Chapter 78

"So…"

The tall, lanky man wandered in a slow circle around her, his boots cracking against the gravel road. She kept her body poised, carefully sitting on her knees with her hands delicately on her thighs. She had her eyes closed.

"...You came to me for my help, and yet I do not know why."

The wind blew through her hair, the sweet smell of lilac flowing around her.

"I'd like to know why it is…"

He came to a stop, clicking his heels together and leaning over her head. She opened her eyes briefly to look up at him. The piercing red stare wasn't getting any easier to deal with.

"...That my own fiance refuses to tell me why I'm here, on a mountainside, in Atlas, in the middle of November, with you."

She refused to speak and justify his words. She just watched him continue to encircle her, his back arched and his hands behind his back pensively.

"Because that seems unfair to me, don't you think? I had more interesting things to do this week than teach you how to use a weapon you are clearly not good enough to wield. But here I am, on request of the person I love, without explanation."

She twitched, desperately trying to not reach for the short dagger kept under her coat, sheathed in a black leather catch.

"The Scythe is a graceful and elegant weapon, something you, a fencer, wouldn't understand. I can't teach you something that is so out of your grasp. I firmly explained to your sister that you should stay this way, but she insisted, with force."

She inhaled, keeping her eyes level over the horizon and listening to the man circle around behind her, his boots digging into the ground with purpose.

"I don't particularly like you. You meddle into things you can't understand, and you use wealth to solve problems because you think it's the only way. Your sister, however, is quite the opposite. She understands that sometimes there are other people who have plans and ideas that are more important than herself, and accommodates for that."

She let her breath out slowly, keeping her cool and keeping tally on the man's location. She could strike at any moment, but this was just more satisfying.

"And I wonder what plans might have needed to be accommodated for? Involving me and my fiance. Do you have the capacity to understand that?"

She knew exactly what he was talking about. His stupid wedding. Her sister had expressed her understanding of the entire situation, and expressed how things can be pushed back when necessary if and when extraneous circumstances arose.

"I don't know why I am here to help you, and frankly, I don't want to help you. If I don't know why I'm here, I'm really just wasting my wednesday, aren't I?"

It would be easy to silence the man. A quick sweep to the legs, a short charge forward, and a swipe to the throat would stop him from piling on the abusive comments. Sure, he was a trained Huntsman, but he was also getting on forty-three years old, meaning he would be suffering the beginnings of 'getting old'. Especially given his attitude of 'being too old for this shit'. She was certain that being much younger, spryer, and more recently practiced would lend itself to her advantage, should she decided to strike.

"But I was given no choice. Either help you or sleep on the couch, two things I really didn't want to do. Because when I asked why I needed to help I was met with anger and a 'do you not trust me' speech, like I was some kind of common thug."

He stopped pacing in front of her, facing in and leaning his tall, skinny body her way.

"So I'm gonna ask you one more time." he paused for effect. "Why do you think I'm unhappy in this predicament?"

Weiss stood slowly, keeping her guard carefully monitored in case he decided to attack. She levelled a gaze at him, speaking calmly.

"I suspect because I put my hands all over your niece."

He seemed to shiver.

"You did what?"

"Ruby and I traded sexual favours with one another, and might I say she enjoyed it thoroughly."

He drew his sword off his back and slammed the pointy end into the dirt. Weiss was quicker, pulling out the serrated dagger and pulling herself into a combative stance, ready to block. He didn't advance, merely standing in place and staring at the shimmering glyph she had formed behind her back.

"If you think Winter's fast, old man, you have no idea what's coming for you."

"That's impossible, nobody is faster than the Ice Queen."

"Need I remind you that is also my nickname, Qrow?"

"I don't need any of your childish attitude."

She smirked, throwing him off for a moment.

"Do you think that Winter will be impressed to hear what you are saying about her poor, precious little baby sister, or do you think she might react negatively?"

"Who's to say, only the two of us are up here. What are you going to do about it?"

"Telling on you would be too easy. All I'd have to do would be to suggest postponing your wedding even further, and she wouldn't even bat an eye. I'm her favourite, old man."

He scoffed, spitting into the dirt. What a rude and unsanitary gesture that was.

"I don't need to be her favourite. I just need an explanation why I have to train you to use a scythe. What do you even know about using one? Anything?"

Weiss shrugged, but kept her knife drawn. Their standoff was a little silly, if she was honest.

"I know that they balance best at one quarter the distance down the shaft compared to the length of the blade, that the ideal point of rotation is over the back of the opposite hand, and that a fair training regime might involve work with hammers and axes since all the weight is at the end of the load arm."

He just stared at her. She continued.

"The inside of a scythe blade is the sharpened side, with the toe being used for stabbing while the beard being used for close-range chopping. The shape of the snath determines the style of blade to be used, a straight snath is typically a sharply curved blade, whereas a curved, ergonomic snath would typically use a flatter, wider blade. A posable chine makes for easy transition between traditional service scythe and the rarer, less user-friendly war scythe."

She watched his eyes narrow.

"The higher the foregrip along the snath means the instrument can be better handled one-handed by the user, provided they take into account the momentum and weight of the swing so it doesn't take their arm with it. Gravity is a scythe-user's best friend, since most scythes weigh in excess of sixty to seventy kilograms, often times more than the user themselves."

"So you can read a manual." he chastised. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

She shrugged again. "That's up to you. But I can tell you from seeing yours unfolded that you fight with an ill-prepared and poorly designed scythe."

Another scoff.

"I take personal offense to that. Can you back that claim up with any proof?"

"I certainly can, hand over the weapon."

"Over my dead body."

"I'll fight you for it."

"You'll lose."

Weiss pursed her lips, keeping her tone sarcastic.

"I doubt it."

"You've only brought a flimsy knife from what I can see."

"I'll have you know this is sintered titanium-ceramic. Besides, you clearly weren't paying attention."

"To what?"

She smirked, flipping the knife into a forward grip in her left hand and reaching around to her back. The magnetic belt latch came free quite easily, and she pulled the long, thin box from behind her and held it by its handle in her right hand. He seemed to stare up and down at the fairly discrete looking white and unmarked box. It looked no more menacing that a flower box, just made out of white anodized aluminum instead of cardboard.

"To this."

She shoved the knife into a perfectly made slot on the wide side of the box and twisted. Immediately it split the box open and unfolded it , revealing the substantially large blade held within, letting it swing down and forward and locking into position. The hefty spring mechanism re-folded the box closed again and pushed out a long and smoothly polished steel handle out the opposite end, locking everything into place. The knife had become the forward grab handle of the large weapon, with a second one flipping up and locking solid a mere half moment later.

"...The hell is that thing?"

"A scythe. Of my own design. It's discrete, easy to conceal, and it unfolds in less than two seconds, something I can't say of your old clunky… thing that you insist to carry around. This is a modern, practical scythe. And look, perfectly balanced."

She held out the weapon by the foregrip, letting it spin slowly in a large circle to prove how well engineered it was. She just gave her best, most dishonest smile from behind the polished white and silver scythe.

"It looks flimsy."

She let out a dry chuckle.

"Why, because it's lightweight?"

"How much does it weigh?"

"Seven kilograms."

