A lone biplane flew through the atmosphere of r/RWBY. Its occupant looked down at the mess of trenches and craters. Even hundreds of feet in the air, he could smell smoke and the stench of death. The barren landscape looked post-apocalyptic, or at least it would if it wasn't still filled with fighting armies. Though it had only been a few weeks, one would think the devastation below had been a warzone forever.

"It's worse than I thought," Blue Whale King muttered, his voice inaudible under the noise of the propeller. "But there must be someone here to ally with." There needed to be. Penguino, Wingnut, Futtlescish, and Reno were dead, Strike, Vulpix, and Stormzx missing, Vaniellis, Burnside, NinJonic, and others stuck cleaning up the mess at home.

"This is Admiral Blue Whale King of the former nation of Arkos, and leader of the former Team SANS," he said into the radio over the noise of the propellor. "At last we have defeated the Dust Alliance, but with heavy losses. Will anyone join me in the Junifinity Berries squadron? Is there anyone else left from Arkos or Renora?"

He waited, but there was no response. The radio chatter was staticky and indistinct, but he could tell none of the conversations had to do with him. It was all something about RUBES fighting over Very Useful Lesbian.

"Anyone?" Blue Whale King repeated. "I repeat, this is-"

Just then, a pair of triplanes flew in from behind and opened fire, damaging the biplane's wings.

"Damnit, flying is Strike's job," Blue said as he took evasive action. Pulling into a stall, he let the enemy planes pass him, then returned fire. He destroyed one, but the other escaped. It turned back and fired again, scoring several more hits on Whale's plane.

After a brief but intense dogfight, Blue Whale King emerged victorious, but with damage. He struggled with the controls to keep his plane level.

"Is anyone willing to assist Junifinity Berries? Are there any Arkosians or Renorans out there, or any allied with them? Someone please answer me. Here is my position." He gave the coordinates.

Still no answer, but the Black Order had heard, and he was near their territory. Anti-Aircraft guns opened fire. Several bullets struck Whale directly, drawing blood. Thanks to his enormous size and strength compressed into a humanoid form, ordinary bullets only caused minor bruises, and no handheld weapon short of a rocket launcher could kill him in any form, but Anti-Air was much more powerful and could cause damage.

"Any allies of Arkos or Renora, now is the time!" he cried as he wiped the blood off his face, further staining his white uniform. The cavalry always arrived at the last moment, surely this time would be no different.

But still there was no answer. Despite trying to evade the bullets, the Anti-Air guns tore the wings apart and hit the engines and fuel tank. The biplane went into a nosedive and burst into flames. Blue Whale King cried out in despair as his burning plane fell like a meteor from the sky. No one had come to help. It was all for nothing. The plane crashed into no-man's land, going up in a fireball that nothing human could survive.

So much for SANS coming to help RUBES. The latter claims to be the heroes and they don't even rescue those coming to help their cause? Despicable.

Elsewhere on r/RWBY, in a place previously of little strategic importance

The trench coat full of Rodents was too busy following a map and compass to pay enough attention to their surroundings, and ran headlong into a tree. Before the war, this wouldn't have happened, but trees were scarce around most of the battlefields now.

As the Rodents reassembled their muppet man suit, they saw that they had entered a forest. Some of the trees had bullet holes, but it hadn't been mowed down, blown up, or burned like the forests around the battlefields. They were far from the front lines now.

"This guy must be scared of the fighting," said the Chipmunk. "He sure chose a spot out of the way."

"We haven't gone THAT far," said the Naked Mole Rat. "Under a hundred miles from the battlefield. There are far more remote places on this planet."

"Doesn't seem that far to you, because you aren't the one who has to do the walking."

"Enough bickering," said the Porcupine. "We're almost there."

Soon the Rodents came to a camouflaged tent, hidden under a rocky outcrop on the forest floor. They tapped on the entrance. "Hello? Are you the one looking to hire the Rodent Collective?"

