Chapter 68

"But Scott, we're in love! Why are you being this way?"

"No, Tanya, it can never work. No matter what our hearts say..."

The man on the screen turned away from the woman, his fist clenched against his chest and his head bowed.

"In another life, in another time, but not here, and not now, Tanya..."

The woman, too, turned away, her eyes betraying tears.

"But Scott... our baby! What are we going to do about that?"

The man turned, his eyes ablaze.

"That is not my child! It cannot be! You know I never betrayed my wife!"

Weiss opened her eyes and lifted her head of the plane's bulkhead. She blinked idly. The movie had been otherwise boring up until this point, so she had fallen asleep against the side of the plane, her headphones now slightly askew. She reached up lazily with her left hand and moved the left-side speaker back over her ear. She was still groggy, but the sudden conflict woke her.

"Never? What about all those times in your bed? In my bed? In the car? And what about that one time, in that park, under the stars? What about all those times, Scott?"

"No, Tanya. You cannot do this to me..."

"Then you cannot deny our love, Scott!"

Weiss opened her eyes a little wider, a minuscule smile cracking on her face.

"I would never deny it, Tanya. It just could not happen here and now."

"Then let's run away to somewhere where we can happen!"

The man turned away again, strolling to the window. The camera perspective changed to outside the window looking in. The man looked stoic, but there was a hint of tears in his eyes.

"The baby is why we cannot."

"Scott, please! I love you!"

Weiss leaned over to her right, resting her elbow on the middle armrest and dropping her cheek onto her hand. Some of her silvery white hair fell into her face. She blew a breath upward, trying to flick it out of her eyes. It didn't move enough as much of the breath had just gone up her nose, falling back onto her face, between her brow and her glasses. She blinked a few times to get the ends of her hair out of her eyelashes and rolled her eyes.

"No, Tanya, you love the idea of me. You don't love...me"

Both of the characters on screen looked on the verge of crying. Weiss realized at this moment that the story hadn't gained any conflict, it was just the sudden shout that had woken her. It was still a cookie-cutter romance flick and it still sucked ass. She let out a dejected sigh through her nose. She turned her head to the left and looked out the ovaloid port-side window. The clouds still obscured the ground below. Not that there was anything to see, really. It was just the flat plains of central Anima down there. You could only look at farmland and coniferous forests for so long. At least the clouds made it look like you were floating along in a misty void.

Weiss sniffed, leaning back in the well-cushioned first class seat. She stretched her legs out, glad that she had picked Northeast Airlines. They just had better leg room, period. She rolled her head back, looking up at the ceiling panel. The No Smoking sign was still illuminated. She smirked. Since when was smoking allowed on planes anyways. As if by magic, the light next to this one suddenly became illuminated.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the pilot has turned the 'Fasten Seatbelt' sign on. We will now be beginning our descent into Mistral. The local time is Seven-Thirty-Five in the morning. The weather is cloudy with a twenty-percent chance of showers. Please ensure that your tray tables are up and any baggage you have brought down from the overhead bins is stored safely away. We thank your for flying Northeast Airlines and we hope you had a lovely flight!"

Weiss half-smiled, shutting her eyes, remaining in the very reclined position. Another sigh came to her lungs, and she begrudgingly let it out. It felt like the weight of the entire planet was pushing down on her again. For the third time. That day. It was probably only the pressurized cabin, however. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her left hand. She dropped her other hand onto her overnight bag, which sat previously neglected in the unoccupied isle seat. Her hand fumbled blindly for the zipper, reaching inside the subdued black bag and grabbing a pack of gum. Once the little plastic cylinder was in her fingers, she pulled it out and dropped the bag onto the floor in front of the abandoned seat, kicking it lazily underneath. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth, tossing the now-empty gum pack onto her tray table. She sighed again.

I hate flying.

She shimmied in her seat, sitting upright. She looked over her tray table. It was covered with garbage, mostly. The mostly read magazine about Mistralian sports cars, the three empty cups that still had residue of beer in them, the countless cookie wrappers...

What a pig you are.

Weiss dropped her shoulders, blinking slowly at her mess. She reached forward and poked the off button on the screen on the seatback. She grabbed the garbage off the table, shoving them into the bag on the seatback, lifting the tray table and latching it back up. She reached back up and scratched her head, twisting her hair in her fingers. The short messy mop she had given herself with the mirror shard had finally been addressed by a professional and had been re-cut, and now it did not even reach past her shoulders. She sighed, fiddling with her hair again. She pulled the short silver hair back into a little pony tail, tying it back with the elastic around her wrist. It took her a moment to even get it off her wrist, as the sleeves of her hoodie were almost too long. Well, it was a size medium, so that should have been expected. She cuddled down into it, chewing the gum and feeling the plane begin to drop under her. It was a sickening feeling, as it always had been for her. She shut her eyes again, sighing. The movie's dumb plot floated into her mind. Cookie-cutter romance between two star-crossed married people. A grimace came to her face.

If only it was that simple. Fuck.

Not crying was easy for the wealthy business woman. As many business deals went sour on the daily, emotional attachment to her problems was always minimal. But this problem clawed at her. Like a savage beowolf.

You mean like her scar?

She cursed, wrenching her eyes open and forcing her gaze out the window. This was completely the wrong time to be worrying about that. The plane had dipped below the clouds now, displaying the ground below. It was the outskirts of Mistral. She tried to identify landmarks. But it was just lacklustre grey buildings. Nothing was able to distract her, however. The plane hit a patch of turbulence, vibrating underneath her and threatening to shake her glasses from her face. The pads annoyingly bounced on the bridge of her nose, making her want to sneeze. She pulled her glasses off, stuffing them into the big pocket on the front of her hoodie. She hated this hoodie. Mostly because it was red.

Ruby liked red.

It was her college hoodie. She got it during her years at Atlas while studying business. Go A-Dogs, she thought to herself. Not that she had been a big fan of the sports teams anyways, only going out to see the final games of each season, which required her to wear the stupid hoodie. She clenched her fists, trying to focus on something positive. She looked adorable in her hoodie. Or at least she used to think so. She could feel her ears begin to pop from the altitude drop. The chewing gum made it a little better. She sighed, having a second look out the window. She could see a few identifiable things down below. One of which looked very much like the famous Mistral Mongols stadium.

Man, fuck the Mongols. Go A-Dogs!

A tiny smile cracked across her face. The first one she had since she had left that morning. A significant change from her old post-Beacon life. Her smile went away, as her mind went to thoughts of Pyrrha's passing only a few weeks prior. It had been the down-hilliest of down hill slopes recently. She grabbed the last remaining piece of garbage on the tray table she had folded down on the vacant seat. A half filled cup of cheap airplane beer. She growled at it under her breath. She picked it up, staring down into it. It smelled like a yeast infection.