"Ha! You'll get slaughtered in combat with that thing!"

"It's titanium and carbon fibre. Expertly balanced. Instant access. And it doesn't make me slouch like a pouting teenager when stowed. I don't need a heavy weapon to do damage to you, just a good technique."

He nodded. "That's… a fair summation."

She spun the scythe so she could hold the back of the blade in her other hand, careful to not catch her thumb on the razor-sharp beard.

"And a good scythe only has one blade on one side of the snath, not two. Anything protruding out the other end only serves to unbalance the weapon and create a catching hazard. Wouldn't want to snag your own cape, now would you?"

"You're an arrogant little brat, aren't you?"

"Coming from you, mister 'dramatic circles of abuse'."

"...Touche."

"That's not a 'touche' moment, that's an actual insult."

A smile formed on his face. Apparently no one had really had the gall to stand up to him before, and this act of defiance was impressive enough to warrant the grin. He pulled his sword out of the dirt and dusted it off, cleaning the mud and gravel out of the blade's flutes. He slung it over his shoulder, running his hand through his hair.

"You've earned my trust, Schnee."

"You haven't earned mine. I still don't think you're good enough for my sister."

"And that's fine, I don't think you're good enough for my niece."

Weiss shrugged.

"I mean I could split the difference and fuck both of them if you wanted."

His eyes narrowed. His sword lowered.

"I take that back. You've lost it again."

"Good."

Qrow hit the release lever on his weapon, letting the cogged mechanism slowly unlock all the blade sections and separate them, all agonizingly slowly. Weiss rolled her eyes and twisted the knife, letting her new weapon fold itself shut and collapse into its case, holding it up by the little leather handle. She waited, impatiently watching the man's scythe slowly unfold and chunk its way into action. Just before the massive and slow weapon was fully unfolded, she stabbed her knife back into the box and twisted, opening her own scythe quickly enough to beat out Qrow and his.

"Okay, now you're just showing off."

"No, I'm demonstrating that not every weapon has to be theatrical. Sometimes they can be functional."

"Harbinger is a purposeful weapon."

"Myrtenaster is a purposeful weapon. No moving parts to open up before use. That old thing is a death trap for you."

"Why didn't you bring that little toothpick with you?"

"I could kill you now, you know. Wouldn't be any water of my back."

"It was just a question, Schnee."

"I was told you'd be teaching me about how to use a scythe, it was unnecessary to bring Myrtenaster. Now, are you going to teach me, or do I have to attack you?"

He smirked, getting all cocky for a moment.

"Just tell me one thing…"

"Depends on what it is."

"Did you really…" his face scrunched up in anguish. "...'trade sexual favours'… with Ruby?"

"What's it to you?"

"It'll serve to clear my conscience and decide whether you get to leave this mountain with your head still attached."

The wind whistled between the two combatants for a moment, stirring the dusty ground around their boots. The polished and lethally sharp blade on her new scythe, which she had already christened Glättenmähen, shone brightly in the sun's low light. His own massive weapon didn't, the tarnished and dirty blade looking like it was in desperate need of some tender love and care, and possibly an oil bath. She sighed and lowered her shoulders, looking away and into the distance of the valley.

"No, I have not. I got pretty close, though. I was hoping to just rile you up and get you to attack me so I could prove my mettle, but you didn't really react the way I had planned."

"How close is close?"

She looked at him, squinting.

"I'm not going to tell you, that's private. I just… didn't get very far with her. She closed up really quickly. She wasn't ready, and I respected that. I wasn't going to push her to do something she didn't want to, even if I really wanted to and thought I was ready. She wasn't. So I dropped it at that."

"Hmm."

"I don't know what else you expect me to say. Ruby was the love of my life, and I wanted her so badly, but she wasn't ready for that kind of action."

"I-I don't really want you to talk to me about this anymore, that's my niece you're referring to."

She lowered her scythe and let the tip touch the soil and huffed.

"Yeah, and your niece was my life partner, Qrow. She wanted to be my girlfriend, but then she ran away from me. She wasn't mentally prepared for a committed relationship due to past indiscretions that I said I wouldn't get into, yet here I am, almost letting myself talk about it."

"So why do you want me to teach you scythe-wielding?"

"Because someone has to pay for those indiscretions."

He nodded, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

"Who?"

"If I tell you, you'll go to jail for murder."

"Yes."

"So I can't."

"Does Winter know?"

"She does. So do a few people who are willing to help me."

"And why don't I? She's my family."

"She's also mine, Qrow. None of us want you to take the fall for this. It's better if I'm the one who deals with this situation."

"Why you?"

Weiss sighed.

"Because god knows, I can pay my own bail if this all goes south. My career isn't on the line for this, my family isn't at risk, and if anyone's gonna jeopardize their life it should be me."

"You, huh?"

"Me. I love Ruby. I'm going to do what I must for her. That is why you're teaching to use a scythe. So I can better understand her."

"I see,"

He nodded slowly, standing pensive with a loose grip on his weapon.

"I understand that you want to know about this situation. I hope you can understand why I can't tell you."

"No, I think I got it. I won't pry. Too much."

"Thank you."

The wind whistled by them once again. She was glad she had brought her coat, even if it was a style coat and not a warmth one. The white suede was pristine, and she hoped to keep it that way. Unfortunately there was no coat rack at the top of the mountain, meaning it would probably get dirty, and facing her tailor with a dirty coat would result in a swift kick in the chin. She watched Qrow slowly lower his sword, placing it gently down with the tip pointed into the soil.

"So… you wanna learn how to use a scythe, eh?"

"I've had some practice. Not a whole lot."

"You seem to know your stuff, at least on the theoretical level."

"Well, you were right, I did a lot of reading. I had to in order to build this thing."

"I'm impressed by your craftsmanship. That looks like quite the impressive implement. You do all that yourself?"

"My brother works at an engineering firm as part of Atlas AG, he let me use his machine shop and helped out with sharpening the blade. Apparently he has some techniques past down by centuries of Vacuan monks that he wanted to try out."

"I see. And only seven kilograms total?"

"I did the whole thing up in SuperCAD first to see if it would all work, and we simulated the best materials to make it out of."

"... do you mind if I have a look?"

She gave him a warm smile.

"By all means."

She tossed the scythe his way. It floated through the air weightlessly, easily sailing over to him. She smirked as he caught it. She'd lied about the weight. Lied a lot, actually. As soon as the scythe's handle was in his grasp, it sank to the ground and quickly, nearly pulling his arms off in the process.

"Woah, fuck!"

The blade sank down in the ground about three quarters of its length. Weiss crossed her arms and grinned.

"Problem?"

"Sorry, did you say seven or seventy kilos, this thing is so heavy!"

"No, it's not. It's lightweight. I don't know what you're talking about."

He examined the construction of the slender weapon, running his fingers down the side of the blade. He grimaced, looking back over at her.

"This is ceramic, how in the hell is it lightweight?"

"Oh, right, I forgot. It's only lightweight when I'm holding it."

