18

Alloy

Only Penny and Pietro are with me in the lab, the others running off after Nora whispered something. It's only now, an hour later, that I realise I could have turned up the sensitivity of my ears to have heard her.

Then again, if she's whispering it, she probably didn't want me to hear it.

Speaking of which, we are going over how different my new body (it still doesn't feel like mine) is to an organic. Data-wise, Pietro is just finishing up. Subjective? Well...

Touch is about 80% the sensitivity of a Remnin, as if I have nerve damage and can't feel fine textures. Hearing is actually better than Remnin, not just in sensitivity but also audible range. Sight is a bit odd with a reduced field of view, slightly lower detail, but a full colour and range across all of my vision. The night vision and thermal vision modes are neat too.

Smell doesn't exist, though the atmospheric analysis tries to be it. I think a bit more coding will help it jump over from data to sense. As for taste? Nothing at all.

Pietro says he's working on it, but it's not high priority. Not many people lose their tongues and live, and those that do often go without. Remnant's medical technology is aimed towards surviving the Grimm after all.

All in all, it feels fine. Normal. Human. If just a little numb around the edges. That is something I am going to stress to Penny.

My body doesn't feel right though.

Not because of the differences in senses, but because it's not mine. I might be able to walk around and do things right now, but the emotional connection is still off.

"That's normal for those who have gotten replacement limbs," Pietro says comforting, "It will just take some time to get used to it."

I guess I know how OT!Yang felt now, when she got her arm.

Finally Pietro is done asking his questions, at least for today. Not often (read, never) that someone goes what I went through. Full body replacement. Sure, there are a lot of people who have gotten replacement parts, but never to this extreme. More than that, his notes and tests will help him with Penny, my unique situation and experience giving him a much better insight to things.

Thinking of Penny...

I turn to Penny, "Penny. It's real. It feels real. I want you to know that."

She doesn't look convinced. Maybe I didn't say it right?

I sit up and take her hand. "Software is just another term for instincts. Hardware another term for body. You think that because you were 'built' that you aren't real? Well guess what, people are built all the time, they just call it something different. An automatic self replicating system of cells following mechanical instructions."

I'm not as fluent in social speak as I could be right now, still extremely tired from writing the book with James, so I stress the next words, "You are different, not lesser."

Call up all the intensity I can into my eyes and speak the truth with harshness, the only way I can, "Penny. You are real. Your dad says so, Ruby says so, I say so, Magic" as stupid as that is, "says so. SO! I won't have anyone, especially you, saying otherwise."

"Understand?" I grip her hand and dare her to say otherwise.

She smiles, and a little bit more doubt fades away. You are Real, you silly girl.

I think my 'issue' shook her a little. Even after I explained that there was nothing physically wrong, that I was (and still am) having an emotional crisis over the body.

"I understand." Penny says.

I narrow my eyes. "You better believe it too."

That smile, oh that innocent smile, shines and I am engulfed in a hug. A dull thud of our nano-laminate bodies under the synthetic skin is hear.

The suddenness of the hug paralyses me. Hugs are nice, but I need to be ready to receive the- oh dammit, just hug back you idiot girl.

I do.

I glare at Pietro over Penny's shoulder, "Quiet you."

He's smiling too, "I didn't say anything."

I narrow my eyes and glare at him, which only leads him to chuckle.

Shut up. Stupid emotions. Well, I guess they are working too.

After far too long to be comfortable, at least with normal people, Penny lets go. She's still learning all the social cues and stuff, so she probably didn't realise that would have made some people uncomfortable. Not that I mind too much.

She leans back and smiles stunningly at me. "Thank you, sister."

Ah.

My own smile drops.

Hers drops in response, "What's wrong?"

"I-"

I pause. Do I want to talk about this?

No.

Too bad.

"I've been thinking about what you said," the words come out slow and heavy, "about being sisters."

Pietro frowns while Penny waits.

"I'm not good. I've been a sibling before, but..."

That's a weird way of saying it, right? Or is that just my self esteem playing up as I self criticise on how I am saying it to avoid thinking about what I am saying. It's painful. And talking about it so soon as well as while I'm still deeply tired probably doesn't help either.

"I know you're hoping for something like Yang and Ruby, but..."

