• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Hate Without Measure (New)

Hate Without Measure

The engine of Sunset's motorcycle purred pleasantly as Sunset — with Ruby sat behind her, arms wrapped around Sunset's waist — drove up the road back into Beacon.

The sky was dark above, and the moon was out; they'd gone to see the new I-Spy picture at the movies, and it had only just finished.

Said cinematic experience was the subject of discussion as Sunset parked her bike outside the team garage.

"I have to say," she said as she took off her helmet and shook her long hair free, "that I'm not surprised that movie theatres are dying on the basis of that standard of service. They hadn't even cleaned the place up after the last showing; there was spilt popcorn on the floor from whoever had been in there last."

"It wasn't that bad," Ruby replied as she leapt down from Sunset's bike.

"I should be able to watch a movie without also having to watch where I'm putting my feet," Sunset insisted.

Not for the first time since leaving the theatre, she checked the soles of her boots. There had been some very sticky patches on the floor.

"Okay, fine, it could have been better, but what did you think of the film?" Ruby asked.

Sunset thought for a moment. "That was a weird title sequence, wasn't it? It was a cool song, but some of the places those octopus tentacles showed up … it made me wonder what sort of movie this was."

Ruby sniggered. "Yeah, the music for those movies is always cool, but the title sequences … yeah. Dad used to fast forward past them when we watched them when we watched them at home. He said we were too young."

"I think you might still be too young," Sunset muttered. "Still, it was good fun. I was surprised Ruby Roundhouse wasn't in it more; you said she was huge."

"She is huge," Ruby insisted. "Maybe that's why they couldn't get her for more than one action sequence. Still, I liked it. It's good to have the old style back; the last couple of these movies were too serious, they forgot to have any fun."

"Are they usually like that, then?" Sunset asked. "Secret conspiracies and supervillains with tentacles all over Remnant? And Vale as somehow a great power?"

"It is a Valish movie," Ruby reminded her. "And Vale is one of the four kingdoms; it's not like we're little."

"The climax of that film involved the Valish fleet sailing to attack Atlas as part of the villain's machinations." Sunset pointed out.

"Okay, that probably wouldn't happen," Ruby conceded.

"Although First Councillor Emerald probably wishes it could," Sunset muttered.

"You think so?" asked Ruby. "You really think he wants to start a war?"

"No," Sunset conceded. "I don't think he wants to start a war, although I don't think that he always thinks about … I'm not sure that his decision making always takes account of what is … the most effective decision he could take for the best interests of his people."

Ruby frowned. "What makes you say that?"

Sunset realised with a chilling sensation in her stomach that she had given away rather more than she should have, given that her meetings with the First Councillor were something that Ruby did not and could not know about. "I … it's, uh … it's an impression that I've formed from observing him and his decisions."

"Really? I think you're being kind of hard on the guy," Ruby said. "I don't agree with everything he does, and I probably wouldn't vote for him, but I think he's trying his best."

"You might be right," Sunset conceded. After all, Councillor Emerald had inherited a slew of problems, more than a few of which were of Sunset's making. "All the same, he does want to rearm Vale."

"Mmhmm," Ruby murmured. "That's the thing … like I said, he's trying his best, but that's the reason he wouldn't get my vote."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You think that Atlas should have a monopoly on military force?"

"I don't think Atlas should have any military force either," Ruby declared. "I know that Rainbow Dash … General Ironwood is someone else who seems like he's trying his best, and Professor Ozpin must trust him to tell him about…" — Ruby looked around furtively — "Salem, but even so … when the Great War ended and the Last King founded the huntsman academies, no kingdom was meant to have any soldiers."

"Vale has soldiers," Sunset pointed out. "Not many, and possibly not even very good, but it still has them."

"Well, then, it should get rid of those too," Ruby insisted, thereby demonstrating that, whatever the merits or the defects of her argument, she was, at the very least, consistent. "The whole reason why huntsmen and huntresses get to choose their own assignments is so that we can't be used by the kingdoms as tools of their power."

"I get the theory behind it," Subset allowed. "But … even leaving aside the question of whether it's really better that ordinary huntsmen and huntresses should be the ones deciding where they go and when instead of someone who can—"

"See the big picture?" Ruby suggested.