The tent flaps opened, revealing Metas M. Petivero. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his cotton candy hair was dirty and held sticks and leaves. "Yes," he said. "Come in, quickly."

The tent was surprisingly roomy. It had not just a bedroll, but a desk and table with various maps, weapons, and supplies. "Sorry it's so far out of the way," he said. "I didn't want my previous allies hunting me down. I get the feeling they're the type to be vengeful."

"Who were your previous allies?" the Porcupine asked.

"The leaders of the former Dust Alliance, now of the Black Order. I joined them because I wanted to take down Ray of Sunshine, but I don't approve of everything else they're doing. I want Ray of Sunshine gone because it's limiting and small-minded. It's just a continuation of the old, dusty power structure, too afraid of trying anything new to innovate. Stagnation leads to decay, decay leads to ruin.

But the Black Order is even worse. Sphinx just wants to build a slave empire, and Generix wants to destroy everything for the sake of destruction itself."

"So I take it you want to hire us to eliminate Ray of Sunshine, but without needless cruelty?" asked the Porcupine.

"Yes."

"And what are you prepared to offer in return?"

Metas opened a briefcase full of Karma notes. "Ten thousand Karma. If we succeed, I will give my help in overthrowing whatever ship the Rodent Collective chooses to oppose next."

After a conversation amongst the other rodents in the trench coat, the most important members of the Collective, the Porcupine answered. "The vote is unanimous. We'll do it."

Out at sea

JMHS Rowing drove their torpedo boat into the oncoming waves, the bow rising and falling about ten feet with each crest. One true seafarers, like Rowing and their crew, could endure without getting motion sickness. Overhead, the skies were dark and gloomy with ominous clouds.

Unfortunately, that was the least of their worries. They were currently in the middle of a naval battle, attempting to defend the troop carrier Very Useful Lesbian against the battlecruiser Poptart Passion.

The enemy ship was painted in garish pink and cyan stripes. It stood out like a freshly-dropped piece of candy, but the stripes hid its speed and heading. But that didn't matter much right now. Its larger size meant it was steadier in the rough seas than Very Useful Lesbian, and was thus landing more shots as the two ships exchanged fire.

"Come on, just a little closer," said Rowing, trying to get into torpedo range. But the heavy waves and wind made progress slow.

Rowing took the radio again. "For the last time, RUBES, I need your help. We're in bad shape." He looked over at Very Useful Lesbian. It wasn't taking on water yet, but parts of the deck were on fire. The soldiers were scrambling around like ants as they tried to extinguish it, while more shells fell around them. Much of their own shipboard weaponry was no longer operational.

"And for the last time, I'm not coming," said Jannis. "A ship that contains incest deserves to sink."

Rowing yelled back. "Then why did you ally with Enabler during Ship Survivor II?! If Faker was still alive he'd be by your side right now!"

"That was another time, another world, another me. And this me, in this time and world, says incest must die."

Rowing growled in frustration. Incest is not the point here! Why won't he understand?! "Then is anyone ELSE willing to help? MacGregor? Rosey? Austin? Nitesco? Taco?"

MacGregor responded next. "You already have all of Guns N' Roses' torpedo boats with you, we don't have anything else to send."

"Not even planes?"

"Sorry," said Nitesco. "There's a hurricane in between you and us. There's no way anything we send could get through in time."

"Same here," said Austin.

"A hurricane?" Rowing asked. "I knew there was a storm, but is it really that bad?"

"Yes," said Peter s. Nachbar. "It should pass by morning, but it would take hours to send anything around it. I'm afraid you're on your own."

"I really wish we could help you," said Alfonse, "but we can't rewrite the weather."

"Damnit, this is going to be the fight of my life. Thanks anyway."

The Poptart Passion was almost in range when it started to rain, and the wind picked up even more.

"Admiral Rowing," said an engineer. "If this keeps up we won't be able to flood the torpedo tubes. The crests of the waves are too high."

"Can't we just fire when the bow is low?"