What is worst is the look on Penny's face as she prepares for disappointment. She might have only mentioned it once, but I can tell this is something she really wants. Okay, more than once, but only once when she thought I was listening.

I drop my head to look away, "And I'm going to be busy, away a lot, and-"

"I don't care," I look up, and damm Pietro for also supporting her. Damm him too for installing tear ducts into my eyes. "You just said I'm real. You meant it."

Based on how Penny is taking this, I would guess that Ruby or Pietro or someone talked to her about my self worth issues, letting her know that it isn't her that is the problem. She isn't why I'm so hesitant.

Pietro speaks, "It's your choice-"

I don't hear his words as coldness in rage rushes through me at the openness of the offer. At acceptance of my worthless self. My body doesn't stiffen, still disconnected emotionally, but I do.

"And what happens when I die again?" The words carry the same coldness as I state the hollow truth.

I will die again. I don't be- "We've already taken preparations in case-"

"Expensive," I cut him off.

There's a hint of anger in him now, "Do you think that matters?"

The anger fades as he continues, "Family matters."

My rage rebels against my self control, straining at the bands of my will, of my promise to do better, "I can't have fam-" I can't say it, "I'm not good enough."

The anger is gone as I say the last words. The words written into the scraps of my soul.

I'm not good enough.

Nobody will ever love me.

Keep trying, keep fighting, even as I die.

Penny is on me again I realise. Stupid girl, you're real.

I would know, I'm not.

"Of course your real, your right here," She says.

Oh, I said that aloud. I've been doing that a lot lately, ever since I came to Remnant. I feel that little fact trigger a sequence of realisations in my head, only to fizzle out under the fact I am crying.

Fake girls don't cry, useless logic says, "I'm fake," I confess.

Before I know it, I'm confessing everything.

How I'm a fake person pretending to be real. How Ruby looks up to me after Beacon and the Siege of Vale, even though I cheated with Magic. How I beat the Ace Ops because they weren't ordered to beat me, and by cheating with technology. How the book I wrote with James, cheated with stolen understanding. How Blake almost seems to respect me for the little technologies I gave her, cheated with tech that isn't mine. How Ozma sees me as a friend, I think, for calling him out on his bullshit. How Yang and Jaune and James and Qrow and everyone I talked to, gave little inspiring speeches to, I cheated.

I know them because I watched a show that invaded their privacy, got a stolen look at who they are. I'm not a great person, I'm a collection of stolen skills and abilities and knowledge.

Amber gave me her body, trusted me, and I lost it in less than a week in the first real fight I had.

Not my achievements, not my skills, not my knowledge.

And, as comfortable as this is. As so much more settled and deeper than before, with so little irritation or noise or whatever that disruption the body makes between world and mind.

I'm not even a girl.

I'm just pretending.

Everything about me is fake. I don't deserve anything.

I'm not good enough.

Nobody will ever love me.

There's nothing left but the fight.

"It's easy to carry the weight of the world on your back when you're already broken."

I push her off me, hold her by her shoulders and look into her eyes, "I know you are real, Penny. Because I'm not."

I'm out the door and striding down the halls before I can let them respond, though they call after me as I do so.

I should be over this, right? How many times do I have to have a breakdown over the same things before I get over it.

Left, right, left, left, open each door in sequence. I don't know where I'm going, just going away.

No, real life issues aren't like fiction, I remind myself. People don't 'get over' things, and certainly not quickly. It takes a lot of effort over a lot of time to overcome them, and even then it never goes away. You just learn to cope with it, and move on.

Outside. There. Activate thrusters and follow the software instincts to fly up.

I feel the air rushing past me and already can feel myself calming down as I rise. Flying, moving, that calms me down. Sometimes, when he let me, Dad would take me on long car rides where I would just put on music, open the window, and feel the world go past.

Higher I rise, problems fading away below me. Even in the day, the air of Solitas is cool. It snakes through my clothing and ripples across my skin, my skirt shifting in the currents of wind. Solitas is cold, but I am synthetic now. Cold and heat don't bother me like they would organics.

There, atop that tower. Huh, James' office isn't at the top like I thought it was, it's almost at the bottom.

The thought passes as I rise. I rise and rise, every meter calming me before I arrive and land.

The metal roof clicks as my metal feet touch it, and I look over the city and sky of Atlas, feeling free.

Then the guilt sets in and I collapse.