She guessed that it had been one from probably the beginning of the thirteen hour flight she had been condemned to. At least it was first class. Another glance out the window showed they were much closer to the ground now, as she could identify individual cars and people on the streets below. The sound of the engines suddenly increased, as the pilot engaged reverse thrust to slow the large craft. The distinct sound and vibration of the landing gear being deployed woke her up a little more. She blinked lazily, rolling around in her seat as the nose of the plane slowly ascended, indicating that landing was imminent.

Almost there, Weiss. Chin up, you've still got some travelling to do.

The wheels touched tarmac, screeching their displeasure and rocking the cabin violently. She groaned, still trying to get her ears to pop. They refused. The whole craft shuddered as the pilot ramped up the reverse thrust and engaged the wheel brakes. In no time at all, and at a rather abrupt shock to her organs, the plane was slowed to taxi speed. The time to the terminal felt like an eternity to her. She lay her head against the bulkhead again, exhaling heavily though her nose. It wasn't quite a sigh, but it was certainly sorrowful. She slid her feet into her shoes, fighting to get the left one on, as her fluffy socks provided thick and cottony resistance. The huffed, reaching down and sliding her heels into the shoes manually. Her finger stung from the friction between her socks and the skin of her index finger. The pain was temporary, however. This time.

"We are now approaching the terminal. We kindly request that you remain in your seats until the plane has come to a complete stop and the gangway has been fully extended. We once again thank you for flying Northeast and hope you have a pleasant stay in Mistral."

The plane shuddered, slowing down even further. Weiss slid her head back along the bulkhead, leaning back and sulking, her left hand dropping into her lap. The cocked view out the window showed the ground sliding loudly past. She counted the dotted lines on the edge of the taxiway. The plane had slowed to almost a halt, turning into what she assumed was the terminal. The count ended at forty-seven. The large steel machine finally ground to a halt.

Her hand idly played with the buckle, not fully uncoupling it yet. Just playing with it subconsciously. The other passengers had started moving about the cabin, standing up and opening the overhead bins. Weiss scoffed silently and closed her eyes again. Hadn't the flight attendant just told them to wait until the plane was fully in the terminal before moving? It didn't matter. She rubbed her eyes again, enjoying the stinging. She waited. Patiently. The other passengers had started to move to the exit now. She heard the door depressurize and open, and the distinct sound of nearly a hundred and fifty tired and disgruntled flyers shuffle through.

"Alright. No more stalling."

She lifted up on the latch, pulling it off her. She brushed the crumbs off her pants and onto the floor as she stood up. Her whole body groaned. It argued. But she grunted though it. She collected her bag from the vacant seat, stumbling down the aisle. It wasn't the aisle she wanted to have stumbled down. Weiss placed her hand on the doorframe as she stepped onto the gangway, trying not to fall over. The air in the gangway was stuffy and unwelcoming. It made her want to sneeze. She sneezed.

Oh, now everything is pain. Great.

The headache was now prominent. The shock of the sneeze had loosened something in her head, and now it stung. She hoisted her shoulder and readjusted her bag. The end of the gangway came, and she aimlessly followed her fellow passengers toward customs. The sliding glass doors opened on one side of the terminal, so Weiss walked slowly towards it. Through the other side was the corrals for the customs desks. She strolled up to one of the desks. The man on the other side, a middle aged balding faunus with drooping canine-like ears seemed just as unhappy to be there as she was.

"Welcome to Mistral, ma'am. Passport?"

Weiss handed the little booklet over. The man scanned it and held it up to compare. He nodded, sliding the passport to one side of his desk.

"Reason for visiting?"

"Buying a car and having it shipped back to Atlas."

The man wasn't even affected.

"Your paperwork?"

Weiss pulled out a file folder from her bag and handed it over. It contained all the required documents for an out of country purchase of this amount. The customs officer looked over the documents for a minute. He seemed pleased enough, handing the paperwork back over to her. She slid it back into her bag. He grabbed her passport again, opening it and dropping his stamp onto one of the blank pages, before sliding it back over. She stuffed it into her bag as well.

"Welcome to Mistral. Enjoy your stay."

Weiss faked a half-smile, walking slowly away from the desk. She followed the hoard out into the mezzanine area of the airport. She looked around at the signs that lined the walls. Most directed travellers to bathrooms and restaurants. She saw the sign she was looking for. Car Rentals. She blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust. She began the slow walk over to the escalators that promised the rental agencies. They were slow, but methodical as she stood steadfast and enjoyed the ride down. She almost forgot to get off at the bottom, stumbling as both her feet touched the end of the escalator. She glanced around. No one had seen. Phew.

She looked forward, seeing the bright yellow sign of the rental company at the end of the hall. The airport was quiet this morning, with just the sounds of planes moving quietly out on the tarmac and of the gentle music playing over the intercom. It was soothing, if anything. She let the soft feeling flow through her, a welcome change from the harsh atmosphere of the airplane. She leaned against a nearby counter and watched the traffic go by out the big glass walls. A Hunter Switchback sat outside the doors, probably waiting for a passenger. Something touched her shoulder. She turned down to the source of the touch.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Weiss jumped. In her distracted, tired state, she hadn't noticed that she was leaning on the Car Rental desk. She was fluster momentarily.

"May I help you, Miss?"

Weiss stared blankly for a second, before allowing her brain to recalibrate.

"Oh, uh, is this the Starlight Rentals desk?"

The woman behind the desk nodded.

"Yes ma'am! Do you have a reservation?"

Weiss nodded, reaching into her bag once again, pulling out a printed copy of her reservation.

"Uh, yeah, under the name Schnee. Here."

The woman smiled broadly, tapping away at the computer. Weiss dropped her elbows onto the counter and leaned forward, looking at the various flyers that were posted up behind the desk.

"You booked the full-size pickup for two days, Miss Schnee?"

She nodded absently.

"Oh, and it looks like you also booked a wheel dolly as well."

"Yeah, I'm picking up a car out of town."

The woman nodded again, tapping again at her computer.

"I will have it brought directly to the truck and hooked up for you. Will you be needing a GPS as well?"

Weiss nodded. She probably needed it. As much as she had studied the maps on the internet, a live map feed would make finding the exact location easier.

"I'm dropping off in Shiroibara, right?"

The woman nodded. She was unsure why she even asked the question.

"Right, your vehicle is ready for you out in the lot. Argus will bring you out. The GPS has been added to your bill and will be directly charged, Miss Schnee. We hope you enjoy your trip!"

Weiss faked a second smile, stepping back from the desk. She figured if she had to fake anymore smiles with this much air-sickness in her body and she'd just power-vomit at whoever was closest to her. A very large faunus stepped out of a door next to the desk. He had a very prominent mane around his neck, and was wearing a well-fitting black suit with a little Starlight Rentals pin on the lapel. He smiled at her. This must be Argus, she thought. He led her out into the large parking structure. She had to once again adjust the bag on her shoulder, as it had slid down her arm. She rubbed her nose with sleeve. They passed a line of luxurious black sedans, all wearing white and red rental car plates.

"I see you're an A-Dogs fan, ma'am. I also prefer them over the Mongols, as unlikely as it sounds."

