#his 'master' is oz but he is still remembering bits and pieces of his past

[fivekrystalpetals]

oh, at the rate I am reading I think I might finish more than half of Pandora Hearts by today; the chapters are long but they feel so short. and a cliffhanger every second chapter I will die if I don't get answers; have this scene between Gil and Break (I will be lying if I said I didn't scream) because I am sure I can't keep up with the live posting anymore I will be overshooting too far ahead

[antihero-writings]

Premonitions 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Character Focus: Glen (Oswald) Baskervlle, Jack Vessalius, Vincent Nightray, Gilbert Nightray, Kevin Regnard, Oz Vessalius 

Summary: Jack, Glen, Vincent, and Gilbert thought they were going on a relaxing vacation in the mountains, but a creature from The Abyss has a bit of an adventure in store...or is it a warning? 

(Written for the Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter.")

(For those who’d like some Glen, Jack, Vince, and Gil cuteness. There's at least a little of that here, which was super fun to write. )

Notes: If you can believe it, this is actually a fic for Phmonth19! It was for the Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter." 

I liked a lot of the prompts during Phmonth19, and wanted to find a way to use multiple simultaneously. I liked the idea, but ended up struggling with where I wanted to go with it, and having too much to do during Phmonth19, so it didn't get written then. But I liked it enough to continue it and return to it eventually.

I hope you enjoy it even so!! Please know that when you comment you are both making my entire week, and motivating me to keep writing more fics like this one!!

Premonitions

A young boy weaved in and out of the crumbling artifices, hopping down from a half-broken wall to a mossy ledge on a lower level of the ruins. It was probably a room in the past. It wasn’t now.

They’d warned him not to go in here. But if forbidding something was incentive for most kids, it was practically a command to him.

They told him it was dangerous, unsafe, that anything could fall and crush him, or crumble beneath him, not to mention that there was a sort of energy here: it infected people, made them into madmen and monsters, and if said monstrosities didn’t attack and kill you…you might just become one yourself.

As if he needed a better invitation.

Most regretfully, he hadn’t found any horrifying monstrosities yet. Just a bunch of cracked stones and sewer rats looking for corpses to clean off. Occasionally something shimmered in the dirt, but more often than not it was just a rusted piece of metal, or cracked bit of glass.

He kicked up a board to see a dagger laying there. He frowned, considering it, before picking it up, examining the details on the hilt. Might make a nice souvenir if he could manage to clean the rust off.

He couldn’t help but wonder what happened here. People said this place was dropped into the Abyss, that it had become a hole to swallow all that dared to enter. But what exactly did that mean? He’d heard of the Abyss, and the Chains that lived within, but never of anything other than sinners being dropped into it. What kind of atrocities had everyone there committed to warrant the whole city being dropped into the Abyss?

He kicked another rock, before glancing up, his red eyes widening.

A wolf sat in front of him.

He hadn’t even heard its footsteps. It just sat there on the wall above him, swishing its tail. He took a few steps back.

It was gold and ethereal, its tail long and wispy, like a gust of wind frozen into flesh. Said tail flicked back and forth. White eyes left trails in the air—like slits in a mask, only letting the golden light inside it break through the eyes—yet they held no mal intent—(he’d learned to be able to see that, to feel it, almost). It seemed intelligent.

Was this one of the monstrosities they warned him about?

His hand tightened around the dagger.

The wolf stood, but after it took a few steps forward it looked over its shoulder as if to ask “Are you coming?”

The boy took a step forward himself, to run after its disappearing tail, compelled by some inclination; he knew he ought to follow it, that it wanted to show him something.

“Kevin! Kevin!” A familiar voice called from far away. “I’ll not have you sullying the Regnard name with another one of your insolent games! If you get eaten by some Chain you’ll only have yourself to blame!”

When Kevin looked back the wolf was gone.

*****

Jack breathed deeply through his nose, as he entered the cabin, then breathed out just as noisily.

“Smell that mountain air! I just love the snow, don’t you? I always feel like something’ amazing is going to happen!”

Glen rolled his eyes, dropping their bags—(which Jack had made him carry inside, citing the fact that he was carrying Vincent).

“Say, Jack…” the boy sitting on his shoulders spoke, “do you think we’ll see the northern lights up here?”

“I don’t know! …What do you think, Glen?”

“Probably not.”

“Aww!” Vincent pouted, bumping his fist on Jack’s head.

“Ow!” Jack reacted in an over exaggerated way.

“Eh! I’m sorry!”

When Jack had found out about the cabin the Baskervilles owned in the mountains he knew it would be the perfect place to spend a few days relaxing and playing in the snow—and what better way to remember how to have fun than to bring Gilbert and Vincent along?

When Jack brought up this idea, Glen had blatantly refused. Ever the responsible leader, Glen didn’t take vacations from his duties. But lately he had started having conversations with the rose bushes, and everyone agreed he could stand a few days off.

Glen was just starting to unpack their stuff when—

“You guys want to go sledding?” This was Jack’s voice, of course.

It was a resounding “yes,” from the kids, complete with jumping up and down and shouting.

“We just arrived,” Glen grunted. “Wasn’t the point of this trip to relax?”

“And what better way to relax then hurling yourself down a snowy mountain on a thin piece of wood?”

Glen blinked. “Reading.”

Jack grabbed his arm, pulling him out into the snow. “Don’t be such a fuddy duddy. Come on!”

Glen glared at his friend as he promptly dragged him off into the snow.

Soon they were flying up to the tallest hill they could find on Raven, then, after they successfully reached the top, they proceeded to push each other down it on sleds, with much giggling and whooping (from everyone except Glen). When they reached the bottom, they would fly back up on Glen’s chains—(who seemed to enjoy the show).

At one point, a little while into the festivities, Vincent was waiting for his turn when something in the corner of his eye flickered. He turned to see in the woods, behind a tree, a creature.

Vincent froze when he met the wolf’s gaze, a shiver running up his spine, more than just the cold, his face twisting in fear.

“What’s wrong, Vince?” Jack put a hand on his shoulder, glancing from the terrified boy to the empty air he was fixating on.

The wolf ran in a figure eight around two of the trees, brushing up against them, its form leaving tracks in the air. Then it paused again to stare at the boy with white, smoky eyes.

It didn’t look completely there.

Vincent pointed shakily towards it.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “…Where?”

He pointed more emphatically.

“I’m sorry Vince, I…I don’t see anything.”

“What’s going on?” Glen asked, hopping off Raven and landing beside them with Gilbert in a flurry of black wings.

Vincent just kept pointing, his finger a vibrating signal.

Glen’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jack demanded.

“It’s a wolf. Or at least…” he paused, noticing the strange color, and misty nature of the creature.

“I don’t see it,” Gilbert said softly.

“That’s okay,” Jack crouched down by him, “Neither can I.” He stood back up to his full height, reasoning with Glen, “If you two can see it, and we can’t…”

Glen nodded at him, before taking a few steps forward, and finishing the thought:

“I think, more likely than not, its something from the Abyss.” He squinted at it, watching it playfully thread the trees. “I think it wants us to follow it.”

Vincent tensed at the idea.

Glen looked over his shoulder, his eyes flicking to the boy. “I can always go after it by myself if you’d like to return to the cabin.”

“Oh it’ll be fine! Don’t worry!” Jack took the hands of both boys. “With Master Glen with us, nothing’s going to hurt us!”

Glen rolled his eyes, but Jack’s words seemed to comfort them.

Un-summoning Raven, Glen walked in front, the other three following a short distance behind.

When the spectral wolf saw they were going to heed its call, it moved further into the forest, always dancing around the trees as it waited for them to catch up.

They followed it quite some ways—(especially since they were tired from all the sledding)—until the trees stopped abruptly in a cliff edge. Jack had to put his arms out in front of the boys to keep them from walking any further.

As they raised their eyes, they saw across the gorge a plateau.

“I-Is it still there?” Gilbert asked softly, looking all around them.

Vincent and Oswald looked around but the wolf wasn’t anywhere close to them.

“There!” Vince pointed after a moment. The wolf was across the gorge, weaving in and out of a stone ruin on the plateau.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Gilbert asked nervously. “Maybe we’ve followed it far enough…”

Glen had already summoned Jabberwocky, and was currently climbing on its back.

“You coming?” He asked the group flatly, holding out his hand.

The three glanced at each other, before Jack helped the kids onto its back, and hopped on himself. Jack hugged the boys tightly, as Gilbert held just as tightly to Glen’s coat.

The wind was cold and biting as they flew through the air, but the ride was very brief, and they landed moments later in a puff of dust in the center of the ruins.

“What is this place?” Jack asked the air, and no one answered.

They ventured cautiously into the ruins, at first sticking together, but soon curiosity overtook them, and they each wandered in separate directions, captivated by different rooms. The place wasn’t too vast though, and thus didn’t allow them to stray too far from each other.

Glen found the throne room, or where it most likely once was; a huge empty room in the center of the ruins, empty, save for the collapsing chair, backed by the skeleton of a large window, holding broken pieces of colored glass. He slowly marched up to it, running his fingers along the ghost of the chair, looking out the window at the now frozen water far below, wondering what sort of king ruled here.

When he turned around, the wolf was sitting in the center of the room, swishing its tail at him. Glen was sure it wanted him to understand something, but he couldn’t quite discern what.

He noticed at the side of the room there was a large structure. At first he mistook it for a collapsed bit of wall, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piano. He set his fingers on a few of the notes, but they only gave a croak.

It’d been too long.

He lifted his head and raised his voice to ask the wolf about the place, and learn if it could respond, but it had moved on.

Gilbert found the old kitchen, the food there long since turned to compost for rats and roots. Then he found the servants’ quarters not too far from there, full of rotting bedframes and hungry mice, wondering what sort of servants were here, and if their king was as noble as Glen-sama.

He didn’t see the wolf pass beneath the doorframe behind him.