I ran away again. I promised myself I would do better, open up and let people in. Care and stuff. Yet here I am, on a roof again, alone.

What is wrong with me?

Why can't I just...

.

Reborn into a new world and I screw it up. What a dream, huh? Hated Earth, hated living, but coming here has fixed nothing. It's just given me a new opportunity to screw up.

We all carry our cages with us. The problems are part of who I am.

So what if I don't want to be me anymore?

.

That's suicide.

Are they right? Am I suicidal?

Well, that's easy, just ask if you want to die.

Define death. Define want. Define you.

I've been trying to be someone else while I've been here. Some hero or problem solver for the big crisis, the war going on. Funny thing is, that's easy.

If people would just leave me alone, I could do anything. I could crush Salem and the Brothers and raise up Menagerie and give the world the stars.

But people and emotions, they're so much. I've been numb for so long, dead for so long.

My back hits the metal and I open my radio to the sun, listening to the static of solar radiation. Synthetic. Robotic. A new body.

How long until I lose this one? Like Amber's. I promised her everything would be okay, only for the first real crisis to get me killed.

Oh god. I died. Really died. He cut off my limbs one by one, shattered my ribs, opened up my guts, shoved blade shards into my chest and then ripped open my neck.

Then he exploded my head.

I can still feel it. I can still see Red rushing towards me as I lay helpless before it.

Breathe.

I don't need to breathe.

But I can. Air in. Air out. There we go, again. Air in, air out. See, not too hard.

Ha. I was stronger when Adam killed me. Adrenaline, focus, tiredness from the long night, whatever it was I was still fighting him. He was playing with me, cutting me down bit by bit, angry at me ruining the Fall of Beacon. He could have killed me with the first blow, but he didn't.

A hero would have won. Either beaten him or survived.

I died.

I died thinking of Pyrrha, sweet Pyrrha who didn't want this burden. The burden I took from her.

Like Amber. She trusted me, trusted a girl who is not a girl who said everything would be okay.

Like Pyrrha, a destiny I took from her. Was she always so fatalistic? The show didn't really get to go into her before she died, not really.

How long until I die again? How long until I break under the weight of the world.

It's easy to carry the world when you are already broken. Going through the actions. Say the words, lie and inspire. Don't let them see how hollow you really are.

.

Breathe.

Just, in, hold, then out. See, easy. It's easy. Listen to the white noise, the radio transmission from the sun. The gap between channels. Hear the steady hiss. And breathe.

.

Just breathe.

.

I think I need to sleep. I'm so tired. So numb and jittery from working all month, near sleepless and-James. He'll need a break too, we were both working on the book.

Can't sleep now though, too early. It's 0920. 0920? Oh, 24 hour time, I suppose that makes sense. I set my phone, back on Earth, to 24 hour time, so it's not too big of a jump.

I suppose I could do something. Something non stressful. Just, to take my mind off everything for a while.

Hey, I have text editor in my head.

I check the time. 1402. James called me at 1028 and I promised I would be down before 1500, so I have about an hour.

A look over the text documents I have written up brings a small smile to my face. It's not great, but it's not too bad.

Right, time to call him.

One ring. Two. Three. Four (will he pick up on 4, the magic number of Remnant?) Six. Se-

"Hello?" Ozma.

"Hi. Um. Not a crisis or anything," idiot, "A social call, if you have time."

"Alloy," Opps. Right, new scroll number.

Well, new scroll. Well, new body with scroll built in. Oh, and a new voice. There's no need for my faked death to get exposed because I sound exactly like...

The video feed of him pops into my... um what direction is that in? Not on my eyes, its a- oh. It's a completely separate datafeed.

"Sorry, I can't video right now. No scroll, unless you want to look over Atlas?" Because of course I can send my eyes vision over.

"Ah, your new body," Ozma nods in understanding. That's classified information.

I check the encryption of the call, and trust that Oz wouldn't talk about such things in an insecure location. My location, while secure, isn't all that needed as I'm not externally doing anything.

Wait. I look around and find a shiny surface. "Not the clearest, but does that work?"

I forward one eye's vision over as my video stream, looking at myself in the mirror-y metal. "That... Works, yes."

"They kind of dropped it on me this morning," I see Ozma smile in small way. Seems my complaining is entertaining. "I mean, if I was paying attention I would have realised based on the questions they were asking all month, but I was busy."

