Sunset's Letter (New)
Sunset’s Letter
There was nothing that she could have done.
She should have been able to do something.
The two thoughts warred in Pyrrha’s mind like armies, like the hosts of the heroes clashing on the plain before the walls of Mistral. First one thought and then the other gained the upper hand, the advantage flowing first one way and then the other.
Neither made her feel any better. Whichever one won, her misery, her guilt, her worry, and her fear, they all remained the same.
They had arranged to meet at the fabric store that Ruby had visited with Blake; they had been going to see… Pyrrha couldn’t even remember what the movie was; she just knew that she and Jaune had arrived late, that Sunset and Ruby had been there already, waiting for them.
She and Jaune had been walking down the street towards the shop when…
Intense heat. Fire and smoke. A bang that had momentarily deafened her.
Now, Sunset lay on the hospital bed, eyes closed, silent, unmoving.
She had taken the worst of it; something to do with where she’d been standing relative to Ruby… or rather, where they had both been standing relative to the blast.
Pyrrha knew that Sunset, given the choice, would not have had it any other way.
That was small comfort, not least because Sunset had not intended this. There was no way that she could have seen this coming.
No way that any of them could have seen this coming.
There was nothing that she could have done.
She should have been able to do something.
Pyrrha stood in the doorway of Sunset’s room, watching as Jaune spread his hands over her, those same hands aglow with a golden light which spread across Sunset’s body like the rays of dawn spreading outward from the horizon across the land. Sunset did not stir. Her visible injuries, the cuts and burns that the explosion had dealt her when it shattered her aura, faded from her skin, leaving her as fair and striking to look upon as ever… no. Not quite so much. She did not look so… she did not look so… when she slept, she…
She did not look quite so alive as when her eyes were open, when she was talking, moving, behaving like a creature from another world. All that was absent now, and with it, some of Sunset’s charm.
Her wounds were gone, but still, she did not stir.
The light from Jaune’s hand faded, like night and darkness returning when the day is past. Jaune looked at the doctor. “Why… why isn’t she waking up?”
The doctor, a middle-aged gentleman whose collar and tie emerged above his lab coat, said, “With luck, it’s just a concussion. We’ll take a scan of her brain and see if there are any issues that we should be concerned with.”
“But she will wake up?” Jaune asked. “Won’t she?”
“Is she a fighter?” the doctor asked.
“Definitely,” Pyrrha said from the doorway. “One of the… the most resilient I’ve ever known.”
The doctor nodded. “Then her chances are good. Excuse me please,” he added, starting for the door. “Nurse!”
Pyrrha made way for him and for the nurses who wheeled Sunset out upon her bed, still and silent and sleeping-seeming. She watched as they bore her away, the wheels of the bed squeaking and rattled as they pushed her down the corridor.
Jaune walked towards her, crossing the space where the bed – the space where Sunset – had recently been. His shoulders were slumped downwards, as if under a heavy weight.
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Jaune asked.
Pyrrha very much wanted to reassure him, but she would not lie to him, could not bring herself to lie to him, and so the most that she could actually say was, “I hope so.”
Jaune didn’t look very reassured. “It’s stupid, don’t you think?” he said. “Sunset has survived battles, hordes of grimm, and now… a bomb? Just a bomb going off, no enemy to face, no… that’s what-”
“We mustn’t give up hope,” Pyrrha insisted, placing a hand upon his arm. “She isn’t lost to us yet.”
“I know,” Jaune said softly, so softly that Pyrrha could barely hear him. “I just… it feels so stupid, doesn’t it?”
Stupid was certainly the word, but Pyrrha did not feel that it was stupid so much as she was made to feel stupid. The bomb, the blast, Sunset’s passive face as she lay there helpless and immobile, it all seemed to mock the pretensions of Sunset and of Pyrrha herself. Heroes. Great Warriors. Protectors and defenders and saviours of the world. Sunset Shimmer, who had dreamed of glory eternal, of a name and reputation that would endure in the immortal memory like the heroes of old, might die because she had been in a shop when a bomb went off.
That was why it didn’t help to tell herself that there was nothing she could have done. If there was nothing that she could have done, then what good was she? The Invincible Girl, the Princess Without a Crown, the Champion of Mistral, what did any of it mean, really? She had hated the way that those epithets and all the reasons why she had them elevated her up above the common run of men, but never before had she perceived how truly hollow the pedestal on which she stood was.
Proud of her skill in arms, she had always thought, as much as she detested being lifted up, that there was some substance underneath her feet, but now? What good was the Invincible Girl if she could not protect her friend?
Was I supposed to duel a bomb?
If I cannot, perhaps I should admit that I have no power at all and no cause to talk so bold or dream so large.
“What…?” She trailed off, the words dying in her mouth.
Jaune looked at her. His eyes were wide and a little watery. “Pyrrha?”
She could not ask. She could not ask him ‘what good are we?’ Not now, of all times. Not when she had to be strong for him. Not when she felt in some strange way that she had to be strong for Sunset.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s-”
“Not nothing,” Jaune interrupted her.
She looked into his eyes again. If she could not lie to him about Sunset’s chances, then she could not lie to him about this, either. “It doesn’t feel stupid,” she said quietly.
Jaune frowned. “Pyrrha?”
“It feels wrong!” Pyrrha declared. “Sunset is one of the bravest huntresses at Beacon; she may not be as ready to throw herself into any peril as Ruby is, but she never turns away when the horn of battle sounds. She is a fighter, just as I told the doctor she was, she is strong, and… and she has magic,” she added, lowering her a voice just a little for the sake of confidentiality. “And none of it was enough to save her from this condition.” She paused. “How many lien have the taxpayers of Vale and Atlas spent on Sunset’s education as a huntress?”
“It takes thirty thousand a year to make a huntress at Beacon,” Professor Ozpin declared. “I am afraid the exact figures for an Atlesian combat school elude me, but I would set it about the region of… sixty to seventy thousand lien, all told.”
Jaune gasped a little. Pyrrha turned around, her eyes widening a little. The headmaster stood at the end of the corridor, leaning slightly upon his cane with one hand.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“Professor,” Pyrrha murmured. “You-”
“I was informed that two of my students had been hospitalised by an explosion; how could I not come?” Professor Ozpin asked. His cane tapped the floor as he walked towards them. “How are Miss Rose and Miss Shimmer?”
“Ruby wasn’t hurt too badly,” Jaune explained. “After I boosted her aura, the doctors didn’t think there was anything wrong with her; they just-”
He was interrupted by the sound of a commotion coming towards them, a commotion which turned out to be Ruby, shrugging off the nurse who tried to restrain her.
“You told me I was fine, so let go of me!” Ruby snapped as she advanced briskly down the corridor. “I’m fine, I don’t need to lie down, I want to see Sunset!”
“Ruby?” Pyrrha said, closing the distance between them. “Should you be up and about?”
“She should be resting under observation,” the nurse trailing after her declared acerbically.
“If those are the doctors’ orders, Miss Rose, then you should do as you are told,” Professor Ozpin observed.
Ruby let out a little squeak of alarm as she noticed the headmaster. “Professor Ozpin! You’re here!”
“I am your headmaster, Miss Rose; is it so surprising that I should be concerned about your wellbeing?” Professor Ozpin asked.
Ruby laughed nervously. “Well, you did catapult us into the Emerald Forest on the first day of school,” she murmured. “But, aha, as you can see, I’m fine, one hundred percent, nothing wrong with me, so-”
“So why don’t we let the medical professionals be the judge of that, Miss Rose?” Professor Ozpin asked, his voice gentle and firm in equal measure.
Ruby pouted. “Can I at least see Sunset first?”
“She’s not here, Ruby,” Jaune said. “They already took her away for some scans.”
“Scans?” Ruby repeated. “What kind of scans?”
“Brain scans, I think,” Jaune replied. “They want to find out if there’s any… any special reason why she hasn’t woken up.”
Ruby frowned. “So… she hasn’t woken up yet?” she asked, her voice small and quiet.
Pyrrha bowed her head. “No,” she said. “No, she hasn’t.”
“But she will, right?” Ruby demanded. “She will wake up; I mean she has to wake up! If she doesn’t wake up, then…”
Pyrrha reached out and placed an arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “That… Sunset wouldn’t want you to despair of her too soon. If she were here, she would surely be most horribly disappointed in us all for counting her out because of something so trivial as an explosion.”