Vincent found a room that likely belonged to a child. It was faded, but there was paint on the walls: designs of flowers and vines. He almost stepped on a clay sculpting of a bird that may have served as a toy, once.

On a broken dresser he found a box which, once opened, turned out to play music, the notes discordant after years of rust and neglect.

He thought he saw something else, and lifted up the half-bug-eaten board. He immediately dropped it, wishing he hadn’t, the something that was there making him cover his mouth in shock and horror.

He felt a nudge at his back, and almost screamed, whirling around to see the wolf behind him. Fear glued his lips, welled his eyes with tears.

The wolf cocked its head to the side, as if confused by his fear. It licked his hand, and Vincent drew back, though it felt like a brush of wind.

“W-W-What do you want?!” He stammered.

But he could not understand the wolf’s words.

Jack descended a staircase a bit further out of the way and found—more in tact than much of the buildings—a dungeon.

It was a large stone room, lined with cells, sectioned off by rusting bars. He pressed one open with a creak and found an empty room, and a skeleton. He continued on until he found one without a skeleton, whose bars were bent, as if the person within had managed to escape through them. He entered through to find there was a journal in this one. He picked it up, brushed and blew off the dust and frost, the pages just as creaky and unwilling to budge as the doors.

He sat on the floor where he found it and began to read. Many of the pages were too damaged by time to read, the ink fading, the pages crinkling and crumbling, but he could make out at least bits of the story. It seemed the writer was in love with a girl, but, due to her being the ruler of this kingdom’s queen, they could never be together. As the pages continued, the writer seemed to grow more and more obsessed with her; his phrases containing less and less sense and sanity. Jack couldn’t tell exactly how he ended up in the dungeon, nor how he apparently broke out—if the bends weren’t made by weather or time—but in his not-quite-sane state, he must have done something very stupid. Maybe a lot of things.

When the final pages became too illegible, he looked up and saw in the waning sunlight, the tally marks on the wall. As he began to dust and defrost them, he realized the whole wall was covered in them. He ran his hand over the grooves, thinking of how long this person must have been left alone inside himself, and what that might do to a person.

He couldn’t see the wolf pacing around his feet, reading over his shoulder, couldn’t feel the wolf trying to nudge him, nor hear the wolf try to ask him voicelessly: “Do you understand? Do you understand?”

“There you are.” A deep voice broke the silence, almost making him jump.

Glen was standing in the doorway, Vincent and Gilbert at either side of him—(Vincent clinging to his coattails rather tightly).

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Jack set the journal on the floor beside him, standing and stretching, yawning the words: “Not really, no.”

Upon noticing the pink light cast on the floor through the small window, Jack asked, “Do you think we should head back?”

Glen gave a curt nod, turning around to leave, and Jack ran to catch up.

*****

A young boy with golden hair and green eyes stood in the midst of a ruin; a caved in part of the city—or what once was the city.

After putting his hand to his chin in thought, and a good dose of looking around, he pulled a watch out of his pocket. When he flipped it open it began to play the soft tinkling notes of a somewhat sad song.

“I still don’t know what exactly happened here,” Oz muttered softly to himself, “but…I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He didn’t see the wolf poking its head out from around a wall behind him, didn’t see its ears perk up, nor, now that someone had finally heard and headed its warning, hear its satisfied howl;

“Thank you, Dear Rabbit.”

[this-idiots-left-eye]

Premonitions 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Character Focus: Glen (Oswald) Baskerville, Jack Vessalius, Vincent Nightray, Gilbert Nightray, Kevin Regnard, Oz Vessalius 

Summary: Jack, Glen, Vincent, and Gilbert thought they were going on a relaxing vacation in the mountains, but a creature from The Abyss has a bit of an adventure in store...or is it a warning? 

(Written for the Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter.")

(For those who’d like some Glen, Jack, Vince, and Gil cuteness. I definitely enjoyed writing some! It's something I've wanted to write about for a while)

Notes: This is actually a fic for Phmonth19! It was for the Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter." 

I liked a lot of the prompts during Phmonth19, and wanted to find a way to use multiple simultaneously. I liked the idea, but ended up struggling with where I wanted to go with it, and having too much to do during Phmonth19, so it didn't get written then. But I liked it enough to continue it and return to it eventually.

I hope you enjoy it even so!! Please know that when you comment you are both making my entire week, and motivating me to keep writing more fics like this one!!

Premonitions

A young boy weaved in and out of the crumbling artifices, hopping down from a half-broken wall to a mossy ledge on a lower level of the ruins. It was probably a room in the past. It wasn’t now.

They’d warned him not to go in here. But if forbidding something was incentive for most kids, it was practically a command to him.

They told him it was dangerous, unsafe, that anything could fall and crush him, or crumble beneath him, not to mention that there was a sort of energy here: it infected people, made them into madmen and monsters, and if said monstrosities didn’t attack and kill you…you might just become one yourself.

As if he needed a better invitation.

Most regretfully, he hadn’t found any horrifying monstrosities yet. Just a bunch of cracked stones and sewer rats looking for corpses to clean off. Occasionally something shimmered in the dirt, but more often than not it was just a rusted piece of metal, or cracked bit of glass.

He kicked up a board to see a dagger laying there. He frowned, considering it, before picking it up, examining the details on the hilt. Might make a nice souvenir if he could manage to clean the rust off.

He couldn’t help but wonder what happened here. People said this place was dropped into the Abyss, that it had become a hole to swallow all that dared to enter. But what exactly did that mean? He’d heard of the Abyss, and the Chains that lived within, but never of anything other than sinners being dropped into it. What kind of atrocities had everyone there committed to warrant the whole city being dropped into the Abyss?

He kicked another rock, before glancing up, his red eyes widening.

A wolf sat in front of him.

He hadn’t even heard its footsteps. It just sat there on the wall above him, swishing its tail. He took a few steps back.

It was gold and ethereal, its tail long and wispy, like a gust of wind frozen into flesh. Said tail flicked back and forth. White eyes left trails in the air—like slits in a mask, only letting the golden light inside it break through the eyes—yet they held no mal intent—(he’d learned to be able to see that, to feel it, almost). It seemed intelligent.

Was this one of the monstrosities they warned him about?

His hand tightened around the dagger.

The wolf stood, but after it took a few steps forward it looked over its shoulder as if to ask “Are you coming?”

The boy took a step forward himself, to run after its disappearing tail, compelled by some inclination; he knew he ought to follow it, that it wanted to show him something.

“Kevin! Kevin!” A familiar voice called from far away. “I’ll not have you sullying the Regnard name with another one of your insolent games! If you get eaten by some Chain you’ll only have yourself to blame!”

When Kevin looked back the wolf was gone.

*****

Jack breathed deeply through his nose, as he entered the cabin, then breathed out just as noisily.

“Smell that mountain air! I just love the snow, don’t you? I always feel like something’ amazing is going to happen!”

Glen rolled his eyes, dropping their bags—(which Jack had made him carry inside, citing the fact that he was carrying Vincent).

“Say, Jack…” the boy sitting on his shoulders spoke, “do you think we’ll see the northern lights up here?”

“I don’t know! …What do you think, Glen?”

“Probably not.”

“Aww!” Vincent pouted, bumping his fist on Jack’s head.

“Ow!” Jack reacted in an over exaggerated way.

“Eh! I’m sorry!”

When Jack had found out about the cabin the Baskervilles owned in the mountains he knew it would be the perfect place to spend a few days relaxing and playing in the snow—and what better way to remember how to have fun than to bring Gilbert and Vincent along?

When Jack brought up this idea, Glen had blatantly refused. Ever the responsible leader, Glen didn’t take vacations from his duties. But lately he had started having conversations with the rose bushes, and everyone agreed he could stand a few days off.

Glen was just starting to unpack their stuff when—

“You guys want to go sledding?” This was Jack’s voice, of course.

It was a resounding “yes,” from the kids, complete with jumping up and down and shouting.

“We just arrived,” Glen grunted. “Wasn’t the point of this trip to relax?”

“And what better way to relax then hurling yourself down a snowy mountain on a thin piece of wood?”

Glen blinked. “Reading.”

Jack grabbed his arm, pulling him out into the snow. “Don’t be such a fuddy duddy. Come on!”

Glen glared at his friend as he promptly dragged him off into the snow.

Soon they were flying up to the tallest hill they could find on Raven, then, after they successfully reached the top, they proceeded to push each other down it on sleds, with much giggling and whooping (from everyone except Glen). When they reached the bottom, they would fly back up on Glen’s chains—(who seemed to enjoy the show).

At one point, a little while into the festivities, Vincent was waiting for his turn when something in the corner of his eye flickered. He turned to see in the woods, behind a tree, a creature.

Vincent froze when he met the wolf’s gaze, a shiver running up his spine, more than just the cold, his face twisting in fear.

“What’s wrong, Vince?” Jack put a hand on his shoulder, glancing from the terrified boy to the empty air he was fixating on.

The wolf ran in a figure eight around two of the trees, brushing up against them, its form leaving tracks in the air. Then it paused again to stare at the boy with white, smoky eyes.

It didn’t look completely there.

Vincent pointed shakily towards it.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “…Where?”

He pointed more emphatically.

“I’m sorry Vince, I…I don’t see anything.”

“What’s going on?” Glen asked, hopping off Raven and landing beside them with Gilbert in a flurry of black wings.

Vincent just kept pointing, his finger a vibrating signal.

Glen’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jack demanded.

“It’s a wolf. Or at least…” he paused, noticing the strange color, and misty nature of the creature.

“I don’t see it,” Gilbert said softly.

“That’s okay,” Jack crouched down by him, “Neither can I.” He stood back up to his full height, reasoning with Glen, “If you two can see it, and we can’t…”

Glen nodded at him, before taking a few steps forward, and finishing the thought:

“I think, more likely than not, its something from the Abyss.” He squinted at it, watching it playfully thread the trees. “I think it wants us to follow it.”

Vincent tensed at the idea.