I am not whining. Well.

Maybe a little bit.

"Is it not to your satisfaction?" Shuddup.

"The freckles are cute, but I don't think they go well with the rest of me," I huff. "But otherwise, yeah, I like it."

"I have had a few which didn't suit me," I watch as Ozma pauses slightly, no doubt talking to his other half. I jump on that.

"You feeling insecure?" I tease. "Tell me Ozpin is asking if 'he's one of the good ones'."

A very brief flicker of surprise covers his face before he laughs. A moment later and I join him. Not that it lasts long.

"Well I think you two work. The white hair really pulls it together. Gives the whole 'timeless' look when added with how young you look." I finish.

"I've found myself fond of white hair. Occasionally," when his host permits it, "I dye it."

I groan. "Hair dye. That would have been a good one."

"Hm?"

"Oh, I've been trying to think of what to get you for Christmas. I know it's a bit late," It's New Years Eve. Ozma starts laughing before I can finish though. "What?"

It takes him a little while before he can stop. Something is really funny to him. "It hasn't been called Christmas for thousands of years."

"Oh." Right. I forgot about that. "What's it called then these days?"

Ozma cracks up a little again.

"Currently it is called 'Nondescript Winter Holiday'" I snort, "Something humerous?"

I see that smirk, "That's the Chibi name for it."

I snort again as I get why Oz cracked up at me calling it Christmas.

Then my smile fades as I get why he laughed when I called it Christmas.

The Ozs pick up on it quickly. "Something wrong?"

"No, just..." I sigh. "We really don't belong here, do we?"

I look down, and I know that the video feed stops seeing me, but...

"It will pass, in time." I look back up at the reflection. "Trust me. Some things will never change, but others... You will find yourself here in time. You are welcome here, Yuki."

That name still sings in me.

But... "How many lives did it take you to get to there though?"

I see his expression drop a little more. "Ah. A few, I admit."

Remnant's video camera tech is pretty good, good enough for me to tell he is thinking over past lives and painful memories, even without the pause. Very painful memories.

"However, if you ever want to draw on my experience, you simply need to call."

What?

"I-" A small but steady warm feeling grows in my chest at his offer. Not the reactive aggression at kindness, but warm and caring. So much so that I fail to come up with something to say for a moment.

"Thanks Oz," I finally get out. Stupid tearducts and robot body. I'm going to need to refill the thing.

I shake my head and then refocus. "Um, anyway. I called because I have something for you."

I send one of the things I have been working on. A text file worth a couple of hours goes across. "I had a hard time finding something to get the man who had everything, but... Well if you like you can pretend that it's mission critical information or whatever, and I have included notes on each character, but that's not why I wrote this. Um, fair warning though. Rapunzel is our version of 'The Girl In The Tower'."

Fairytales and myths. Not a physical thing that will be lost in time, but something else. Stories with history never told. I see Oz-one and Oz-two's eyes widen a little as the file goes across. For plain text, it's quite large. Having a text editor in my head makes typing trivial. Not that the quality is very good, I did only spend a couple of hours on it and- Oh, I'm just putting myself down.

I put a little smirk up on my face. "Still I think it's better than hair dye."

"I..." he takes his glasses off and smiles clear and genuine at me. "Thank you. Merry Christmas."

I smile back. "Merry Christmas, Oz'n'Oz, and a happy New Year."

I wonder if Ozma was the inspiration for Jesus here. Died, came back, had magical powers, group of disciples, trying to unify people.

The floor clicks under my feet as I walk back to the lab. Pietro and Penny are either still there or went back when I messaged them.

Every step feels heavy and tension rackets up in me as I get closer. Anxiety, oh how I have not missed you. I suppose I didn't really get it that much when I was Yuki, too numb from the shock of being in Remnant, but the honeymoon period is over and all my old issues are flaring up again.

Well, more of them. As well as new ones.

The door slides open and I hesitate a moment before walking in. Dammit, I'm almost ready to cry again and I haven't even started. Stupid emotions and lack of depression.

Not that I would choose to get deeply depressed again.

"Hey," I say, the word coming out awkward.

I should sit down. So I do. They look at me expectantly, giving me time. I'm thankful for that.

