A soft breeze whistled up the jagged cliffs, blowing on Ruby's face. She stood on their lip, looking out at the empty space once occupied by a proud, green courtyard. She kicked a pebble over the edge, watching it tumble down the charred rocks to the turbulent lake. As soon as the tiny speck faded into the waves, she raised her gaze to city skyline.

Below her, Vale burned.

Thick, gray smoke stacks billowed from the city center, gargantuan columns of ash that darkened the skies. Artillery rumbled off to the northwest, its thunderous report punctuating the wailing alarms. Screams were carried on the eastbound wind: panicked shrieks, begging for mercy.

Across the lake, she spotted one of the many bridges connecting the city's commercial and residential districts. Before, they were Vale's lifeblood, part of a vast network of raised highways spread across every sector of the kingdom. Now they were crammed with refugees, a slow wave of mottled colors slogging across the river.

However, even over the gunfire, the shouts, and the wind, the growls from the northern bank were crystal-clear.

A trio of blurs streaked high above the buildings. She heard their engines before she consciously identified them as jets. One of them broke formation, banked low, and dove right for the bridge.

She gasped as the aircraft pitched up, a tiny dot arcing down from its fuselage. The center of the bridge was consumed by an enormous fireball, its mighty roar coming a full second after the flash. The other jets continued westward. Smaller booms followed suit as they too swooped on their targets.

Why? her mind whimpered. Did they just… give up?

She felt powerless as the flames gave way to smoke. She felt powerless as the two halves of the bride crumpled into the river, sending up enormous columns of water. She felt powerless hearing the screams pick up, quickly fading again as countless civilians sank beneath the surface.

She balled her fists. She knew what she needed to feel. Pity. Shame. Horror. Anger… But she couldn't. No matter how much she tried, all she could do was stare.

And it's only been a week… How about in a month? A year? Will I even last that long?

She heard footsteps behind her, a familiar clacking of heels that made her turn around. Shoulders sagged and face sunken, Weiss walked up to the edge, and took her place by her partner's side.

"Is Blake doing alright?" Ruby asked, attempting to distract herself from the devastation before her.

"She's… nervous," Weiss replied.

"About Yang?"

"Yeah, and so am I. Aren't you?"

She looked down. "I just hope she's alright. After everything that's happened…"

Weiss also lowered her gaze. They'd received the news that morning, in an encrypted messag e from General Ironwood himself. Following her heroic actions on an Atlesian airship, she'd been given a temporary pardon and allowed to return to Beacon. However, the briefing had explicitly mentioned she would be kept under "heavy surveillance." What that entailed, neither Huntress knew.

Another explosion rang out from the west. The faint clatter of rifle fire followed only a few seconds later. Muzzle flashes sparkled from the shoreline, like hundreds of tiny fireflies.

"She… she said she was attacked, right?" Weiss began, eyes still focused on the growing firefight.

"Yeah, Blake said so. Why do you ask?"

"It's just… none of this makes any sense, you know?" She turned away from the cliff, pacing back and forth. "We've spent so much time coming to terms with it that we've never stopped to ask ourselves: how?"

"I know what you mean, Weiss," Ruby replied, great sorrow weighing down her words. "But, at this point, can we do anything beyond just taking her word for it?"

"No… no, there has to be something we can do, some lead we can investigate. Anything!"

"Such as? Mercury's team all but vanished after what happened, and anyone higher up is off fighting the Grimm!"

"Well, what do you suggest then? Stand around and do nothing?" Ruby noticed a small hint of anger in the heiress' voice.

The war's taken its toll on all of us, she lamented.

"Weiss, I want this as much as you do, believe me! But there's nothing we can do!"

"Oh, so you're just giving up?" Weiss shot back, arms crossed. "This problem won't solve itself, you know. The world still sees her as a murderer!"

"As long as we're all okay, does that even matter?" Ruby answered, her voice starting to quiver.

"Don't be so naive, Ruby," Weiss scoffed. "What if she's lying? What if she's gone insane? If we just sit here and mope, we'll never know the truth!"

"No… There's no way she'd–"

"How can you be so sure? We have no evidence whatsoever to validate her claim!"