Glen looked over his shoulder, his eyes flicking to the boy. “I can always go after it by myself if you’d like to return to the cabin.”

“Oh it’ll be fine! Don’t worry!” Jack took the hands of both boys. “With Master Glen with us, nothing’s going to hurt us!”

Glen rolled his eyes, but Jack’s words seemed to comfort them.

Un-summoning Raven, Glen walked in front, the other three following a short distance behind.

When the spectral wolf saw they were going to heed its call, it moved further into the forest, always dancing around the trees as it waited for them to catch up.

They followed it quite some ways—(especially since they were tired from all the sledding)—until the trees stopped abruptly in a cliff edge. Jack had to put his arms out in front of the boys to keep them from walking any further.

As they raised their eyes, they saw across the gorge a plateau.

“I-Is it still there?” Gilbert asked softly, looking all around them.

Vincent and Oswald looked around but the wolf wasn’t anywhere close to them.

“There!” Vince pointed after a moment. The wolf was across the gorge, weaving in and out of a stone ruin on the plateau.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Gilbert asked nervously. “Maybe we’ve followed it far enough…”

Glen had already summoned Jabberwocky, and was currently climbing on its back.

“You coming?” He asked the group flatly, holding out his hand.

The three glanced at each other, before Jack helped the kids onto its back, and hopped on himself. Jack hugged the boys tightly, as Gilbert held just as tightly to Glen’s coat.

The wind was cold and biting as they flew through the air, but the ride was very brief, and they landed moments later in a puff of dust in the center of the ruins.

“What is this place?” Jack asked the air, and no one answered.

They ventured cautiously into the ruins, at first sticking together, but soon curiosity overtook them, and they each wandered in separate directions, captivated by different rooms. The place wasn’t too vast though, and thus didn’t allow them to stray too far from each other.

Glen found the throne room, or where it most likely once was; a huge empty room in the center of the ruins, empty, save for the collapsing chair, backed by the skeleton of a large window, holding broken pieces of colored glass. He slowly marched up to it, running his fingers along the ghost of the chair, looking out the window at the now frozen water far below, wondering what sort of king ruled here.

When he turned around, the wolf was sitting in the center of the room, swishing its tail at him. Glen was sure it wanted him to understand something, but he couldn’t quite discern what.

He noticed at the side of the room there was a large structure. At first he mistook it for a collapsed bit of wall, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piano. He set his fingers on a few of the notes, but they only gave a croak.

It’d been too long.

He lifted his head and raised his voice to ask the wolf about the place, and learn if it could respond, but it had moved on.

Gilbert found the old kitchen, the food there long since turned to compost for rats and roots. Then he found the servants’ quarters not too far from there, full of rotting bedframes and hungry mice, wondering what sort of servants were here, and if their king was as noble as Glen-sama.

He didn’t see the wolf pass beneath the doorframe behind him.

Vincent found a room that likely belonged to a child. It was faded, but there was paint on the walls: designs of flowers and vines. He almost stepped on a clay sculpting of a bird that may have served as a toy, once.

On a broken dresser he found a box which, once opened, turned out to play music, the notes discordant after years of rust and neglect.

He thought he saw something else, and lifted up the half-bug-eaten board. He immediately dropped it, wishing he hadn’t, the something that was there making him cover his mouth in shock and horror.

He felt a nudge at his back, and almost screamed, whirling around to see the wolf behind him. Fear glued his lips, welled his eyes with tears.

The wolf cocked its head to the side, as if confused by his fear. It licked his hand, and Vincent drew back, though it felt like a brush of wind.

“W-W-What do you want?!” He stammered.

But he could not understand the wolf’s words.

Jack descended a staircase a bit further out of the way and found—more in tact than much of the buildings—a dungeon.

It was a large stone room, lined with cells, sectioned off by rusting bars. He pressed one open with a creak and found an empty room, and a skeleton. He continued on until he found one without a skeleton, whose bars were bent, as if the person within had managed to escape through them. He entered through to find there was a journal in this one. He picked it up, brushed and blew off the dust and frost, the pages just as creaky and unwilling to budge as the doors.

He sat on the floor where he found it and began to read. Many of the pages were too damaged by time to read, the ink fading, the pages crinkling and crumbling, but he could make out at least bits of the story. It seemed the writer was in love with a girl, but, due to her being the ruler of this kingdom’s queen, they could never be together. As the pages continued, the writer seemed to grow more and more obsessed with her; his phrases containing less and less sense and sanity. Jack couldn’t tell exactly how he ended up in the dungeon, nor how he apparently broke out—if the bends weren’t made by weather or time—but in his not-quite-sane state, he must have done something very stupid. Maybe a lot of things.

When the final pages became too illegible, he looked up and saw in the waning sunlight, the tally marks on the wall. As he began to dust and defrost them, he realized the whole wall was covered in them. He ran his hand over the grooves, thinking of how long this person must have been left alone inside himself, and what that might do to a person.

He couldn’t see the wolf pacing around his feet, reading over his shoulder, couldn’t feel the wolf trying to nudge him, nor hear the wolf try to ask him voicelessly: “Do you understand? Do you understand?”

“There you are.” A deep voice broke the silence, almost making him jump.

Glen was standing in the doorway, Vincent and Gilbert at either side of him—(Vincent clinging to his coattails rather tightly).

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Jack set the journal on the floor beside him, standing and stretching, yawning the words: “Not really, no.”

Upon noticing the pink light cast on the floor through the small window, Jack asked, “Do you think we should head back?”

Glen gave a curt nod, turning around to leave, and Jack ran to catch up.

*****

A young boy with golden hair and green eyes stood in the midst of a ruin; a caved in part of the city—or what once was the city.

After putting his hand to his chin in thought, and a good dose of looking around, he pulled a watch out of his pocket. When he flipped it open it began to play the soft tinkling notes of a somewhat sad song.

“I still don’t know what exactly happened here,” Oz muttered softly to himself, “but…I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He didn’t see the wolf poking its head out from around a wall behind him, didn’t see its ears perk up, nor, now that someone had finally heard and headed its warning, hear its satisfied howl;

“Thank you, Dear Rabbit.”

[metoocaa-blog]

#MeTooCAA (Chicago 2010)

TW: sexual assault

98th CAA Conference – Chicago 2010. Written on 9 June 2011, in a letter to my rapist (never sent). The night from my point of view:

I had finished interviewing and a bunch of [university redacted] folks met in the lobby to go out for the evening to celebrate the close of the conference and the successful interviews for many of us. We ended up going to the place where I met * and his wife, a few nights prior. A good time at the bar. Drinks flowing freely. Felt good about the evening’s social dynamics. Even you made me feel comfortable because you weren’t up to your normal, controlling antics. ** and I were not ready to go home, and you decided to join us for a nightcap at the Hard Rock Hotel. Afterwards (it was quite late, and I was drunk), I accepted your invitation to walk me home – your hotel was just a few blocks past mine. I felt safe. Outside my hotel you grabbed me and kissed me. I didn’t expect it. want it. or respond. I WAS DRUNK.  Everything happened so fast. We were in my room. Removing my clothes. I thought it would just be easier, professionally, if I let it happen. I didn’t want you. My heart was with ***. I tried to just let my mind go blank. Could you not tell that I wasn’t my normal, active self? Did you just chalk it up to alcohol? When the blood came [a perineal tear], I was terrified. Horrified. Remember that this happened before, long ago with **** (my first sex partner). I told you to go shower while I assessed the situation. I felt immediately sober. Blood everywhere. A pint? You surely didn’t cause this with the (insignificant) size of your cock. It was that I was bone dry, and clearly not even my body was consenting. You showered. I realized the blood had stopped. I sat, crumpled on the floor, against the window. No longer able to bear your presence, I finally got the guts to tell you to leave. You told me to get dressed and walk you downstairs, because “if I bled out in the night,” you didn’t want the last person the hotel staff saw me with, and then asked me if I was clean, since you didn’t bother to use a condom. Had me promise to double-check. Never offering me the same. As if I wouldn’t after this. I didn’t bleed out in the night. Instead, I woke, showered, went to the [university redacted] breakfast. Told *****. Smiled and put up with the bullshit for ‘[university redacted] propaganda photos’ at the AIC. (Which I still occasionally see on the website [even on social media in 2018]). Freaked out to ****** on the phone outside of the MCA. Ate a cheeseburger at the Billy Goat Tavern (I did lose a lot of iron.)

Asshole. Self-absorbed asshole. Rapist (I said it, even if most of the time I cannot even think the word).

It [the blood] happened again. A few months later. I don’t think I was fully healed. It happened with ***. And it was one of his kindest moments. Used humor to pull me back out of the hole I was slipping into.

Every time I have sex (or any permutation thereof), it’s always at the back of my head that it [the blood] will happen again. Only when I know that it won’t horrify the other person if it does, can I relax. Only when they know what happened can I relax.

Asshole.

I went to CAA in NYC [in 2011] and was on the edge of a panic attack the whole time that I would have to see you. Interact with you as if you were not the worthless human being that I know you are.

I am getting help now. To get past this. You may have damaged me severely. But not permanently. You will NOT continue to fuck with my relationships. Or my professional life. You are not that important. You are just a rapist.

PS: Stop trying to communicate with me, as if all is fine. Pretend that we don’t know each other. I wish that were true, anyways.

 99th CAA Conference – New York City 2011 (written January 2019)

I couldn’t even call it what it was: rape. I spent the conference on the verge of a panic attack, worried that I would run into you again. I had drinks with ********, she named it (rape), and encouraged me to go and get professional help. I was so thankful for her kindness and friendship.