Ruby snorted and then sniffed. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what she’d say.”
“Come along, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “I believe you have some resting up to do.”
“Can’t I wait for Sunset to come back, Professor?” Ruby pleaded.
“No, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin replied firmly. “You will rest until you are discharged, and then you – all of three of you – will return to Beacon.”
“'Return to Beacon'?” Jaune repeated. “You mean just leave Sunset in here?”
“Is there anything that you can do for her by remaining here, Mister Arc?” Professor Ozpin asked.
“Maybe there isn’t, Professor,” Pyrrha protested, “but I think that we would all rather stay here until… until Sunset wakes up.”
“I am sure you would, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin answered. “But I have to consider the possibility that you have been deliberately targeted in this explosion.”
“'Deliberately'?” Ruby gasped. “You think someone was trying to kill us?”
“I can think of no other reason to bomb a slightly down-at-heel fabric shop,” Professor Ozpin said. “And, that being the case, I must bring you back to Beacon for your own safety. I have asked the police to station some men for Miss Shimmer’s protection, but you three will be much safer at Beacon.”
Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. She bowed her head for a moment, contemplating. “There is some force in what you say, Professor, but nevertheless, I, for one, would like to remain by Sunset’s side.”
Professor Ozpin looked at her, and Pyrrha found it impossible to tell what he was thinking. “For what reason, Miss Nikos? Or perhaps I should ask if there is any reason beyond mere sentiment?”
“Because my friend and comrade… because the life of my friend and comrade hangs in the balance, Professor,” Pyrrha said, her voice trembling at the admission that Sunset might not open her eyes once more. “And as her friend and comrade… it is my duty to keep vigil over her until the gods decide her fate. In my kingdom, it is a sacred charge; I would be shamed if I turned my back on it for any reason so petty as my own safety.”
Professor Ozpin continued to stare at her before he said, “Very well, Miss Nikos, I would not wish to stand in the way of Mistralian traditions.”
Pyrrha bowed. “Thank you, Professor.”
“Professor-?” Ruby began.
“Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said, with a significant glance towards the waiting nurse.
Ruby huffed resignedly and followed the nurse back down the corridor the way she had come.
Professor Ozpin looked after her, as if he wished to make sure that she was going where she was supposed to go, before he returned his attention to Pyrrha and Jaune. “You were saying, Miss Nikos, before Miss Rose joined us?”
“Professor?”
“The cost of an education through combat school, and at Beacon?” Professor Ozpin reminded her.
“Ah, yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “How many lien do you think the bomb that has put Sunset in the hospital cost, Professor?”
“Have you not always known that the best huntsmen can be laid low by even a single grimm?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Is there so much difference to being bested by a bomb?”
“A huntsman can train to avoid being bested by a single grimm, Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “But a bomb… if a hero can fail so easily in the face of such a thing, then… what good is a hero?”
“Are we speaking of Miss Shimmer, Miss Nikos, or yourself?” Professor Ozpin asked.
Pyrrha hesitated. “Both of us, Professor,” she admitted. “I am not sure that Sunset would yet call herself a hero, but she without a doubt believes – and rightly, I think – that she possesses the greatness of one. And I myself… I am so vain of my prowess. And yet… Sunset could not save herself, and I could not save Sunset.”
She felt Jaune place his hands upon her shoulders. “Maybe,” he ventured. “Maybe it’s just not that kind of world any more. Maybe… maybe this isn’t a story and there are no heroes, not the way there were, if they were ‘the way they were’ because it never was a story to begin with.”
“All our lives are made of stories, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said, in tones of gentle but unmistakable reproach. “The stories that we tell ourselves to motivate us when the darkness falls and the cold sets in; the stories that we tell of ourselves, the legends that we spin for good or ill; the tales that are told of us by others, that go before our coming and which linger after we are gone.”
“But that doesn’t mean that things will always work out the way they do in stories or comic books, does it, Professor?” Jaune asked.
“No, Mister Arc, you are correct in that; the world is not always so kind,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “And yet, are stories always so kind? Are there not stories where the hero perishes before their time?”
“Struck down by a great foe,” Pyrrha declared. “Defeated in single combat or in the chaotic press of battle against many foes. Not slain by so dishonourable means as-”
“A knife in the dark?” Professor Ozpin suggested. “Their throat slit while they slept?”
Pyrrha pursed her lips together. “You are not wrong, Professor.”
“And you should not be so disheartened, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “It is true that so many thousands of lien of education may fall to a ten lien explosive device, but it has always been so that a shining hero may die a mean death unworthy of their life. Is it not said in Mistral that the mightiest warrior may be slain by a single arrow?”
Pyrrha nodded, if only a little. “It is, Professor. I suppose I had not taken it to heart until now. And still I wonder… still I return to my original question, if that is so – and even more so now – then to what end do we train so hard, if these mean threats can bring us down, and those close and dear to us?”
“Because there are other worlds, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “This world in which I am afraid you have become momentarily embroiled is but one world: a world of narrow streets and knives in the shadows and, yes, explosive devices that make mock of the pretensions of Mistralian chivalry and those who would be heroes. It is a world for criminals and for the officers of the law who confront them in the darkness. Those officers may on occasion make use of the services of huntsmen, but, in my opinion at least, huntsmen do not belong here. But, as I said, there are other worlds: worlds of monsters, of the heroes who confront them.
“The heroes who are needed to confront them.” Once more Professor Ozpin paused. “There once was such a hero,” he said, “considered by some to be the greatest of his day, although I would not go so far. He fought many battles and defeated many enemies, but he died not in glorious combat, not in battle fighting for the justice for which he had so often risked his life, but in his bed, sweating and feverish. But he was no less a hero for it, and the cities that he saved and the… the maidens that he rescued were no less redeemed from peril because his end was not as glorious as his life. And even if Miss Shimmer should perish here in this hospital, even if you should meet your end in ignominious fashion, Miss Nikos, nevertheless, the deeds you both have done and the deeds – gods willing – that you will yet do will live on in spite of that fact. Take heart from that, Miss Nikos, and remember it whenever you feel such doubts as these creeping in. The world still has great need of you, and of Miss Shimmer, and of those like you.”
Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Thank you, Professor,” she murmured. “That is… that will be a comforting thought if only Sunset lives to do more deeds hereafter.”
“I hope that she will,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “With all my heart.”
“As do I,” Pyrrha said.
“We all do,” Jaune added.
“I had no doubts of that,” Professor Ozpin declared, a slight touch of jollity entering his voice, but only very little in the circumstances. “It is a kind thing that you are doing, Miss Nikos, and when Miss Shimmer wakes, I am sure she will appreciate it.”
“When Sunset wakes, Professor, I think she will be offended that Ruby and Jaune are not there,” Pyrrha suggested.
Professor Ozpin gave a light chuckle. “Perhaps she will, Miss Nikos, but I daresay that I can bear Miss Shimmer’s irritation.” He chuckled again. “Take care of yourself, Miss Nikos. This world is no Mistralian arena.”
“I know, Professor, and I will be on my guard, for myself and for Sunset,” Pyrrha replied. If there is danger yet, that makes it all the more important that she should not be alone with only disinterested police officers to guard her. “Professor, may Jaune bring me a few things from our dorm room? My weapons, an overnight bag?”
Professor Ozpin considered that, or seemed to do so, “Yes,” he said, “provided that you return to Beacon immediately afterwards, Mister Arc.”
Jaune nodded. “I will, Professor,” he said, not sounding entirely happy about it. He looked at Pyrrha. He still had his hands upon her shoulders. “Are you going to be okay on your own? I mean, I know that it sounds stupid asking, when you’re, well, you, but-”
“But we just established that this is not… my world,” Pyrrha murmured, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly through his hair. “But I must stay, for Sunset’s sake; I cannot leave her alone.” And for my own sake, I cannot run from a grubby-handed felon with a skill at bomb-making, else I would be shamed before the great-hearted folk of Mistral, unworthy either to call myself their champion or to be a huntress. She did not voice that last part; it sounded right and proper and even a little stirring inside her head, but Pyrrha had a feeling that if she said it aloud, it would only verge on the ridiculous. “I will take care, of both of us.”
The corners of Jaune’s lips twitched. “You’d better,” he said, and bent down for a moment to plant a kiss upon her lips. “What is that you want? Weapons, what else?”
“My shampoo, a flannel, toothpaste, toothbrush, that sort of thing,” Pyrrha said. “And my copy of The Mistraliad, please.”