She held up her hands, showing off the pair of fingerless black lycra gloves she was wearing. On the backs of the gloves was a series of silicone tubes running along where her tendons were, snaking down and into her sleeves and up her arms. They were all glowing the dull grey reminiscent of the potent and rare gravity dust. Weiss had never tried experimenting with gravity dust, but had seen Ruby use it a few times in her own weapon to make it easier to handle. She'd tried it at her brother's workshop and had accidentally lifted an entire car off the ground by using too much.

"The heck are those?"

"Dust amplifying gloves. This is the real thing I am proud of. Took me a while to perfect the circuitry, but it works now and makes that scythe weigh almost nothing."

"That's cheating."

"Turning into a bird is cheating."

"Well, but-"

"A small dog could kill you like that."

"Hey!"

"This is just a practical application of a good resource. It means I can use a weapon that weighs more than I do, and effectively. I can modulate the scythe's weight on the fly, so it's light when I'm moving and extra heavy when I'm attacking."

He paused a moment and finally wrenched the weapon out of the ground, holding it up in front of him.

"Is it possible to learn this power?"

"I can understand why you might want to. Your joints might be getting to the ends of their useful lives."

Qrow frowned.

"I'd be insulted if that wasn't true."

"It's not a difficult science to figure out. I managed to do this in a weekend, I'm sure you could do it as well. It's a good way to make a heavy weapon more manageable."

"Would it work on mine do you think?"

"Are you offering me your weapon?"

"It was just a question. No."

"Yes, it would still work. The gloves affect the hands, not the weapon itself."

He handed back her scythe, which she took with only two fingers just to show off. The scythe was heavy, unbelievably so, and on purpose. She grabbed around the snath with her left hand and tapped the button on the back of her wrist with her other, shutting off the gravity dust amplifier and letting the weapon return to its actual seventy kilogram weight in her arm. She winced as it nearly pulled her arm out of its socket, but powered through.

"Okay, prepare your stance."

"Yes, sir."

She lifted the weapon up and onto her shoulder, keeping a one-handed grip around the snath. Qrow grabbed his weapon and unlocked it, letting it unfold again very slowly, all the geared clockwork clicking loudly while the blade hinged and rotated into its curved shape.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, I'm okay waiting. It's fun to watch, actually."

"I see your point about weapons needing to be quick to open."

"There's a reason I like weapons that are either quick to open or permanently open."

"Yeah, I'm getting that now."

It finally opened all the way, clinking like a bell as the locks all set. He spun his weapon slowly and gracefully around in his hands twice, tucking the handle up and underneath his arm. He did the thing with his hair again. Weiss just rolled her eyes.

"Right. Let's begin."

"I've been waiting all day for you to say that."

/.../

Weiss charged, ignoring the pain in her torso from a particularly hard impact. She swung the weightless scythe in a large arc at the man's head, cracking the back of the snath against the handle of the large Harbinger. She tried again, slicing forward with the pointy end of Glättenmähen, keeping the foregrip in her fingers of her left hand only. She wanted to only use one hand for this weapon, keeping her right hand free for blocking.

"You're good, Schnee."

She spun the back of the snath around and made a jab at him with the empty end. It was deflected off the heavy blade of the bigger weapon, leaving her open for a brief moment. Qrow took this opportunity to swing the gigantic blade up and over his head and preparing to bring the pain down and onto her face. She didn't let him, planting the blade of her scythe into the ground and using it as a vaulting pole, sending both her feet into his stomach and knocking him backwards.

"I'm glad you think so."

All the wind was blasted out of him as he flew into the tree behind him. Weiss yanked her scythe out of the ground and launched herself forwards. There was no time to let him recoup. The blade of her weapon clashed into the handle of his, hooking the beard in behind and snagging the soft vinyl of the grip. She pulled with all her might on the weightless scythe, yanking the man off his feet and over her head, slamming his face into the ground. He bounced more than she had anticipated, sliding along the gravel. She winced, pulling her scythe back.

"Ooh, sorry, that looked like it hurt."

"Yeah… it did."

He pushed himself to his feet slowly, gravel in his face. In his face. Weiss grimaced, approaching slowly.

"Was that too hard?"

"No no, it's fine. You did what I said to do, grab with the blade and disarm. I just forgot to let go."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine. I just have bad luck sometimes."

"And sometimes you have rocks in your beard."

A soft chuckle escaped the man as he got to his feet, folding his weapon back up to a sword. Much quicker than unfolding it, actually. Weiss smirked.

"You're quite the comedian. I wish your sister was as sharp as you."

"I like to whet my appetite sometimes. And she is quite funny."

"Sure, but she doesn't have as speedy as a response as you."

She shrugged.

"Fasted drawl in the west."

"Stop. Immediately."

"I cannot. I lived with your niece for four years. It's in my blood."

He sighed and resumed his position, pointing the end of his huge sword in her direction.

"Then I will have to remove her influence from you."

"Hey, I'm holding a scythe, I'm sure I can cut it out myself."

There was a pause.

"Now I remember why I don't like you!"

He attacked, launching his sword at her. She deflected easily with the back of the blade, swashing the sword down and away. She slammed the back of her scythe into his chest again, knocking him back. It almost seemed… easy. Like he wasn't putting up much of a fight. The large blade of Harbinger did pose at least an impact-based threat, for all the weight it had. She had to flip backwards out of the way as it came down at her, sharp side first. She reached for the blade, amplifier glove turned all the way up to the max, and grabbed at the pommel, easily removing it from his hands. She sent another well-placed kick to his chest, and separated the man from his sword.

"Jeez, will you stop disarming me with your feet!"

"Sorry!"

She tossed the sword back again, nearly knocking him over with it. She apologized again.

"Look, I know your sister taught you to use force in combat."

"Of course she did, she's a soldier."

"But you're gonna break my ribs at this rate."

"I promise not to not kick you in the chest anymore."

"That's more like it."

The sword unfolded, clicking open again with the massive curved blade. He came at her in the air this time, scythe out and ready to slice. As the blade came down, she deflected it away and to her left with her own scythe, leaving his face and chest open again. This time, she sent her right fist at his face instead of her foot, the amplifier glove charged and glowing. Her knuckles collided with his cheekbone with a resounding crack, knocking his face backwards and carrying his body with it. She hooked the beard of her scythe against his, and once again separated the man from his weapon. His body his the dirt like a sack of potatoes.

"...Ow." he managed.

"I'm just doing what you said!"

"I know…" he groaned, rolling over onto his back. "Who the heck taught you to punch like that?"

"Uh, Sargent Winchester of the Atlas Special Forces."

"And he taught you to hit like a naval cannon."

"Sorry! I'm just… using all the lessons people have been giving me."

"Who else is training you?"

"Few other people. My sister for summoning, Sun Wukong for balance and agility, Captain Zedong for marksmanship, uh, Professor Fall for reaction training under duress, and you, for scythe wielding and disarmament."

Another groan as he sat upright. She carefully handed back his scythe to him.

"Maybe I need to see these people, I'm clearly a little rusty. Or you're just that good that you can beat me, a trained Huntsman."

"Well, I am learning from the best."

"Yeah, literally. Except for my ancient ass, apparently."

"You're not… ancient, Mister Branwen."

"I am getting old, though. Sorry if this training isn't exactly living up to your expectations."