Sunset nodded. "How did you—?"

"Rainbow Dash said that when we talked about this," Ruby informed her.

"And you weren't convinced then, either?" Sunset guessed. "It's not an invalid argument."

Ruby grinned. "You think that because you're a tyrant."

"I … do not regard that as a criticism," Sunset declared haughtily. Her tone softened. "I don't want to play the 'you weren't there' card because it wasn't your fault, but … you weren't at the Breach; we would have been screwed without General Ironwood's fleet."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Vale has faced grimm hordes before and survived without Atlesian help or a super strong military," she replied. "Ozpin's Stand, where Team Stark made their bones, that was won by huntsmen; the Breach couldn't have been worse than that."

"I couldn't say; I wasn't at Ozpin's Stand," Sunset murmured.

"I'm sure that Councillor Emerald is making what he thinks is the smart choice to keep Vale safe," Ruby allowed. "But what if … what if all the kingdoms built up their militaries, and then Salem manipulated them into going to war with one another? Maybe even a new Great War?"

Sunset frowned slightly. "Like the bad guy in the movie?"

"Just because it's in a movie doesn't mean it's unrealistic," Ruby pointed out. A little laugh, a slightly hollow-sounding laugh, escaped her lips. "It's funny — only sort of not at the same time — that the real world is crazier than anything seen in the movies, and we're some of the only people who know it."

Sunset let out a bark of laughter. "Hah. Yeah, that … that is … while I grant you that the immortal witch is not something that many people here would think of — although my people would hardly bat an eyelid at it — I think that the … agents at Salem's disposal are fewer in number than is the case for the average screen supervillain."

"You think so?"

"I don't know so," Sunset admitted, "but I think that if Salem had an immense room with a huge table inside, and there was still only room for her top operatives to sit there, then Professor Ozpin would have a hard time dealing with her with just … well, assuming the Professor wasn't lying to me, it was just your uncle until recently, and even now, it's just us and Rosepetal and sort of Blake. It's a small group, but since Professor Ozpin seems to get away with it, then it stands to reason that Salem's forces must be pretty few in number too. It might just be Cinder and those that she managed to recruit for herself. I imagine it must be difficult to gather followers when you're a monster trying to destroy the world, and nobody even knows you exist."

"Makes sense," Ruby allowed. "Although that means that…"

Sunset blinked. "What?"

"That means that most of the bad stuff that goes on in the world, most of the evil, is nothing to do with Salem at all."

"True, but is that a bad thing?" Sunset asked. "Isn't it better than the alternative that every bad thing is Salem's doing?" Her voice slipped into an imitation of the villain from the movie they had just come from. "'It was me. It was always me. I was the author of all your pain.'" Sunset remembered that Salem really was the author of all of Ruby's pain — at least unless she found out about some of the things Sunset had done — and winced. "Ruby, I—"

"It's okay," Ruby assured her. "I get it."

"Thanks," Sunset said, nodding. "As for your point, about the military … you've got a point."

It was probably the best point that could be made against the rearming of the kingdoms; it was possibly the point that the Last King had had in mind when he decided that disarmament and huntsmen were the way to go. Had the Last King known about Salem? There seemed to be a connection between the circle of opposition to her and the academies; could it have been so all along? Had the Last King been one of their predecessors?

Would Professor Ozpin tell her if she asked him?

In any case, Salem's power to subvert the defences of the world was probably the best argument against having such defences. Whether it was a good enough argument … she did not know.

"But since hardly anyone knows about Salem," Sunset went on, "it's not surprising that they make decisions that she might take advantage of. Consequence of secrecy."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "Do you think it would be better if it wasn't a secret?"

"No," Sunset replied immediately. "Do you?"

"Not definitely, but maybe," Ruby said. "Why do you sound so sure?"

"Because I like the idea of being privy to special knowledge."

Ruby folded her arms. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," Sunset admitted. "But, to be … not more serious, but less selfish … Still no."

Ruby frowned, and kept her arms crossed as she said, "And less selfishly, why not?"

"Because you don't know how people would react," Sunset said. "What if they took it badly, what if they freaked out?"