 100th CAA Conference – Los Angeles 2012 (written January 2019)

[university redacted] (forgoing the breakfast at the crack of dawn for the first and perhaps only time) held an evening reception. I was hanging out with my former professor and now friend, *********, and another friend of hers. We first went to another mixer (her alma mater), before wandering over to [university redacted]’s. I was making small talk with folks when I saw you wander in. It was at that point that I decided to take my leave. I said goodnight to *********, and made it out into the hallway when ********** (the director of the school) followed me out and asked me to come back in because he wanted to introduce me to some older alumni. Because I respect him, I reluctantly came back into the room. He made the introductions and moved on, leaving me to make small talk (which I can do, and do well). Suddenly you made yourself part of the conversation, and I could feel my blood pressure rising. I tried to politely excuse myself, and you followed me, shifting the conversation to how you knew that I had blocked you on social media. My body language gave everything away to *********. She knew that I had survived a sexual assault, knew it was with someone from [university redacted], but didn’t know any of the other details. I am not sure how much time passed with me again mentally shutting down as you interrogated me, and I don’t remember the details of your monologue, but I do remember ********* and her friend suddenly appearing on either side of me, informing you that we were leaving. They flanked me as we left the room, and you followed us out, continuing your monologue. I remember bits and pieces of it – something about you claiming that you did care about me (bullshit), and other such nonsense. ********* and her friend just made sure I had my eyes and my focus on them (instead of you) as we walked out in to the hotel lobby, and finally away from you.

We spent the rest of the night out at a restaurant, talking about the rape and them supporting me. I was so thankful for those two amazing women.

The next day you were at it again, this time staring me down from across the entry expanse into the convention center. I was sitting on a bench outside, and you made sure I saw you, and stared at me, keeping your head turned my way until you entered the building.

 104th CAA Conference – Washington DC 2016 (written January 2019)

Thankfully there were fewer interactions this time, but I am always on my guard. You found me while I was waiting at a bus stop, headed across town to see a friend from undergrad. You made sure to tell me that you knew where I was working now. I still refrain from staying at the conference hotel, while that was also true the night of the rape, I do it now to make sure I have someplace away from the conference for retreat, this time though, you walked towards what was also my hotel. I was on even higher alert as I went into and out of the hotel.

At the [university redacted] breakfast (the evening reception was a short-lived experiment), you made sure to pass directly behind me each time you made your way to the breakfast buffet spread. There were other paths you could take. While we were not at the same table, don’t think I didn’t notice. I only half paid attention to the conversations at hand.

  Mercat a la Planxa, restaurant in The Blackstone Hotel, written July 2018:

It’s still light outside, and there are people settled at tables around me, seemingly happily conversing with each other over drinks, steaks (and grilled green onions – which look quite good). I’ve ordered a 9 oz pour of their driest Spanish white, some croquetas de jamon, and the ‘pa amb tomaquet’ al estilo Catalan. It’s intentional that I’m seated here, at the end of a conference (this time the Midwest Museums Conference), writing this reflection. I stayed at The Blackstone for the 98th College Art Association Conference. I can’t quite remember when I checked in – either the 9th or 10th of February – and checked out late on the 13th. This AMM conference has me thinking quite a bit about that span of days – in many ways there are some resonances that I hadn’t quite realized would exist when I signed up for a room (this time) at the conference hotel – the Chicago Marriot. As I drove up, I realized that the hotel was just across the street from The Blackstone. Again, I was splitting a room with one of my closest friends from my master’s program, whom I hadn’t shared a room with since the 98th College Art Association Conference. She, again, was leaving a day before me. A few nights prior, at the after-conference drinks at the hotel bar, I recognized the all-too-familiar expression of a young colleague who was squirming under the unwanted attentions of a senior conference attendee. I had made the young colleague’s acquaintance earlier in the evening and knew that this was their first conference; that they were trying to find their sea legs as a salesperson, and the older colleague had (and I will be generous here) misread the younger colleague’s attempts at networking for interest. I decided to excuse myself from my conversation, insert myself in their conversation and see if the younger colleague wanted to join me at the bar to refill our drinks. They thanked me for helping them out. It happened again the next evening, with the same older colleague pursuing the younger colleague, and I again stepped in to put myself between the more senior colleague’s unwanted advances and their intended target. It was then that I realized that there was more operating here than basic human kindness: I was responding as a result of my sexual assault that happened just across the street, as I too tried to traverse the professional landmines of being a conference attendee, navigating the complex power networks of a professional conference.  

 (written January 2019)

I had been thinking for some time on how to turn the events of that night in February 2010 into some additional good. I say ‘additional’ because I already mark that night as the moment from which I would take no more shit. That I would do my best to always be assertive and speak truth to power. I’ve also trained and worked as a rape crisis counselor in Erie County, New York, hoping that I could provide a tether to resources for others that eluded me that night and the morning after. In this moment of presidential pussy grabbers and Supreme Court predators, #NotSurprised, #TimesUp, and #MeToo, it was time to take this conversation back to CAA and think about systemic change. I tell my story not because I think it is unique, in fact, I tell it because there are many others who have been the unwilling targets of predatory behavior by academics who “use informality, alcohol, power hierarchies and enforced proximity to exploit and harass their victims.”[1] It happens across academic conferences – a quick look at this year’s twitter threads from AHA and ASA (especially #MeTooPhD), and the beginnings of systemic change such as the 2017 American Political Science Association survey on harassment at annual meetings[2], the Women’s Classical Caucus’ statement on harassment at the Society for Classical Studies[3] (2017), the report “Open Secrets and Missing Stairs: Sexual and Gender-Based Harassment at Scientific Meetings” [4] (2017), and the American Library Association ‘statement of appropriate conduct’ for conferences[5] (2014).

CAA’s “Restatement of Values”[6] (2016) and “Guidelines for CAA Interviews”[7] (2015) start the conversation but leave open the question of onus and power in the situation.

#MeTooCAA, an Idea Exchange roundtable taking place at 10:30 am on Friday (2/15) begins a conversation on structural changes to power dynamics at CAA, providing space for and centering the marginalized and less powerful. In the meantime, feel free to share your own stories here or use the #MeTooCAA hashtag to converse across social media.

[1] Tweet by Dr. Charlotte Lydia Riley (@Lottelydia) 1/2/19

[2] http://www.apsanet.org/portals/54/files/apsa%20ethicscommitteesexual%20harassment%20report%20final.pdf?ver%3D2018-02-01-133219-887

[3] https://classicalstudies.org/scs-news/scs-statement-harassment-annual-meeting

[4] https://static1.squarespace.com/static/51a662bde4b06440a1627b96/t/58b067e846c3c4cf659bd4e3/1487955946386/Open+Secrets+and+Missing+Stairs.pdf

[5] http://www.ala.org/conferencesevents/statement_appropriate_conduct

[6] “We defend academic freedom as forcefully as we reject discrimination, bigotry, sexual assault, and violence against the vulnerable.” See http://www.collegeart.org/news/2016/11/22/caa-restatement-of-values-november-2016/

[7] “Conduct meetings in neutral spaces such as the interviewing tables and booths provided at the conference by CAA or in hotel suites which offer neutral spaces outside of bedrooms. CAA does not condone interviewing candidates in hotel bedrooms.” See http://www.collegeart.org/standards-and-guidelines/guidelines/etiquette

Written by Claire K.

[floggingink]

Riverdale: “Chapter Eleven: To Riverdale and Back Again”

the 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie and the Pussycats serenade Riverdale High students like three angels of the Lord appearing to them over the intercom, and the glory of Grade A Dark Amber shown around them, and they were terrified

Josie’s ombre pink braids? good morning

Jughead doesn’t have a homeroom? OR A HOME?

can you believe Cheryl can honestly hike her leg up like that fantastic statue of Venus where she’s busting it all out? meanwhile, Veronica, touching up her lip liner like it’s NOT all happening behind her

What damn high school in America: Principal Weatherbee won’t even let Betty delegate physically putting up the Homecoming decorations? cold

Certified pedigree: Archie’s mom, MOLLY RINGWALD, is staying over for a few days out of concern for her son’s happiness and/or safety in Riverdale. A) they are not showing us the implied scene where she says she doesn’t want to “kick Jughead out of the guest room” only to be told that Jughead isn’t sleeping in the guest room so much as he’s sleeping in Archie’s room. B) THIS is MOLLY RINGWALD’S first outfit? morally questionable. a very strange sweater. it isn’t a crew neck, it isn’t a turtleneck, and the color is this off-peach white-person that bleeds too uncannily into her neck, and she has on a lot of blush...her liner is darker than her lips...maybe she is still experimenting, like in Sixteen Candles

Archie correcting her to say “songwriting” as opposed to just “singing,” like in the pilot when he said he wasn’t writing “poems” but rather “song lyrics”

how do we feel about Veronica’s growing obsession with all things her father? how he’s turned into an omnipresent yet unseen, merciful-cum-wrathful god in her life, giveth and taketh away, betraying and bestowing upon the Lodge women, both the reason they had to flee and the solace they gather around in the evening, charming and infecting all people, places, and things Veronica has in her life? because I love it

speaking of fathers, SKEET ULRICH has shaved

he appears to have some very wholesome travel postcards magnetized to the fridge, and I think a Crock-Pot. and an EXTREMELY RESPONSIBLE bowl of fruit on his little kitchen table

FP…….asked to read Jughead’s WIP…....to see how much Jughead knows…….he is……..COLD!!!!!! bow down, Weatherbee, in the presence of a master!

A) Jughead hasn’t titled it yet, the twit

B) FP does some incredible parenting, for sure, calling it “EXCELLENT” (while wearing his wedding ring on his middle finger? COLD!!!!!), saying Jughead has “A GIFT,” which is par for the course required feedback for your high school child’s creative writing, which always sucks, no matter how good it is, proportionally, it always sucks, but you say it’s excellent because you know one day they’re going to end up in a college workshop and they’ll be torn to pieces and they’ll need to be able to go back in their headspace to a safe place and it’ll be you, their father, telling them two years ago that they had “a gift, thank god you’re not wasting it”

C) FP adds one packet of sugar to his 16-oz., EDGY!!!!! can one packet even sweeten anything??? hahahaha I add like six!!! I have an addiction!!!! just like FP!!!