Weiss shrugged, folding her scythe back up and pulling the knife out.

"I only know of two other people who use one. One of them is ninety-five and blind, and the other is Ruby. Not exactly like I have a choice on who to ask."

"Not sure if I should be offended by that."

"Well, I can't go to Ruby for help, and I feel like the old woman probably wants to be left alone in her age, certainly not to be disturbed by some prissy rich girl from Atlas. And you're a teacher, so who else should I really have gone to?"

He stood up, his joints cracking loudly.

"Maybe someone who's spine isn't made of soda crackers."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, kid. You're doing well. Do you want to keep going or break for lunch?"

"I didn't… bring any lunch."

He smirked and ran his hand through his hair. Again. He stood up and slung his scythe over his shoulders.

"How about this; if you can disarm me two more times, I'll buy us some burgers from the restaurant at the bottom of the mountain."

"Sounds like you're buying me lunch, old man. Evidence shows that I'm reasonably proficient and parting a fool from his weapon. Especially with these gloves."

"Alright, new rule. You can't use the gloves."

She nodded. "Alright, you have a deal. I'll swing the scythe full weight, and then you'll buy me lunch."

"We'll see."

She took off the gloves and bracers and handed them over. He pocketed them as she stepped back a respectable distance. Once more, she pulled out her knife and the the white aluminum case out and slid the two together.

"Ready to lose, old man? Because I'm about ready for my burger."

"Do rich girls like you even like cheeseburgers? Aren't they too common and greasy?"

"Oh, I like burgers alright, Qrow. What I don't like is guys who want to get handsy with my sister."

He rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Whatever. Ice Queen."

She twisted the knife and unlocked the scythe, once again unfolding it instantaneously. He still hadn't lowered his weapon to a fighting stance, keeping his scythe slun lazily over his shoulders and his hips cocked like he was still a young Huntsman and not an aging middle school teacher. She sneered, keeping the now-heavy weapon in a proper two-handed grip.

"I hope your wallet is prepared."

"Hit me with your best shot."

"Okay."

She lunged at him, swinging the lithe scythe in a wide, devastating arc. He didn't move as she approached. Odd. She landed well within his guard circle and swathed at him, aiming right for his neck. He would have to dodge this. But he didn't move.

"Shit!"

She tried to stop the swing just before decapitating him, but couldn't. Without the gloves on, all the momentum of the ceramic-titanium blade carried itself around and through her target. She shut her eyes, realizing there wasn't anything she could do. She'd just willingly attacked the man with a deadly weapon. Hopefully his compromised aura would save him from certain doom.

Sorry, Winter

There was a fluttering sound as her scythe passed through dead air, causing her to over rotate and fall, landing the point of her scythe into the dirt. She paused, opening her eyes and expecting to see a body with no head and a dumb head with no body and a smirk on his face. This was not what she saw, however. Where Qrow had been standing was only a pile of black feathers. She blinked dumbly for a moment, looking around for her teacher. Instead of finding Qrow, however, she found only a large black bird staring down at her from a high branch in the nearest tree. Grinning down at her, actually.

"Oh, you bastard."

The bird winked and took flight, flapping away down the trail to the base of the mountain. Weiss huffed and yanked her scythe out of the ground, sprinting off behind it.

"Don't think you're getting away that easy, Branwen!"

The bird squawked back at her in defiance.

/.../

Never before had Weiss been this anxious looking at the little bungalow at 1901 East 51st Street, in Anfang. She'd been to this house hundreds of times. It was basically a second home to her. She loved the quaint little house, and she especially loved the girl who lived in it. But her intel for today was that the house was very much empty, and would stay that way for a while longer. She wasn't a fan of breaking in to anything, let alone her best friend's house. So there she sat, in the comfortable leather bucket seat of the recently-repaired Klasse-7 GT-Spec she'd trashed in a drunken rage with on hand on the steering wheel and the other rested gently on top of the gear lever.

"Fuck…"

She looked around again. Nobody was out in the street today, not with the dusting of snow that was falling from the sky. She hated driving in the snow, and especially hated driving in the traffic in the snow in Anfang. She would prefer to be in actual Hell than in traffic in her hometown. The route she usually took to work was almost entirely made up of Autobahn routes where she could stretch the Klasse-7's very long legs on a daily basis. How Ruby ever put up with inner city bullshit, she would never know. Maybe that girl had the patience of a saint.

Speaking of, in the driveway of the little house sat the truck. Ruby's truck. The actual Blaze-Charger she had spent four days cooped up in with Ruby herself as they drove across the continent to see Pyrrha in her final hours. It seemed… neglected. Sad. Despondent. Lonely. She winced, not liking how abandoned the poor truck appeared. It was covered in a thick layer of snow, having been left by itself for getting on a month and a half now. She frowned at the big red brick. It was unfortunate.

She shivered and pressed her finger into her car's starter button, silencing the burbling turbo engine. She sighed, grabbing for the sleek aluminum door handle and elbowing the door open. The snowy road crunched under her boots as she got out, loudly scrunching as she made her way around to the back of her car. She clicked the trunk button on her keyfob twice, unlatching the long and swooping rear hatch and watching it rise automatically. She reached into the deep trunk and grabbed her duffle bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She reached up to the lip of the rear hatch and pressed the little square plastic button that sat inside, hearing the little dull beep and watching the hatch slowly descend. She turned back to the house and started up the driveway.

The air in Anfang this time of year was frigid. Daytime temperatures rarely exceeded zero, and nighttimes dropped to an abysmal minus thirty-five most nights. She was endlessly thankful for central heating and the fifteen fireplaces set around Schnee manor. She took another look at the aging Blaze-Charger in the driveway as she passed it, catching her reflection in the back of the chrome door mirror. She avoided eye contact.

The climb up the three concrete steps to the front door was taxing on her legs. The very bright red front door stood out like a sore thumb. The only red front door on the entire street. She almost reached out and rang the doorbell out of habit. It was the thing she did every time she approached this particular door. She balled up a fist all of two inches from the dimly lit button, her lips pursed shut. She dove into her own pocket and grabbed the device that Blake had lent her. The bulky black cylindrical object was certainly oddly shaped, but purely functional. She pulled it out, and pressed the business end to the door's lock tumbler and clicked the button on the side. The device whirred for a moment, making a loud click as it tried to torque sideways.

She pulled the device away from the door and reached for the door handle, gingerly pushing the latch down and pushing in on the door. It swung slowly open. She held back a small gasp. Obviously the device worked, a police detective had provided it for her. But that didn't make what she was doing any less illegal. She pushed her way inside the little house and closed the door behind her, locking it with the deadbolt and chain lock. She set her bag down in the front entryway and smacked her hand into the light switch, filling the hall with light. The inside of Ruby's house was cold.

"Okay…"

She pulled off her coat and carefully hung it up on the rack behind the door and put her boots into the little plastic tray just inside the closet. She crept forward into the house, chilled by the cold air that cut through her AtlasU sweater. Just at the end of the hall at about shoulder-level was the thermostat, switched off. She reached out and set it to heat, hearing the furnace in the laundry room turn on and start pumping warmth out of the floor vents. She turned the dial down to a more comfortable twenty-two instead of Ruby's preferred twenty-six and a half. Ruby liked her house warm, an issue she always had a problem with when visiting. Especially all the times when she had to wear tank tops and shorts in december at the peak of cold season when visiting her best friend.