"What if they didn't?" Ruby replied. "What if everyone rose to the occasion?"

"The reward isn't worth the risk," Sunset said. "At least, not in my eyes. And besides, even if they took the news brilliantly well, people would still demand punishment for the likes of Professor Ozpin who has lied to them for so long."

"It would be pretty hard to forgive," Ruby acknowledged. "Lying for so long, about something so serious."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured wordlessly, her voice strained and a little strangled-sounding. "Do you, uh, do you want to go back to the dorm room?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I'll just put this away," Sunset said. She got out her scroll and used it to open up the garage door, which ground upwards with a rumbling of its motor and a rattling of the metal.

Sunset pushed her motorcycle inside and rested it beside the wall.

Afterwards, as the garage door rumbled shut behind them, Sunset and Ruby walked back towards the dorm room.

Beacon was quiet at the moment, at this time of night, at this time of year, with so many other students out of school and those that were in not being out and about on school grounds after dark. Sunset and Ruby did not come across, nor catch sight of, any other students — or any teachers either, for that matter — until they reached the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the centre of the great courtyard.

Arslan Altan was waiting there, reading or watching something on her scroll.

"Arslan?" Sunset said. "I'm sure there must be more comfortable places to do that."

Arslan looked up, and shortly thereafter got up, putting her scroll away as she did so.

"Hey, you two," Arslan said. "Do you know where Pyrrha is?"

"She's not here right now," Ruby said. "Did you need her for something?"

"When you say 'she's not here,'" Arslan said, "what does that mean, exactly?"

"She's gone with Jaune to the little village he calls home to visit his family," Sunset explained.

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "She's got the 'meet the parents' trip already?" She grinned. "Doing well, isn't she? Not taking things slowly, either."

"What's the point in taking things slowly if you already know the destination, I suppose," Sunset replied.

"I guess," Arslan said. "She really is certain, then?"

"Was there any doubt?" asked Sunset.

"I guess not, but … I think there are a few in Mistral still holding out hope that this is all just a passing fancy. Still, best of luck to P-Money, I suppose. She's better off there than here."

"Why?" asked Ruby. "Why were you looking for her?"

"Because Phoebe’s looking for her; she's on the warpath," Arslan explained. "I don't know what happened today, but she came back from Vale in a lather about something, and she's been storming up and down looking for Pyrrha, demanding to know where she is. She treated me as though I was hiding her somewhere. Speaking of which, you might want to hide yourselves, or she'll come after you on the grounds that you must know where Pyrrha is."

Sunset put her hands on her hips. "And nothing at all, nothing at all, to indicate why she wanted to know?"

"No, just a lot of angry muttering that meant I wouldn't have told her where Pyrrha was even if I had known."

"I wouldn't want to disturb Pyrrha and Jaune," Sunset agreed, "but Phoebe's basically harmless, at least to Pyrrha."

It was certainly true that Phoebe had a vicious streak, and that her cruelty towards Cinder was a good part of the reason why Cinder Fall existed, but Cinder had been a child at the time. The same Phoebe had failed to best Pyrrha even once, and the same Phoebe had not dared to try and face Sunset, not even in a contest for Soteria, her family heirloom, but rather sent a hireling to do battle in her place.

Even if she found out where Pyrrha was, what was she going to do about it?

"She's harmless in the arena," Arslan replied. "But…"

"But what?" asked Ruby.

Arslan shrugged. "Contestants in the tournament circuit are vetted, so clearly, they couldn't prove anything wrong, anything that made her an improper person, but … there are all kinds of rumours."

"I've heard one or two myself," Sunset agreed.

"Then you know I wouldn't want to run into her in a back alley with no aura," Arslan said. "She's got more ways to fight than in arenas or tournaments, and right now, she seems to be intent on picking a fight, so watch yourselves and tell Jaune and Pyrrha the same when they get back."

"Will do, thanks," Sunset said. She paused for a moment. "How long were you waiting out here to tell us that?"

"I … wasn't waiting out here for you!" Arslan insisted, not very convincingly. "I don't care that much, I was just... just be on your guard, okay? Until she calms down, at least. Anyway, I'll see you around." She turned away and began to walk towards the dorms housing the Haven students."