D) “It’s like he chose me.” SHUT UP JUGHEAD

E) FP is not interested in his son’s choosing a thematic focus on Riverdale over plotting, would like a suspect list from the POV of Jason’s peers, who seem to be making much further headway on his death than the cops

F) “Can I make a suggestion?” “That’s what Betty says. And then it turns into a dozen suggestions.” classic workshop couch-phrasing, “a suggestion,” Betty is the editor we all need

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica calls it “a moment” too, like Jughead! GOD BLESS!!!

okay, they DID NOT have sex, like my eyes told me they did. they “crashed in separate beds.” I PLAYED MYSELF

magenta, again, is a FANTASTIC color on Veronica

Archie is “boyfriend material” now? is Veronica huffing glue?

I use Veronica’s “bandwidth” analogue a lot, mostly in regards to making excuses for not calling my mother back, but I say “RAM.” pros/cons? am I old?

I googled it and it looks like bandwidth is data use and RAM is like the space for data use

Betty’s see-through floral collar is just a little bit of heaven

Alice looks awesome! her lace-lined V-neck sweater, almost-trumpet skirt no one looks good in, pinkest pink cardigan!

“Oh my god, mom.”

Joaquin is a “gay greaser serpent”

“which is why I have prepared a seemingly innocuous list of questions”

the Blossoms appear to have a Turner painting of a forest hanging outside the Wig Room

in any other world, the patriarch wearing wigs to hide his grey hair would be a mildly amusing side-note, but on Riverdale it’s like, CLIFFORD IS WEARING RED WIGS. DID HE FREEZE HIS SON’S BODY? POST YOUR ANSWERS ON BLACKBOARD

“If you want to go after Jughead’s dad, I’m in.” I changed my mind. I love Jughead and Veronica not being friends. I CHANGED MY MIND

Cheryl’s black furry jacket!

Betty deserves “nightmare Smurfette.” she does. it’s okay, it’s just that she does deserve it. it’s okay

Gay?!: “co-queens,” CO-QUEENS!!!!

Archie is like, WHOOOOAA, Betty, no??? you don’t want me to? holy—

Archie can’t believe Veronica led him into this deserted science classroom to talk about...the murder investigation. remember three weeks ago, when he knew nothing? he misses those times

Veronica doesn’t really care about Jughead being collateral damage! she acknowledges it abstractly but doesn’t really care!!! MY SLYTHERIN PRINCESS

MOLLY RINGWALD wears a verrrry interesting pine green bathrobe-robe to “pick up” Fred for some lunch that do a lot better things for her coloring than her sweater

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: subtle dig at Hermione with “working for Fred” as opposed to “with” him? or more likely it’s that Fred used that particular preposition talking about her before

Hermione has brought up being a “mean girl in high school” and this being payback before, I think it was in the interview with Fred in the first episode?

why is Betty PHYSICALLY putting up the decorations? surely she has bureaucratic minions to do the literal heavy lifting

PAUSE to reflect on the fact that Polly gets a DAILY MILKSHAKE

………“sleeping quarters”

like they’re racehorses or something??? or on the Titanic? SLEEPING QUARTERS?

“Damn good coffee”:  surely EVERYONE welcomes back Scheming Alice Cooper, baking a peach pie for her character, information-gathering “date,” information-gathering “date,” all the Cooper girls do this

I would not put it past her to be sprinkling some truth-serum shit ONTO the pie, like Charlotte Charles and her homeopathic mood enhancers on Pushing Daisies

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: Alice uses lonely, family-starved Jughead as a round-faced pawn in her game of Get FP and it takes but the merest flexing of this fact in Betty’s face to get Betty to back off

pepperoni and red pepper pizza IS AMAZING, but you know what is even more amazing? green peppers and mixed Greek olives. check it out, Arch

Mary’s hair in the kitchen lighting is this incredible, almost purple-undertone red

Mary has politely not said anything about A) Jughead still wearing his beanie despite being, now, sixteen B) Jughead SLEEPING ON ARCHIE’S FLOOR

JUGHEAD’S FACE when he nods at Archie to get him to agree to like giving permission for his parents to come to the dance, like, Dude, yeah

Fifth period is AP English: I love whatever “So the worm turns” means, even though it’s possibly the creepiest idiom in English (not sourced), and of course it’s in Jughead’s repertoire

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Episode 11 has blessed us with the true mystery surrounding Riverdale: Jughead’s hair routine. clearly the boy uses a styling mousse after showering and blow-dries it upside down with a round brush to achieve THAT level of bounce and manageability

the female gaze: Archie sleeps shirtless even in this, the dead of an autumnal winter (October)

CAN YOU BELIEVE??!?!!! HOW QUICK ON THE UPTAKE ARCHIE IS ABOUT FP! damn! like damn!!!! “Maybe you should wait” is good enough, like WHOA!, but he totally knows, from Veronica’s prompting hours before in the back of his mind, when Jughead says FP asked to read what’s basically a parallel investigation of the Jason Blossom murder, it AAALLLLL COMES TOGETHER FOR ARCHIE. Archie has never felt this feeling before!!! I’m so proud!!!

Jughead doubts it: Jughead was right about the rendezvous, but he didn’t know it was A RENDEZVOUS FOR MURDER

Veronica was rich: God, the art around the Lodge apartment is SO bland. PLEASE

Archie is going to DO the same thing as Veronica, the snooping, but from a place of PROTECTING Jughead, the opposite as Veronica, which is a spicy cocktail of trouble

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: of course Cheryl and Polly wear kimonos while putting on makeup

of course Cheryl says “fur-reek”

those red lacquer jewelry boxes!!!!

I KNEW THE RING WOULD BE BACK!!!!!!! NANA ROSE!!!!

“Hands off, Gollum.”

the Blossom corpse: Cheryl moves fast from “Pollykins” to threatening Polly’s bodily safety and the gas pedal is Jason

Betty is wearing a pale blue off-the-shoulder dress and looks calmly stunning, like a Disney princess from the 80’s, Jughead is wearing black-on-black-on-black and looks adorable, a suit that fits

FP is presumably NOT swinging by the dance after dinner, while Alice found some very nice dangling Coldwater Creek earrings

Alice’s nail polish is GREY

Best costume bit: Veronica is dressed like a sparkly vampire with a cropped jacket WITH A FUR COLLAR, WITH her new pearls, and Archie is in red-orange velvet. give thanks to the Lord, for He is good

the mounted bass on FP’s wall baffles me every time

Jason threw the ring back at Clifford the morning he ran away? it wasn’t on Polly’s finger?

you knew some shit was about to happen when Penelope WATCHED Polly drink her “daily milkshake”

God, a DAILY MILKSHAKE? this has shaken me to my core

though she is eating for three

Jughead eats: all Jughead gets this episode is the Cooper dinner! is he just being polite? can it possibly be any good?

Hal manages to drag FP and Alice simultaneously by reminding everyone FP lives in a trailer park and reminding everyone Alice threw a brick at him

HOW FAST does FP take back the reins with his “King and Queen of Hell” story? HOW FAST!!!!!

I still can’t believe Archie put those pieces together about FP and Jughead’s story. like I am so excited he did that

“No, this is a fun story, I promise.”

FP KNOWS ABOUT THE FIRST COOPER PREGNANCY, ERGO, THE “APPOINTMENT”, HOW ON EARTH IS THIS POSSIBLE

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: this scene is YET ANOTHER amazing, AMAZING tone-switch by FP wherein he very quietly scares everyone by speaking at a normal pace and tone about something that makes everyone uncomfortable

Betty and Jughead, honestly, have no idea what anyone is talking about now

...or is it black-on-dark blue-on-black? what color is Jughead’s shirt? I’m second-guessing now

Alice’s left eyebrow is legendary and Betty’s stoneface is legendary

the Blossom parents do a bit of an about-face with Cheryl to bring them back to her camp against Polly

Cheryl’s lipstick and nail polish and dress match perfectly, which scares me

Cheryl’s hair: and her hair of course, in an extremely high ponytail, is perfect

Cheryl’s sheaths: and that RED DRESS!!!!!!!

GOOD GOD, THEY’RE STILL IN THAT TRAILER!!!!

Archie is right on the money AGAIN when he says that Veronica is HOPING to find something incriminating because the uncertainty of who Hiram Lodge is is so nerve-wracking for her that she can’t accept another outcome

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” is always a good one to break out, like for parties. Veronica Lodge and Jed Bartlet would probably get along like gangbusters

These students are legally children: I don’t believe even Betty and Jughead would have the temerity to make out DURING a break-in

Archie > Dawson: I think Archie grabs Veronica’s bag FOR HER on the way out because she forgets! Archie is like, like a SUPERHERO this episode!

the Coopers, presuming Jughead is using Betty’s, both have clear umbrellas

FP telling Jughead to be “a gentleman”; “He always is, Mr. Jones.”

although since FP is pimping out one of his gang members for the collective good, I’d be interested to know what being “a gentleman” means, in Southside context

I’m truly hoping that when Jughead got back into the truck, FP was anticipating Jughead asking him some sort of sex question

OR scolding him for making Betty feel weird at dinner

uh, is there a Toledo I don’t know about that isn’t the Toledo in Ohio? I mean, OHIO? TOLEDO, OHIO? WHAT FRESH HELL?

Sixth period is Intro to Film: mark this day, in the year two thousand and seventeen in the Common Era, on which Jughead began a Worry Montage in his head and gazed out at his girlfriend from behind a rainy window, standing in the rain in a party dress staring into the distance, while a Sad Teen Song began playing in the background

am I crazy or is Betty’s little clutch see-through?