"Wait a minute."

She chuckled, crossing her arms. Perhaps there was a reason Ruby kept her house so hot. It was to get her into as little clothing as possible, obviously. Probably not, of course, as Ruby was a native of a much warmer country. How much was the poor girl paying in utilities, she wondered. Must have been a fortune. She shivered momentarily as she moved through the house to the kitchen, turning on the light in there as well. She frowned at the flower pot on the corner of the counter. The lily that was in it had wilted from the cold.

"C'mon, Ruby…"

The measuring cups were in the third drawer down next to the fridge. She grabbed one, filling it with water and fed the little lily nearly a full cup. It wasn't dead yet but it looked to be very nearly. She hoped that the little bit of water would be enough. Somewhere in the kitchen was a packet of plant food, but she could never remember where it was. She pulled the fridge open and looked inside, blindsided by the sudden awful smell of not-safe milk in the door.

"Fuck, ugh, that's horrendous."

She grabbed the carton and held it way out in front of her, and carried it over to the sink. She had to resist her own coughs as she poured it down the drain, the foul strawberry-smelling clumpy white liquid filling the room with its awful scent as it went down.

"Clean your fridge before you leave, you dolt. Ugh, that is putrid."

She tossed the empty carton into the blue plastic recycling bin by the back door, flattening it with her foot first. She sighed, putting her hands on her hips and looking around the dim, empty house. She sniffled, grabbing the box of cookies next to the microwave. They were a little stale, but still edible. She crunched her way through the chocolate chip cookie, putting the box back and strolling slowly through the little dining room to the dark living room. She rubbed her nose on her sleeve.

The dark grey corduroy couch sat alone, unoccupied. She looked down on it, seeing the familiarly indented cushion on the far left side of the couch. An empty curved glass sat on the edge of the little wood table just next to the couch, as well as the cracked black controller from her X-Station, damaged from years of being terrible at shooting games. Weiss stepped forward and sat down on the couch, directly in the indented spot. She let her shoulders relax and pressed her weight into the soft cushions and picked up the controller. She nodded a few times.

"Right. How does she…"

She put her right leg up on the coffee table in front of her, and tucked her left foot up on the couch and under her right thigh. She put all her weight over to her left elbow on the arm of the couch, twisting her body slightly to one side. She tried to match Ruby's odd grip on her controller, the way that her index finger curled over the buttons and directional pad. The awkward claw-grip certainly felt like why Ruby was so bad a video games. She set the controller down again and sighed, looking around the room. All of the plastic game cases on the bookshelf in the corner were out of order and messy. Two of them were even open, game disks removed. She squinted, confused.

"But… the… only one disc at a time?"

She looked around for the second disk, on the assumption that one of them was in the machine. It was nowhere to be found.

"Come on, Ruby. Put away your stuff. This place is a mess."

She stood up from the couch, trying to match the way that Ruby would only use one one hand to push herself up from sitting. She grabbed the glass and carried it back over to the kitchen, placing it purposefully in the empty dishwasher. She turned back to the house, trying her best to stand and stare at her coat down the hall the way Ruby might, her hips pushed a little forward and her knees locked.

She'd been doing her best to replicate Ruby's mannerisms and body movements, from the way she got into and out of her car one leg at a time instead of butt-first, legs second, and how Ruby would eat pizza by only biting and chewing with the left side of her mouth. The hardest one to get so far was the way she would look at her phone by pulling it out upside down, spin it around between her thumb and middle fingers, look down at it for a moment, then tilt her head all of ten degrees to the right. She'd spent a few days watching the security tapes in the Schnee Manor to see how she moved on a fundamental level. She even had to modify the way she put on and took off her shoes, using her toes and force to remove them and leaving them loosely untied instead of using a shoehorn. They way she walked was hard for her to replicate as well, as Ruby had a way of dragging her left heel and keeping her right foot just a little bit turned out from hurting her hip in first year at Beacon.

She Ruby-walked back over to her bag at the front door, picking it up and carrying it back through the house and placing it loudly on the table. Out came a small plastic bag from the drugstore with a few small bottles of product in it, and a brand-new black bath towel. She grabbed the hair product and picked it up, turning it over to read the instructions. She idly read through it as she grabbed the bag again, carrying it all to the bedroom on the right side of the hallway. She pushed her way in.

"Oh! Ruby…"

She knew her friend lived alone and probably kept her room messy, but this was ridiculous. There were clothes everywhere, all over every surface and covering every square inch of floor. She couldn't bring herself to feel disgusted, however. Because she knew exactly why Ruby's room and house had this depressive air to it. And the fact she was in this house was to confront that very reason for the deep depression. She sighed and carefully padded her way through the room, careful to not step on anything that may be hiding under the layer of discarded clothing. Like a fork.

"Fuck, Ruby. Do you just get home after work and detonate your clothes off?"

That sounded hot, actually. Especially if it was Ruby. She shivered, pushing her way into the en suite bathroom and closing the door quietly. She set the hair products into the sink and looked for the mirror. Because it apparently didn't exist in this bathroom. The sink vanity didn't have a mirror above it, and there didn't seem to be one on any of the walls. Odd, she thought, doing another once over of the room. She frowned and rubbed her eyes. There had to be one somewhere in the house. She poked her head back into Ruby's bedroom and looked around.

"Ah, excellent."

There was a full-length one next to the bed, with three or four coats draped over it and covering the surface. She stepped carefully over and through the bedlam and tossed the coats onto her bed and picked up the mirror. She carried it back to the bathroom, pushing the door open and shut with her foot. She put the mirror down next to the sink vanity, and put her hands on her hips and looked at herself in it.

"Right. Suppose I should get started."

She reached for the plastic bag of product and pulled out the three bottles. One was bleach, one was deep brown dye, and one was blood red dye. She shivered, staring at the warning labels quite diligently. The bleach especially claimed it would do detrimental damage to her head.

"Woah… no turning back, I guess."

/.../

She winced as the steaming hot water from the shower head nearly boiled her scalp. The instructions had said 'rinse with hot water', and that was exactly what she was using. She scrubbed her head painfully to work the bleach into and out of her hair, the rubber gloves slipping around loosely on her fingers.

"C'mon, you stupid…"

She didn't necessarily need to bleach her hair for this, since it was already silvery-white, she just wanted to make sure she started with an absolutely clean slate. Once she finally saw that no more bleach was coming out of her hair, she reached over and shut the tap off, leaving the shower head hanging freely on its hose. She grabbed her towel and vigorously scrubbed her head, soaking it through and getting whatever remnant of bleach out of it. The towel was severely ruined at this point, the dark black fabric having become a stained white in places. Geez, if this was what it was doing to polyester, what the hell was it doing to her hair? She flipped her hair back and sat up, shaking out the remaining moisture. A look to the mirror.

"Ooh, that's new."

The perfect ivory white had faded to a yellowish-platinum colour, almost like a sun-bleached blond. She nodded, content with her efforts at the moment.

