick’s hands curled into clenched fists. I wish you dead, you greedy lout, I wish you would get shot by one of these guards, you simpleminded little b—
“So…” The general’s dark blue eyes flicked over Torchwick swiftly, as if sizing him up. “The thief king, finally caught and forced behind bars… where you belong.” His voice was smug. “And where, I’m afraid, you’ll stay.”
“You ought to check your eyesight,” Torchwick hissed. Underneath the pretense of indifference, crackling fury trembled along his words. “Last I checked, General, it was a door closing me in, not bars… though I’m sure I could easily evade bars, just as I’ve evaded your pathetic ‘soldier’ force. It must be a pretty poor life, training thousands of pitiful-minded idiots and watching them retain nothing, isn’t it, General? Or, oh wait, let me guess, you wouldn’t dare dream that your little boys would ever take on more than an enemy that can’t even think.”
Ironwood’s face twitched in a flitting expression of anger and Roman smirked. Me, 1; General, 0.
“It has been tiny flaws on our end— mere happenstance, I assure you— and circumstance, luck of the draw, that you were not caught sooner, Torchwick,” he replied loftily, containing his anger and crossing his arms over his chest. “And, of course, your pesky penchant to use your hiding holes to worm out of tight spots. Now, I have been informed that so far, you have refused to cooperate with authorities. This is why you have been placed in this holding cell… normally we only use these for the worst of criminals, but we’ve made, ah—” his lips spasmed in a scowl, eye twitching, “—allowances in your case. Perhaps if you would work with us more, we would not have to take such drastic measures to force your hand.”
A muscle jumped in Roman’s cheek. He forced down the wave of fury that had risen, unbidden, in his heart, and lifted his head to fix the General with a glare. “Me, not cooperating? Does that honestly surprise you? Did you expect me to crumple like the weak bag of bones you believe me to be? It may be hard to comprehend, James, but I’m not the biggest fan of your little posse of thugs, and I have no intention of obeying your little—” And here, he said a word that made Ironwood’s mouth thin to a sharp line.
His eyes grew cold. “Posse of thugs, is it? So… that doesn’t daunt you… how about the world’s largest military power?”
Roman sneered at him, savoring the look of a barely-controlled temper on his face. “My first impressions sadly aren’t great, you ba—”
“I’m going to give you one chance, even though you don’t deserve even that,” Ironwood said softly, cutting through Roman’s leer, his hand resting on the pistol-shaped bulge at his hip. “Who is truly behind all this?”
Cinder’s name rose to his tongue, before he thought of how she had promised to release him, one way or another, when the end of all peace came around. And he thought of her fury, the wrath she would behold, if he sold her out. She was too dangerous. He was more scared of her than of Ironwood. It simply wasn’t worth it. His teeth grinding together, he narrowed his eyes in hatred at the General, satisfying himself with the thought that, at the end, Cinder had promised the kill was his to make.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, enjoying the look of hope in his eyes, before he shattered it. “You’re looking at him. I’m the one behind it all.”
But Roman could see that Ironwood didn’t believe him. Regardless, it didn’t matter— he just had to remain unbending, unmovable. That was his only job, for now. And he knew better than anyone how to keep his mouth shut, and how to never speak.
He had, after all, learnt from the best.
“Very well, then,” Ironwood said curtly, turning away, his boots clicking on the tiles as he prowled down the length of the hall.
“What’s the matter, General?” Roman shouted, unable to resist one last jibe, straining towards the sunlight. He knew if he tried to escape, a thousand jolts of electricity would shoot into him the instant he crossed the holding cell’s door, rendering him unconscious or worse. “Didn’t you want to talk?”
Ironwood’s voice echoed back, cold and clipped. “The council of Remnant has given me custody over you as long as I see fit, Roman Torchwick. You may as well make yourself comfortable. We shall have plenty of time to… talk.”
Torchwick soaked in the last bit of sunlight he knew he would see in a while, and he felt the madness rise inside of him, bubbling up in unhinged laughter. “Wonderful,” he said hoarsely, “oh, wonderful.”
I am stuck here until the beginning of the end… And then I will be free, and I can strike him down. I will make him bleed, and each drop of blood will be reparation for my own.
So he did not need help. Time would release him, perhaps; maybe he would be granted a reprieve, or something, anything…
Help me, help me, help me…
But his mantra did not fade, and its soft, persistent echoes lined his dreams that night.
Island of Patch, post-Breach…
“Tai, open the damned door.”
“Go away, Qrow.”
“I know you’re in there,” he exclaimed. “I can see the smoke from the chimney. Stop behaving like a child! I’m not the bad-guy here, and I need to speak to you.”
A snort from behind the door. “Speak to me, but not with me. Unsurprising. You've always been stubborn that way. Will you go away if I don’t open the door or do you plan on lurking here ‘till I do?”
“It’s the latter, I’m afraid to say.”
“Damn you, Branwen,” a voice came, slightly muffled, from the interior. “Fine, then, have your way. Step back. I’m opening up.”
Qrow stepped back calmly as the wooden door flung itself open, chain rattling in the lock. Taiyang stood in the doorframe, a steaming mug clutched in his fist. His eyes were sapphire-blue slits as he regarded his ex-brother-in-law, and his ex-teammate, with a certain amount of wary dislike.
“Why are you here, Qrow?” he said bitterly. “I thought Ozpin was sending you prancing off on some other heroic fool’s errand.”
“Yep,” Qrow said, unfazed by the barbed comment. “He is. I’m supposed to be leaving now, actually… my job is scoping out some enemy or the other… And I won’t be back, probably for a month or so; if it goes well, that is. In fact, I may not come back at all.” He said it lightly, and Taiyang stared at him silently, disbelief swirling in his eyes.