Jughead wants to “figure something out together,” continues to long desperately to be in perfect synch with someone despite himself

Gay.: Cheryl does her cover with Betty EXCELLENTLY, turning it into something she can be mean about

Alice and Mary in the girls’ room doing the thing where they only look at each other’s reflections while insulting each other, reapplying lipstick

“What the hell?”: Veronica falls into her mother’s trap wherein if she had just acted like she and Archie were gaily chatting with Alice about their dresses everything would be fine, but instead her facial expression reads explicitly as “I was in a trailer park tonight”

just as when Kevin told Veronica that Mr. Muggs had like, put a gun in his mouth, so does Betty go into A FUGUE STATE as she puts two and two together and realizes Veronica went snooping behind her back

THE CLOSE-UP OF BETTY’S EYES WITH THE STROBE LIGHTS TURNING BLUE AS SHE GAZES STRAIGHT AT VERONICA, UNABLE TO BELIEVE THIS BETRAYAL, HER HEARTBEAT SLOWING LIKE CHRISTIAN BALE’S IN EQUILIBRIUM, BETTY IS ABOUT TO ASK SOME QUESTIONS

Veronica may or may not be slightly afraid in this moment, as she did witness Betty holding a man’s head under boiling water with her high heel

Archie and Veronica’s duet is adorable, because of course it is

but EVEN BETTER, like when Archie was singing at the talent show AND Betty and Jughead discovered Jason’s car, now Archie and Veronica are singing AND the cops are raiding FP’s trailer!!!

what is Cheryl distracted about? her shady parents? is Cheryl distracted about her shady parents at Homecoming??? I love that Cheryl didn’t bother with a back-up date, but rather stands alone in a sea of dancing young people and stares off to the side, distracted by her shady parents, sort of in the way

God bless Moose: Archie swings his guitar around, and Moose is like, YEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!!! BRO!!!!!!

Please protect Betty: Betty CANNOT. believe. what she is seeing. or coming to understand, rather. is she getting a premonition that something is about to go wrong? because she DOES believe FP is innocent, or she said she does. maybe she just knows that with her mother involved, something bad is imminent anyway

FP feels the ground shift when that lockbox comes out

IS—THAT—MS—GRUNDY’S—GUN????????????? OH SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

I love Mary’s super-calm black dress and I love Hermione’s dangly earrings and I even love Fred’s white suit

you KNOW Archie wore Chucks to the dance, please. I think even Jughead is in dark dress shoes! but I guess if he’s performing, he has to stay lowkey, for his brand

Jughead’s shirt is blue. rest easy

Veronica could have delivered that better

Jughead covers his mouth like, EXTREMELY DRAMATICALLY, and points to Archie and Veronica, “these two” with two fingers, he is so beyond, beyond

Betty has on TINY PURPLE BOW EARRINGS

OBVIOUSLY Betty didn’t KNOW about the snooping, I mean, OBVIOUSLY

Jughead, a word. I would like you to calm down. I know you feel big feelings, and that you feel them .5% more than other people. I know you’re under a lot of stress, even though you have fantastic hair, with or without your hat. I know you’re a “creative type.” a “writer,” you know? listen, okay, I think you’re great. but I would like you to calm down with Betty. I was with you in the garage, you know, even in the garage, most of it! but I would like you to stop acting like Betty is the head of a Betty-conspiracy whose goal is to upend your life. Betty CLEARLY, and she IS TELLING YOU, she didn’t know what Archie and Veronica were doing. and you know, YOU KNEW Alice invited FP over to grill him because—because you were right there too!!! it’s not like she was grilling him secretly, in another room! so maybe we can calm down! maybe we can stop snipping at Betty to her face all the time. remember when you climbed a ladder to her bedroom window to check on her (remember when he was in her bedroom?), just because you love her that much? and got all flustered when she smiled at you? can we go back to feeling #blessed in her presence, Betty, the sweetest girl in the world, unless she is Dark Betty? maybe we can try and do that. get back to me

honestly the news that Jughead’s father has been arrested can only have come from Fred, otherwise it would have been too...too cruel…

YOU KNOW WE GOT A LITTLE SCENE OF JUGHEAD TOSSING HIS FATHER’S RUINED FURNITURE AROUND IN TORMENT

my god, but Jughead looks EXACTLY like his dad when he lifts his head back up. he looks EXACTLY like his dad

I don’t know what to make of “I love Jughead”!!!!! I don’t know!!!! she follows it up immediately with him being “like her family,” so it’s probably more like how she can “love” Archie (now) and “love” Veronica, etc., as a chosen family, friend-family-love, you know, agape

—although if she means it romantically, you know Betty and Jughead as a couple are DOOMED!!!!!!! the ticking clock starts now!!!! AND I LOVE IT!!!!!

Alice sees Dark Betty in Betty’s eyes and wisely steps aside

...so I guess Hal put the gun there…? although Fred also knew Alice had the gun? or did he??? I forget who knows what, exactly. I don’t know if Alice told Hal she found that gun. but Fred was at the dance/wants Jughead to be happy/lowkey adores FP, while Hal doesn’t give a damn about the Joneses, right, so like…..who???????

the Lodges sitting on their couch, shell-shocked

Archie is drinking…...a restorative….glass of milk? with like…...a cinnamon stick or something in it? is this MOLLY RINGWALD’S doing?

Riverdale is truly so fucking bonkers that CHICAGO is ostensibly a safer place for Archie to live

Cheryl’s a psychopath: Cheryl “Perry Mason” Blossom using a hand mirror to check on Polly’s breathing

Penelope has Clifford’s “word” that “he will pay” for killing Jason

Betty’s handbag is a see-through plasticky thing with little sparkles and shinys on it, it zips shut, Betty is a princess

are they ASSUMING this gun is the gun that killed Jason, which wouldn’t make a lot of sense, like FP could just have a gun lying around because he’s FP Jones, but if it’s really the gun, like, isn’t it also Ms. Grundy’s gun, like there can’t be TWO guns, like—DID MS. GRUNDY’S GUN KILL JASON???

the leader of a local biker gang has been framed in the murder of a drug-mule football star, who got shot with a pedophile’s gun, probably over maple syrup

NEXT WEEK: RIGHT NOW: has Cheryl slapped Jughead yet? WHY IS SHE SLAPPING JUGHEAD, IS IT A GOOD REASON? FOR GOD’S SAKE, WHY, LIKE, WHY NOT, BUT WHY?

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Ch. 36 - Outnumbered, Outgunned, and Outmatched

Chapter Synopsis: As Qrow and Team RNJR settle in the Tower to fulfill Ozpin's last task, Team "ENMY" is on its way to fulfill the assassination contract on Qrow Branwen's life.

Series Synopsis:

Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy.

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

(After a bit of hiatus, a dead computer, an external hard-drive that failed to backup my files, and having to rewrite my notes and chapters, the ENMY series continues! I am determined!)

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Outnumbered, Outgunned, and Outmatched

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“If you think your opponent’s always going to be as honorable as you,

You’ve got another thing coming.”

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One night had passed, since Qrow and Team RNJR settled themselves in the Tower of Tamonten. A name they found for the tall pagoda, after Ren explored more of its ruins.

Based on what they found, the structure was formerly a place of knowledge, and possible school of worship. Below the top floor, were countless levels to train and learn. Statues of long-past figures were erected in and outside its walls. Scrolls filled its shelves, on the verge of toppling from their cupboards. In another time, this place may have fulfilled a similar role to Haven and Beacon Academy.

At least, that was the conclusion Ren came to, while musing himself more with the ruin. The rest of his team opted to keep watch over Qrow.

“Victory is mine! I’m Queen of the Tower~♪ I’m Queen of the Tower~♪”

“How…the…”

As Jaune stared horrorstruck at the Mahjong tiles in front of them, Nora counted the points of her winning hand that put the rest of the players into bankruptcy. The other two at the table, showed no response whatsoever.

“How are you so good at this game?!”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“’Cause you usually lose at every game we play. And most of the time, it ends with you slapping everything off the table.”

“Psh! I’m not that bad,” Nora waved.

“Remember the time, we played Atlasopoly?”

“Psh!....No.”

“You smacked my airship piece up my nose!”

“I don’t…Psh! Remember that…”

“Pyrrha had to use her Polarity to get it out.”

“Oh, yeah! That was gross! You have a lot of boogers! Ew!”

“It was your fault!”

“…….”

Nora started whistling to feign innocence and gather everyone’s chips. To which, Jaune could only give a dejected sigh, while looking to the other two players.

Qrow remained quiet the whole time. The game was played with an absent mind. His true attention lay elsewhere.

Jaune could almost picture Ozpin speaking to him. Their private telepathic conversation going on about who knows what. The possible secrets piqued his interest, but he convinced himself they didn’t matter to him.

His curiousity drifted to Ruby, who was also being unsettlingly silent. From time to time, the girl’s sight would flit to different parts of the office. Darting to corners, like chasing some invisible object.

“Hey, Ruby? You there?”

“Hm? What’s up, Jaune?” she blinked out of her trance.

“Is there…something you wanna tell us? Like, is there something wrong with this room?” He then, whispered low, “Is it haunted?”

“Kiiiind offff.”

“What?! Really?!”

*Snort* “No. Haha! You’re so gullible!”

“Don’t do that! I’m already freaking out here! We’re stuck in this creepy tower, Ren’s been gone for a while, Nora’s winning games, your Uncle looks like he’s possessed by a zombie…”

“How do you get possessed by a zombie?”

“…and you’re acting like you can see ghosts!”

“Don’t be silly! They’re not ghosts…Unless they’re dead. And you guys are dead. Then, I am seeing ghosts.”

“No! You’re not getting me again!”

“But seriously, I don’t know what they are.”

Jaune gulped his saliva worriedly.

“Wh-what do you see?”

“Well, sometimes there’s this big guy in black armor walking around, reciting poetry. Then, there’s Professor Port and Professor Oobleck yelling about Grimm stuff.”

“Professor Port and Oobleck?”

“Yeah. Something about the truth of Remnant. They look kind of happy, but also worried. And then, there’s…um…”

“What?”

“Well…” Ruby looked down at her hands, and fidgeted a little. “There are these flashbacks I get from when Beacon Tower fell.”

“………..You mean, when Pyrrha?”