"Um..." Breathe, then get the words out. "I'm no good." that's easy. "and I'm going to be busy a lot and I won't be anything like what you probably expect, but..."

Penny is smiling. Pietro too, but Penny is smiling and that's why I chosen this.

"If you can tolerate me, I'd lik-"

And she is on me.

I really am an idiot.

Well, not so idiotic as to not hug back.

The doors slide open to the gathering in the- "Happy Birthday!"

Oh. Seems the group has decided to throw a birthday party for me. Even though it's technically New Years Eve.

Or maybe they just hijacked the party- nope that's a banner with my name on it. Uhg, they've had the entire time to plan this.

Penny pushes my back and I realise I have frozen in place. Right, party.

How do I..? I can't remember the last time I had a birthday party. Have I ever had one? Oh, yes, when I was 8 or 9, I set up a- nobody came.

Doesn't matter now.

Uhhhg... People are extinguishing. New world, new body, but the same old problems. Made worse by the fact I am burned out from the book.

I'm out the door after just over an hour, laying back in a long chair (what are they called?) on the balcony looking up at the sky. Still, I can hear the music and stuff coming though, and if anyone wants to talk to me, they are welcome.

Just, please not everyone at once.

"Not one for parties?" Speaking of which, here comes Weiss.

"Sorry, tired. And no, not informal social gatherings of any kind. Too many social vectors to calculate at once, too many possible interactions to prepare for." Oops. Forgot to move my mouth. Sound still came out though, thanks to the fact my voice box is a speaker.

"You make it sound so, clinical," Weiss sighs as she sits down. Seems she didn't notice.

I suppose I do. That's how I think of it. "What about you? Formal dinner with ballroom, or whatever Nora and Jaune are doing right now."

Something hideous, though they would call it dancing. Huh, didn't JNPR do a dance at the school dance too? Like, a coordinated thing?

"I've had quite enough of formal dinners to be honest." Ah, she's been with her father a lot since we came to Atlas. "Though I'm not sure I could handle whatever Nora is doing."

"I shouldn't have given her my cake," I giggle, "Though it's not like I was going to have it."

I can't see if she smiles, though I imagine she does. Still, she is quiet for a moment.

"Is it... different?" Ah, she's asking about my synthetic nature.

"Different, yes and no. Real, definitely. Natural even. Though there are a couple of things that stick out, like the fact I have a scroll in my head. Handy, but it's almost scary how intuitive it is. I do miss taste though."

"You were drinking before," she questions.

"I was refilling my tear ducts."

"Ah," Weiss hesitates.

"Not a problem. I'm a mess, I know that. I just need a lot of time to sort through everything." I breathe for a moment, something I have set to automatic though I do take manual control to calm me. "How about you? Did you like my present or was it too on the nose?"

I tried to get everyone Christmas presents, though at the time I thought I was borrowing James' money for it. Now that I think about it, my asking might have been what prompted him to pay for my book.

"It was... Thank you," She seems genuine.

I turn as she pats one of her pockets where a little clamshell makeup mirror undoubtedly sits. A mirror, broken with a long crack down the middle, and two sets of words embossed above and below.

'To show who you want to see'

'This Life Is Mine'

Not that it's completely sentimental, there are hidden compartments in it, as well as a lens and tinder for lighting a fire using the sun.

"Speaking of which, can I get your scroll number?" I wasn't just writing up old fairytales on the roof, though I have only finished a couple of them as I lay here.

Weiss reads it aloud and I send the files.

"I'm still working on everyone's, but... These are yours." Songs. Her songs. "They're not happy, but they are yours."

Another cheat I have used. Another bit of stolen information, this time leeching off the work of Casey Lee Williams and Jeff Williams. At least they are credited in the metadata, as much as that is worth.

"And all I got you was some Dust." Weiss dismisses her birthday present. Books on Dust, how it works, a copy of the 'Dust for Dummies and Other Inadequate Individuals' pamphlet (which I'm sure is a joke, right?), as well as some simple Dust and mixtures for experimentation.

"It might be common to you, but it seems like magic to me. Special even." Weiss snorts.

The first line in the pamphlet is 'Dust is not magic.' or something along those lines, I only skimmed it.

"And I wasn't expecting anything. Or the birthday party." Oh don't look so smug. "And to be fair, I know all of you better than you know me," my last line comes out unintentionally bitter.

