Remnant - XXIX

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Beta(s) :

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Requested By : Gib

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This chapter will serve as a sort of 'epilogue' to what I am colloquializating as 'book one' of this storyline. It will be posted under the same fic, here, so look forward to it! And thanks for riding the crazy train so far, lol.

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Jacques Ventrejaune smiled as he slipped the ring onto his new wife's name and murmured, "Until death, my love."

"Until death." The woman in the white dress nodded, stepping in and letting Jacques' arms fold around her to hold her while they christened the moment of their union. Willow pulled away after a second, chuckling under her breath, and cast a look at the little chapel. "I-I still can't believe we did this…"

"Yes, well… Love just breeds insanity, no?" Jacques smiled and turned on a heel, carrying the laughing woman back up the aisle in a turning dance as the priest laughed and the few friends he'd trusted enough to invite clapped.

"You're too much…"

"Oh, I hope not, leibchen." He smirked, releasing her and letting her fall away, one hand keeping a hold of her wrist to spin her and then tug her back into him, her back pressed into his chest. "You're stuck with me now, love."

"Stuck?" She laughed and sighed almost whimsically, resting her head against his shoulder, "I couldn't imagine thinking I was stuck with you, Jacques…"

"Oh, you have no idea what that means to me, Willow." He murmured, trailing a finger along her jawline and then turning, smiling, to call out to the people around them. "Now, onto the reception! Shall we?"

"Of course, dear." Willow laughed, a bright, happy sound, as she stepped forward to capture his hand. "And I have looked forward to having the first dance for the last-"

A woman's scream cut her off and Jacques spun to watch Ilias Raven collapse, staring, wide-eyed, at her Scroll. It clattered to the floor and she turned, red eyes wide, to murmur, "It's gone…"

"What is?" He asked, wrapping an arm around Willow.

It was Raven's husband who answered, staring, stunned, at his own Scroll, "We were talking to our daughter, when… He destroyed it."

"Who?" Jacques snapped, "Who destroyed what?"

"Shockwave." The man answered, turning stiffly, eyes glassy and wide, to meet Jacques' eyes. "Shockwave… Atlas fell. It's gone. All… All gone."

Jacques blinked and heard Willow suck in a breath before she shuddered and pulled away, fishing as Scroll out of her bra with no regard for the onlookers. Flicking it open, she dialed the private line, relayed through her yacht to a private buoy and across from where they were on Vale's northern coast to Atlas. After a long few minutes of pure static, she dropped it and turned.

"That line… Connects to my father's office." Willow murmured, "If it's down…"

"Gods." Jacques gasped, "That means…"

Atlas was truly gone, then…

Which meant Willow had inherited the company. Which meant Jacques shared it with her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to face him, snapping, "We have to get to work!"

"W-What?!"

"Atlas has fallen." He grunted, "But Mantle may need help. Our help, Willow."

"Yes…" She blinked and nodded, face set now that she had more direction than what to drive over. "We have to get back and help them, however we can."

"Yes." He nodded and smirked, "However we can, Willow."

And through that…

They would be able to accrue so much of Atlas' and Mantle's industry under their name, and no one would even bat an eye. It was so perfect, he could almost cry. And he hadn't even had to pay the maid to slip the old bastard the pill, either.

How perfect.

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"Splice the wires, set the energy transfer-" Pietro's rattling was cut off as the armored door that kept his Mantle lab easled and safe shuddered under a heavy impact. He could hear something scraping against the metal and fought to keep his breathing under control, leaned over the damaged particle capacitor on the large desk that split the lab.

It was a Paladin-2 cannon, stripped down to its blocky, wiry basic parts and brought in for testing. The table was metal, with a dozen wires and connectors that ran up to it, and just as many thicker cables that spindled along the floor to computer terminals, power banks, and sensor suites that lined two of the four walls. The back wall was lined by personal computers and schematics of cybernetic limbs and intelligence cors. The other was mostly just the massive bulkhead, and some seating for customers connected to his… Well, his side-projects, who came in from time to time with all kinds of injuries.