“Of course,” Jaune whispered. “I’ll bring them down to you as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.” Pyrrha blinked, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. “Professor?”
“Yes, Miss Nikos?” Professor Ozpin asked.
“What… was the name of the hero you mentioned?” Pyrrha asked. “I confess that I do not recall the tale.”
Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “His name,” he mused. “His name…” He smiled sheepishly. “Ozma,” he said. “I confess, when I was a boy, I was drawn to him because his name sounded a little like my own.”
“Ozma,” Pyrrha repeated. “I confess that I have not heard of him.”
“There is no reason why you should, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied, gently and genially in equal measure. “Come along, Mister Arc. Miss Nikos.”
“Professor,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head as the Professor took his leave. She smiled at Jaune as he departed and waved a little when he – getting further away – turned back towards her.
And as they left, Pyrrha could not help but wonder how it was that so great a man, considered the greatest of his day while he lived, could fall into obscurity after his death.
However it had happened, it was a great tragedy to rival his inglorious passing.
Pyrrha pushed such thoughts aside. They were of little use now. Now… now she had a call to make.
Not one that she would have made in different circumstances, but one that in these circumstances she could not avoid.
Sunset didn’t speak of her family, at all. Pyrrha assumed, based on what Sunset did say about her past, that her parents had died before she had a chance to know them and that she had been raised by the teacher she spoke of, the one who had trained her in magic and whom Sunset had run away from. She lived beyond the kingdoms, which vague term was all the description Sunset gave, and Pyrrha had no way of getting in touch with her.
Sunset had no other relatives, to Pyrrha’s knowledge, but Pyrrha did know of one person outside of the team and their fellow students who cared about Sunset and who would grieve at her passing.
Pyrrha walked into Sunset’s room, empty in her absence, and called her mother.
Her breathing was deep while the scroll rang, her breast heaving up and down as the device vibrated in her hands.
At last, her mother’s face appeared on the screen, unchanged in Pyrrha’s absence. “Pyrrha,” she said, her voice sounding almost breathless. “I… when I saw your name upon the scroll, I confess I did not know whether to believe it.”
Pyrrha swallowed. “I… It is I,” she said, and felt very stupid for having said it because of course it was her, who else would it have been? “But I did not call to speak of myself, Mother, still less of Jaune or aught else concerning us or Mistral or… anything at all of that nature.”
Disappointment flashed in Lady Nikos’ green eyes. “I see,” she said softly. She stared out of the scroll, momentarily silent. “I hope I may be forgiven for asking, that being the case, what you do wish to discuss with me.”
“I… Sunset has been hurt, and I thought you…” she hesitated, torn between ‘I thought you should know’ and ‘I thought you would want to know.’ “And you are the only person not presently at Beacon whom I thought might care.”
The tremble of Lady Nikos’ lower lip was barely notable, and yet Pyrrha noted. “Wounded?” she repeated. “How, and how badly?”
Pyrrha swallowed. “A bomb… while we were out shopping.”
“'We'?” Lady Nikos said. “Were you injured also?”
“Is that all that you care about?!” Pyrrha snapped. “Doesn’t it matter that Sunset-?”
“Do not presume to tell me what does and does not matter to myself!” Lady Nikos snapped right back at her. She drew in a sharp intake of breath. “You think me cold and cruel, you presume me to be heartless and without compassion. You are wrong, and sorely mistake for callousness what is but deep concern, but my affection for Miss Shimmer does not change the fact that you are my heir and the future of our line; I am entitled to know if you-”
“I’m fine!” Pyrrha cried. “I wasn’t there! I… I arrived late, Jaune and I arrived late. I was too late. And now Sunset…”
Lady Nikos’ expression softened as she waited for Pyrrha to continue. Only when Pyrrha did not continue did Lady Nikos ask, “How is she?”
“Comatose,” Pyrrha replied.
“Rendered so by the wounds of her body?”
Pyrrha shook her head. “They think it must be in her mind.”
Lady Nikos frowned. “I will make an offering to Seraphis for her recovery,” she said. “A bomb, you say?”
Pyrrha nodded. “A bomb.”
“A coward’s weapon,” Lady Nikos growled. “That is no end for a warrior as brilliant as Miss Shimmer is.”
“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “Those were my thoughts exactly.” She sighed. “Professor Ozpin gave me some very kind words, but at the same time, he could not hide the fact that the old ways… they are of little use in a modern world. Only in battle against the grimm is there still need for-”
“For what?” Lady Nikos demanded. “For dazzling skill at arms? For honour, courage, and devotion? Professor Ozpin may have a great reputation, but in this, I think he is mistaken. Yes, it is true that there are battlefields in which one cannot see the foe, but when old Lord Rutulus, Turnus’ father, was gunned down by his own officers, there were many here in Mistral quick to proclaim that honour had died with him; what had it gotten so noble a man but an early grave which left his children orphans? But it was our Mistralian way, our traditions of honour and vengeance, and the devotion which a good man inspired in his faithful retainer which inspired Miss Volsci to bring his killers and all the rest who had orchestrated his death to justice.
“What new wisdom, what ‘modern’ outlook in vogue in Atlas would have enabled Miss Shimmer to have seen the bomb before it exploded? What greater perception would less courtly a manner have granted her? Where are you now?”
“I-” Pyrrha stammered, thrown a little by the abruptness of the question. “I am in the hospital. I mean to keep vigil by Sunset’s side, until either she awakes or… until she wakes.”
“And if she does not?” Lady Nikos asked.
Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Then I will avenge her,” she declared. “As Camilla once avenged Lord Rutulus.”
Lady Nikos nodded. “And there you have it, that which Professor Ozpin does not see or failed to mention: the honour of a hero will not protect them from bombs or bullets in the back, but it will draw to them those who will stay by their side when strength deserts them, and call avenging furies forth from beyond the grave.”
“I hope with all my heart it does not come to that,” Pyrrha whispered.
Lady Nikos nodded. “As do I.”
Flash's expression was grim as they pulled up into the hospital parking lot. He had looked that way on the whole drive over from the White Fang safe house. He hadn't spoken since they got the news, had only nodded in mute acknowledgement as Lieutenant Martinez had taken Flash and Weiss with her to the hospital, leaving Cardin and Russel behind with Mallard to wait for other units to give the safe house a thorough search.
He sat in the back, silent, staring at something that wasn't there, his hands sometimes clenching and then unclenching again, not saying a word.
He slammed the door of the car shut as he climbed out.
As he began to walk towards the hospital, he was arrested by the voice of Lieutenant Martinez. "Hold up a second," she instructed as she shut the door with a little less force than Flash had used. She crossed the car towards the two students. "Sunset Shimmer, she's a friend of yours?"
"She's a student in our year," Weiss replied, hoping to protect Flash's privacy.
"A student in your year, I'm sure she is," Lieutenant Martinez said. "But some of the girls I went to school with, I would have danced at their funeral, not… this!" she waved her hand up and down Flash. "You're close, right?"
"No," Flash replied. "Not exactly, we… it's complicated."
"You mean you broke up," Lieutenant Martinez said.
Flash blinked. "How-?"
"I may look old to you now, but I still remember being a teenager well enough to know what 'it's complicated' means," Lieutenant Martinez. "You broke her heart and now that she might die, you're very sorry for how you behaved; am I off-base?"
"Does any of that matter?" Weiss demanded. "Don't you think that that is prying a little too much?"
Lieutenant Martinez gave Weiss an uncomfortably knowing look. "Some officers would have pulled you off this case the moment it became clear that we were going after the scumbag who killed your father; some officers would pull you now. Me, I think there are things that we have to do before we can sleep at night, things that if we sit on the sidelines and let other people do the work, then we can't live with ourselves afterwards. But if we're going to catch this guy, then I need you – all of you – at your best, not brooding over what might have been or wondering if you made the right call-"
"Did we?" Flash demanded. "Did we make the right calls? If that's so, then how come we haven't caught The Purifier yet, how come Sunset is…?"
"Regrets are a ball and chain, Flash; they'll slow you right down if you let them," Lieutenant Martinez told him, her voice not unsympathetic but firm all the same. "If you really think that you did anything wrong, then learn from it and do better next time. If you really think that I did anything wrong, then tell me, and I might even agree with you, and I will do better next time. But sometimes… we play catch up in this job; we're lucky if we know what the bad guys are planning before they do it, and sometimes, even when we do know what they're up to, we still can't stop them until they try and do it because we've got no evidence. We play catch-up, and sometimes, we don't catch up in time. But we keep running, or else there'll be even more victims down the line. More bombs. More explosions. So are you ready to go to work?"