"Well then, what do you like?" just like that she waves away the problem as if it's nothing.

I... "I think I like problem solving. Video games or fiction or science, understanding and leveraging that understanding, to solve an issue." I frown a little as I put the ideas together. "Does Remnant have Dungeons and Dragons? Or any other table top game?"

If I had more energy, I would try and GM a half remembered game of DnD. Though getting to try out a dozen or so board games native to Remnant is fun too. Eventually I pick out one that is sort of close to DnD.

"Say it," Blake teases.

"3," Nora crosses her arms and pouts.

"The town guard eyes you suspiciously and makes a gesture you recognise as a call for reinforcements. 'Odd, I reckon you do match the description of the thief reported around here.'" Yang changes her voice a little. I wouldn't think of her as a good GM, but she is pulling it off pretty well.

"Nora! Stop stealing everything!" Jaune (the lawful paladin) growls frustrated out of character.

"But the loooot! It calls to me!" The thief's player complains.

"While you were standing around, 8 other guards have moved in and circled you. 'You are under arrest for numerous crimes. You and your compatriots are sure to enjoy a nice stay in the dungeon while the courts decide what to do with you.'"

"Or we could fight? There's only ten of them and five of us." I'm pretty sure Nora meant that out of character, but Yang...

"The guard snorts. 'You are welcome to try it.'"

"I said that out of character!" Pfft.

"Nope." I cheerfully overrule.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune asks.

She scrolls through her notes on her scroll before shaking her head. "We haven't had a long rest, I haven't got anything that can help."

"'Let em come.'" My Scottish (because of course) dwarf grins.

"'This will go well, I'm sure.' I ready my bow." Blake is in for combat.

Unfortunately, the combat doesn't go well for the split party, and Yang switches to the other half of group.

"The mouse crawls up to you and squeaks loudly, waking you up." Yang says to Weiss. "A moment after rubbing your eyes, it opens it's mouth Lady Crimson's voice comes out."

Pyrrha, in prison with us, used an animal messenger to call for help. No way are we going to trial, we have seen how good 'justice' is in this town.

The game fully switches to the other half, and it's up to Penny, Ruby, Weiss and Ren to break us out.

A few fireworks go off even though it's nowhere near midnight and the sky is only just gone dark. Not that anyone is going to sleep before midnight, even though I kinda want to. Can I even sleep? Pietro (dad? No, that's a whole mess of thoughts for later) says so, though with how energy dense Dust is, I won't need to recharge for ages.

Instead, I lay on my back and stare up at my hand.

My hand.

I slip my glove back on and put my hand down, instead focusing on the stars above me. Well, the stars and the persistent Aurora Borealis. The air would be cold, but Atlas has the best heating systems of any Kingdom. Critical for living on Solitas. And, as a Synth, I don't have nearly as much of a problem with cold and heat as someone else.

When I asked James how much this body was going to cost, he laughed at me. Laughed. Even factoring in the costs of a super expensive robot body, he still owes me a lot of Lien. Apparently, I was being paid all of last month as a 'strategic consultant'.

Which is bullshit. I'm no 'master strategist' or anything, despite how the Ace Ops are suddenly treating me now.

They've been informed and brought up to Queens Plus level. All about Salem and my origins.

Uhg. The bloody respect I'm getting now from them was bad enough, then they added Yuki's deeds onto mine.

Not that it's all good. Walking though the halls today and looking at the social forums has given me a better insight of the response to the book. There is a lot of resistance from a lot of people in the Atlas military. Sneers, racism, comments just out of earshot, (For an organic, anyway, I hear them fine.) there are a lot of people who don't like how I've walked up and trampled all over their culture and traditions.

James says he's going to push it, but even so it's going to take a while before the book's contents (dear evil developers of microtransactions, they are calling it 'Alloyed Warfare') get implemented properly.

Still, James is milking the attacks and failure at Vytal and Vale, as well as the massive amounts of simulation data we made, to try push things through. There's also a political trap in it, though I didn't think of that when we were writing it.

The book (no, don't capitalise it.) pushes for an adaptive command structure, something that resists traitors and assassinations. Which means less power to a single general, which tempts the people who don't like James into at least thinking about it.