"Because…" She found herself at a loss for words. "Because I trust her."

Weiss sighed, shaking her head. "Trust can only take you so far."

Ruby could feel her throat starting to burn. "I- I thought you…"

"I've had enough of being kept in the dark."

Her vision began to blur. Her jaw tightened. Stuttering, it took all the energy she could muster to speak again:

"Just look around you, Weiss!" Ruby shrilled. "Is there anything we can do besides just trying to survive?"

Still fuming, Weiss did just that. She looked at the cratered soil, the blood-stained concrete, the rows and rows of weapons stuck above mounds of dirt. She clenched both fists, let out an angry scream, and kicked another pebble off the edge of the cliff.

"Fuck this damn war," she muttered.

Ruby gasped. She barely swore. Even after an angry call from her father, a really bad test result, or even the tragedy at Amity, she'd kept up her facade. Now, it crumbled down like the Beacon courtyard itself.

Weiss breathed in, attempting to compose herself. "...I'm sorry. We should really head back. It looks like it will rain soon."

Underscoring her words, a drop fell onto Ruby's hand. It stung upon impact, and burnt its way through her Aura. Startled, she looked up, and her eyes widened.

The clouds above her were not the dark gray she associated with a coming storm. No. These clouds were pitch black, driving the day from the heavens as they swept over the academy.

Another drop came down, this time falling on the floor in front of her. The dark liquid seeped into the concrete, sizzling through the ground, and leaving a pockmark on its surface.

By the gods… Grimm rain…

However alien the looming tempest above seemed, she'd heard of it before. Ancient Huntsman legends once told of great battles against the Grimm, where millions of the monsters were felled. Their smoke would rise, collect among the clouds, and mix with the rain. Vegetation would be destroyed. Men would be melted alive. All along, she thought it was just a myth.

Weiss was equally awestruck. In all the stories Ruby had read, the storm formed quickly, before any of the humans below could respond. If they didn't move now, she reckoned, they'd be reduced to a molten goop within minutes.

Ruby heard cries of confusion and alarm coming from the rest of the academy. "Come on, Weiss!" she shouted, already beginning to run. "We have to get back inside!"

Her partner wasted no time with a response. She extracted her sword from her belt and cast a glyph beneath them, propelling them down the pathway as they ran. Ruby yelped as more drops pricked at her skin, pulling her hood over her head and tucking her hands into her cloak.

Along with a dozen other Hunters, they crossed the auditorium's threshold as the massive doors began to close. Outside, the patter quickly turned into a downpour. Murmurs of befuddlement floated about, the drumming on the ceiling starting to drown them out.

The newly arrived crowd weren't the building's only occupants, however. Lining the edge of the combat grounds, rows upon rows of candles cast flickering shadows across the walls. Dozens of Hunters were strewn about, in ones and twos, standing over makeshift altars to their fallen classmates.

Ruby's throat tightened. Off to the right side of the auditorium, she spotted Velvet, sobbing as she held onto a framed picture. She laid it in a gap between the candles, bringing both hands to her face. Only Coco and Fox stood by her side.

"Oh no…" Weiss whispered.

Coco turned her head. Save for the sniffles and whimpers of the mourning students, the auditorium was completely silent.

"Hey," she said, her voice flat and empty.

"Wha–" Ruby began, cautiously approaching the three members of Team CFVY. Coco saw what she was staring at, however, and had no trouble understanding what she meant.

"He… he went after a marine that had tumbled over the edge." A single tear streaked down her left cheek. "Neither of them came back."

"I'm… sorry," Ruby stuttered. Weiss cast her eyes downward, and held them on the floor.

"Could you give us some space, please?" Fox rumbled, blank eyes still fixed on the flames.

After a few seconds of quiet, Weiss tugged on Ruby's sleeve, turning back towards the already-dispersing Huntsmen. "Come on," she said, "we should check in on Blake."

Before she turned to follow her partner, Ruby took one last look at the image on the mantlepiece. Staring into Yatsuhashi Daichi's broad, smiling face, she felt a cold chill run down her spine.