Flash hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded. "I'm ready to catch this guy," he said.
"Good," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Then let's go."
They head across the car park and into the hospital, avoiding the ambulances that pulled up outside the entrance to disgorge their patients on their stretchers. A woman stood just beyond the glass doors, speaking loudly into her scroll about the pitiful condition of her father; her face was red, and there were tears in her eyes, and Weiss felt embarrassed and a little ashamed to be able to hear and see her in that condition; it felt indecent to be intruding on such a private thing as grief.
She was grateful to leave the woman behind, to plunge past the sick and the injured waiting in the Accident and Emergency into the sterile-smelling corridors of the hospital, brushing past nurses with guarded expressions and swift strides as they sought out Sunset's room.
They found the room, devoid of Sunset, although Pyrrha was there, standing with her back to the window, facing the doorway.
"Pyrrha?" Flash asked.
"Flash, Weiss," Pyrrha said politely. To Lieutenant Martinez she said, "Are you a police officer?"
"Lieutenant Martinez, Flying Squad," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos?"
"Yes," Pyrrha said. "I'm Sunset's teammate."
"Where is Sunset?" Flash asked.
"They're doing some scans," Pyrrha said softly.
Flash swallowed. "'Scans.' That… doesn't sound good."
"If fate is kind, it may help determine why she hasn't woken up yet," Pyrrha replied. "Professor Ozpin has allowed me to wait with her until she does." Her green eyes flickered towards Lieutenant Martinez. "I'm told that some police officers will be arriving to protect her in case this turned out to be targeted."
Lieutenant Martinez nodded. "Some uniforms are on their way."
Pyrrha nodded. "Do you… do you really believe that this was a targeted attack?"
"I can't think why else someone would want to blow up a fabric store in The Elephant," Lieutenant Martinez said. "And I'm going to level with you, Pyrrha: there's a White Fang bomber in town, and you don't need me to tell you that they have reason to hold a grudge against you."
"But it still doesn't make any sense," Weiss said. "Attacking a team of huntsmen, it's hardly an act of mass terrorism, is it? Beyond the fact of a bombing itself, it… to be blunt, and without meaning any insult or disrespect to Sunset, it hardly affects anyone." It wasn't like the murder of a beloved actress and respected director; it wasn't like striking at the image and substance of Atlesian power. It was shocking to those who knew Sunset, but would those who didn't even take any notice?
"There'll be a reason for it; we just haven't worked it out yet," Lieutenant Martinez replied. "Is there anything that you can tell us?"
Pyrrha's brow furrowed with thought. "I'm not sure. I wasn't in the store; I only saw the explosion from outside… but I did see a woman leave the store before the explosion."
"A woman?" Lieutenant Martinez said. "Did you recognise her?"
"No," Pyrrha replied. "She was a faunus, but I couldn't tell… she had ears of some kind, but she was too far away for me to say if they were cat or dog or pony or something else. Ruby might be able to tell you more, or even Blake; she wasn't with us then, but she'd been to the store with Ruby before today."
Blake and Ruby could, in fact, tell them more, including the fact that the woman who had left the shop was a fox faunus, that she had been there the last time when Blake and Ruby were in the store, and even a sketch drawn by Blake – who turned out to be a surprisingly good artist on top of everything else – of the woman in question. Armed with all this, but still lacking a name, Lieutenant Martinez… took them to a pub.
"This," Lieutenant Martinez said, as she pulled up her car outside of the Rose and Crown public house, about one street over from the bombed out store, "is the nearest bar to Dunoaks; you know what that means?" On seeing the blank expressions on the faces of Weiss and Flash as they got out of the car, Lieutenant Martinez explained. "It means that it's the obvious place to get a drink after work. Hopefully, we can find out who she is and find out a little bit about her into the bargain."
The Rose and Crown was a traditional looking place from the outside, with unpainted wooden window frames and a wall that look like it was old-fashioned stonework rather than brick; that impression of sturdy traditionalism continued inside the bar as well, with oak-panelled walls and fire-darkened beams running across the ceiling and a lever rifle hanging up behind the wooden bar. It was beginning to enter the late afternoon, but the pub was not yet starting to fill up; Weiss guessed – she had no direct knowledge – that it was still too early in the day for most people to have quit work. Nevertheless, there were a few people, mostly older men in flat caps and dark overcoats, sat at the round wooden tables, drinking pints of golden ale from large glass tankards, smoking while they read the newspapers – in print! Weiss hadn't known that anyone still did that anymore.
Behind the bar stood a middle-aged man, a cat faunus with a bald head and a black tail curling up behind his back. As Weiss, Flash, and Lieutenant Martinez approached the bar, he put aside the glass he had been polishing and said, "Afternoon, folks, what can I get you?"
"I'll have a large whiskey," Lieutenant Martinez said, flashing her badge. "And some information."
The bartender's eyebrows rose. "Right," he said, some of the genial tone vanishing from his voice. "And you, officers?"
"That's a good point; how old are you two?" Lieutenant Martinez asked. "Have you turned eighteen yet?"
"Not yet," Flash admitted. "Not until July."
"I have," Weiss said.
"When?" Flash asked.
"Not long after the semester started."
"You didn't mention it," Flash told her. "We could have, I don't know, thrown you a party or something."
"I'm not really very fond of parties," Weiss murmured, looking away from him. It had not always been the case; when she had been younger – up until she was ten years old – she had been blessed with not one but two birthday parties every year, a rather stifling and joyless affair in the evening which she had had never particularly looked forward to, and one in the afternoon, the one to which she had always looked forward, the one which Klein and Laberna made so much fun. That one had stopped the year after her father's mask had fallen off, revealing the truth about his advantageous marriage to the heiress of the Schnee name. It had been about that time that Weiss had understood why she found her evening party so dull: because it wasn't really about her at all. She was just a breathing prop, an excuse for her father to throw a soiree where he could flaunt his wealth, lobby with Councillors and Generals, and demonstrate who was out of favour with him by pointedly not inviting them. Sometimes, she would be asked to sing so that her voice might be praised, and in later years, people had begun to praise her looks, but for the most part, she might as well have been an ice sculpture propped up in the middle of the ballroom.
Compared to that, letting her birthday pass without notice had been a blessing.
"Okay, the little lady will have a small whiskey to break her in," Lieutenant Martinez said. "And the kid will have an orange juice. Tough luck, kid."
"Actually, I'll have an orange juice as well, thank you," Weiss said. "It's…" – she glanced at Lieutenant Martinez – "it's a little early."
The expression on the face of Lieutenant Martinez was more amused than offended, thank goodness; she looked as though she might almost laugh, but did not while the bartender got their drinks.
"Now then," he said, leaning on the bar, "what can I help you with?"
Lieutenant Martinez drank half her whiskey down in one go before she took out the sketch of the suspect that Blake had drawn. "You recognise this woman?"
"Yeah, I know her; that's Brick Featherstone. Was she involved in that explosion? Is she-?"
"We're trying to find her," Lieutenant Martinez said. "You know her then? Does she come in here?"
"She used to," the bartender said. "Until I had to bar her."
"What for?" Lieutenant Martinez asked. "Did she do something?"
"Do? No. It's what she said that made me kick her out," the bartender replied. "Look, this is a pub; you expect people to run their mouths and start setting the world to rights. I'd be a little worried if they didn't. But when you start talking about how the only good human is a dead human… this isn't a faunus-only pub; I have human customers as well, and they were going to start going elsewhere if Brick kept stinking up the place with her ideas. That, or someone was going to kick her head in outside."
"And that wouldn't have been good for business either," Lieutenant Martinez said, as she finished off her whiskey.
"Did you call the police?" Flash asked.
"About what?" the bartender asked.
"About all of her rhetoric!" Flash cried.
The bartender scoffed. "And tell them what, that one of my customers was letting off steam? Brick was just full of hot air."
"Nobody expects you to rat on your customers, don't worry," Lieutenant Martinez said, before Flash could point out that Brick had not, in fact, been full of hot air. "Thank you for your time; you've been very helpful." She turned and headed towards the door, leaving Weiss and Flash to follow hastily after her.