It was nice to be able to help them…

And it helped advance his personal project, too.

Finally, as he wired in a feeder-system and attached that to a control router he had hot-fixed his Scroll onto, the cannon hummed and began to warm up and he cheered, "Yes, yes!"

Standing on his shaky leg, and hissing at the pain that lanced up a weg that had already been weak before the gash that a Grimm had torn in his thigh, he grabbed the front of the cannon and desperately pulled, trying to turn it around to face the door.

He made it half-way when his personal AI assistant chimed, "Warning - temperature extremes registered in entry."

"What-?!" He staggered to the side, saw the bulkhead glowing faintly, and slowly brightening, and swore as he ducked under the table.

Just in time, too…

The bulkhead exploded off its hinges and rocketed inside, crushing the PPC system as it went and showering the office in debris. He could hear the Grimm chuff and snarl as they stalked in even before they emerged from the smoke, dust and the spray of his automated sprinkler system. Or, well, what was left of it, at least, spurting water from busted, burnt and bent pipes. One blasted one of the Sabyrs in the face as it came in and it snarled and leapt, clawing into the ceiling and ripping the pipe out in rage.

Pietro whimpered…

Four sets of eyes rounded on him at once, scarlet fury boiling in bone-white masks, and Pietro scrambled away, desperately looking for… Something, anything, that could help him. He turned a look on one of the capacitors, and grit his teeth as his hands found a hammer.

"Don't, Doctor." He froze, on hands and knees, one hand gripping a hammer, as the voice echoed.

Shocked and trembling, he turned to look past the table at the man standing in the doorway. Just… Standing there, with his scarred arms crossed over his broad chest and a pair of Sabyrs standing to either side. Pietro blinked, stunned, and then turned to pull himself up with the help of the table between them.

"T-Those are…"

"Grimm."

"And you're…"

"Not controlling them." The man grunted, "My… Boss. She controls them. And she lets me do it, too."

"Who could possibly…"

"That would be me." A woman's voice echoed eerily as a tentacled orb slowly floated into view, resting on the large man's shoulder. "My name is Salem, and I have come to… Bargain with you, I suppose."

"B-Bargain…?"

"I am always in need of agents, Doctor Pietro Polendina." Salem answered, pushing off the man's shoulders to float into the ruined lab. It listed about, looking over what was left, until it came to hover on a picture of a young ginger-haired girl posing with her new arms. Floating there, she went on, "With recent revelations, it has been made clear that I need one with a more… Technological bent."

"You… Mean the machine."

"Shockwave, as it called itself." She answered, "Yes. It."

"But, if you can control the Grimm, why would you-"

"My reasons are above you." She cut him off, turning and carving through the picture with a whip of her barbed tendril. "I require your aid. And you, I presume, would rather not see Mantle overwhelmed with the Grimm coming down upon it."

"You…" He flicked a Sabyr a nervous look, swallowed, and nodded grimly, "You presume correctly."

"So," she started, "serve me, and I will protect Mantle from my Grimm. And grant you a wish that can serve us both."

"A wish…?"

"Hazel, if you would?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The giant, Hazel, grunted as he reached behind his waist and produced a… Sort of rod. It extended in his hand and he lifted it up, and grunted, "Ambrosius."

All at once, the world lit up in a vibrant blue that made Pietro blink for the brightness. When it faded, a man had appeared. Blue-skinned, muscle-bound, and hovering in the air where he stretched and groaned.

"Aaaaaah, already?" He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Opening his eyes, he flicked a look to each of them and then the Sabyrs and frowned. With a snap of his fingers, they vanished in puffs of smoke and he sighed. "Salem. Because of course it's you."

"Ambrosius."

"Well," he sighed, crossing his arms, "what gauche little trinket shall I make for you this time?"

"For him, you mean." She flicked a tendril and Pietro flinched and looked to the orb and back to the man. Chuckling, she hummed, "Ah, forgive me, Doctor. This is the Relic of Creation. Give him your designs, and he will fashion for you that which you have always wanted, ever since your… Accident. And I will save Mantle."