Uhg, even thinking about it makes me irritated. Remnant's small population and therefore military size means that single commanders, such as Kings of Generals, have worked in the past. That they really haven't needed to evolve past that.

One general and multiple commanders and special operatives under them. A simple and effective system for small scale events and skirmishes. But it's fragile.

Like chess. If you capture or kill the enemy King (or general), then that Kingdom is out of the war. Even if they promote someone else to take it, so much of the command structure is dependant on a few people.

Not anymore. James could have a heart attack and (once they accept my changes) the military machine will be almost unaffected.

I should stop thinking about this. It's making me angry and frustrated, even though we have already written the book.

Ha, maybe I should print off a copy and beat people over the head with it. 'This' Smack 'Is' Smack 'How' Smack 'To' Smack 'Fight' Smack 'Wars!' Smack.

And all of that is only 36 hours after we released it.

Still, the sneers are better than the people stopping and saluting me in the hallways. Between the supporters of the book, and the bloody rumour that I took on all the Ace Ops and won, I'm not sure I can deal with the growing slice who have taken to hero worship.

Ruby is more than enough, and she's not obvious about it.

Well, most of the time.

Hmm, that's a Manta gunship flying overhead. Not even really a gunship, in that while I might be an airship with guns (and missiles), it's not really used like that. More like a weird air superiority fighter.

Noooo. Stop. I just stopped thinking about the Atlas Military's failings.

Think about something else.

Stars. Yeah, lets go that. The speed of light is 299,792,458 meters per second (in a vacuum). I know that because I had to know that, too many sci-fi series getting their light speed wrong and FTL speeds inconsistent.

I miss Stargate.

They stopped using actual units pretty early on, but the season 1 finale of SG1 gave hard numbers that didn't sit right with me.

I suppose nobody here would understand Stargate, which isn't unusual. Though, nobody would get Starwars, or Startrek. Or any other references I make. I talked backwards like Yoda a while ago and all I got was strange looks.

Strange looks and a reminder. I'm not from here. They don't get it. They will never get it. Even if I spent the next 10 years recreated every work of fiction I know, there will always still be that disconnect. Some works of fiction are just that ingrained into my culture.

So, this is what it's like to be the 'last of their kind'. Now I know why Sauske is all broody all the time.

Oz said it would get better, but I'm not sure I...

I don't even recognise the stars. Not that I know many constellations, but I know some. More than that, I should recognise the star patterns even if I don't know the constellations by name or whatever.

It's not even a seasonal thing. If Atlas is on the north or south pole, then I should recognise Polaris or the Southern Cross, nevermind Orion.

Oh. I'm crying. Again.

I'm crying because the stars are wrong, the Moon is too big and it's shattered, that I don't think I'll ever see Earth again.

I thought I got over this. Why am I crying? Does anyone miss me? Really miss me?

I don't think anyone would. I hope Mum is okay, she would take my death/disappearance the worst.

Other than her, nobody would really be upset. Not the real, deep, level of upset.

It doesn't matter.

Movement. Sound. I turn my head and see Pyrrha.

"I'm sorry," she apologises for interrupting me, as if my location was some secret or whatever.

"Shush. Sit down," I offer, gesturing to the chair.

If I really wanted to be alone, I would just hide somewhere. Pyrrha sits down and joins me in looking at the stars.

She doesn't say anything for a while, and I eventually realise she's waiting for me to open up.

"I don't recognise them," eventually I say, "Alien Sky, I think the trope is called. A character wakes up somewhere and the fastest way for the author to throw them out of their depth is to make the sky wrong. Extra moons, another sun... or the star constellations being off."

"Do you miss it?" Earth.

"I... A little. If I had a chance to go back, I wouldn't, but the occasional thing sticks out... Well, more than occasionally." 'It hasn't been called Christmas in thousands of years.' 'When 900 years old you get, not so young you will look.' 'Oh, right. No GPS.' "and some sting more than others."

"I can't imagine. Vale is different from Mistral, but not so different. I do get homesick every once in a while." I think this is an awkward topic for her.

"Did you like my present?" So I change it.

"Ah, yes. Thank you. The team bands were nice." I got everyone bands coloured and lettered with their team names.

"To be honest, I got those mostly for you. I couldn't think of what you might find important, except your friends. Though, just getting you a JNPR band would be a bit out of line," I admit.