"If anybody had told somebody what she was saying-" Flash began, as they left the Rose and Crown and headed back to the lieutenant's car.
"I don't know how things are in Atlas, but here in Vale, it is the gods-given right of every citizen to complain their ass off in their local bar without snitches scurrying around taking note of every inappropriate thing to come out of our mouths," Lieutenant Martinez said. "And frankly, that's a good thing. I have enough real work to do without having to chase down loudmouths or worry about whether I should turn in my neighbours for thought crimes."
Flash frowned. "I'm not talking about… you're taking things to an absurd degree. Eliminationist rhetoric-"
"Doesn't mean a thing, without a crime," Lieutenant Martinez interrupted. "Ultimately, the bartender's right: nine out of ten people who run their mouths like that will never have the guts to do anything about it."
"And the one in ten?" Flash demanded.
Martinez was silent for a moment. "Then we play catch up," she admitted. "Just like we do with all the crimes that people are smart enough not to talk about where everyone can hear them." She got out her scroll. "Russel! I need details on a Brick Featherstone. I doubt she went back to her apartment so car registration, relatives, anything like that you can find."
“Give me a second, Lieutenant,” Russel said on the other end of the line, and Weiss could hear him tapping on the keyboard. There was a moment of silence. “Uh… what do I do once I’ve found it?”
“Put out an alert to all units to be on the lookout for her,” Lieutenant Martinez said.
“Will do.”
“And what about us?” Flash asked. “What do we do?”
“We play catch up,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “And try to work out where they’ll strike next – before they do it.”
Sunset was back from her tests. The doctors wouldn’t tell Pyrrha what, if anything, they had found, but mostly, that was because she hadn’t seen a doctor. Nurses and orderlies had brought Sunset back to her room, without a doctor in sight. Doubtless, they were aware of the results of the tests, and doubtless too, they had many patients to occupy their time.
All the same, she wished that one of them would have told her something.
Pyrrha stood at Sunset’s bedside, looking down at her unconscious leader. She did not stir. She did not wake. She simply lay there, blind to Pyrrha’s presence and to all else besides. She did not wake.
She might never…
Pyrrha shook her head slightly. She could not give up hope, for hope had not fled. Sunset yet lived, and yet would live, and open her eyes and lead the team once more.
Jaune had already been by, and so, Miló and Akoúo̱ were slung across her back. In her heart, she felt better for having them there, for feeling their familiar weight; in her head, she wondered if that emotional comfort were all they brought her, and no practical benefit at all.
If the White Fang try to finish what they started, they will be of great use to me.
If they come with arms, not if they come with a bomb as they did before.
How would the White Fang get a bomb inside a hospital?
How do I know they could not? What do I know about bombs?
Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. She did not like this. She did not like any part of this. She did not like… she did not like this world, as Professor Ozpin had called it. No matter what her mother might say about the values of their ways, the fact remained that the headmaster was correct: she did not belong here; she was not suited to confront these menaces.
She was made for battles of a more open and unambiguous sort.
I am a hero of rather limited utility, it seems. I am more my namesake than I am a Dolon or an Aegiale.
Small wonder that, because of all the heroes of the Mistraliad, it was those two, the proponents of every bit of sneakiness and skulduggery on the part of Elusinians, that she admired the least. She was inclined to agree with the tragedians of later centuries that Dolon, in particular, had been a thoroughgoing cad and quite untrustworthy.
And yet, it was his cunning – and not the valour or the wrath of her great namesake – that had won the war and burnt the topless towers of Mistral.
Perhaps there was a lesson there for her.
Pyrrha’s eyes fell on the copy of the Mistraliad that Jaune had brought her, sitting on the table by Sunset’s bedside. She had brought it to read to Sunset, hoping that the tale might in some way penetrate Sunset’s consciousness; it occurred to her now that she might gain some benefit from reading it in her own right.
Pyrrha took a step closer to the table and, with one gloved hand, reached out and plucked the book up from its resting place.
A note fell out of it to land upon the floor.
Pyrrha frowned at it as she bent down to pluck it up from there. She set the book back down where she had got it and opened up the folded note.
She recognised Sunset’s handwriting, elegant and curved but with the words having a tendency to roll into one another, as though Sunset sometimes forgot not to join up all the letters.
Dear Pyrrha,
If you’re reading this, then I am dead.
Actually, no, I can’t guarantee that.
With my having hid this note in your favourite book, I am aware that there’s a risk that you will simply decide to pick up the Mistraliad one day and find this. If so, I can only ask you to put it back and not make a big deal out of it. I couldn’t just give you a letter to be opened in the event of my death; it would have been really awkward, and I had to put it somewhere that you’d find it but at the same time somewhere you wouldn’t find it the day after I put it there.
My choices were limited is all that I’m saying.
Anyway, the reason why I’m writing this is because, well, I think that ought to be obvious. For your reference, I wrote this after we got back from the train job, when I almost died, but I probably should have written it sooner. This is a dangerous line of work we’re in; it’s like Benni Haven says: most of the teams with a photo on that wall have lost at least one person, and if that has to hold true for us as well, then I would much, much rather it be me than anyone else.
If I have to die saving you, or Ruby, or Jaune, then I will.
(Conversely, if you’re reading this, and I’m not dead yet, I’m putting you on notice: if you die before me, I will find my way into the afterlife and kick your ass!)
Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand to escape the snorting giggle that threatened to escape her mouth and nose alike. She hesitated, lowering the note for a moment, wondering whether she ought to read on or not. After all, Sunset was not dead yet.
But she…
Pyrrha didn’t want to think about it, but at the same time, just putting the note back and pretending that she’d never seen it… she was too curious to do so; she had to read on, she had to find out what Sunset had to say.
Even if… even if it turned out to be her last word.
So, anyway, this is my letter to you to be read in the event of my death. No, I haven’t written to Jaune or Ruby. Jaune is a good guy, and you’re lucky to have him, but he and I aren’t that close, and while I love Ruby, I can’t speak seriously with her about things the way that I can talk to you.
I think that’s partly because, as much as I care about Ruby, you get me more than she does; but I should probably admit that it’s also because I see her as a kid, even if that is really unfair to her.
So, I’m dead. I hope it was a glorious death. I shall be very disappointed if it was something ignominious.
Oh, Sunset, Pyrrha thought. Please wake up. You must wake up, if only to avoid that disappointment.
I don’t know who makes these choices, or if my word will carry any weight at all with those who do, but if it does make any difference, I want you to take over as team leader.
Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
Are you surprised? Ruby is too reckless by half; she needs a restraining influence to stop her from running off and getting herself killed. I’m serious about this, Pyrrha, I worry about her sometimes. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead by mentioning where I think it comes from, but our Ruby is too in love with the idea of dying nobly for my liking. I don’t ask you to protect her in battle, but when it comes to going into battle or not, someone – and if I’m not around it will have to be you – might need to hold her back a little.
As Pyrrha turned over the page to read what was written on the other side, she had to admit that Sunset had a point. Ruby… Pyrrha worried about her too, sometimes. Even what had happened in the forest didn’t seem to have changed anything with her. It didn’t seem like she intended to do anything different. It was as though Ruby Rose valued every life except her own.
Although I’m not sure what you expect me to be able to do about that, Sunset.
She resumed reading.
Jaune is, as I’ve said, a good boy, and he has a good head on his shoulders. You’d be wise to trust his strategic acumen; he has more wisdom than I think he realises. But I’m not sure he has it in him to deny either of you, especially not you. He loves you, and while that’s wonderful, he would do anything that you asked him to do, and even if he were made leader, he’d still rely on you because you’re so much more skilled than he is. That being the case, you might as well be the leader with him as your second. Besides which, strategy is only part of a leader’s job; the other part, maybe the bigger part, is to inspire one’s teammates.
I don’t know if I’m that good at that, although I try my best. I flatter myself that I can speak well enough, but I sometimes worry that I can’t put real heart into the words that I say.
You don’t have that problem. You might not be as natural a speaker as Ruby is, but you always speak from the heart, and as steeped as you are in the lore of old Mistral, you can speak with a poet’s tongue when the fancy takes you.
Seriously, I could listen to you all day.
Ruby is the heart of our team, but you are the soul. You exemplify to all the best traditions that we as would-be heroes strive to uphold. Of all us, you are the one who demonstrates most clearly what it is to be a huntress, in my eyes anyway.
Sunset, you give me too much credit by many leagues.