It could have been me, was the phrase that snaked through her mind. She'd gone over the edge too, that fateful afternoon. She'd done her best to save those caught in the Atlesians' bombardment, and almost died in the process. A scene played out in her head: Weiss, Blake, and Yang, all huddled together, crying over a memoir of their dead leader. Eyes wide and hands shaking, she whipped around and walked after her teammate.

It could have been me… The thought disgusted her. Selfish, selfish, selfish! her mind screamed. She thought back to the bridge, and all those civilians she had mindlessly watched take their final plunge into the waves. Here she was, death's scythe striking all around her, and all she could think about was her own life.

And you dare call yourself a Huntress?

She took one final look over her shoulder, taking in the entire auditorium of weeping students.

Fuck this damn war.

The distant roars of Valic artillery rumbled from the north. They seemed much closer than they had been the previous day. Whatever that meant, Emerald Sustrai couldn't tell. Continuing her lethargic stroll down the battered streets of central Vale, she didn't care either way.

She came upon a crumpled soda can on the sidewalk, lying next to a heap of discarded baggage. She absentmindedly kicked it onto the street, watching it fall into an open manhole.

Like most days, life in the refugee camp was painfully dull. It had been established shortly after her evacuation from Amity Colosseum, and was located on the northern bank of the river that ran between the city's residential and commercial districts.

Or at least that's what she'd heard from a group of Vacuar Faunus chatting around a tire fire a few days back. She was, after all, no expert on Valic geography.

She heard a collection of voices from further up the street. "I heard they're preparing to evacuate the industrial zone," a woman said to a man who seemed to be her father. Her baggy clothes and high-pitched, halting accent were unmistakably South Mistralian.

"And where'd you hear that?" the man scoffed, grimacing at his daughter's words. "Your scroll?"

Emerald brought a hand to her back pocket. The small device still sat there, inert and inoperative. Even if she had any battery power left to use it, the news was so heavily censored it had been rendered useless long ago.

Before the pair turned and recognized her, she pulled her hood over her head. She'd found it in a dumpster last evening, red and stiff with blood. The mere fact that it was even there surprised her. With leaves falling from and the trees and the cold starting to bite, any discarded pieces of clothing were claimed in a hurry. Still, she had other reasons for fishing that jacket out of the alleyway.

Too recognizable, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief as the two Mistralians resumed their conversation. Back during the early days of her stay in the camp, she drew many stares from those that recalled her from the tournament. Some were of awe. Others, of sympathy. She hated both. They reminded her of the things she'd fought in vain to forget.

I bet he'd be laughing at me right now, her mind mused, bringing with it a flood of painful memories. She clenched her fist, and wiped a single tear away from her face.

It's all her fault.

Rounding a corner, she headed down the street towards the main body of the camp. The cramped buildings of the commercial district abruptly gave way to clusters of Valic Army-issued canvas tents, sprawling all across the moist earth of the riverbank. Groups of people ambled about between the rows of shelters, bickering in Atlesian, Vacuar, or Mistralian. She recognized a few Hunters from the other teams of the tournament. Some were in company of their families, others on their own, their gazes far-off and unfocused.

She made her way through the maze of the camp, down the same route she'd memorized over days of mind-crushing boredom. Eventually, she reached her tent, squeezed in between those of a Faunus couple and a lone, Valic child. She pulled open its flaps and ducked inside, kneeling on the single blanket that occupied its interior. How the government couldn't spare any more to give to the throngs of tourists-turned-refugees from the Vytal Festival Tournament, Emerald had no idea.

She heard the far-off whine of jet engines, rapidly growing to an ear-piercing howl. As quickly as it rose, the cry died down as the squadron streaked away. Evidently, she reckoned, the Council had more pressure issues to worry about.

Then again, so did she. Her belly let out a long squelch, in protest of its emptiness. She hadn't been able to find any food that morning, and she didn't have any lien to buy from the makeshift shops that had sprung up around the camp, either.

With hunger scratching at her stomach, she recalled the day she met Cinder, almost two whole years ago. That day had been much like this one. Hungry, broke, and alone, she'd run into the woman that had given her everything. Now?

After all, you already did half the job for us. Her words echoed in her head. After all this time, they still chilled her spine.