"Perhaps, but it'll be a very narrow window, and there's a possibility the torpedoes will be angled too far downward and pass under the enemy ship's hull."

Rowing thought for a moment. It seemed the edge of the hurricane was passing over them. There was no telling how much of the storm was going to follow. It could just be the edge, or it could be much deeper. But since it blocked their route back to land, there was no backing out. They were in this fight to the bitter end.

"We only have one choice," Rowing said. "We have to engage at point-blank range. If we press our bow against the enemy hull, we can brace against the waves long enough to get a guaranteed shot."

"That's suicide!"

"Not as suicide as trying to retreat through the hurricane. And if we just stay here, they'll fix our position and blow us out of the water. We have no choice."

"Very well," said the engineer.

Rowing took the radio again. "All torpedo boats, this is Admiral JMHS Rowing of Guns N' Roses, who is equally loyal to Very Useful Lesbian. There is a hurricane blocking our retreat, and the waves will not allow us to fire our torpedoes at a distance. We must engage Poptart Passion at point-blank range. It is our only option."

The other torpedo boats formed up with Rowings, and charged Poptart Passion as fast as they could. Which, unfortunately, wasn't very fast.

Also unfortunately, Poptart Passion noticed what they were doing, and started firing on them. One of the torpedo boats exploded from a direct hit. "Come on," said Rowing. "Not much farther."

Meanwhile, someone on the Very Useful Lesbian saw what was happening. "Hey, look what they're doing!"

"That… may actually be a good idea," said the captain.

"What?! Have you lost your mind? Their cannons will tear us to shreds!"

"But this is a troop transport. We have all the troops that got driven out of the trenches after the gas attack. If we board them, they'll be overwhelmed."

"I guess you have a point."

And thus the Very Useful Lesbian joined the torpedo boats in the charge against Poptart Passion. The muzzle flares of artillery and machine gun fire grew brighter as the evening turned into night, and illuminated the driving rain.

"We're finally here," said Rowing, as the two remaining torpedo boats pressed up against the Poptart Passion, stabilizing against the waves. The Very Useful Lesbian had tied itself up against the enemy battlecruiser, and the decks were filled with hundreds of fighting soldiers. The allied ship was taking on water, but it was going to pull the neon monstrosity down with it.

"Fire!" Rowing ordered. The torpedoes launched, exploding only a moment later. The blast tore off the front plating of the torpedo boat and knocked it back several feet.

"All below deck, shore up any hull breaches."

The Very Useful Lesbian and the Poptart Passion were both going under fast. There were no more deck cannons left, only small arms fire remained.

Soon, the remaining soldiers and sailors stopped fighting among faction lines and started a free-for-all brawl for the few remaining lifeboats.

"What a waste," Rowing said as the Very Useful Lesbian sank below the water. The Poptart Passion followed a few minutes after, the ropes connecting it to its sunken foe overwhelming its last pockets of buoyancy.

They spent the rest of the night trying to save as many people from the water as possible. There wasn't nearly enough space in the boats, torpedo or otherwise, so most had to tread water or cling to broken wood and other floating debris.

Many hours later, the sun rose, and the sea was calm. JMHS Rowing's torpedo boat was the only one that remained. Poptart Passion had destroyed most of them, while one other had not survived firing its torpedoes directly into the enemy ship.

But only a few miles away, the survivors could see a submarine, the Position of Power. Celtic and Branwen had been there the whole time, resting for the night. And they had done nothing. An unlucky coincidence on their part, since they didn't know what was happening, but RUBES would not see it that way.

On an island, away from the battlefield

Strike awoke in an unfamiliar feather bed. He looked around, he was in some sort of beach house. A beautiful woman sat next to him, but he didn't recognize her.

"Glad you're awake, Strikey," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, except, I don't remember how I got here. Or even who you are. Sorry."

"That's okay, I'll tell you everything you need to know. My name is Tragic Solitude. We are going to have so much fun together!"