"Not bad, Weiss, not bad. We could certainly have done worse."

The short, fluffy blond hair almost suited her, she thought. It was almost a shame to have to go and dye it a dark colour. She understood that within three weeks of application, she'd have a stripe of white hair down the middle of her scalp as her natural hair colour returned, but she only needed the new colour for a week, tops. And even then, probably only for an hour.

"Right, on to the fun part."

She looked down to her t-shirt, which was one of her brother's old company work shirts. The collar was completely tattered with bleach stains that would most certainly not come out, but she didn't care. This was the end for this shirt anyways. She did a quick check down the collar to make sure none of the bleach had ruined her bra, only to find that it had indeed leaked through to the pink straps and turned them an ugly white.

"Aw, shit. Man, I liked this one."

She ignored it for the time being and wrapped the towel around her shoulders and secured it in place with a pair of safety pins. She grabbed a brush out of her bag and got up, swinging her legs over the edge of the tub and sitting down with her feet next to the drain. Her hair was a mess of tangles after the head assault from the towel, but she managed to pull them all out without too much wincing and biting of her tongue. Now it was time for the actual fun part. If she could call it that. She sighed, mentally preparing for how different she was about to look.

The instructions recommended to apply petroleum jelly or lip balm around the skin along her hair line to make it easier to wash dye off when she was done, so she had brought along a little blue bottle of 'personal lubricant' from the drugstore for just that purpose. It did feel a little weird to be rubbing the stuff along her forehead and around her ears, but it was for the greater good of her skin. She sighed to herself, setting the bottle down and continuing to massage her temples with jelly.

She grabbed the dye kit and ripped it open, spilling the contents into the tub. She picked up the little plastic bowl and bottles, setting them all down next to her on the side of the tub. She grabbed her gloves again and slipped them on, unscrewing the top of the dye bottle and pouring all of it into the plastic bowl. In next went the tiny package of developer goo. She mixed it with a paintbrush for a minute or so until the colour in the bowl was a deep brown, almost black goo with the consistency of yogurt. She held the bowl and paintbrush in her hands, catching sight of herself in the mirror across the bathroom.

"Right. And now for the second most drastic thing you've ever done with your hair."

She started to brush in the colour.

/.../

The box had recommended no more than forty-five minutes to let the ink set, and had even provided a shower cap for her to use to cover her hair and not let anything touch it. She'd decided to borrow Ruby's dark black bathrobe and make herself some lunch while it set, having turned the TV on to the saturday cartoon channel just for background noise. She'd made some cheap canned raviolis that she'd found in the cupboard still within their due date, and mixed in a dash of chili sauce for added zing. Ruby's weird microwave was difficult to learn to use with its odd capacitive touch dial instead of a more traditional button pad for setting the cook time.

Weiss once again found herself on Ruby's couch, sat exactly the way Ruby would with one foot up and the other tucked beneath her, watching the fairly dumb show. She knew Ruby liked her saturday cartoons, and by golly if she had time to watch them, Weiss was sure she'd like them too. The show that seemed to be on re-run this day was a quaint little Vacuan program about a devil from another world visiting the lush metropolitan city of Feldspar and attempting to interlude with the human population by becoming a part-time employee of a local fast food chain. The plot was okay, the girls had large breasts, and the hero seemed all-powerful and without competent enemies, so it was good enough to watch a few episodes without getting attached.

"Ow… fuff…"

She tried to not burn herself on the piping hot raviolis. Her only solace was a glass of apple juice that had a bit of a sharpness to it. Granny Smith apple juice tended to do that if left undrank in the refrigerator for a long period of time. It wasn't going bad, or anything, it was just getting sharp.

The timer on her phone went off just as she was scraping out the last remaining pasta hot-pocket and shoveling it into her face. She quickly drowned the apple juice and returned everything to the kitchen, putting her dishes neatly away in the dishwasher. Like she knew she should. With another dash back through Ruby's bedroom and into the en suite, she found herself back in front of the mirror, ready for the last step in the process. She tossed the bathrobe sort of at the hook on the back of the door, managing to stick it in place in one shot. The shower started with a rush of hot water as she reached for the hem of her borrowed shirt.

"Wait. I can't take this off without disturbing my hair."

She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment. An idea came to her. She formed a quick glyph in her hand and summoned herself a small dagger made of crystal clear ice.

"Sorry, Whitley. You weren't getting this back anyway."

With a smooth slice, the blade cut through the fabric and separated it like a button-up, ripping cleanly from the collar to the hem. She tossed the knife into the tub to melt, stripping off the destroyed shirt and tossing it into the sink. Her bra came off next, tossed into the sink along with the shirt, leaving her nude from the waist up. She wasted no time kicking off her pants and socks, doing a quick check of the temperature in the shower. It was hot, but not too bad. The instructions recommended warm water for the dye instead of hot, as that kept the dye from just degrading and coming out again. She turned the tap down a hair to make sure it wouldn't burn her when she got in and stepped out of her underwear.

"Right, where did I…"

She grabbed the dye box from the edge of the sink and stepped into the shower with it, setting it down on the little ledge next to Ruby's toothbrush. She smirked. Perhaps her lecture about brushing one's teeth in the shower had gotten through to the girl. It was an excellent way to cut five minutes out of a boring morning schedule.

"And off you go!"

She pulled the shower cap off and tossed it to the floor of the tub next to the half-melted knife. The bottom of the tub started to go a deep black with the ink that had rubbed off in the cap. She did another quick check of the instructions, endlessly glad she hadn't tossed the box out. It recommended a rinse, followed by a shampoo and conditioning with their brand of 'purple' conditioner. Which, as luck would have it, was the kind of conditioner Ruby kept on hand.

"Aw shit."

She scrunched her eyes up as some of the water poured over her head and into her face, stinging badly from the dye. The package promised it was non-toxic but she didn't buy it. Nothing advertised as non-toxic should ever sting this much. She scrubbed the shampoo into her head, keeping her eyes firmly shut to not get any more ink into her eyes and make them any redder. It was a painful ordeal, all this scrubbing. Even once the conditioner was in and sitting did she not stop scrubbing. The bottom of the tub looked like the scene out of the movie Psycho from all the dye running down into the drain. After a few minutes of scrubbing , no more of the dye had come out and only clean shampoo was coming out of her hair. In went the conditioner, Ruby's favourite brand of purple conditioner.

She hummed to herself for a moment and let the water run off her body and into the drain. It was soothing, from all the abuse her body had taken in the last month. Her aura notwithstanding, she'd suffered broken bones, shattered cartilage in her nose, and burst her appendix during hand to hand combat training. She was beat. But at this point, it was all worth it. One week remained until the summation of her efforts could come through, and she was certain she'd have no body left to use at the end of it all. She sighed and rubbed at her triceps, still stinging from her recent fight with her sister's fiance. Why did every kind of fighting require pain? Why couldn't people just sort out their differences with words and good communication? If that were the case, there wouldn't be any war, any subjugation, any racism. Everything would be within reach and reason for everyone.