"Moping around won't get me anything to eat," she muttered to herself. Opting to not sit in the dark for another six hours, she rose from the blanket and ducked out of the tent, slinging her hood over head once again.

Conveniently enough, the old Vacuar in the tent across from her had chosen to convert his shelter into a pastry, selling bread and sweets he claimed to have made himself. Emerald knew he was full of it. Thievery was as common in the refugee center as it was in the poorest slums of her native Mistral.

"Ah, good afternoon, young lady!" he croaked, turning both rheumy eyes from his checkbook to her. "What may I help you with today?"

"Oh, I'm just looking around, that's all," she returned, locking both eyes on a single piece of bread that sat atop the rickety wooden counter. She could feel her mouth starting to drool.

"Do tell if you see anything you'd like," he added, scribbling a few numbers on the pages before him.

Staring at the feast before her, she felt as if she were right back in Mistral, all those years ago. Hungry, broke, and alone indeed, she reckoned.

Just like old times, huh?

"No, I think I'll pass," Emerald said, raising her gaze to meet that of the shopkeeper. "Have a nice day!"

"Oh well. Take care, miss," he rasped. The old man smiled as Emerald snatched the loaf of bread from right under his nose.

General Ironwood sat in his command chair on the bridge of the Ironclad, looking over the devastated remains of the Valic commercial district. It reminded him of images from the Great War, with buildings and homes reduced to rubble. With how this conflict was beginning to pan out, he reckoned it would surpass even the war of eighty years past.

Atlas lost that war. We won't lose this one.

Far below him, an enormous wave of figures in mottled green surged from the devastation. Another wave, this one pure black, emerged from the other side of the block, concrete and dirt fountaining into the air as the batteries farther south opened up. Many ships of the Atlesian fleet advanced with the infantry, raining down plasma onto the approaching horde.

He'd seen many pushes like this one within the past week. All they ever did was recover a few more meters of battered, useless ground. No matter how much firepower they emptied into the enemy, fresh swarms always poured out of Forever Fall.

The General returned his gaze to the console before him. We're not here to sightsee, he reminded himself, sipping on a mug of coffee. We've got a war to fight.

"Sir, incoming transmission from Army High Command," an officer rattled off from the lower levels of the bridge.

"Onscreen," the General ordered. The holographic pad materialized into the image of Winter Schnee, blood staining her Specialist uniform.

The General blinked in surprise at the sight. He only expected a lowly General Staff officer, not one of the most experienced Specialists in the entire Corps. He also only expected this to be a routine sitrep from the Northern Front. He now knew it would be anything but.

What the hell happened?

"General Ironwood, sir!" she bellowed, her salute as crisp as ever.

Broken from his reverie, he replied. "At ease, Winter. What's the situation?"

She breathed in, composing herself before speaking. "Sir, our defenses on the Nordschranke mountains have been overrun. The Army is in full retreat back to the walls."

The news drew gasps and murmurs from the rest of the crew.

"How many divisions did we send up there again?" a trembling officer muttered.

"A few dozen? A hundred? Verdammt, that line was supposed to be impenetrable!" another answered to his left.

"How did they break through?" The General rumbled, restoring quiet to the bridge.

"Numbers, sir. We knew they were coming. We bombarded them the moment they entered the range of our guns, but the barrage did next to nothing. When dawn broke, we saw them emerge from the tundra." She shivered. "They were… everywhere. We radioed for backup, but another horde swooped behind us from the southeast."

"What happened to the reinforcements?"

"Never arrived, sir. That horde intercepted them en route. It's like they were always one step ahead of us." She looked down and sighed. "General Braun detached along with the right flank to support our rear. The entire corps was wiped out. I had to direct the evacuation myself."

Ironwood slammed a fist on his armrest. They were never this good. "And General Braun?"

"Killed in action, sir."

This time, no one whispered. No one even moved. Clenching his jaw, the General leaned forward in his chair. "How many men do we have left?"

"5 divisions worth, sir. The entire robotic brigade was left behind to hold off the Grimm while we evacuated."

More whispers arose. Ironwood's fists tightened, his knuckles turning white. How many young Atlesians had he sent to their deaths? How many spouses would leave home draped in black the next morning? How many young tots would never see mom or dad again?