The girl’s voice became small and sad as she squeaked out, “Yes. That. I’m sorry, Jaune.”

“…”

A heavy atmosphere filled the room. Not even the chaotic gales blowing outside could distract the tension. And Ruby and Nora waited patiently for Jaune’s response.

“Can you show me?”

“What?”

“Pyrrha’s last moments. Can you show them to me?”

“Jaune. I don’t know if I—“

“Please, Ruby. I’m begging you…”

Under the gaze of the pleading boy’s eyes, Ruby shrunk further. She became more daunted, when Nora nudged by her shoulder.

“I want to see Pyrrha too,” she said.

“I think we all would,” Ren joined, as he entered the office. A bundle of scrolls curled in his arms.

Ruby traded glances with the three of them, and gave it some thought.

Her powers were far from mastered, or even controllable. Let alone using it for herself, she didn’t really know if she could make them work to include other people.

It was a great risk. One, Qrow had explicitly told her not to take. If it were any other situation, she would have refused her friends, no matter how much it hurt.

But this Tower was different.

It felt protected for some reason. And the veil between this world and the other, was incredibly thin in these hallowed grounds. Perhaps, if it was here, she would be able to use it safely.

“It should be fine,” Qrow suddenly answered. “From what Oz tells me, this Tower is safe from Salem. In fact, this place was built to educate and train those like you. So, why don’t you give it a shot?”

Ruby stared at her Uncle, who winked back. An odd smile surfaced on the man’s face that didn’t look quite his own. As if, it belonged to another.

The girl took the words to heart and faced her friends.

“Okay. Hold my hands.”

Jaune grasped Ruby’s right, while Nora and Ren grasped her left.

“I’m sorry, if it doesn’t work.”

“It’ll work,” Jaune said immediately. “I know you can do it.”

“…..Kay...”

She took several heaving breaths in and out. Her eyes shut and her face scrunched cutely, as she grunted in concentration. The effort, starting to make her cheeks turn red.

Then, the three felt Ruby’s Aura pass through their bodies and pull them in. Her eyelids lifted, and a blinding silver light encompassed their visions.

The office around them shifted. The interior molded with different designs, but always the same dimensions. Figures moved about the corridor in fast-forward and reverse. Hundreds of voices blared at once.

But as time passed, the numerous discussions narrowed down to one in particular.

“Barty? Barty, what ails you, my friend?”

“It’s these accounts…” Professor Oobleck responded, in a sentence much slower than his usual pace. He appeared crestfallen, both hands planted on the surface of the desk, as if to brace himself.

“What does it say?”

“The truth… If what is written here is correct, Ozpin is not the man I thought he was,” he lamented. “Salem. The Grimm. The Four Maidens. The ones possessing Silver Eyes. It’s…too much.”

“You shouldn’t trust everything you read. In spite of what Papyrus may say, these documents could be written fiction. You can’t know for sure.”

“But I can, Peter…I can…”

Oobleck took his glasses off. A few tears fell from his eyes. Full of concern, Port picked up the tome that was set aside, and decided to read it for himself.

After scanning a few of its pages, he was filled with the same shock that distraught his friend. It was not only the content that made his insides sink, but the name of the one, who recorded the journal.

“Summer Rose…” Port uttered.

“You can recognize her handwriting. The papers I’ve graded with the same grammar mistakes…Papyrus mimicked everything perfectly in her recording.”

“No…Ozpin, say it isn’t so…”

Professor Oobleck mustered himself back up with something like anger.

“We still have more research to do, Peter. A greater task now awaits us.”

“What…What else can we look for?”

“Although I am convinced of the authenticity of Summer’s recollection, as a man of history, I must know both sides. Which means, I require Ozpin’s memoires. No, it would be more accurate to refer to that sentient consciousness as the Wizard from this point forward. Come, Peter! Again, we must delve into the annals of the past! The people of Remnant demand it! The truth demands it!”

As he was about to call up the next volume to investigate, he bade one more look to the book lying on the desk.

“And for the sake of my former student,” he quietly vowed to himself. “And the ones, who come after.”

“I must press on.”

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* * * * *

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The office around Team RNJR shifted again to the ruins of Beacon Tower.

A colossal dragon circled the skies, and below, two warriors reached the end of their battle.

Cinder held Pyrrha’s chin in her hand. A parting taunt to her vanquished foe. And the scarlet-haired girl was broken.

She could not stand. Molten shards embedded themselves into her heel. The awareness of the coming deathblow, all too known to her.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune shouted without thought.

And for a brief moment, the girl looked his way.

A quiet fervor kindled, and dispelled her fear.

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“…Yes.”

“PYRRHAAA!!!!”

Cinder let the arrow loose, and it pierced Pyrrha’s heart.

…

…

…

They returned to the Tower of Tamonten.

Jaune dropped to the floor and punched its stone-cold marble.

“NOOO!!! PYRRHA! PYRRHAAA!!!” he cried again.

Nora buried herself in Ren’s arms. The sorrow she felt was so intense, she clawed and grabbed at his chest. Ren didn’t show his grief on the surface. He wanted to be there for the others. So, he quietly wept beneath.

Only Ruby, who had seen the exact scene playout countless times, wasn’t overcome with sorrow. In all honesty, she wanted to kneel beside them. The memory never ceased to hurt, no matter how many times she saw it.

But something else demanded her attention.

“So, they saw it, huh?” Qrow asked.

“Yeah. Uncle Qrow,” Ruby said with a serious tone. “We need to stop the—“

Suddenly, windchimes within the Tower began to ring. It was a strange thing, seeing that even after opening a window, they never made a sound. But at that moment, the high-pitched bells echoed up and down the whole structure.

While Jaune and Nora were at a loss, Ruby, Qrow, and Ren lifted their heads in the same direction. Through whatever acute sense they possessed, they identified an incoming enigma.

“Is that…an airship?” Ren mouthed absentmindedly.

“Seems like it. Better be ready, kids,” Qrow warned. “I doubt they’re friendly.”

“They aren’t,” Ruby answered. “Jaune.”

The boy remembered back to what Ozpin said about the ones, who would try to stop the synchronization process.

“Who are they, Ruby?”

“…”

“Ruby! Is it them? Is it the ones responsible for Pyrrha?!”

“…”

She sighed.

“It’s—“

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* * * * *

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Emerald, Mercury, and Neo observed the top of the hurricane. A tiny hole was visible in the center of it, indicating the location of the Tower.

Their mid-sized airship carried them over the Windpath in record time. As one of Mistral’s newest models, it was equipped with the latest designed engine. However unfortunate for the team, Emerald had hijacked it during development stages, so it lacked any true artillery or reinforced armor. But its barebone structure did help in shortening the travel time.

When their aircraft hovered directly above their destination, the three squinted their eyes at the towering pagoda off the side. They also took notice of the random debris rotating around the structure in a storm. Trees and whole boulders were caught up in its winds. Even pieces of ruin gathered from elsewhere in the Windpath, found its way into the funnel.

“It’s like a big, flushing toilet,” Mercury commented.

“Gross. Thanks for that unseeable image,” Emerald replied, while folding a paper airplane.

After straightening the nose-end, she flew the plane down, and watched it circle the Tower at continuously accelerating speeds—

Until it was ripped to shreds by the vicious cycle.

“Well, that was enlightening!” Emerald said, fake cheerfully. “We should probably park the ship here. Get ready to drop in about half an hour.”

“Half an hour? Shouldn’t we drop now? If we wait too long, they might come after us.”

“We should be so lucky. But it’s around noon. We haven’t had lunch yet. Doubt they have.”

“You think we can get them to fight on an empty stomach?”

Emerald looked to Neo. ““They’re all there; Qrow, Jaune, Nora, Ren, Ruby?”

She nodded.

“Any suspicious movement? Surprise guests?”

Neo shook her head.

“Great. Keep an eye on them, and let me know if they start eating. Until then, we’ll let ‘em soak. Wear on their nerves a little. I want them as soft as possible, when we go in.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” Mercury said.

“No, duh. At this point, I’ll buy every little advantage we can get.”

Emerald took a seat on the ship’s deck and pulled out some ration bars. Apparently, they were going to eat and go over the plan once more, before making a move.

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* * * * *

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“What are they doing?” Jaune asked, as he stared up at the airship. “Why aren’t they attacking?!”

“No idea,” Ruby answered.

“Team ENMY… Is Yang there?”

Ruby, Qrow, and Ren honed their senses simultaneously, searching for any trace of the girl.

“No,” Ruby finally replied. “Yang isn’t with them. Maybe, it’s a lie she’s on their team?”

“I hope so. Cause if she was working with the people, who helped Cinder, I’ll never forgive her.”

Ruby didn’t answer that, only continuing to stare up at the airship in a somber manner.

Emerald. Mercury. Neo.

She formed the names on her lips. It was strange to think about, but the thought of revenge never entered her mind.

Not only Pyrrha, but they were also at fault for what happened to Penny. Another memory that pained her every time her thoughts went to it. But the feeling was never accompanied by anger. Just a hollow taste of helplessness. The regret of thinking she could have done more.

Ruby sighed, and double-checked one more time.

She’s not there.

A part of her was genuinely relieved her sister was nowhere to be found. But another was disappointed there would be no reunion. Although the circumstances would have been horrible, Ruby thought it would have been nice to see Yang again.

She measured the emotions of her surrounding allies. Anger was erupting within Jaune. Likewise, Nora and Ren stoked with a similar fire. Qrow’s mood was more tempered, but he never forgot what Emerald and Mercury did to Amber, the previous Fall Maiden.

Ruby wondered if there was something wrong with her for not feeling the same way. But she would worry about such things later. For now, the hardest fight of her life was ready to unfold.

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* * * * *

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As Team “ENMY” finished lunch, Mercury did the final tune-up of his Talarion. Emerald was on deck with him, but Neo had chosen to eat in the privacy of a cabin.

“Hey, Em.”

“Yeah, Merc?”