Weiss chuckled half-heartedly, not fully focused on the conversation, or even her own sweater at the moment. They walked up behind a line of large pickup trucks, painted mostly red, yellow and black. She sighed at them. One of these large machines was hers for the next forty-eight hours. They walked right to the end of the isle.

"Here we go, ma'am. Your truck."

Taking up two parking spaces was a crystal white crew-cab pickup truck, with a tow dolly hooked up to the rear drawbar. Weiss examined the paintwork of the vehicle. It looked like it was made of diamonds, it was so sparkly. The chrome grill had the letters V H I in large letters right front and centre. Every single piece of trim on the truck was chrome-plated, and glimmered in the early morning light. It was certainly impressive. For a truck. Made in Vale.

"There she is, Miss Schnee. Brand new VHI Commander 1500. Barely even a hundred miles on it. The leather is not even worn in yet."

Weiss nodded. She examined the badge on the side of the fender.

"Why is it sitting so low? It looks... deflated."

As deflated as I am. Blech.

The man laughed, slapping his chest with one if his brawny hands.

"No, it is functioning perfectly, ma'am. This truck has air suspension, giving it a much smoother ride than your average leaf-sprung work truck. When you start the engine, the truck will rise to ride height. It makes it feel like you are gliding on a cloud, it's really fantastic."

She hummed, thinking that air-ride would have been nice on her car. She traced her fingers against the little seven-letter badge on the fender.

"What does this mean, here?"

"Oh, that means the truck has the five-point-five litre DomeTop engine. It's got cylinders shaped like hemispheres, which increases compression in the combustion chamber. It's also got a system that will shut off half the engine to increase mileage. I mean, if you really wanted towing power, the diesel model next to this would have let you tow up to fifteen thousand pounds."

She cocked her eyebrows at the man.

"So this is not powerful?"

"No, no! The DomeTop is more powerful for speed, ma'am. This thing is a real hot-rod. The V-Eight should be sufficient for anything lighter than an Airstream trailer. Here, why don't you hop in and I'll show you some of the truck's features?"

Weiss nodded slowly. Argus clicked the key fob, and the lights flashed. Weiss pulled open the rear door of the cab, tossing her bag onto the back seat, before climbing up into the driver's eat. Argus climbed up into the passenger seat. He pointed to the start button that sat next to the steering wheel.

"You ever seen a truck with push button start?"

Weiss pretended to have not. She owned a truck herself, larger than this one, which also had button-start. She pushed her finger into the button and held it there. The engine rumbled into life. It was a familiar feeling, being in a large VHI truck that rumbled like this. She sniffed back the feeling. She looked up on the column for the gear lever. It was not there.

"Oh, this truck has a rotary gear selector here."

Weiss looked where he was pointing. There was a large dial that had popped out of the centre stack, with P, R, N, and D illuminated around it.

"Just push the brake and rotate to whatever position you need. The truck does have a backup camera, should you need it. It will be displayed here on this nine-inch touch screen. Is there anything else you need to know about the truck, or are you good?"

She sighed, slumping down into the very comfortable leather seat.

"I think I'm good. Thank you for the help, sir."

"My pleasure, ma'am. Have a safe journey!"

And with that, he left the cab, closing the door on his way out. The instant it shut, Weiss was encased in silence. The cabin of the truck completely quiet, devoid of even the rumble of the truck's comparatively small engine. She reached over and rotated the knob into drive. The truck didn't lurch, and it didn't buck. She lifted her foot from the brake, and the truck glided smoothly forward out of it's parking spot. She checked her mirrors, making sure the dolly cleared the red Commander she was parked next to, before turning towards the exit of the parking structure. The automatic gate lifted for her, and she pulled the large truck into traffic.

It's familiar. Hmm.

/.../

Weiss leaned against the fender. She was still tired from her flight. Thirteen gods-forsaken hours in a cramped, pressurized tube, filled with crying babies, annoying passengers, and shitty alcohol. She shuddered, sliding her hands into her hoodie's large front pocket. They collided with the small cardstock package she kept in there. Her body needed it. It had been screaming for it for the last four fucking hours. She groaned. Fuck the law about not smoking on planes. And fuck the fine print in the truck's rental agreement. All vehicles in the Starlight fleet are non-smoking. Customers who break this rule may be required to pay for cleaning or replacement of the vehicle. Weiss scoffed. Should she need it, she could replace this truck a thousand times over. But she also knew that she would likely not be allowed to rent again. She slumped down against the chromed bodywork.

Fuck you, me. You're a piece of shit.

She pulled the packet out of her hoodie, flicking it open. A few taps on the top of the package brought forth her shameful habit. She brought the package up to her mouth, pulling one of the paper tubes out between her lips. It made her want to scream, but not doing this would have been worse. If it was anyone's fault she did this, it was Whitley's secret girlfriend's fault. She had come over the night before Weiss had left for Mistral, offering her a smoke. She had taken it, of course. But it hadn't made her feel any better then. And it wasn't making her feel any better now.

This was all her fault. 'Have a smoke, it helps you chill out', she had said, so arrogantly. Weiss was beginning to detest this woman. Maybe father was right. She was very bad for him, and now she was bad for her by extension. Her hands shook. She knew she shouldn't have taken the smoke, but she didn't want to seem rude, even if it was to Whitley's mean, tarty girlfriend. But blaming this on her was doing little to ease the bad feeling that grew inside her.

She placed the package on the tall hood of the truck, pulling her lighter from her back pocket. Her hands came up to her mouth. They felt like they were fighting her every inch of the way up. Should she let them fall? The flint struck, turning the end of the cigarette red. She drew the foul, odorous smoke into her lungs. It calmed her only a little. Her hands shook as she brought the sinful stick out of her mouth and exhaled, pooling the smoke around her face.

You are scum.

She spat onto the ground. Three weeks. Three fucking weeks. And now she smoked. She felt useless. She had abandoned all her common sense for what? Love? No, fuck that. There was never love. She couldn't be loved. She was stupid, impulsive, and addicted. Nobody could love that. Especially not someone so destroyed.

You ruined it. She was perfect for you and you ruined it.

She took another long drag at her cigarette. It really wasn't helping any more. She yelled, ripping the still-lit cigarette from her mouth and whipping it to the ground. Her right foot came down hard on it, grinding away the paper and tobacco into the pavement with her boot. She stamped down on it again. It made her angry. Her head whipped around, looking at the cigarette package. Smoking increases the likelihood of lung cancer. She grabbed the packet, crushing it in her hand. She turned, and tossed it across the parking lot with all her might. It sailed through the air, landing on the other end of the lot. She huffed a few times, clenching her fists, and staring at the abandoned packet. Fucking lung cancer.

Fucking lung cancer.