"Thank you!" Ruby called, waving to her with one hand. "We appreciate it!" She looked up at Sunset. "What do you think that's about?"

"Phoebe doesn't like Pyrrha," Sunset pointed out. "She isn't all that fond of me either."

"Yeah, but Arslan seems to think that this is something different," Ruby pointed out.

"Maybe it is," Sunset said. "But we'd have to run into her to find out for sure, and I wouldn't seek out her company at the best of times."

She hesitated. She was not afraid of Phoebe Kommenos, despite knowing the other girl's capacity for cruelty. Phoebe was vicious, or had been; there was no kind way of saying it. There was a reason why Cinder had been frozen by Phoebe's mere presence. But at the same time, Sunset was not a child. She's not helpless before Phoebe as Cinder has been in her youth; none of them were, not even Jaune.

And so, despite knowing full well what Phoebe was capable of, Sunset did not fear her. There were others, and other things, more horrifying for her to fear instead.

Yet at the same time, there was no point inviting conflict.

"Let's just do as Arslan suggested, try and stay out of Phoebe's way," Sunset said. "That's advisable in any circumstances." She chuckled at her own wit. "Come on, let's get back to the dorm room."


Within her own dorm room, in the dorms allocated to the visiting Atlas students, Phoebe Kommenos sat on her bed and brooded.

Her mood was black. It had been so ever since her encounter with Tempest Shadow and … and who? And what? Something had happened today but she … she struggled to recall just what had happened.

She was not the only one. Mal, the idiot, could not remember anything, but that was to be expected: she was only a faunus, after all, and racially condemned to stupidity. Faunus possessed a certain brute strength, but they were temperamentally unsuited for education, as was proven even by those like Rainbow Dash who were held up as paragons of their kind. Mal was, however, useful for fetching, for carrying, for helping her dress, for attending on her in all the ways that she required, and for that, Phoebe could almost forgive the ridiculousness of her being allowed to study at a prestigious academy like Atlas.

In any case, it was completely unsurprising that she remembered nothing, for she was dull-witted and unobservant; it was more concerning that none of Phoebe's friends could remember either.

Nor, most worryingly of all, could Phoebe herself.

Tempest had been there; Tempest Shadow, another of those damn faunus who infested Atlas like rats; Tempest had been there, and then … and then…

And then there had been music. Such music, music as she had never heard before, music which spoke not to her ears but to her very soul.

Music that spoke in passions and in dark desires. Music that knew her. Music that whispered of such things, that prodded at the old wounds, that stirred up the eternal enmities.

Music that had roused from darkness the black mood that sat upon her presently.

She was sad and angry in equal measure, and as the sadness and the anger were without cause, so too they were without measure, unlimited.

She hated them. By Seraphis and Tithys and Amphitrite and Erechthonious the keeper of the underworld, she hated them.

She hated Pyrrha. It was all Pyrrha's fault, all Pyrrha's doing; ever had the Nikos heiress conspired to thwart her, to shame and to humiliate her. It was Pyrrha who had made Phoebe a laughingstock in Mistral, left her bereft of fans, marginalised her on the circuit.

“Would it could be proven that some malicious spirit had crept into my house and to Hippolyta’s and switched the slumbering infants in their cradles and called my daughter Pyrrha Nikos and hers Phoebe Kommenos.”

So had Phoebe’s mother said once, ignoring for a moment the fact that Phoebe was three years older than Pyrrha. It had been an unkind cut to say the least.

The unkindest cut of all and all the fault of Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha Nikos. Precious Pyrrha Nikos. Princess Pyrrha Nikos. Gallant, skilled, and mighty Pyrrha Nikos. Fair Pyrrha Nikos, and all the more fair for being — reputed as she was — fairer than the word in wondrous virtues.

Turnus loves her fair, oh, happy fair! Oh, hated fair, oh, much despised and loathed fair!

Oh, most ungrateful fair who steals the gaze of he whom I so greatly hope shall look on me and yet cares not, bestowing her gaze instead upon some Valish wretch, scorning and dishonouring the worthiest man in all of Mistral.

Oh, how Phoebe longed to pluck out those green eyes and scar that pretty face beyond all recognition.