"But…" He blinked, schooling his urge to just… Take what he had wanted so badly for so long. "What will you get?"

"Why Doctor…" She chuckled, "I get you. And a solution to a problem only a daughter fashioned out of iron and copper could give me."

"Which is…?"

"Not your concern. For now." She answered, "Save Mantle, Doctor. Take your position at its head. Protect it. Become a father. All you've ever dreamed is right in hand… And all you need to do is speak the wish."

It was a terrible idea, he knew that… Whatever she was, she was evil. But without her, Mantle would fall, and everyone would die.

"Ambrosius…?"

"Hmm?"

"Let me get my plans…" He murmured, turning to his personal computer, "My wish… My wish is for a daughter."

"Is that all?" He chuckled, "I can do that right now-"

"No!" He snapped, terror trembling in his voice. "I… Have specifications."

And Salem had made it clear - she knew what they were, and wanted them met. He didn't dare change them now.

Slowly, he pulled the screen away from the wall, held up by an extending arm, and tapped it, "It's called… The Penny Project."

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Ozpin sat in his dark office for a long time, simply staring at his Scroll on the desk. A cup of ice cold coffee sat in his hands, and he sipped at it meekly, if only because he needed something to do. Something to put some semblance of normalcy back into the world. But it was a vain task… And he knew that all too well.

'Normal' had never been in the first place…

Eventually, he forced himself to stand and walk across the room to dump the coffee into the pot and set it warming back up. Watching it, he set his jaw and murmured, "It isn't the first time, Ozpin. Focus."

Half a Kingdom was gone in a blink, but more importantly…

'Shockwave'. An interesting creature, and not, seemingly, one under Salemn's control. Else it would have gone for the Relic. With enough power to simply erase Atlas as it had done, even the Vault would have been unable to stand up to it. At least, not for long, and not if that cannon was magically charged as one fashioned by Salem would be.

And its voice… He'd heard the rage, the raw hurt, in it, even as flat as it spoke.

"I need to know," he decided, "why he did what he did. What his real motivations were."

And so much more…

Turning, he flicked a hand and caught his Scroll as it sailed to him. Flicking it open, he called the number. The man answered after the first ring, voice weak, "Ospin…"

"Bartholomew." He answered, "You saw?"

"I did…" He answered, "So much loss…"

"In know." He gave the man a moment to collect himself, and then pushed on, "I'm going to need you in the coming months and years. We need to investigate this… Entity. Any evidence of its kind on Remnant. Any evidence for its reasoning, its motivations, here and now. We need to know."

"I'll…" He heard the man heave a shaky breath, "I'll get started in the morning, Ozpin."

"Good." He answered, "Rest up tonight, Bartholomew."

"I will…" The historian answered, "You do the same."

Ozpin didn't answer, he simply ended the call and slid his Scroll into a pocket. Turning, he picked up his coffee cup and filled it with the hot caffeine. He couldn't rest, not tonight. Tonight, he needed to think and prepare.

If Shockwave were a danger…

He would need a way to destroy it.

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"What do you mean, he's gone?" Sienna demanded, standing next to the mismatched machine leaning against the wall while Flit tended to another damaged Hornet propped up against the wall beside him.

"Master went to Atlas. Took vengeance!" Sever hissed and winced, clutching the side of his head and shaking it, "But, after… After, he cut us out."

"Cut you out…?"

"Our connection." Sever explained, "He has… Cut it. Cut us out. Off."

"Why would he do that…" She murmured, turning to cast her gaze up the dark street. Dozens of damaged Insecticons lines it, propped up against the buildings to either side while Faunus leaned out of windows to work on them, or their Insecticon kin did it. "How could he leave you all like this?"

"Master…" Sever murmured and stopped, considering his words for a moment before saying, "Master was confused. Angry. Lashed out. Then, something else. And confusion. Fear. Then, nothing. Cut out. Separated from Master…"

"All the Insecticons have been cut off?"