You only need to have a little more faith in yourself. You are the Princess Without a Crown, descended from a line of heroes; have some confidence! Only go forward in the knowledge that you are the Invincible Girl and nobody ought to mess with you, and you will do very well.
On a more practical note, I don’t want you to hold off on recruiting a fourth member of the team out of respect for me or anything like that. As much as it would be touching if you did, I’d rather the team was at full strength; you can remember me by remembering me, not by putting an underscore somewhere in the team name. I recommend you try and poach Blake from Team YRBN; it will keep her from going to Atlas, and we deserve her more than they do after our prior association, and it will give you a terrifyingly formidable line-up. I recommend PBAR as a name, pronounced ‘Pear’.
If necessary, challenge Yang to single combat with the winner getting Blake on their team. And don’t hold back!
I believe in you!
In that, and in everything else.
If it was not for as long as I would have liked, I am very glad that I got the chance to be your friend.
I am a better person for having known you.
Take care of them, and take care of yourself.
You will do great things, I know it.
Sunset Shimmer
PS: Call your mother!
By the time that she was done reading, Pyrrha’s tears were starting to land upon the paper, but at the same time she was having to stifle laughter as well.
Oh, Sunset.
You really are so… so wonderful.
I suppose… how could I refuse your last request like this? I will lead, if I can, and I will challenge Yang to a fight, although goodness knows how Blake will react to that.
I will do it… I will do it because you ask it of me, but I would rather not.
I would much rather you woke up.
Please wake up.
I… do not have your faith that we can do this without you.
Pyrrha snapped round, her whole body turning towards the door as she felt someone coming, her aura alerting her to the presence of other people with aura approaching.
She let Sunset’s note fall from her hand, and she gingerly began to reach for Miló.
The door into Sunset’s room slid open to reveal Rainbow Dash and Blake.
Pyrrha sighed. “Oh! It’s you.” She lowered her hand to her side. “I’m sorry, but I… I suppose that I’m a little jumpy at the moment.”
“That’s understandable,” Blake murmured as the two of them walked in. The gaze of her golden eyes alighted on Sunset, and her voice remained soft and quiet as she said, “How is she?”
“She won’t wake,” Pyrrha said, in tones of equal quietness.
“But she will?” Blake asked.
Pyrrha hesitated. “That… isn’t certain.”
“Yeah, it is,” Rainbow said, as she shut the door behind them. “Sunset won’t die without getting the last word in.”
Pyrrha snorted, and wiped away the tears from her eyes with one hand. “I might agree with you, except that she’s already found a way to get the last word anyway.” She picked up the note that she had dropped, raising it up so that both of them could see it. “I found this in my book. It’s a letter from Sunset… in the event of her death.”
Rainbow’s face fell. “Right. I guess that… yeah.”
Blake frowned as she walked behind Pyrrha and around the bed, so that she was standing on Sunset’s other side. “I can’t imagine Sunset doing something like that.” She paused. “Mind you, I have a hard time imagining anyone doing something like that. It sounds so… maudlin.”
“It’s not that weird,” Rainbow replied. “I’ve recorded a video for the girls just in case. The General agreed to hold onto it for me. And I know that Ciel’s got a letter; it’s with her priest in Atlas.”
Blake looked at her. “Doesn’t it seem a little… fatalistic?”
“No, because it’s not like we’re planning to roll over and die,” Rainbow insisted. “It’s just that this is dangerous… we might not always get to tell the people we love how we feel before… you know.”
Blake was silent for a moment. “I suppose,” she conceded softly. “Perhaps it’s just that… I didn’t have anyone to write to before.”
“Sunset’s letter is not quite a last confession of her feelings,” Pyrrha said. “It’s more of a list of instructions. Her last commands, if you will.”
Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right for Sunset.” She grinned. “Can you tell us what’s in it?”
“Rainbow Dash,” Blake murmured disapprovingly.
“I…” Pyrrha wondered whether she would be breaking confidence by doing this, but then in a sense, she’d already disobeyed Sunset’s instructions by reading it before Sunset was dead. “Sunset gives me her voice in the succession as team leader,” she said. “I’m supposed to challenge Yang to a duel over you, Blake, so that you can fill Sunset’s place on our team and not go to Atlas.”
Blake stared at Pyrrha for a moment. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“I’m not sure whether I ought to wish I was,” Pyrrha replied.
Blake continued to stare. Slowly, a smile began to crinkle her mouth.
Pyrrha smiled back. A little giggle escaped from her mouth.
Blake shook her head. “She is-”
“Impossible,” Pyrrha finished for her. “And completely wonderful at the same time.”
Blake looked back down at Sunset. She reached out and took the unconscious Sunset’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. She looked up, and into Rainbow’s eyes. “I owe you an apology too.”
Rainbow frowned. “Why?”
“The White Fang did this,” Blake said. “The White Fang always did this, and I defended it, and I looked the other way, and-”
“And you left because you knew that it was wrong,” Pyrrha reminded her.
“All the same,” Blake replied, turning to Rainbow. “No wonder you hated the things that I said when we first met.”
“Well…” Rainbow looked away. “It hits different when it's people you know.”
Blake nodded. “It shouldn’t.” she whispered, in a tone as melancholy as the breeze which blows through a ruined castle, whispering in the broken archway.
“Maybe not, but it does,” Rainbow replied. “We wouldn’t be down here if it was someone other than Sunset in this bed, you wouldn’t be saying this if it was someone other than Sunset, and… well, if it weren’t for the Wedding, I wouldn’t have flown off the handle at you the way I did. It’s all… forget it, okay? This isn’t your fault.”
“Not this time,” Blake muttered darkly.
Rainbow ignored that. “Has… has Flash been by?” she asked. “I know that Twilight let him know what happened.”
Pyrrha nodded. “He came. With a police officer.”
“Huh?”
“Team Wisteria are shadowing some detectives on a training mission,” Pyrrha explained. “I wish them good fortune in an arena for which… we huntsmen may be ill-suited.” She looked at Rainbow. “Rainbow Dash, may I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“All the technology that you Atlesians possess, the airships, the weapons, the bombs… does it ever make you feel unnecessary?”
Rainbow blinked. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
“Because she’s feeling inadequate because she couldn’t save Sunset,” Blake declared. “Aren’t you?”
Pyrrha smiled sheepishly. “Am I so transparent?”
“It’s more that we’re so alike,” Blake explained. “I’d feel the same if I’d been there. I still do feel the same. If I had known more, if I’d been able to give the police more useful information, then maybe they would have caught The Purifier more quickly.”
“I’m sure you told them everything,” Pyrrha said.
“That doesn’t mean that I told them enough,” Blake replied. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “I’m sure that you did everything you could, too.”
Pyrrha’s mouth opened, but she did not reply, not for a few moments, when she admitted, “Point taken.”
“You can’t save the world alone,” Rainbow said. “Not even you, even if you are the best I’ve ever seen. That’s why we have the tech, and the missiles, and the airships.”
Pyrrha did not reply. She could recognise, on a certain intellectual level, that Rainbow was speaking the truth, but on the other hand… it cut against everything that she had been told growing up, everything that she’d come to believe, everything that she held dear.
How can I save the world if I can’t save my friend?
And if I can’t save the world, then what good am I?
She was nothing but a weapon, and a weapon that was starting to seem inadequate for the world into which it had been fashioned.
Blake said, “Would you like me to stay here with you? With Sunset?”
“Sunset would like that,” Pyrrha said. “And I would welcome it, but I’m not sure Professor Ozpin would be so keen on the idea.”
“We could call it a mission for Atlas,” Rainbow suggested.
Pyrrha looked at her. “What kind of mission for Atlas would justify staying by Sunset’s hospital bed?”
Rainbow opened her mouth, but said nothing. “I… don’t know,” she admitted.
“It turns out it doesn’t matter anyway,” Blake said, looking at her scroll. “I’ve just got a text. The police want me to come in.”
Cardin folded his arms across his chest. In front of him, pinned to a board on the wall of the Basement’s squad room, was a map of Remnant, with pins of various colours tacked into it representing bombings attributed to The Purifier by Blake.
Oh, yeah, Blake was here. She hadn’t said anything to him since she came in, and he hadn’t said anything to her. It seemed as if it would be better that way. It allowed them both to avoid the awkwardness of, well, he should apologise, but now was hardly the time for it.
Although he wasn’t sure when the time would be, at this point.