She sighed and scrubbed out the conditioner. It too went down the drain cleanly, meaning the colour had set in her hair and was ready to use. She killed the shower and reached through the curtain for her towel, pulling it off the top of the toilet and into the shower with her. It was about to know the meaning of ruined as she began to towel off her head. Whatever remained of the goo still in her hair was now in the towel, but since it was a black towel it wasn't going to show. She wrapped the towel around her chest and stepped out. The mirror was completely steamed up at this point, but that was fine. She took a seat on the edge of the tub for a moment, drying off the rest of her body.

The box of blood red dip-dye sat tantalizingly within reach. She shivered. Everybody knew that the colour in Ruby's hair was fake. The red tips she usually kept were courtesy of drugstore-quality dye products that her sister used to help her put in, usually once every two months or so when it started to fade. She smiled at the box, remembering a time when Coco Adel of all people asked Ruby if the colour was natural. Weiss had been almost in shock at the comment. The most fashionable person at Beacon, thinking dyed ends were natural? Absurd. She reached out and opened the box, pulling out the small tub of product inside. The instructions claimed this to be the easy part.

"Hey, if Ruby and Yang can do it, so can I."

/.../

Another hour of ink setting, and another shower to wash the excess ink out. The weirdest part was using aluminum baking foil to cover the very ends of her hair to hold the colour in. Her arm had cramped after an hour of holding a blow dryer to the foil wrappings and making sure they were kept warm and moist. It was a pain, all this work. The kind of person who spent this much effort either keeping their hair coloured or recolouring their hair often must have been absolutely mental. She remembered a girl she went to Atlas Prep with, who had a different colour of hair every like, every three weeks. Her name was Ramona or something, she couldn't quite remember. And that wasn't just dipped ends either, that was a full colour and style change every three weeks. It must have been hell.

By the time she had gotten out of the shower a second time and towelled off again, she felt she was pretty much done with this whole ordeal. She stood nude before the fogged mirror, towel and foil wrappings in the sink along with both destroyed packages of hair dye and the empty bottle of bleach. Her finger went through her hair like it was silk, coming out clean and without any residue. She'd done a fine job indeed.

"Now, makeup I guess."

She reached for the mirror and rubbed the fog off of it with her palm, reaching for the bag of concealer and face putty she'd bought at a costume and cosplay store downtown. Although she was swiftly distracted by her own reflection.

"Woah!"

She paused, frozen. For a moment, she genuinely believed that Ruby was standing in the room and looking at her, albeit completely naked. After a beat, she realized that the image of Ruby wasn't actually Ruby but herself, reflected in the mirror. She squinted and approached.

"Oh my fucking god, I'm Ruby."

She turned her head slightly to check the colour fade of the red into the dark brown locks. It was exact. It was picture perfect. Aside from the blue eyes and garish facial scar, the reflection in the mirror was exactly of her best friend, right down to the sculpted bodywork as well.

"My, oh my. I am sexy."

She turned slightly and flexed her bicep, watching the arm in the reflection bulge out and ripple with strength, a good three hundred percent thicker than it had been a little while ago. She did the same on the other arm, posing like an anime protagonist and flexing. She didn't even realize that she had such defined pectoral muscles, but apparently she had individual control of them, bouncing each of her breasts at a time.

"Swiss fucking cheese, thank you, Nora."

The unfathomably strenuous workout routine provided by Nora and modified by her sister had done absolute wonders for her figure. Her shoulders had broadened out with muscle, her legs and arms now resembled those of olympic gods. In fact, the only thing, or rather things that distinguished her from her best friend was that Ruby was noticeably chesty-er than she was, and had slightly wider hips. From all the pictures she'd seen, Weiss had long since concluded that the Xiao-Long children got their genes from their father, and not either of their mothers. So mildly skinny hips aside, there was almost no mistaking her for Ruby. It was actually a little scary.

"Hohhh-oly shit. If I had been like this at Beacon…"

She trailed off, wincing and reaching for the makeup again.

"I hope Ruby likes fit girls like I do."

She opened the lid of the face putty and sat down in front of the mirror and started to apply it, filling in the valley of scar than ran down her left eye. This putty was supposed to be for making scars on your face for cosplay, not filling them in. But she'd asked the clerk working at the store if it could be used for such a purpose and received an enthusiastic 'yes' and an insistence that she be told what character Weiss was cosplaying. She lied and claimed the hero from the third installment of Knight's Brigade, a young boy by the name of Archie Stronghold, but the clerk didn't need to know the actual reason. So with the clerk's blessing, she'd bought the putty and some heavy-duty concealer specifically for costume use.

Because if she was honest, that's what she was doing. Wearing a costume. An incredibly realistic costume, but a costume nonetheless. The putty was difficult to get to adhere to her skin, and was making her unbelievably itchy around her eye. She wasn't having an allergic reaction, it was just that the putty had the consistency of wood glue and felt like it was getting inside all of her pores and filling them up with hate and suffering. She endured, pasting her face with putty until the scar was completely vanished from her face and replaced by the smooth curves of the putty. She painted over the whole deal with a layer of concealer, smoothing out the contours of her face so they more closely matched the soft curves of Ruby's almost juvenile facial features. She smirked at her reflection. Ruby might have been kinda juvenile, but damn was she cute.

"I need more pink. Where's the goddamn pink?"

She dug through the makeup bag, another borrowed item from her brother, and found the bottle of foundation that most closely resembled the pinkish hue that Ruby had in her cheeks. She squeezed a decent amount onto her applicator brush and started to rub it into her face, being careful to avoid the hair. Within moments, the colour of her skin almost perfectly matched Ruby's, and it was spooky.

"Okay, this is most definitely weird."

The last thing in the bag was a pair of contact lenses. She grabbed them out, carefully opening the little plastic vials. She stuck her finger into the solution and pulled out the little hydrogel film disk with the very end of her finger. She was careful to not squish it as these contacts had cost a fortune since they were both prescription and coloured. She sighed, and put them in. Putting contacts in was easy for her, since she did it almost every day since she was fourteen, but she still didn't like it very much. It still kinda hurt. She blinked away the pain and let the lenses settle in her eyes and sit correctly over her irises. She now had silver eyes.

"Well, that does it. Transformation complete, I suppose. I am now Ruby Rose. Holy shit."

The person in the mirror was Ruby, through and through.

"Right. One last thing."

She stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the fan on to suck out the rest of the moisture and stepped back into the bedroom. Somewhere in this mess was the outfit she was looking for, a very specific and at this point very old one at that. She slipped over to the closet and pulled it open, having to kick a load of laundry out of the way of the swinging door. She dug around for a moment until she found the old thing, hanging in the very back of the rack and out of sight. She pulled it out, and by the amount of dust that was covering it, concluded that this was the first time it had been out of that closet in likely five years. She gave it a quick dusting before tossing it on the bed. She did another quick dig through the nearby dresser for a suitable pair of black lycra boyshorts, pulling them on over her legs and snugging them up on her waist. There happened to be a black and red bra discarded at her feet by sheer chance, and she bent down to pick it up. As luck would have it, it was an older one from before Ruby had… blossomed and would actually fit her. Plus, it matched the old outfit.