Too many. Too. Damn. Many.

Heaving a sigh, Ironwood continued. "Winter Schnee, I hereby assign you as the temporary commander of the remains of Third Army. Order the survivors to garrison in Atlas. Bombard the Grimm as soon as they freeze with the fall frost."

"Jawohl, herr kommandant!" Winter saluted once again. "We will not fail."

The silence lingered after she cut the transmission, weighing down on the General and the crew alike. One of the officers from the lower level rose from his seat, turning towards his commanding officer.

"Sir, what will these casualties mean for our troops in the other kingdoms? The Kuchinashi line is on the brink of collapse, and only a miracle will keep the Grimm out of Vacuo!"

Another officer rose as well. "If we don't recall them back to the wall, sir, Atlas itself will fall!"

"And thus leave the other kingdoms defenseless?" a different crewmember retorted as she pointed to the raging battle below. "The only reason they haven't been overrun yet is because of our aid! Beacon would have fallen if not for our marines!"

"Would you have Beacon remain standing in place of Atlas?" the first officer shot back. "Did you not hear Specialist Schnee? We are losing men at a rate our kingdom cannot sustain. Our only option is to consolidate against their overwhelming numbers."

The General stood up, silencing the rising argument. "What you do not understand, Warrant Officer, is that this war is not only about Atlas anymore. For the first time in Remnant's history, mankind stands united against a common foe. Were a single kingdom to fall, the billions of Grimm besieging it would turn to the next. And then the next. Before you knew it, we would stand alone instead of together."

The officer's mouth thinned, as he fixed the General with a reluctant gaze.

"By dividing the enemy's efforts, we ensure not only the survival of our beloved Atlas, but that of our allies as well," Ironwood continued. "So we stand our ground. Our troops will remain on foreign soil, and those at home will have to suffice. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aye aye, sir!" the three officers rattled off in unison.

"Good. Return to your posts. We have more pressing matters to attend to," he declared, sitting back down. "Half speed, pitch down 10 degrees."

"Half speed, down 10 degrees, jawohl!" the ship's navigator echoed, fiddling with his holographic controls. The hull rumbled as the engines kicked in and the ship slowly accelerated.

The Ironclad's bow pierced the thin layer of clouds, bringing the entire battle into view. Columns of armor and infantry stretched to the western horizon, tongues of flame leaping from the tanks. Fireballs erupted all along the swarm, ripping gaping holes in their ranks. However, they still pushed forward, devouring their way through the Valic lines.

"Fire all starboard-side missile pods! Open a path for our boys on the ground!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

The rain pattered on Blake's shoulders, soaking the jacket she wore to combat it. It was merely a drizzle, but Weiss still insisted she take it. The pitch-black cloud had drifted to the east, now drenching the rest of the valley with deadly, acidic fluid. Next time she saw it, she reckoned, it would be brown instead of green.

She stood at the foot of Beacon Tower, looking over the improvised landing pad that dominated most of the plaza. It had been rigged by Atlas Navy engineers earlier that morning, one of the dozens installed around the academy that compensated for the loss of the docking platforms. They weren't nearly as grand as the ones they replaced, but Blake supposed they worked well enough.

That's Atlas, alright, she thought to herself. Shoot first, ask questions later. However much she disliked their methods, she supposed they worked well enough, too.

A sleek, silver figure emerged from the rooftops behind her, arcing down towards the plaza. The Atlesian Gunship's thrusters raised to full burn, scorching the pad beneath it. As the whine of its engines dropped off, the hatch below its tail popped open.

Taking timid steps down the ramp, Yang shook her wrists as one of the two robots with her in the bay removed her handcuffs. As soon as she reached the ground, the dropship raised its hatch and took off again, speeding off back towards Vale.

"Why the jacket, Blakey?" Yang said with a smirk. "Kitty afraid of the rain?"

Blake was about to respond, yet her throat tightened before she could speak. With her partner now returned, she was reminded of the circumstances that set them apart. She had tried broaching the subject before. She cried herself to sleep the very night she did.

Some things are best left alone, she thought, noticing Yang's grin begin to shift to a frown. For now.