She leaned against the truck again, tears coming to her face. Pyrrha hadn't died of cancer. She had been killed by cancer. Dying implied a fight that could be won. Pyrrha had fought. But the cancer had brutally destroyed her. She had been killed. And now, Weiss was willingly damaging her lungs, making her perfectly good lungs just like Pyrrha's, who had been born as such. Weiss turned, wrapping her fingers around the truck's polished chromed door handle, yanking it open. The automatic running boards dropped down, but not not quickly enough as Weiss whacked her shin on it, cursing loudly and climbing up into the leather-wrapped cab. She went to pull the door shut, but only got halfway before her hand slipped from the chromed inside handle. The door fell softly closed, only half latched. Weiss reached for it again, but before she could, a little motor whirred, and the door closed and latched itself. Weiss sniffed.

Neat.

She closed her eyes, resting her hands on the steering wheel. It was cold. She sighed deeply, prodding the start button again. The motor rumbled into life quietly in front of her. She opened her eyes again, reaching down and twisting the gear selector knob into gear. She paused for a moment, her hands shaking. She reached for the touchscreen, wanting to turn on the radio. Except she didn't. It would be three-thirty in the afternoon back home in Atlas at this hour. And that meant it was time for her radio show.

No. We are not doing this.

She refused to touch the radio. She slammed her right foot onto the accelerator. The well-baffled engine rumbled and the tires chirped, but the traction-control system cut in and the truck pulled smoothly forward across the empty parking lot. She sighed, turning the truck back towards the on-ramp, getting up to speed and getting back into the slow lane. She set the cruise control.

Just an hour left. Then we collect her car.

She pined, remembering the reason she was buying this car in the first place. It was Ruby's dream car. Why did she have to be such a piece of shit? Not that it mattered. The car itself had already been purchased. She was just collecting it, and driving it all the way to the Shiroibara shipping yard, and having it sent by boat back to Atlas, where it was just going to collect dust in the Schnee Manor garage. She leaned against the centre console on her elbow, prodding the heated seat icon on the huge touch screen. Almost immediately she could feel it warming her posterior. It helped to remind her that some things were still warm. Unlike her heart, she felt.

Why are you even buying this car? You don't even like cars. You hypocrite. Didn't you tell her directly that you hated Vacuan cars? Scum.

She tried to push herself out of her head. She was being a real asshole to herself. She wanted this car for herself. So what if it was Ruby's dream car? The way she described it made this car seem more than just a simple green RRS coupe. It was a magical car, apparently. She needed to know what it felt like.

You still don't like cars, dickhead.

Why not, though? She always found the car portion of her show to be very interesting, and she seemed always to know an unnerving amount of technical knowledge about cars in any given situation. Something about her stupid devotion to that radio show. Stupid, stupid, reckless, crazy devotion to that girl had made her this way. She had so incredibly incorporated herself into that girl's life, she had unintentionally become a car girl. And now she was buying a car-person's car. She checked her mirror, seeing a blue blur approaching from behind. The car flew past in the outside lane. Any layman would have just said 'hey, look at that Valean muscle car.' But Weiss was no layman, much to her own chagrin. It didn't help that she had just bought her own, even if she had been hammered at the time and didn't even remember doing so.

Nineteen-sixty-five Sanus Stallion 290. Oh look at thaaaat, you know caaars. Want a cookie?

She groaned. Ruby had one of those cars at her father's house in Patch, sitting under a tarp. She had seen it a few times while visiting them, and had always been impressed by the rust-free frame, and mostly completed interior. Yang once told her that their father would one day finish restoring it, and it would be worth something to the effect of a hundred thousand lien. Talk about a retirement plan...

You could buy seven hundred more of them with just what's in your bank account right this second. This is why she doesn't love you. You flaunt your wealth, like a cunt.

Weiss's left hand squeezed down on the thick leather of the steering wheel. She poked her right index finger into the ON button that sat next to the touchscreen's radio controls, cranking the volume slider up to the max. The truck's enormously powerful stereo system was happy to oblige.

~-VRYYY BODY HUUURTS! AND EEEEVRYYY BODY CRYYYYYS. EEEEVRY BODY HUUUUURTS...SOOOMETIIII-~

Weiss poked the channel select button. The music faded out, before fading back in again.

~-IGHT WHEN IT'S BURNING LOW! ONLY MISS THE SUN WHEN IT STARTS TO SNO-OW. ONLY KNOW YOU LOVE HER WHEN YOU LET HER GO...AND YOU LET HER GO-OO-~

Weiss let out a pitiful laugh, hitting the channel select button again.

~NUTHING CAN TAKE AWAY THESE BLU-UES, ah 'cause NOOOOTHING COMPARES...nuh-THING COM-PARES... TOOYOUUU!~

"Oh, fuck off with that shit!"

Weiss jammed her finger into the ON button again, silencing the radio for good. Waste of good money this radio was, only playing ironically sad songs. Weiss felt actually angry from that. She felt like she needed to have finished that cigarette. She slumped down in her seat, revelling in the heated bum and back she now had. This truck was very nice, and it seemed to be the only nice thing she had had in a while. She made a mental note to buy one of these when she got back to Atlas. It would make a suitable replacement for the Klasse-7 she had smashed. She missed that car.

She sighed, leaning over again in the seat. She really hated that she couldn't smoke in the cab. She also hated the fact she had taken up smoking. What a foul and disgraceful habit. She hated everything.

"In one and a half kilometres, take the ramp number seventy-eight to the city of Haven."

Weiss jumped, looking around the cab. Who had just said that? The sound had come from somewhere under her elbow. She pulled up on the cover on the centre console and looked down into it. There sat the GPS, still turned on, illuminating the deep bin. She reached down into it and pulled it out, dropping the console lid and putting the GPS in one of the truck's plus-size cupholders.

She disabled the cruise control, pulling the truck into the slow lane again and reduced her speed. She did a quick mirror check, still seeing the edges of the wheel dolly behind the back of the truck, indicating that it was still hitched up. The exit approached. She flicked the left-side stalk upward, and the truck bong'd softly at her to indicate that she was indicating. Mighty indicative, wasn't it, she thought. She pulled onto the off ramp, slowing down to the traffic light at the top of the hill. The light was red.

And now we're here. Are you ready to be more scum?

Weiss closed her eyes. She refused to let her get to herself. Besides, that car wasn't the only reason she had come here. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was here to see a psychologist at her brother's suggestion. And that made her mad. She reached slowly over to the touchscreen, tapping the Vehicle Settings tab along the side of the screen. A little animated diagram of the truck came onto the screen. It indicated that the traction control system was still active. She prodded the screen, and the gauge cluster and interior mood lighting turned red. She could feel the truck lowering down on its air suspension. No more anger, please, she thought to herself, returning her hands to her the steering wheel. Today she was going to buy a car. A nice car. Something to tool around with on sunny days. It had nothing to do with her relationship. Or rather, her ex-relationship.

Even Tanya and Scott had a more functional relationship than you.

Weiss wrenched her eyes open. The light turned green. Her right foot found the floorboards.

The tires burned.

/.../

She rolled the truck to a stop, just at the corner of a tree'd over driveway. The little gated suburb was very quaint and quiet, and every lawn had trees covering them. It felt like all of the little bungalows were actually built deep in the woods, despite being only a few minutes off the highway. She hit the Start button again, silencing the quiet engine She pulled as slowly as she could on the truck's chrome inner door handle, and the door swung slowly, weighted down by probably three-hundred pounds of leather and wood trim. She waited this time for the electric powered running boards to descend before stepping down onto the street.