He hesitated.

“I’m sorry.”

“………What?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I think I had, like, a seizure for a second. What did you say?”

“I said, I was sorry.”

*Choke* Cough* Emerald thumped her chest, trying to ease the food caught in the wrong pipe.

“Now, I’m not so sorry. Why don’t you just go ahead and choke, and die?”

“What in the hell brought this on? Wait, are you planning to sacrifice your life for me? Cause if you are, I’m totally cool with that.”

Mercury sighed tiredly, trying to stay serious.

“I bet you wish you hadn’t gone with me to meet my family, back when I first got their message. After all, none of this really has anything to do with you.”

“Dumbass. They knew we were partners. The moment they screwed you with this contract, they screwed us too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh, then what is it? This about earlier?”

“I was just apologizing. Geez, I don’t even care anymore!”

“Well, I had to do it. Or else Cinder would’ve—“

“Yes, you love Cinder! We know! Whatever, I don’t know why I bother.”

As Mercury frustratingly performed his stretches and warm-ups, Emerald eyed him curiously.

“No way,” she blurted.

“What?”

“Were you—no.”

“What, now?”

“Were you…trying to say thanks for sticking with you? Like, express legitimate gratitude?”

“I hope Qrow kills you first.”

“WOW…” Emerald’s jaw hung open.

“Why did I—“

Emerald threw her arm around his shoulder and glowered.

“Oh. It’s cause you love me, ya big soft douchebag.”

“It doesn’t work when you say it.”

“Why? I know. I’m missing your disasterably-sculpted quaff.”

“Let’s just go. I’m getting one of my need-to-boot-someone-in-the-mouth craves coming on.”

“Fine, fine. But for what it’s worth… I feel the same.”

“…….” He spun and whipped a kick her way.

“Whoa!” Emerald dodged. “Now, there’s the Mercury I need! Time to dance, partner.”

The two entered the cabin, where Neo chose to eat alone. They paused with an unnerving twitch.

Across every surface of the interior were etchings in the wood. Violent, twisted letters scratched with Neo’s thin blade.

“Okay…” Emerald elected to ignore the room and address the team. “You know the drill, criminals. You’re not amateurs. Fight smart, not hard. They have us outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched. But then again, it wouldn’t be much of a Team ENMY gig if we didn’t have to slant the table. So, run the game tight. Neo, buy us our seat at the table.”

The petite girl finished carving the last letter on the remaining empty space of surface.

.

* * * * *

.

Qrow and Team RNJR stared wide-eyed at the surrounding window panels. Every inch of the glass was scratched with the words:

DIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBY DIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBY DIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBYDIERUBY

The screeches made them cringe their ears.

And then, they stopped.

…

…

…

The windows shattered from the outside in, pelting them with shards of glass.

At that moment, Jaune stood before his team and lifted his shield. His aegis enlarged by the effect of his Semblance, expanding an energy field that deflected any projectiles.

Qrow kicked over the desk he was sitting at and took cover. Any other stray shards, he parried with his glaive.

As soon as the rain of shrapnel passed, all of them took on defensive positions. Their weapons at the ready. Sights set on the new entryways into the office.

…

…

…

“Where are they?” Jaune asked.

Their team’s sensors scouted the area and found nothing. They searched the airship above, but found nothing again.

It was Ren, who noticed an oddity.

He caught sight of an eye reflected in one of the glass fragments on the floor.

“They’re watching us from the floor belo—“

Before Ren could finish his sentence, the stone beneath his feet erupted. Two jungle-green chains wrapped his body, and dragged him under, like a kraken from the sea. His team was too slow to react to do anything.

“REN!!!”

Nora was the first one to dive after him, unwilling to wait for the dust to settle. Jaune went shortly after. Ruby paused, thinking the enemy’s goal was to separate them from Qrow, who could not leave the room. She couldn’t allow herself to panic under the ambush.

In the floor below, Jaune and Nora found Ren dripping in crimson. A familiar-looking cane sword and paired sickles wrenched his ribcage open. The sight made his two teammates’ blood run cold.

“No…NO!”

“Nora…” Ren groaned feebly. “I love you. Good bye…”

“NO! DON’T DIE ON ME!!!”

Jaune activated his Semblance. Specks of white levitated in the area around them. He didn’t question if it would work. He just wanted to do everything to save his friend.

“Ren’s fine!” Ruby’s voice interrupted his concentration.

Jaune gazed up through the hole, and saw the girl’s glinting silver eyes on them.

“It’s an illusion!” she shouted again.

The boy shook his head, like shaking off a daze. When he looked back at Ren’s body, the injuries were no longer as severe as they once seemed. Any damages his friend suffered was already healed, and although unconscious—overall, he was fine.

“Nora!” Jaune tried to get her attention, but she only continued to sob uncontrollably. “He’s not dead! Nora!”

It appeared the illusion was too traumatizing for her, and had taken a firm hold on her psyche.

“Jaune!” Ruby yelled. “We need—WAAH!”

“Ruby!”

She disappeared. Instead, only the sounds of blades clashing with blades resounded from the floor above. Jaune did a double-take to Nora, before gritting his teeth, and climbing up again.

.

* * * * *

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And then, there were two.

Emerald thought pleasantly to herself.

Out of all of them, Ren presented the most unique threat. An exceptional feel for Aura. He lacked stamina, but made up for it in burst damage. Able to concentrate his Aura into a single blow, without the delay of using catalysts like Dust or Bane, Emerald wanted to get rid of him first. And she spent their all-important surprise attack accomplishing just that.

She wasn’t sure how badly the hallucination would affect Ren’s teammates, but it did well enough to keep Nora out of the picture. It would delay Jaune at the least.

Now, onto the next phase…

“Three of a Kind,” Emerald called.

She, Neo, and Mercury, rushed Ruby at the same time. Along the way, she hallucinated them to look like three identical copies of Neo. A tactic that put their target off-balance with the discording attack and rhythm.

The new strength of Emerald’s Semblance was enough to give Ruby’s silver eyes a difficult time in tracking. Qrow tried to bat them off her, but Team ENMY’s emphasis on mobility made it tough to actually catch them. They were gaining significant ground against their quarry, who could only back-pedal as quickly as she could.

Finally, the three circled around Qrow and came face-to-face with Ruby at the same time. The girl was fast, but not fast enough to defend a triple pointed strike.

As Emerald, Mercury, and Neo aimed for separate parts of her body, Jaune’s shield appeared in time to block the way.

Damn it!, Emerald cursed.

Team ENMY backed off and reset their pursuit of Ruby, like a pack of determined wolves. But again, they found Jaune intercepting them. Not only that, but the force of the wall caught them off-guard, causing them to stutter a bit.

It was then, Ruby made the split decision to launch a counter.

“Birds of Prey!”

Qrow switched his sword into its scythe form and positioned himself next to Ruby.

In the next breath, Team ENMY faced a pair of great, curved blades slashing at them with perfect coordination. Like a hawk’s talons, the lethal claws stalked them—missing only by mere inches. It was a complete turnaround.

Neo didn’t take kindly to the idea of running from Ruby. So, she produced Torchwick’s cane and found a narrow angle to plant the barrel against the girl’s head. But in the fraction of a second between position and pulling the trigger, an ever-frustrating shield made its appearance once more. This time, accompanied by a slash from Jaune’s sword.

*Ping!*

The cane flew from Neo’s hands and she chased it desperately.

As the girl broke formation, Qrow grinned. His iris flashed briefly of bloodlust, and he could see the cracks in the opposition become vibrant.

Emerald and Mercury sensed something sinister on an intuitive level, and went full defense. Even while blocking with their complete effort, the Huntsmen’s blows staggered them hard.

Mercury pulled his legs to shield his chest, when a heavy swipe of the sickle almost cut his heart out. The impact limited only to his prosthetics, but he was knocked out of the Tower all the same.

Emerald managed to cast a last second illusion that displaced her position, and still felt the sharp steel skim her belly. A superficial wound was drawn, as she escaped with her guts intact. There would not be a second chance. Unwilling to chance certain death, she launched her kusarigama around the fleeting Mercury, and grapple hooked to him outside.

The moment Neo picked up the cane, Qrow caved the point of his scythe into her skull. And the body collapsed into countless flaked mirrors.

In the wind funnel circling the Tower, Team ENMY regrouped on the flat of what used to be the wall of a building.

“That went about as well, as I’d hoped,” Emerald said.

“I thought the Jaune punk was supposed to be a pushover, but he’s turned into a real pain in the ass. Didn’t count on that,” Mercury commented, partly annoyed, but also partly impressed.

“Now, you know why I wanted to poke them first. ‘Evaluate the threat, and then, Eliminate.’”

“Cinder’s gospel.”

Neo growled, inspecting the gash in Torchwick’s cane.

“So, we done feeling this out? Cause I think I’m good and ready to go at this for real,” Mercury rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck.

“You can hang with Qrow? Not just the cockiness talking, is it?”

“With all that demented training we had to do and my new badass upgrades? Yeah, I’ve got him. At least, enough for the plan to work.”

“Neo?”

The petite girl gave a prideful puff and glared, dead-eyed at the little red riding hood watching them.

“Alright, Merc.” Emerald’s lips broke into a devious smile. “Tilt ‘em.”

Mercury revealed a matching grin, as he pumped a vast amount of Aura into his legs, and through his prosthesis.

The Talarion Strider hissed with a new vigor. The newly installed Dust Reactors started overclocking at the sheer amount of energy being channeled. His mechanical calves detached and folded behind his ankles.

It looked as if a pair of silver wings manifested at Mercury’s feet, as he began hovering in the air.

Even at a distance, Team RNJR and Qrow could see something big was coming their way. The five of them braced for impact.

Mercury drew back his right leg in a wide arc.

For one reason or another—maybe owing to the tornado swirling around them—the young man donned the appearance of a maddened wind god.

And with a kick that conjured a storm,

The whole of the Tower tipped…