She sighed, and met her teammate's gaze with a smile. "Welcome back."

The two walked towards each other, embracing at the edge of the pad. Blake's nose twitched as she caught a whiff of her partner's hair.

I don't suppose they let prisoners shower up there.

Breaking away, Yang continued: "I'll never know how you managed to convince Ironwood to let me out. Guy seriously needs to learn how to take it easy every once in a while."

"Well, I never had to," Blake replied. Yang raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "He just said you earned it."

"So that sergeant wasn't such a tight-ass after all…" Yang muttered to herself.

"Huh? What sergeant?" Blake had no trouble hearing her hushed words.

"Oh, it's quite the story. I'll tell ya later," she returned, starting down the practiced route back towards the dorms. After a few seconds of silence, Yang spoke up again. "Where are Ruby and Weiss?"

"Inside," Blake answered.

"Damn, with this drizzle? Did Neptune's bug rub off on them or something?"

"No. Grimm rain."

"Ah, gotcha," Yang nodded, turning back to the path. Then, her eyes widened, and her head jerked back towards Blake. "Wait, what? You're… joking, right?"

"Nope. Had as much trouble believing it myself. Turns out it's not just a legend."

For the first time since landing, Yang looked around. She saw the dead grass, turned a shade between yellow and brown. She saw the pockmarked concrete, some of the holes still steaming. Her face contorted into a grimace as she picked up the acidic stench.

The pair entered the academy's north wing, pushing open the blackened door. The halls were just as barren as the plazas outside.

"Where the hell is everybody?" Yang called out into the desolate hallway. "This place was always crowded!"

"Most students just wander the library and amphitheater nowadays," Blake answered. "Some left right as the panic started. Others, they…"

Yang closed her eyes, sighed, and clenched her fists. She didn't need her to finish the sentence.

At last, they came upon the elevator. Opening instantly, it too proved to be empty. They walked in, and Blake pushed the fourth floor button, the doors gliding shut with a metallic tap. Into the silence, Yang spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "I still can't believe this is all my fault…"

"What?" Blake recoiled, snapping around towards her. "I thought you–"

"Thought I was innocent?" Yang finished for her. "Pfft. You know, being stuck on a ship for the better part of a week gives you an awful lot of perspective." She paused as the doors slid back open, and stepped out with Blake in tow. "Even if he attacked me, even if I just imagined the whole damn thing, I still killed him. No matter how you slice it, Blake, I still killed Mercury. And at the end of the day, that's all that matters. The Grimm sure don't give a fuck about what actually happened. All they know is that the entire human race is going apeshit, and someone just gave them the perfect chance to finish us off."

"Well..." Blake responded, her eyes fixed to the ground. "If it still matters to you, I trust you. No matter what happens, we're going to stick together. We don't have the luxury of wallowing in our shame when the entire world is at war for its very survival." She paused, glancing at her teammate's downcast eyes. "The Yang I know wouldn't give up this easily."

Yang froze in her tracks, turning to her partner. "Dammit, Blake, I swear you're the only reason I haven't gone off the rails yet," she sighed. "All of Remnant probably hates me, but you guys still back me up, even when you shouldn't."

"I thought I'd made that clear," Blake returned, eyes narrowed and focused. "We're a team. Come hell or high water, we're gonna stick together to the bitter end." Their eyes locked, amber staring into lilac. "And should that end come, we'll go down fighting. Together."

Yang held her gaze, a smile growing across her face. "You sure know how to deliver a speech," she quipped, pulling Blake into a tight embrace. "That means a lot. Thank you."

"No problem, you hothead," Blake chuckled, breaking off and tugging on Yang's arm. "Come on, now. You've got people waiting."

"Never seen the library this full," Ren muttered to Nora, sitting opposite from him on the table. "I just wish the reasons were more benign."

"Don't we all," she sighed back, glancing at the filled rows of computers below. "But where are they gonna go instead? How are they gonna talk to their families? On their scrolls?" She laughed. "Not likely!"

"Just goes to show how inept the Council is," Jaune scoffed to her left. "The jamming only makes us more anxious, not less! And guess what that brings right to us."

"All we can do is hope they're okay," Pyrrha responded, shaking her head.