"Yes…" Sever's shoulders dropped and his arm dropped, slamming to the ground hopelessly and hard enough to shatter the sidewalk he was sitting on. "We are… Drifting. Leaderless. Purposeless."

The way he spoke… Sienna could feel the pain, the confusion, in it. Like a child whose parent had just died. A giant metal child she'd seen rip Atlesian and Mistralian soldiers in half, sure, but a child nonetheless. And by the tides, it made her heart ache…

She laid a hand on his massive thigh and spoke up, "Sever."

"Yes…?"

"Shockwave is gone." And she had to resign herself to it, at least for now. Even if he came back soon, right now, there was more important, and immediately pressing business. Pressing on, she said, "You have to accept that. And, even if it's hard… Someone has to step up and lead your people through this."

"Yes." He nodded, turning to her, "You?"

"No." She shook her head, "I have my own people to lead, Sever. It has to be you."

"Me…" He shook his head as Flit looked over to them, confused but, if Sienna was reading her body language right, not against anything she'd said. Sever, though, shook his head, huddling down and snarling. "No. Wrong. Can't."

"You have to." She pressed him, "Mistral is in danger, and without organization, the Insecticons can't protect it. Or Meneagerie, if the fear reaches there."

"Menagerie…" She saw his eyes darken, "Aqua…"

"Exactly." She nodded, "You can lead the Insecticons, because you have a reason to. You have to protect her, right?"

And, with Aqua involved, he'd be able to keep the Insecticons on the Faunus' side. Which they dearly needed, after what had happened here. If the Insecticons abandoned Menagerie, it was entirely possible Vale or what was left of Atlas would come for them. Maybe both. And maybe even whatever was left of Mistrals defenders would do it, too, regardless of the surrender their Council had broadcasted earlier.

For a while, the miscolored Insecticon was silent, simply staring down at her. Then, he snarled and dragged his lands under him, grinding through the concrete as Sienna fell back, away from the falling debris and moving machinery. He rose and staggered, then turned to Flit.

"Gather the swarm." He snarled, "We defend here. You, take fliers to Menagerie. Reinforce garrison. Protect."

"Yes," Flit nodded, stepping back and opening her wings, "Master Sever."

Sienna and Sever watched the Insecticon lift up and away before he turned, staggering away towards the wall. Smiling, and with an odd sense of warmth in her chest, she followed after the wounded titan.

The fighting wasn't done…

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Summer Rose sat in her room, dressed in her pajamas and with her blanket wrapped around her. Her Scroll lay on top of a stack of papers on her bed, and she'd been staring at both for more than an hour, now. At first, she'd tried to deny it, but…

Atlas was rubble, now.

And with it, so many more people were in danger.

She'd wanted to move on, take a job in the city, with the police, maybe. But with Atlas gone…

She brushed her Scroll aside and lifted the papers up, running her finger of the emblazoned 'Beacon Academy' embossed onto the top. Chewing her lip, she leaned over it and signed her name on the application. With the war over, she wouldn't have to worry so much about hurting anyone. And with Atlas gone, she had to do something to help the people left out in the cold, without the protections they'd offered.

When she was done, she opened her Scroll and pressed a button. After a moment, a man answered, "Summer?"

"Oz…" She murmured, "I've made up my mind."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…" She breathed, "The world needs what you said my eyes could do. When do we start?"

"Tomorrow." He answered, "I'll make arrangements, and you and I will both be in Beacon in a year or so's time. You'll be a bit young, but with things as they are… Well, I'm needed there. And I need you there, too."

"Alright…"

"Rest well, Summer." Ozpin said, "And please, understand- This is the best decision you could have made. I will protect you."

She nodded, ended the call, and curled up on the bed, unable to fight down the anxiety welling up in her gut. She'd wanted the training to protect herself at first, and gone along with Ozpin for that reason. Her eyes meant she was always in danger, he'd said. And after she'd vaporized the Beowolves when Ozpin took her out to prove it, she believed him. But now, she was in for so much more than just protecting herself….

But still, even as anxious as she was, she couldn't bring herself to regret signing the papers.

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