But right now, they had a job to do. They needed to find The Purifier before he struck again. Since they had no leads on that, the best idea that Lieutenant Martinez had come up with was to try and work out where he might strike again.
Since it wasn’t as though there was a shortage of targets, what the lieutenant had done was call in Blake to tell them as much about other bombings by The Purifier as possible so that they could try and figure out a pattern.
So far, said pattern was proving elusive.
“Okay,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “From the top. We have Crystal City, the Atlesian R&D base. We have the airship in Argus carrying the actress and the director. We have three attacks on that security firm in Mistral-”
“Rutulian Security,” Blake said. “A private military contractor managed by one of Mistral’s most prominent families. Two bombs at their regional offices went off, killing employees, but a third bomb outside the family estate was discovered and disarmed.”
“Could he be going after celebrities?” Russel asked. “Or prominent people, anyway? I mean, these rich folks in Mistral, the actress and the director, Pyrrha Nikos on Team Sapphire is a celebrity, and you said the captain of that SDC ship-”
“The Fitzgerald,” Blake said.
“Yeah, that one,” Russel said. “You said he was famous, right?”
“More like infamous,” Flash muttered. “When his ship was blown up, he was only just back at sea after his acquittal on a charge of murdering one of his own crewmates, a faunus crewmate, in case that needed saying.”
Russel shrugged. “Fame is fame, isn’t it?”
“Fame doesn’t explain the base at Crystal City,” Flash said.
“What about-?”
“No,” Flash said. “My father wasn’t famous. My mother is known in circles connected with the Council, but not outside of them.”
“So you’re fancy, but not famous,” Russel said. “Got it.”
“Focus,” Lieutenant Martinez told them. “Any other ideas?”
“Institutions,” Weiss said. “The SDC, the Atlesian military, did Rutulian Security have any record of anti-faunus bigotry?”
“No,” Blake said. “The Rutulus family is actually well known in Mistral for how unusually lacking in prejudice it is. The old lord practically adopted a faunus girl.”
“Good for him, but not everyone likes that kind of thing; take it from me,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “My parents got no end of crap from assholes who couldn’t believe that humans could love a faunus child like she deserved.”
“Could they?” Weiss asked.
Lieutenant Martinez turned a gaze on her that would have curdled milk. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that, and you ought to thank me for being so generous.”
Weiss’s cheeks flushed. “I’m only saying that just because someone adopted a faunus child doesn’t mean that they aren’t racist.”
“It doesn’t matter whether they were or weren’t racist; it still doesn’t explain Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom, or Team Sapphire for that matter,” Cardin said. “They weren’t institutions, apart from anything else.”
“Then what does explain it?” Weiss demanded.
Cardin sucked in a sharp intake of breath. He stared at the map, stared at the pins, and imagined what they represented. “Revenge,” he said.
Everyone looked at him. “Go on,” Lieutenant Martinez urged.
Cardin hesitated. He licked his lips. “Blake,” he said, spitting out her name in his nervousness. “You said that the Rutulus family weren’t bigoted, right?”
“That’s right,” Blake said, and he could practically hear the unspoken ‘unlike some people.’
“But Rutulian Security is a private firm, which means they work for clients, right? Did any of their work ever bring them into conflict with the faunus?”
Blake blinked. “I… don’t know.”
“I’m on it,” Russel said, turning his chair around to face the computer as he began to type furiously upon the keys. “Let’s see… let’s see. Hey, Cardin, you’re right. Not long before the first bombing, Rutulian Security had cleared out a faunus commune on public land that had just been sold by the Council; they’d argued that they had squatters rights, but the judge threw out their case and gave the greenlight to evict them by force.”
“Did anything happen to the judge?” Cardin asked. “Or the guy who bought the land?”
“Uh… the judge’s car exploded with him inside; it was ruled an accident due to improper maintenance.”
“My ass it was,” Cardin growled. “What about the new landowner?”
“It was sold to a guy named Timur; nothing happened to him personally, but one of his country houses went up in smoke.”
“How did you know that?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.
“It fits,” Cardin said. “It’s the only thing I can think that fits. Crystal City is where Krasny lived, where he got burned, so he went back there and blew it up. Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom had just finished location shooting in Mistral for the Daring Do movie; at the time-”
“At the time, a lot of faunus rights groups had kicked off because they’d cast a human to play a character who is a faunus in the books,” Lieutenant Martinez said.
Russel looked from Cardin to the lieutenant and then back again. “How do you both know that?”
“Because they’re my kids’ favourite books; we read them together all the time,” Lieutenant Martinez said. Her tone acquired the edge of a growl as she added, “And I had to explain to them why some jackass yelled at them for dressing up as Daring Do for Remnant Book Day.”
“And I… am also a fan,” Cardin added, his voice growing quiet as his cheeks grew pink.
Blake folded her arms. “You are a fan of Daring Do?”
“Are you surprised that I like books with a faunus heroine?”
“I’m a little surprised you can read,” Blake replied.
“My point,” Cardin declared heavily, “is that Crystal City had offended Krasny personally, Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom had offended the faunus, Rutulian Security and the people they worked for had offended the faunus, the captain of the Fitzgerald had killed a faunus and gotten away with it, and Team Sapphire have fought against the White Fang. All his attacks are based on settling scores. I think that’s why he attached Rutulian Security three times: his first bomb didn’t go off, so he had to get them back twice, first for the initial insult and then the second time for foiling his first attempt.”
Weiss frowned. “That sounds rather childish for a master bomb maker.”
He sounds like me, Cardin thought. And Sunset too, but me. How do you think I was able to work it out?
He’s a petty asshole, and he thinks the way that petty assholes do.
“Just because he’s a monster doesn’t mean he has to be smart,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Cardin’s right; his theory fits all the facts. So, in that case, if we assume that The Purifier is out for revenge, where does he strike next?”
“Beacon,” Weiss said. “It’s where the rest of Team Sapphire and Team Rosepetal are.”
“But if he needs to make up for his own failures, then that means he’ll attack the hospital and try and kill Sunset again!” Flash cried.
“We’ll split up,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Yuma, call Ozpin and warn him there might be an attempt to bomb Beacon Academy, then direct bomb squad and tactical units to Beacon and to the Princess Royal Hospital. Mallard, take Cardin and Russel up to Beacon and start searching for a bomb or The Purifier or… anything suspicious. Weiss, Flash, you’re riding with me, and we’re headed for the hospital.”
“I’ll come with you,” Blake said.
Lieutenant Martinez hesitated for a moment, before she said, “Fine, you can ride with us. Come on.”
A siren blazed on top of the lieutenant’s car as it raced through the streets.
Blake sat in the back of the SUV with Flash, while Weiss sat up front with the lieutenant. Both of the two members of Team WWSR were on their scrolls, speaking frantically into their devices as the car sped along.
“Pyrrha?” Flash said. “Pyrrha, it’s Flash; have you seen anything suspicious?”
“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “With the officers at the door, we haven’t been disturbed. What’s going on?”
“We think that Team Sapphire was the target of the bombing because of your past run-ins with the White Fang,” Flash explained. “They didn’t get Sunset before, so they might try again.”
“Gods,” Pyrrha murmured. “What can I do?”
“Just keep Sunset safe,” Flash told her. “We’re on our way.”
Weiss, meanwhile, was holding her scroll up to Lieutenant Martinez ear so that the latter could hear it as she drove.
“We’re at Beacon now, El-Tee,” the young detective, Mallard, said. “The students are helping to search the grounds and buildings for explosives. Nobody’s seen anyone suspicious on the campus. The Atlesians have offered the assistance of a bomb disposal unit.”
“Tell them to sit their asses down; we’ll handle this ourselves,” Martinez said sharply. “Only tell them more politely.”
“El-Tee, this is Yuma; Bomb Squad says they don’t have the manpower to cover two sites at once on the chance there might be a bomb. We either need to find two bombs or pick one location.”
Lieutenant Martinez sighed. “Damn budget cuts,” she muttered. “Okay, tell Bomb Squad to head to the hospital. Mallard?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Tell the Atlesians that we appreciate whatever assistance they can provide,” Lieutenant Martinez said, through gritted teeth. “Yuma, do we at least have tactical units for Beacon and the hospital, or do we have to ask the Atlesians for marines as well?”
“They’re en route.”
“Thank gods for that,” Lieutenant Martinez said.