Nora and Ren's eyes met. His gaze was sharp and narrow. They had no family to pray for. No home to return to. Jaune, Pyrrha, and Beacon were all they had left.

Nora turned to them, watching the worry wash over their faces. They've never known what it's like to lose everything, she thought. And over my dead body, they never will.

"Have… you been able to talk to your parents?" Jaune asked Pyrrha, his tone cautious.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "No. I haven't heard from them since Amity. Or of Mistral, for that matter."

"Do you think…?" he continued, his voice trailing off.

"Potentially," Ren interjected. "With the huge swaths of territory controlled by Mistral, they're bound to be fighting on multiple wide fronts. With the Mistralian Army spread so thin, the Grimm have no doubt–"

"Ren!" Nora snapped, glaring at her partner.

"No, no, he's right!" Pyrrha added hastily, raising both palms. "But don't underestimate the will of the Army. My father served with them back in the day. They're tough. They'll fight like lions when driven into a corner."

"What good is that going to do?" he gritted back. "Their spirit won't save them against the hordes. If anything, when it breaks, it will spell their doom."

"Ren!" Nora growled again, louder than the first. "This isn't like you!"

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're right. My apologies, everyone," Ren answered. "I just… don't know what to expect anymore."

Nora's eyes widened. For someone so certain and confident as Ren, seeing doubt seep through his ironclad facade chilled her more than the rumors coming down from the Atlesian front.

"Don't sweat it, buddy," Jaune reassured him. "None of us do."

Silence fell once again upon the four students, their eyes darting nervously amongst each other. Nora leaned forward in her chair, leaving her chin on the table. "So I heard Yang came back."

None of her teammates answered. Throughout the entire week, it had been the one subject they'd tried to avoid. They'd all been there during the disaster at Amity. They'd all seen her murder Mercury Black.

"I'm… glad," Ren finally replied, hesitation thick in this voice. "At least we'll get some closure on the matter."

"For better or worse," Jaune added, sighing.

Pyrrha was about to speak, yet the idle chatter in the library's lower level picked up. They rose to excited mutters and calls of names, urging those not yet there to one of the computers along the many rows.

"Holy shit, guys, I got a signal!" a student cried out. "Live from Vacuo!"

Team JNPR paused to exchange looks, and then shot out of their chairs and down to the ground floor. Nora had to wade through the growing crowd to even catch a glimpse of the screen.

The feed was shaky, taken from someone's scroll. The murmurs died as audio began to come through. Panting, screams, and that same, ever-present howl came out from the speakers. Crates, garbage cans, and bodies were strewn about the alleyway the recorder was running down. The emblem of the White Fang was graffitied on the walls in bright red.

"Those damn faunus…" one of the students muttered. Many of his classmates shushed him down.

"Look! The tower!" a disembodied voice came from beyond the camera. The owner of the scroll whipped around, just in time to catch three fireballs erupt along the flank of an enormous spire. Its sides were covered in craters, exposing an intricate mesh of steel beams.

"It's the CCT!" another hunter cried out. Gasps shot through the crowd, and Nora's jaw fell open.

Like rolling thunder, the explosions' reports roared through the device, along with the horrible groan of metal. The cry rose and rose, a grating sound that made Nora cringe. The camera shifted to the top of the tower, where its tip began to swell.

"Run! RUN!" a different voice shouted. The feed was reduced to a blur, streaks of dreary gray and beige covering the screen. Abruptly, the stream stabilized, the scroll's camera looking sideways down from a nook in the ground.

Three figures sprinted by, shrinking as they ran deeper into the alleyway. Out from behind a building, a Beowolf dived onto the leading runner, sinking its fangs into her neck. The other two halted, staring at their fallen companion.

A massive shadow then swept over the gravel, causing the last two to whip around. Eyes wide and knees shaking, they let out a shrill scream before the feed cut to black.

No one moved. No one spoke. In the silence, Nora heard hands ruffling in pockets. She took out her scroll and flipped it open. Across the top of the screen, emblazoned in prominent, red letters, read:

NO SIGNAL.

Her hands began to tremble. The scroll slipped from her fingers. She never felt it hit her foot.