The air was warm, and the wind flowed slowly around her. It was nice, she thought as she began the slow journey up the driveway. A dark grey Atlas AG GSi sat quietly to one side of the drive, under the canopy of a large juniper tree. Weiss examined the car for a second. Custom magnesium wheels, lowered suspension, custom-looking exhaust, and super sticky tires. Whoever owned this car knew a thing or two about racing, she thought, having a glance in the window.

Hello.

Weiss's eyebrows raised. In place of the car's original seat was a deep bucket seat with harnesses, and the car's steering wheel sat up on the dashboard, disconnected from it's quick-release bracket on the column. But those would have been common on any racing car. This was not what had caught her eye, however. There was no pedals down in the footwell. The car had hand controls. The large aluminum control system's handle stuck out of the car's dashboard on the left of the column, complete with little hand-written labels indicating which direction was the brake and which way was the throttle. She leaned away from the little grey hatchback, looking up at the bungalow. Her heart fluttered. If this was the car the seller currently drove, she was excited to see the car they used to drive. She moved up to the front door. Her hand came up to the face of the door, balled in a fist. She went to knock.

Remember. You're buying Ruby's dream car for yourself.

Her hand stopped millimetres from the door. She shut her eyes and turned her head down to her feet. She looked back over her shoulder at the white pickup she had arrived in. Weiss knew she could just leave. There sat her escape. Four hundred horsepower, six-thousand-pound, leather-wrapped escape. No, I need to do this. She knew she needed to overcome this anger and self deprication.

She knocked on the door. There was silence. Weiss stumbled back a few inches, her legs trembling. Yes, the instant that door opened, she was doomed. She had drove all this way, with the express purpose of buying this stupid little car for her own collection simply because Ruby mentioned watching this car race up a mountain and win an impossible race against a super car. It, to Ruby, was a symbol that any challenge could be overcome. That no matter the problem, there was always a solution. And what she wanted was a solution to her problem.

That's such a lie. There's no solving you.

Weiss dropped her hand, and was about to turn around. The door opened. She opened her eyes. Beyond the door frame stood a young woman, no older than she was. She had short, shoulder-length dark green hair, which framed her olive-toned face like fine silk curtains. She wore a smile, a green t-shirt and a pair of sand-coloured cargo shorts. She opened her mouth to speak.

"H-h-he-hell-h-h-ello, y—y-y-you m-must be-e W-Weiss."

Weiss's eye twitched. The girl seemed to have a nasty stutter. Not that it was a bad thing. Weiss decided to be patient. There was no point in forcing someone who was nervous to speak quickly. She extended her hand, and the girl eagerly shook it.

"Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Th-th-the p-plea-plllleasure i-is a-all m-mm-mine. M-mmy nnn-n-na-ame is E-E-Emerald S-Sustra-ai. Pl-p-ple-ease c-come in."

Weiss smiled, and stepped slowly through the door. She removed her boots and placed them on the little mat by the door.

"Y-y-yo-you do-on't n-nn-ne-need t-to w-www-wr-worr-y ab-ab-a-abou-t y-your sh-shh-oes in h-h-here. W-w-we're g-gg-g-o-oing i-in thhh-the ga-ar-age."

Weiss smiled softly, slipping her feet back into her boots, and standing out of the way so Emerald could lead her to the garage. But she didn't just walk to the garage. There was a tap-thump sound that she made as she moved. Weiss looked over, confused. She was taken briefly aback, but she hid her surprise well. The girl moved on crutches, swinging her legs between them. Well. That certainly explained why her car had hand controls.

She does have nice legs, though.

Weiss angrily looked away. Nope. Not happening. She followed the hobbling girl just around the corner and through the door that lead into the garage. There was a large tarp covering a very small car. Emerald clicked a button on the wall and the garage door opened upward nearly seamlessly. She leaned over on her crutches, slipping her hands out of the wrist guards.

"S-ss-o-orr-y ab-aa-ab-ou-about th-the st-st-stt-sstu-utt-er. A-aan-and th-the l-l-imp."

Weiss held her hands out in front of her, showing that she didn't mind.

"It's no issue."

"Y-yy-eah. I-I-I u-used t-tt-o b-be n-or-orma-al. B-ut I-I h-ha-ad a c-cr-ash d-du-ring a-a r-rr-a-ace."

She put her hands on the edge of the tarp. Weiss walked to the other side of the car, gripping her fingers into the tarp fabric. Together, they pulled the large sheet back over the bodywork, revealing the lithe green coupe that she had come all this way for. She took a step back. It was a little dusty, but otherwise immaculate.

"A race? As in like, circuit racing?"

The other woman nodded, smiling and chuckling softly. She slid her hand back into the wrist guards of her crutches, hobbling over to the front of the car.

"Y-yy-yeah. I-I g-g-go-got a pl-lace-ment o-on a r-ra-acing t-tt-tea-eam r-ri-ight ou-out o-of hi-i-igh sc-schoo-ool. O-on T-t-ea-eam S-S-S-Sun R-r-ra-acing."

Weiss turned her head and looked over at the woman.

"SSSN Racing, as in owned and operated by Sun Wukong?"

The girl nodded, smiling brightly.

"Th-th-the v-vv-ve-ery s-s-ss-sa-ame! H-h-he w-ww-a-as m-my b-b-bo-boss."

Weiss smiled.

"Actually he's dating my old teammate. Haven't seen either of them since... well, it's not important, though. Small world, eh?"

They both chuckled together. Weiss began examining the car, walking around to the passenger side. The dark, mysterious green paintwork was really quite beautiful in the late-morning light as it reflected her legs and the collection of cardboard boxes that lined the edge of the small-ish garage. The paintwork was certainly immaculate, with no ripples or overspray marks. If a little dusty. She wiped her finger through the grime.

"The paint looks like it has a factory finish."

Emerald tap-thump'd her way around to the other side of the car, leaning on her left-side crutch.

"I-i-t's a-aac-act-ually c-cu-ustom. I-i-iit u-use-used t-to b-bbe bla-ack. Y-ou'll s-ss-s-ee wh-whe-when wh-whe-we p-ppo-op th-the h-ood. I kn-kne-knew a-a g-guy wh-who did c-c-cu-usto-om p-ai-ain-aintjobs."

Weiss ran her hand along the gently sloping hood. Her hand came to a stop on the lid of the left-side pop-up headlight, which was currently folded down. The car sat very low on it's springs, so the edge of the hood was only to her knees. It was certainly sleek. She looped her fingers into the hood-pins and pulled them free of their retainers. The hood popped up slightly on the latch spring. Weiss lifted it up. It was considerably lighter than she was expecting. The quilted carbon underside of the hood indicated exactly why. It was made entirely of carbon fibre. She looked down at the motor. Yes, she had researched this car before buying it and had seen a few others for sale in Atlas, but what lay under the hood of this car was vastly different than the other regular six-cylinder powered Hunter RRS Coupes.