She pulled it on and did up the front clasp, making sure she was settled in the old thing just right and wouldn't experience total boob-spillage, and reached into the open sock drawer for a pair of stockings and slid them on as well. Finally, she grabbed the old black and red combat skirt and pulled the whole thing down over her head and slid her arm out through the sleeves. She gasped as the built in corset tried to crush her ribcage. It was actually too tight.

"Oh my goodness how?!"

She managed to loosen the ribbons on the front and back quickly, gasping for breath as the skirt loosened and gave her real room to breathe. She frowned down at the old combat skirt. It was actually now the correct size for her. Almost like it had been made with thicker, more muscular arms in mind. The skirt's upper portion hugged her torso quite nicely, not being too compressed around the shoulders like she thought it might, and snugging up against her waist just so. She pulled the corset ribbons taught but not tight, so that the skirt would stay in place but not crush her ribcage into fine powder. Lucky for her, the old buckle-centric knee boots that Ruby used to wear were sitting under the dresser. It was a stretch to get them, but she managed, yanking them free and slipping them on.

She made her way back into the bathroom and nearly fell over when she saw her reflection. Because looking back at her, as clear as any picture, was exactly the girl she'd met in the Beacon courtyard nine years prior and subsequently blown up with a few broken vials of volatile dust.

"Oh my god."

It was perfect. The boots, the combat skirt, the unused gunpowder rounds in the belt-bandolier around the waist. The hair, the eyes. It was Ruby. And it was eire.

"One more thing, then we're done. Oh gosh, I hope she left it…"

She left the bathroom, stepping back through the messy bedroom and into the hallway, turning a sharp right and scurrying to the door. Just to the left of the door was the little bowl of keys that Ruby kept handy, and in that mess of metal was the keys she needed so badly. And down at the bottom, she found them, the large, silver key on its single keyring. She pushed the door open and hopped outside, stepping carefully down the snowy front steps and into the driveway.

"Hello, beautiful. I missed you."

She approached the old truck with caution. It was Ruby's truck. Her rusty, creaky, dilapidated pride and joy, an ancient forty-year-old relic from the era of cheap gas and no emissions regulations. But it was more than that, infinitely more than just a big square brick of a truck. It was an experience, a life goal, and a friend. It was in this very truck that she had discovered her proper, visceral love for Ruby Rose and had decided she wanted to show that off to the world. It was in this truck that she had finally admitted to herself that this was who she was.

Weiss was a girl in love, and in love with a girl. And that girl was Ruby. Here she was, prepared to do something stupid and reckless to prove it.

She unlocked the truck, and pulled the driver's door open. It was a heck of a climb to get back into the driver's seat of the old truck, even with the factory-installed running boards. There just wasn't enough room between the board and the bodywork to slide the toe of 'her' boot in to use the step properly. She settled into the seat for a moment, feeling the soft red velour cushion her behind as she pulled the door shut with the ancient creak of the hinges. It was a familiar feeling. And a little part of her didn't like the feeling. She sniffled, scrunching up only half her face the way that Ruby did.

"I missed you, old pal."

She patted the thin wooden steering wheel gently, reaching out and resting her hand on the long column shifter. A sigh escaped her very slowly. She missed Ruby, too. She missed the feeling of the truck's lumpy engine, the feeling of how it carved through the snow like a well-sharpened blade, the feeling of the cushy seats as they crossed the continent together. She reached out slowly and slotted the key into the ignition cylinder and turned it all the way over. She just wanted to hear it again. The motor struggled for a moment lifelessly, the starter squealing like a stuck pig. Just like she remembered.

It took a second but eventually it bit, rumbling mercifully into life with the familiar sound of it's slightly off-idle gurgle. She shivered. It was exactly as she remembered, right down to the slight smell of coolant coming from the heater vents, a sure sign of minor, easily fixable damage. With another twist of the key, the engine went silent again, leaving her alone once more. Was this what it was like for Ruby? She gripped the wheel in her fingers, watching her knuckles go white.

"Right, right, I'm here for something, not my own self-detriment."

She spun around on the bench and reached under the back seat, fondling around for the pull handle. With a click, the bottom half of the seat sprung upwards and folded forward, resting against the back of the front bench. And lying there, in its black plastic case, was the infamous Crescent Rose, a relic of it's own time just like the truck. She flipped the latches and lifted the lid on the case, revealing the folded rifle and two replacement blades set neatly in the foam protectors.

"Ah, just like I remembered."

It was a bit of a struggle to get the big rifle out of the case and into her lap, but she got it out, taking the two empty magazines that were beneath it as well. This was the smallest size the rifle folded up to, and even still it was a little too big for her liking. The fancy new scythe she had built recently folded up much smaller than this, although to Ruby's credit Crescent Rose was two weapons combined into one, she could be excused for the bigger overall size.

"You're a heavy bastard, aren't you?"

Without her gloves, the rifle did weigh in at a substantial sixty-three kilograms, which was actually less than the lithe Glättenmähen at seventy-one. Crescent Rose was just a lot pointier and with much sharper edges. She turned and closed the case and flipped the seat back down, making sure it was properly latched so nobody became suspicious. With a hop down into the snow, she took her prized loot and slammed the truck's door closed, and turned back to the house.

Only to be interrupted by Ruby's elderly neighbour, an old man by the name of Erik Krönung.

"My goodness, Ruby, you're back already?"

Weiss froze, stolen rifle in her arms and found herself briefly without her voice.

"That's an outfit I haven't seen in a while. Bringing it back, are we?"

She stuttered for breath.

"Uhh…"

"I see your friend Weiss is over, isn't she? I saw her car pull in this morning."

He gestured behind her. She turned to look for a moment, seeing that yes indeed, her car was still sitting there next to the curb. A light dusting of snow had collected on the windshield.

"She…" she paused, remembering to scrunch up her larynx to produce the higher pitch of Ruby's vocal range. "... is inside, setting up the camera."

"Camera?"

She did her best 'Ruby chuckle', which eminated more from the higher part of her throat as opposed to her lungs.

"I just got back this morning from dad's house, and thought I'd give her a call to come visit. We got to talking about school and she asked me if I still had my combat skirt."

Man, Ruby's voice was hard to emulate. It seemed to have a grating effect on her vocal cords, something she hadn't experienced since taking singing lessons oh so many years ago.

"And clearly you still have it. It looks rather dashing."

"Thank you, sir, that's very kind. Weiss wanted some pictures of me in it, and I thought I'd grab this old thing to go along with it."

He smiled an honest, grandfather-y smile.

"Well, you kids have fun. It's good to see you back, dear."

"Thank you, sir. It's good to be back."

He turned and walked back into his house, closing his door with a soft click. As soon as it was closed, Weiss gasped and gripped for her throat, utterly shocked.

"Holy fuck, trial by fire, huh?"

She carefully massaged her trachea, realizing she'd probably end up ruining her voice. All for the bit, though. She scurried back into the house as quickly as possible, hoping to not get stopped by any more of Ruby's neighbours, thanking her lucky stars that she didn't. She dashed back into the bedroom and into the en suite. And once more she found herself in front of the mirror. She hardly recognized her reflection.

"I am Ruby Rose."

She blinked back at herself through eyes and a face that wasn't hers.

She smiled slowly.

"I am Ruby Rose."

She nodded.

"And I'm coming for you."