“He’s sending you on a suicide mission, you mean,” he said, aghast. “That’s— I— you have to come back.”
“I’ll do my best, but the perils I’ll be risking are incredible. It’s for Oz, though.” Qrow ran a hand along the silver, winking edge of his broadsword. “Regardless, I expect you’ll have your hands full, with or without my absence.”
“With what? The Vytal Festival? James Ironwood’s got that handled. I’m not worried.” Taiyang’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Qrow let out a derisive snort. “What’s that look for, huh? He does, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, sure, believe it if you want. I won't drag you into that quarrel. Metalhead will be fine with his little army of thugs. It’s not that, no.” Qrow looked around the house with raised eyebrows. “Your daughters will be here in a matter of weeks. Aren’t you going to tidy up a bit? Well,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “your daughters and their emo and heiress pals.”
Taiyang’s lip curled, coldness returning to his eyes in a heartbeat. “If you’ve only come here to jeer at me—”
“I’m sorry,” he said, eliciting a soft noise of surprise from Taiyang; Qrow never apologized. The scythe-wielder sighed heavily and shook his head, hooking his hands through the loops of his belt-holes. “Really, I am, I just— they’re so very like us, Tai. When we were at Beacon.” He pushed a lank tress of hair from his eyes. “Ruby’s the spitting image of Summer, down to the eyes, and Yang is like you, and her partner is like Raven, especially with the ties to the White Fang, and Lord knows Ruby’s partner has the same barbed tongue I’ve got.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Like damn history repeating itself, eh?”
Taiyang closed his eyes, pain etched into the lines on his face. “I suppose, yes.”
“That’s not what I’m here for, though,” he went on. “You must keep an eye out for dangers, for any odd behavior you see during the tournament. I’m sure an older Huntsman like yourself—”
“I’m not so old I’ve lost my wits, you idiot,” Taiyang snarled. “Spit it out.”
“Very well. You and I both know, Tai, that in the chaos that the tournament brings— well, there will be wrongdoers. Chaos breeds violence. It could well be the perfect environment for our enemy to make their move; it’s what Ozpin’s been saying for months. The whole of Remnant will be watching, expecting peace and unity, and if the opposite happens, well— the whole system could collapse. Grimm everywhere. It’s a risky move, we’re playing, but it’s our trump card. Kinda like chess, you know?”
“So why have the tournament at all, if it’s so dangerous to us? Why risk it?”
“To flush ‘em out,” Qrow said simply. “And to not have the tournament… well, think, Tai. If Oz and Ironwood cancelled the very event to celebrate peace, that would cause more fear and uncertainty in Remnant than any enemy ever could. Seems like whatever we do, we'll play right into their hands...” The last part was murmured so softly that Taiyang wasn't sure he was meant to have heard it.
“Right,” Taiyang grumbled after a pause. “You’re right, of course.”
“Obviously,” Qrow said with a little quirk of his mouth. “Always am, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know about this,” Taiyang said. “Sending my daughters into the tournament, now, knowing what you’ve just told me…. and…” He stared at his feet. “Now you’ve mentioned Yang’s partner, and how similar Raven and I are to them, I just—”
“Yang and Blake?” Qrow scoffed. “Is that what you’re worried about? Why, they’re perfectly fine; typical school-days love. I could care less about my niece and her dating habits. Blake’s a good kid, Tai,” he said more seriously, leveling him with a piercing gaze. “She’s not Raven. So when she comes here, you mustn’t judge her for it. That’s the first thing I wanted to tell you. The second thing is that you, under no circumstances, are to tell Ruby about— you know. Whatever… power… she might have.”
“Her eyes,” he said, his voice slightly angry. “Summer and I knew, the instant she opened them— pure silver. How can I not tell her, knowing what I know?”
“You cannot tell her if you care for her, and want her to have even a semblance of a normal life.”
“She’s not going to have a normal life, you idiot, don’t you understand?”
“You can try!” Qrow roared right back. “Pull yourself together, Taiyang! It’s high time you stopped preaching about normalcy and loss started showing some strength for your kids!”
After several long moments, Taiyang glared at Qrow, breathing heavily before he conceded, his blue eyes sliding to the side. “Fine. Sorry.”
“Good,” the scythe-wielder said ungraciously. “I won’t be back for quite some time, if I come back at all. Tell the kids I wish ‘em luck in the fights, and keep an eye on Ruby and Yang, understand? A Maiden’s kid and a silver-eyed warrior’s kid… well, they’re bound to attract the wrong crowd.”
Taiyang gave a short breath, as if pain. “I’ll do that.”
“Then this is goodbye, Tai.” He hesitated, uncertain, before he stuck out his weathered, calloused palm, and after a beat, Taiyang took the proffered hand and shook it, roughly pulling Qrow into a one-armed hug. Qrow stiffened in surprise, before returning it gruffly, clapping him on the back.
“Stay safe,” Tai said quietly, slightly muffled, into his shoulder. “We need you.”
Qrow’s eyes closed for a moment, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked in a breath. “I know.”
He detached himself after a few moments, and strode heavily to the door, pausing for a moment to nod at Taiyang. Then, with a glint of metal and a flash of silver, he spun and shrank into his namesake, gave Taiyang one last look from a beady crow’s eye, before spreading his wings, and soaring off into the dying sunset.
Several miles away, a Maiden watched in silence as she saw a dark speck wheeling in the sky, heading towards the place where the sky met the earth.