"What am I seeing here? This seems different than a normal RRS."

The girl scratched the back of her head, looking sheepish.

"Y-yeah i-i-it's a-a l-ll-li-little m-mo-o-odified."

A little? Weiss knew the car was certainly more than stock, but this was even more than she expected. There was aluminum everywhere, and everything was neat and tidy, with all the wires in little rubber separators and the exhaust neatly wrapped in heat bandage. Nothing was polished, but is was all there, and it all looked like it came straight off a racing car. Well, technically that was correct.

"What sort of engine even is that? It looks a little far from factory."

"I-it's n-no-ot. Th-the-o-on-only thi-ing tha-at's s-ss-st-stock i-i-is th-e dis-dis-di-displ-acement. Thr-ee l-li-litres. E-ev-everyth-th-i-ing el-els-ss-se i-is c-custom."

Weiss nodded, crossing her arms and walking around to the back of the little squared-off coupe. She placed her hand on the little factory-adjustable spoiler on the trunk lid. When they were stock, these cars only had about two hundred horsepower, and were reasonably quick when they were new in the mid-eighties. She reached into her pocket again, pulling out her glasses and slipping them on. She looked down at the adjustment screws on the wing.

"How much power does it make?"

"F-f-fo-our hu-hu-hund-dred."

Weiss cocked her eyebrows. That was certainly an improvement over standard. She stood up again, circling around to the driver's side again and examining the car's magnesium six-spoke rims. They looked like they cost somewhere around two or three grand apiece.

"Impressive. Did you build all this yourself?"

Emerald scoffed, smiling.

"I-I w-ww-wish. I c-c-cou-couldn-nn-n't h-h-have d-don-done thi-is wh-whi-ith m-my l-lli-imited s-sskill. N-nno, m-my b-bb-bo-oyfrie-end b-built it y-yy-years a-ag-go, wh-when I-I s-ss-sti-ill r-ra-acing ill-illeg-gally."

Weiss pulled the car's driver's side door, peering inside and touching the seats. They were Alcantara, and they looked kinda uncomfortable. Well, they were racing seats.

"Yeah, you mentioned racing. And a crash, you said?"

Emerald's cheery smile dropped from her face. Oh no, has she struck a nerve?

"I'm sorry, is that a sore subject?"

"N-no. N-not a-a-anymo-ore, an-anyway. I-it h-hha—appened wh-whe-en I-I w-ww-worked f-for S-S-S-Sun R-Racing."

Weiss discontinued her inspection of the interior.

"What happened?"

"I-I ww-was d-do-doing s-ss-s-o-ome qu-qua-alifying l-laps i-in a n-new p-pr-prototy-type Ki-Kinkaid Sc-sc-sceptre GT. I-I g-g-go-got u-up to a h-hu-hundre-ed a-and ei-eighty m-mi-iles a-an h-hour, a-and wh-whe-when I-I hi-hi-hit th-the bra-ake a-at th-the e-end o-of b-ba-ack str-rai-aight, a-and one o-of th-the c-cr-cra-appy br-ra-ass f-fi-fitt-ings i-in th-the f-f-fr-ront br-rakes b-bl-blew o-ou-out."

Weiss leaned against the side of the car, her eyes wide.

"Holy fuck, what happened? Are you okay?"

Emerald chuckled, her smile returning.

"Y-yeah, I-I'm g-g-go-good n-no-now. Th-the c-ca-ar fa-ailed t-to s-ss-sto-stop, a-as y-yo-you'd ha-ave g-gu-uessed. I-I h-hh-hit th-the w-wa-all d-d-deep i-in th-the i-inf-field, a-and m-mo-ost o-of th-the c-car c-co-col-lapsed o-on t-to m-my b-bo-bod-dy. I-I n-no-o longer h-ha-have n-ne-erve e-end-dings i-in m-my l-ll-e-legs, a-and a b-br-bra-ain he-emorrhage f-fr-ro-om wh-whe-ere th-the e-en-engine i-impa-acted m-my h-he-head. He-ence th-the cr-ru-utches a-and st-stu-utt-ter."

Well. Talk about a bad crash. Weiss Leaned against the car, imagining the crumpled wreck. That certainly explained why the GSi had hand controls in it, she figured.

"Y-yeah. I-I d-do-don't r-rr-ra-ace a-any m-mmore, s-so th-tha-at's wh-why I-I'm ss-se-sel-elling th-the c-car."

Weiss nodded absently, a little shaken up by the story. Poor Emerald, she thought. This girl had spent thousands of dollars modifying her car, countless days and nights perfecting her skills, her craft and for what? A two dollar piece of brass to completely ruin everything? Weiss turned her head when she hear the other girl sigh. Her cheerful expression had fallen, this time all the way off. Her green hair pooled around her face like a shield, hiding her. She knew what that look meant. It was deep-seated sadness. It was the look of someone who had worked so hard to build everything up, only for it all to come crashing down around them. It was a feeling she herself was all too familiar with. The other woman turned away, and the air in the garage was suddenly stagnant. Weiss got up off the side of the car, stepping slightly away. Emerald's ability to fake happiness was certainly endearing, considerably better at it than she was. Speaking of, Emerald's face lifted, and smiled at her, pointing at the source of both her sorrow and her jubilance.

"S-So y-you w-wa-ant t-to d-dri-ive y-yo-our c-car?"

Weiss smiled, nodding slowly.

"Absolutely I would."

/.../

"I am not going to get used to this clutch, I swear."

She had only been driving the car for twenty or so minutes and had already stalled four times. She pushed the extraordinarily stiff pedal to the floor, reaching over again to the switch panel in the centre of the car. She flicked the ignition off then on again, prodding the starter button next to it. The car's tightly-wound V-six barked into life again, settling into a low but raucous idle. Emerald laughed at her again.

"I-If i-it m-ma-akes a d-di-ifference I-I w-ou-ould -ha-have s-ss-sta-alled as w-well. B-be-ecause m-my l-le-egs d-don't w-wo-ork."

"Yeah, but I still feel bad about it! I've been driving stick since I was sixteen!"

Weiss very slowly pulled out the clutch, waiting for the car to slide forward. The clutch bit in hard, rocking the car forward around past the stop sign. She pushed the accelerator, and the car began to pick up speed rather disconcertingly quickly. She made a concerned sound, popping the clutch and pulling the gearstick into second gear. The throws in the gearbox were exceptionally short, but incredibly precise. The whole car vibrated from the engine's revving. She popped the car up into third. Every time she let the clutch out the car shook.

"Y-yo-uo're sh-sho-short sh-shifting. T-ta-ach i-it u-up t-to n-ni-ine o-or t-ten thousand."

Short shifting? She had been shifting at five-thousand! The Klasse-7 she drove on a daily basis never revved above sixty-five hundred! Weiss tried her luck, popping the car down to second. The engine chirped at her, spinning back up to the little six marking on the car's over-sized tachometer.