Blake sat in the back, saying nothing. Something bothered her, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Yes, Cardin’s point made a lot of sense. The Purifier was bent on revenge, but did that necessarily mean that he would make a second attempt on Sunset immediately? When his attempt to kill the Rutulus family had failed, he had switched to attacking their organisation, not continued to plug away at the family. Yes, revenge upon Team SAPR, but Team SAPR hadn’t been the only ones confronting the White Fang; there had been Team RSPT too, and…
Blake’s ears pricked up as her golden eyes widened. Team RSPT… and her.
And she had not only fought the White Fang but betrayed it first.
And she had gone to the fabric shop with Ruby, so the Purifier might have assumed that she would go there again.
Was… was I the target all a-?
The truck erupted out of the side-street like an avalanche, slamming into the side of Lieutenant Martinez’s SUV with enough force to send it rolling, tumbling roof over wheels across the road, windows shattering as the roof compressed. The world span before Blake’s eyes, the cries of Weiss and Flash filled her ears, and yet, they barely registered in the face of being thrown up and down, her seatbelt digging into her shoulder as her head was slammed repeatedly against the doorframe; her arms flailed uselessly, the glass cut at her aura, the world yanked her up and down, up and down. She felt her aura break under the assault, under the relentless and incessant impacts, and when the car finally rolled to a halt upon its roof, she could do nothing for a moment but hang, suspended in place by her seatbelt, breathing heavily in and out as smoke issued out of the engine.
She heard Weiss groan in the front seat. From Lieutenant Martinez, there was no sound.
Blake’s mind was foggy, but she was dimly aware that the driver’s side of the car had been the one to take the bulk of the impact.
“Blake? Blake, are you okay?”
Blake looked around, wincing at the pain in her neck as she twisted it. Flash was suspended too, but only for a moment as he ripped his seatbelt off and dropped on all fours onto the roof of the car.
“Blake!” he repeated, his voice muffled to her ears. “Hold on, I’m going to-” His words were cut off as something grabbed him by the leg, pulling him out of the car as he struggled to resist them. He was pulled through the shattered window and out of sight. Blake heard him say, “Wait, I know you-” before there was a sickening thudding sound.
Blake struggled to free herself from her seatbelt, but it was hard when she could barely think straight. She couldn’t really remember how she’d fastened herself in in the first place, and her hands were having trouble finding the… finding the… finding the thing. The thing! How did she get out of here?
A face appeared at the shattered window, the face… the face of Neon Katt.
“What’s new, pussycat?” Neon asked with a bright smile on her face.
Blake blinked. “You… you’re… here.”
“Surprise!” Neon cried. “Or not. When you think back, I’m sure you’ll agree it was actually… kind of obvious.”
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waiiiiiit. You didn't turn Kitty cat in a white fang maniac, did you?
'What's new, pussycat?' I caught that reference.
And I'm pretty sure that Adam is planning for his enemies to come after the Purifer and take out his newest rival while also making the High Leader look stupid for bringing so much heat on the Vale chapter.
I'm so touched to see Pyrrha so furious for once, intent on avenging Sunset if she were to pass. The heavens tremble when a kind person is provoked. And even if the Purifier escapes, Cinder will burn him alive. But not nearly as much as Princess Celestia would.
10812496
he actually did based on something from a rwby manga or comics.
Although it is really stupid in my opinion since in the show, Neon was shown as someone quite loyal to Atlas, and a Faunus supremacist woudn't stay in a team full of humans (at least the situation woudn't be tolerated by the staff, it would be like putting Cardin in a team of faunus).
10812572
What you just said make me want to see princess Celestia decide to come on Remnant decide to confront Salem after having learn of how much she had made suffer Sunset.
In fact, a fight between Celestia and Salem seem a really interesting idea.
I love this passage. Really makes me like Oz more than in the original ngl.
Harsh. Not necessarily unfair, but harsh regardless.
10812607
Celestia is no delicate flower! Check out from the comics what she did to the Changelings in older times!
camo.fimfiction.net/YQeOXjhl66RxvmsxAYH2kbDpO6nW3zgjqsAUMjuR9kM?url=https%3A%2F%2Fderpicdn.net%2Fimg%2F2017%2F2%2F5%2F1355514%2Ffull.png
Yes, that is why Chrysalis looks like swiss cheese with all those holes! Celestia did that! And when you threaten that which is precious to her...
camo.fimfiction.net/dShzfLTzMRr8GMy89CjD6KnfL7I-qVpefMb8h1M2LRw?url=https%3A%2F%2Fderpicdn.net%2Fimg%2F2017%2F2%2F5%2F1355554%2Ffull.png
"How dare thee! We are not any mere pony princess! We are Princess Celestia, Alicorn Princess of Equestria! We art here to protect the Pegasi, Unicorns and Earth Ponies of this land! Thou hast threatened our citizens, and we shall not stand for that! Return unto us the Crystal Heart or thou shalt pay a mighty price, dragon!"
Princess Celestia - Journal of the Two Sisters
10812634
i never talked of Celestia as if she was weak or a pushover.
And now i remember the "Nightmare night" episode when Luna said then Celestia too talked like her a thousand years earlier, but i didn't think Celestia so scary.
now i really, really want mama Celestia against Salem.
10812695
Have another! Look who she has no effort 'hoof-wrestling'!
camo.fimfiction.net/AtViDID4B94mYR7V3hmkPHK6k3Dm8iS4yR0F6XFqWSs?url=https%3A%2F%2Fderpicdn.net%2Fimg%2F2017%2F2%2F5%2F1355552%2Ffull.png
...What the hell is that rope made of anyway?
10812700
i meant scary in term of readiness to crush her foes .
Well that's interesting...
Knowing Cinder, considering that she actually seems to hold Sunset... if not as a friend, at least in high regard and someone that she can actually respect (alongside her natural controlling tendencies), she is almost certainly not happy that the White Fang that should be following her general plan thanks to Adam aren't following her designs right now...
That being said, while Cinder would likely be saddened if Sunset actually died like this (even if its justified to herself and her followers as mourning the loss of an opportunity of bringing in another powerful ally as well as to maintain their cover by showing human emotion), knowing the kind of person Cinder is... she's already decided that Adam's life is over the moment that he is no longer useful as a tool for her schemes... or at least until she can find a suitable replacement for him within the White Fang's ranks who could not only keep them in line with her plans, but also serve as her pawn.
Oh, I'm sure there will be plenty of legit reasons for the decision. Adam is clearly unstable. His inability to maintain control of the organization when the Purifer showed up exposed a weakness about him that she needs to consider going forward. The failures that happened under his watch; Even if the White Fang was able to make up for them, that was still time and resources that could have been spent doing other things. She wants to tie up a loose end. But somewhere in her heart, I feel like there would be a small part of her that would say 'Sunset really hated this prick. I hope that burning him alive would make her as happy as its about to make me.'
10812496
No Neon, nooo D:
Sunset dies but not really chapter.
This is certainly unexpected, I had wondered if Sunset’s Equestrian phone book would be used by Pyrrha in this chapter.
Who currently knows the true purpose of the book? I remember her telling at least one person, in the rewritten section, but I can't remember who.
Are you for real, you actually turn Neon in an antagonist/villain in this story... wow, now... I'm shocked.
Oh
I was not expecting that.
Is Sunset actually dead or is this a fake out?
Oh shit. That… that is a surprising development. Wasn’t expecting that.
Anyhow
If this isn’t the fucking truth! And here they expect us to stop terrorism before it happens, but hell above you can imagine how fucking difficult that is.
So I gotta ask, why was the guy yelling at them? If the kids that dressed up were Martinez’s kids, then they would also be faunus, and i get the impression Daring Do was supposed to be a faunus, so was the Jackass yelling at then over the fact that a faunus kid was dressed as a faunus character played by a human in the film??? Because if so, fuck that guy on so many levels.
… i am upset by this. I will read on, but I am definitely put off by this.
11533566
If it helps Neon isn't actually part of the White Fang, it's all an act to try and take them down.
11533566
Martinez is in an interracial marriage. Her husband is a human, and her two sons are human too.
I'm not surprised that Pyrrha teared up after shr read Sunset's letter. I teared up after reading it and I'm not part of the story!
Pyrrha's right, though: Sunset's a fighter. She'll fight to gain consciousness, and Pyrrha will defend her until she does!
Not gonna lie, this chapter was hard to read with the sunset bits. It reminded me alot of how my mother went. It was a good chapter.