She would do the same to that faunus, given half the chance.

Sunset Shimmer she hated too. It was not to be borne that a faunus — a faunus! — bore Soteria, the sword of her ancestors which properly belonged to her and which she had, to her undying shame, failed to recover. Now, Sunset Shimmer wore it on her back as though by right, flaunting her good fortune, waving it in Phoebe's face, mocking her with it.

Or else so heedless of Phoebe Kommenos that she cared not either way. That might be worse.

She had cared enough when she had humiliated Phoebe in the duelling ring, defeating her catspaw and her attempt to recover Soteria.

She hated Sunset Shimmer. She hated her for her slights, for her insults, and most of all, she hated her for being a faunus. A faunus who was reputed clever, who walked so confidently, whose looks drew such envious attention, who was talked of with such admiration for her deeds. No faunus had the right to possess such gifts, to transcend ugliness and stupidity and worthlessness.

Yet, she and Pyrrha both were spoken of in the highest tones, how they had thwarted the White Fang, how they had apprehended a notorious criminal, how they had saved Vale.

It was more than Phoebe could take.

The anger was without limit. It was as boundless as the oceans.

It was without recourse.

Phoebe got up off her bed and began to prowl up and down her dorm room. Her teammates Thorn and Lycus, recognising her mood, had absented themselves from the room. Mal waited, cowed, silent until spoken too.

Phoebe paid her little mind. For her mind was fixed upon the objects of her hatred as plots for vengeance whirled about her head.

And yet how? How were her dark desires to be accomplished? She had not — it wounded her to admit it — the skill to strike them down, nor the opportunity to do so unobserved. The same went for hurting them through the weaker members of their team: Phoebe would never get close enough.

It was true that, earlier in the day, when the memory of the music was fresher in her mind, Phoebe had sought out Pyrrha, meaning to face her directly. In that moment, she had felt as though a torch had been ignited in her breast, a fire of fury burning within her, a fire that cried put for battle and bloodshed. She had searched everywhere to challenge Pyrrha, but Pyrrha had not been here.

Pyrrha had slunk away, and now … now the fire had cooled, leaving the embers of her wrath, no less angry than before … but a deal more patient.

If Phoebe had her mouth, she would bite; if she had her liberty, she would do her liking. But she had neither mouth nor liberty, for though she was in General Ironwood's grace, she remained there only so long as she did not trespass openly against the strictures he laid down and the authority by which he enforced them.

But, though it was not yet clear to her how, she would be revenged. She had tried once before, and for her trouble had been roughly handled and threatened by Lightning Dust. But now, Lightning Dust was gone, with the rest of Team CLEM. They had turned out to be anarchists of some sort.

A slow, ugly smile spread across the face of Phoebe Kommenos. Team Clementine were fled. What if they yet had confederates here at Beacon? Cinder Fall and Sunset Shimmer had been thick as thieves, after all.

Would that not be a fine thing: Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, last heir of the line of Nikos, an enemy of mankind? Would that not set all Mistral weeping?

They had left themselves open to it by Sunset's connection with Cinder. Phoebe would spread rumours, false reports. Pyrrha was the one who was really behind it, her and her mother; they had recruited Sunset Shimmer to their enterprise and bestowed Soteria upon her as a mocking sign of their trust. Then, they had contacted Cinder Fall while in Mistral and pledged to advance their interests together.

It is not the painful or the bloody vengeance I desire, but they have all the glory that should be mine. If I may injure them in any way, I bless myself in every way.

And when Pyrrha's reputation lay in tatters, when she stood revealed for the villain she was, then Mistral would turn to a new hero, someone of good family and impeccable reputation, someone to whom no scandal had attached themselves, someone beautiful and eligible and worthy in all respects.

And everything that Pyrrha had would then be hers.

Phoebe got out her scroll and soon found the number of the editor of The Daily Remnant, one of Mistral's middlebrow journals.

One which, by a staggering coincidence, she happened to own; she had inherited a controlling stake in it from her late mother.

She didn't generally interfere on editorial policy, as much as she wanted to at times; for the sake of keeping her investment profitable, she had to resist the urge to turn the paper into her own personal promotion circular. But now…

Now seemed like the right time for a new approach.

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