"You're sure?"

Emerald smiled, covertly pulling the straps on her racing harness a little tighter.

"G-go f-fo-or it."

Weiss pushed her right foot right to the floor. The front tires didn't squeal. They dug in, pulling the car forward with a relentless force. She watched the tachometer climb up over seven. Then eight. Then nine. She kept her foot planted. The motor kept screaming and kept accelerating, even as the little red needle touched and then exceeded ten-thousand RPM. Holy fuck was this little car fast. She popped in the clutch and effortlessly found third gear in the car's tight, mechanical transmission. She pressed her foot down on the accelerator once again. The motor exploded in a cacophony of sound, pulling even harder up to ten-thousand RPM a second time. Ruby was right. It really did sound like a superbike, and it really didn't drive like a front-wheel-drive car at all. It felt almost physics-defying. Weiss looked down at the speedometer.

"Oh fuck, we're going it jail..."

Weiss mashed the middle pedal, and the car immediately tried to toss her and Emerald through the windshield. The exhaust crackled and backfired, banging flames loudly out the rear pipe. Their harness held them in place. Weiss grunted, slamming her back against the seat as she released the brake. The harness felt a little tight over her chest, but she knew it was there for specifically for this reason. Her passenger was laughing.

"H-ow f-ff-fa-ast w-was th-at?"

Weiss chuckled nervously, popping the gearbox up into fifth, silencing the loud engine.

"Uh, two-hundred and ten kilometres an hour? How the heck does this car stop so quickly?"

Her passenger looked suitably impressed.

"W-well th-then. I-I d-on't th-thi-ink th-the c-car's be-been th-that f-ffa-ast i-in years. A-and i-it has c-ca-carbon cer-ramic b-brakes."

"My car has carbon ceramics, and it doesn't stop anywhere near this quickly."

Emerald snickered at her, shifting around in her seat.

"Y-yeah, o-of c-co-ourse n-not. Th-this c-car weighs s-ss-o-omthing l-like ha-alf as m-mu-uch."

Weiss popped the car down into third again, pulling out around another car, the engine pulling seamlessly and loudly around the grey minivan that was occupying the lane. The speed made Weiss laugh, it was just too excellent for words.

"How much exactly?"

"Ab-out ei-eighte-een hu-undred p-ounds dr-ry. I-it's n-nineteen n-ninety w-with m-me in i-it w-with a-all flu-uids to-opped up. 'Ra-ace prepped, i-it's j-just sh-shh-shy o-of two-th-thou-sand."

Holy shit, that was light weight. Less than a tonne, in metric measurements. Well, most of the bodywork was carbon fibre. And the 'glass' in the car was actually all lightweight plastic. Needless to say, Weiss was quite impressed. They had arrived back around to Emerald's street again, and Weiss gave the car one last good go, before slowing down and pulling back into the driveway and silencing the motor.

"Right. Lets go and sort out the paperwork."

/.../

Weiss sipped her tea and tapped her pen against the table. Her file folder sat open in front of her, with documents strewn all over. She grabbed the one next to her right hand, pulling it over to the centre. It was titled 'Proof of Change of Insurance'. She read over it, finding all the lines to sign on. She clicked open the pen with her left thumb, scribbling the overly elegant W. Schnee onto the first line.

"So tell me about this mysterious car-building boyfriend of yours, Em."

Emerald turned from her spot at the counter, her own cup of tea in her hand. She took a sip, smiling as she placed her cup on the counter.

"W-what, Mercury? H-he's n-no-ot my-mysterious. H-he's j-just at w-work, today."

Weiss chuckled, flicking some of her messy bangs from her eyes and adjusting her glasses.

"His name is Mercury? Cute."

"Sh-shut up!"

They laughed together at this little outburst. Emerald sighed, smiling and turning to the little cabinet next to the refrigerator. She pulled a little picture frame from inside, using her hands to support her on the counter. She hobbled over to the table, unassisted by her crutches which sat abandoned on the other side of the room. She had explained that she still could walk sort of, but it required an intense amount of concentration. Emerald pulled out a chair and sat down with her at the table. She handed over the photograph.

"F-first, y-you're g-go-onna n-need some b-ba-ackstory."

Weiss took the photo, and examined the group of people in the picture. There was Emerald, off to one side, dressed in a brown hoodie and a green mini-skirt, standing next to a boy of about her age, with grey-dyed hair and a navy-blue set of mechanic's coveralls on. He stood using a pair of crutches that seemed eerily similar to Emerald's current ones. Then, there was a woman with raven-black hair and gorgeous amber eyes, who Weiss recognized as Cinder, one of Pyrrha's friends from Haven. She had been at the hospital that night, and had attended the funeral as well. Weiss winced. Next to Cinder was...wait, was that Ren?

"Is...this Lie Ren?"

"I-I'll g-get to h-him in a s-se-econd. S-see the g-irl in th-the m-mi-middle? Th-that's Cinder. Sh-she w-was o-our s-star dri-iver. Sh-she dr-rove the wh-white T-Ter-minal GT-S w-we're a-all lea-eaning on. C-compl-letely u-untoucha-able sk-kill."

"I remember that car, it was at the hospital..."

Emerald made a pained expression.

"Y-yeah. A-anyway w-we were a-a s-ss-stee-eet racing t-team wh-who dr-rove the S-S-Suimin H-ho-otel pass l-late a-at night. M-Mercury w-w-wa-as our me-ech-anic, he-ence the c-co-overalls. W-we g-go-ot our p-parts fr-rom th-this gu-uy named R-Roman. H-he w-was the a-ad-doptave f-fa-ather t-to the p-pink ha-aired g-gi-girl n-ne-ext to R-Ren."

Weiss nodded, placing the photograph down on the table.

"What do you mean 'was' her adoptive dad?"

Emerald winced. Oh no, that certainly wasn't good.

"Y-you rem-member th-the f-fa-all of B-Beacon?"

There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think about it. She nodded slowly.

"H-he wa-as there. H-he was a-a g-go-good h-huntsman. B-but n-no am-amou-ount o-of sk-ski-skill c-can s-st-stop a-a wh-who-ole siege o-of Gr-G-Griffons b-by o-on-one's s-se-elf. H-he died, a-and n-now sh-she's a-all alone."

The air in the kitchen was suddenly stagnant. Weiss looked at the picture again. The short, pink-haired girl had the most joyful smile on her face, her heterochromatic eyes shining in the flashbulb's light. She looked so young. Poor thing. Weiss pined, as she knew there was nothing she could do. Emerald's green eyes were glazed over, as if in thought. Weiss sighed.

"Ye-eah. A-anyway, yo-ou pro-obaby knew th-tha-at Ren l-left sch-chool a-after fi-irst ye-ear wh-hen h-his pa-arents' co-ompany mo-oved off-off-ices t-to Mi-istral."

Weiss nodded, again. She remembered. Pyrrha's team had been one of the strongest in the school, save for one member. She winced, remembering him. That was not important for now. She pushed it to the back of her head. And after first year, Ren had left, travelling here to Mistral to literally run the west coast division of Lie Industries. After all, he was one of her business... associates. They met for coffee the first of every month. He was a good friend.

"Y-yeah, h-he a-and C-Cinder ac-act-actually d-dated fo-or a wh-hile. N-not tha-at they kn-knew the-ey were to-ogether. Bu-ut there w-was a l-lo-ot of aw-awk-ward mo-oments. S-so j-just be-efore th-the V-Vytal Fes-estival, we-e ca-ame to Vale f-for a bi-it of r-ra-acing, a-and I g-got pi-icked up by DRE, wh-which la-ater bec-ame S-SS-Sun R-Racing. Th-then th-the Fa-all happened. Ci-inder m-ade a 'ta-actical e-error' a-and sl-lept wi-th that bl-lond gu-uy, a-and n-now sh-she's a-a m-mom. M-Mercury j-joined the a-army a-after the F-fall, a-and N-Neo sta-ayed in Va-ale. I-I think sh-she's a t-te-eacher there n-now or s-s-something."

Blond guy? Weiss clenched her fists under the table. She had overheard something about Cinder's child when she had been speaking to Pyrrha that night in the hospital room. And Pyrrha had seemed awful disgusted by who the father was. Well, so had Cinder, for that matter. Now she had put the pieces together. That blatant motherfucker had both destroyed Ruby and had made a young woman into a mother well before she was ready. Oh he was going to pay.

"So I notice that Mercury's wearing crutches in this picture. How did he get into the army?"

"Th-they ga-ave him c-cool r-ro-obot l-ll-e-legs. Bu-ut he s-ss-till n-nee-eeds ha-and controls i-in his car."

"Oh, that's his car? I assumed it was yours, actually."

Emerald sighed, slumping in her chair.

"Ye-eah, i-it's n-not. I-I ca-an't dr-ri-ive a-any-ymore. N-no, M-Mercury g-got a d-dr-ri-rive t-to w-work t-today."

Weiss sipped her tea again, trying to imagine what a man with cool robot legs would do for a regular job. Maybe a soccer coach?

"What does he do for a living?"

"S-security g-a-aurd a-at th-the thea-eatre."

"What about you?"

Emerald looked over at her, her red eyes shining in the light.

"C-clo-ose yo-our e-eyes."

Weiss obeyed.

"Open them."

Weiss opened them. She gasped, a little shocked. The kitchen was gone, replaced by a small mahogany-panelled office. Filled bookshelves lined the walls. Weiss looked down at her chair, seeing that it had been replaced by a large leather arm chair.

"What the hell is this? How the hell is this?"

The highbacked chair behind the desk in front of her spun around. In it sat Emerald, suddenly dressed in a dark green dressy blouse, and a stark white lab coat. Her green hair was tied back and her red-coloured eyes were hidden by a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. She smiled, her lovely olive skin even more smoothed than it had been a moment ago.

"I'm a behavioural therapist. My semblance allows me to create illusions, which I use to help patients suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. It allows me to create situations in the minds of sufferers, which assists in the recovery process."

Weiss leaned back in her chair, frowning.

"What happened to your stutter?"

Emerald smiled and stood up, calmly walking around to the other side of the desk, sitting up upon it and crossing her legs. Her long, elegant, brown-skinned legs were considerably more toned and muscled than they had been when she had opened the door in those brown cargo shorts. Weiss shuddered, pushing the deliciously foul-tasting thoughts from her head.

"It's part of the illusion. I can make people see, hear, feel, smell, and taste anything they want or need. I am licensed and I have my doctorate. It's hanging up on the wall in the kitchen, actually. Now, before you ask, I don't use my semblance to talk normally because it requires a lot of concentration and makes me incredibly tired."

Weiss closed her mouth. She was in fact going to ask. She tried not to stare at fake-Emerald's legs.

"Here's what I'm getting at. After the Fall, Mercury joined the Mistrailian Marines, where he acquired his 'bitching cool robot legs', as he put it. Then, on his first mission...well..."

Emerald stopped talking, her face talking on a more sombre expression. She tapped her fingernails loudly against the thick wooden desk.

"He, uh..."

She sniffled, her illusion quivering for a moment. The lights in the room flickered, briefly fading, before strengthening again.

"There was a Bullhead crash. He was on it. Everyone else perished in the crash, except for him. He was ejected before the aircraft hit the ground. He watched the craft burn with his squad still inside."

Weiss gasped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The illusion flickered again, but Emerald kept it stable. Her face was pained. A solitary tear ran down her olive cheek, staining it a deeper brown. Weiss wanted to cry.

"H-he suffers from PTSD. I-I got m-my doctorate in behavioural psychology so that I could help him. He needed me. After I gave up racing I fell into a very dark place, Weiss."

Her legs uncrossed, and she stood up from the desk, her fake-legs quivering. She had to support herself.

"I-I t-tho-ought that m-maybe... since I had been denied my dream... well..."

Weiss stood up from the chair, and the illusion vanished. The kitchen was back, and Emerald was once again slumped against the counter. She had a subtle, hidden pain in her face, masked by the exhaustion from the illusion she had created. Weiss walked over and leaned against the counter with her. She needed to change the subject. Her heart panged. Something about all this seemed vaguely familiar...

"How does your relationship go otherwise?"

Emerald's tiny smile came back. She waved her hand, and the illusion returned.

"It's healthy. We make dinner together, we play video g-games, we c-cu-uddle in front of the television. It's a reasonable time. Sometimes he has...i-issues with his dreams c-co-oming back, so we do a lot of illusions as well."

Weiss nodded, distracted.

"So you have managed to get past your differences?"

Emerald waved her hand. She was now on the other side of the room as the illusion faded again, another picture in her hand. Weiss walked over and looked over her shoulder. It was just the two of them, standing together in a field. Emerald had on a frilly dress, and a straw hat, and Mercury was wearing tan pants and a white button-up shirt. They looked happy.

"Th-tha-at w-wa-as th-the la-ast time w-we were b-bo-oth 'n-normal'. B-efore th-the cr-rash, a-and be-fore... w-well hi-is cr-rash t-too."

Weiss smiled down at the picture. They looked like they could conquer the world together.

"S-so w-we s-sur-urvive. W-we he-elp each o-other. Wh-hen he h-as pro-oblems w-ith the dr-reams, I-I he-he-help. Wh-when I-I ha-ave pr-roble-ems with th-the de-depression, he-e ta-akes me o-out a-and we d-do c-car stu-uff. I-it's s-si-imple, I-I kn-know, b-but..."

Another wave of the hand, and the illusion came back. But it was different this time. Emerald stood there, in the dress from the little picture, her green hair long and braided, dropping over her right shoulder. The room was gone, replaced by the grassy field, filled with flowers.

"...We're broken, but that's okay. Together, we're fixed. Together, it's love. And it works."

Weiss smiled. Perhaps she could be like that. One day.

She had a few 'problems' to deal with first.

And now she had something to fight for.

She had to make a phone call.