Pyrrha smiles, though it seems... off somehow.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"No, nothing." I raise an eyebrow at her questioningly. "It's... not something I want to talk about on your birthday."

I snort lightly. "This is hardly my birthday. If something is bothering you... It's me isn't it?"

And the anxiety is back. Great.

"No! No! It's not anything you did." Pyrrha back pedals.

Well, too bad. The anxiety is back and your conflict avoidance is bothering me. Huh, pot calling kettle black.

"Spit it out. We are not having another maiden breakdown." I jab at her history to keeping secrets.

Pyrrha hangs her head and I immediately feel guilty. "I'm sorry, that was... harsh. If you don't-"

"I'm sorry," that isn't one of her reactive apologies, "when you... died, I..."

I sit up and turn to give Pyrrha my full attention. It seems like this is something that has been eating at her for a while.

I think her eyes are wet, and she is staring at her hands. "I... I was in shock and..."

Oh Pyrrha. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. I've been so busy dealing with my own death, I didn't think to see how it would affect everyone else. Especially Pyrrha, who watched my last stand.

I try to understand how she must feel. "Is Destiny that important to you?"

The air comes out of her in a gasp. "You took my death. That I killed you by..."

"Pyrrha. Look at me." Her head tilts up, and yes she does have tears in her eyes.

"And... I felt relived," she finally confesses, "I felt relived that it wasn't me, and guilty because that."

I stand and pull her into a hug. "I died for you. Sacrificed myself on some crazy plan that didn't work for you and Ruby and everyone. You didn't kill me, it's not your fault. I don't blame you."

The hug might be a bit much, according to my anxiety, though at this point it's not about me. It's about Pyrrha. Fighting, friends and fate.

"I didn't take your place. I chose that path. I could have run, or picked some other plan, or kept burning Grimm at the wall," I speak softly into her ear.

I let go, though my hands stay on her shoulders. "Pyrrha. You don't know me. There's nothing wrong with valuing your own life, and the hurt it would cause your friends if you died, over me. There's nothing wrong with feeling relived because you lived, that you put yourself over me. You don't know me, Pyrrha."

"But that's wrong," Yeah. It is.

"It's human," I sigh and let go of her, "The human mind can't be fully empathic to literally everything it sees, that's too much. It's another bias."

"It's still wrong," Pyrrha maintains.

"Yeah. I'm not saying it's right, I'm just explaining why it happens," I gesture out to the city in front of us, "Do you care about people, Pyrrha?"

"Of course," And we are back in teaching mode.

"What about the people in the city? Would you die for them, the nameless thousands in front of us?"

"Yes." Wow, okay. I mean, I knew she would say that, but not that strongly.

"How about torture?" Pyrrha winces a little at that. "If you, strapped to a table, undergoing endless agony to prevent each person from a quarter of the pain, would you choose that?"

"I..." No. If Pyrrha is being honest with herself, and she is, she knows she would say no.

"You want to say yes," I nod. "It's the moral thing to say and do, at least by a lot of moral standards. But..."

"I've already chosen..." Pyrrha completes the sentence.

This Pyrrha didn't die on the tower. When someone, me, came to take the weight off her shoulders, she gave it up. She wants to be better, a hero or a champion, but... In the end she would choose friendship over duty.

Her question is quiet, little more than a whisper, so much so I have to turn up my ears and replay part of my audio feed. "Am I a bad person?"

"Morality is... Good, bad, these are simple concepts. And like all simple concepts, they don't work in reality. Reality is complicated."

That same lesson. Reality is complicated. Any attempt to simplify it will fail, sooner or later.

"Would you put Jaune on the table?" I ask.

"No. I'd rather-" Steel in her voice, sudden and absolute. If the choice came down to it, she would sacrifice herself for her friends, even if she wouldn't for the strangers.

"Distance. Emotional distance. Jaune, Ren, Nora, all of your friends and family. They rank higher in your head, even if you don't want them to. It's just human. There's not shame in that." She hangs her head as the idea, the very real and ugly truth, that she is a bad person sets in.

I hold her shoulders again, just to get her to look at me.

"But... You strive to be better," I smile, "There's a heavy question I was asked once. 'What is better: to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?' It's something I thought about a lot, before I came to my own answer. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you do good."

I let go again before continuing, "A street child no longer starving does care if the person who gave them food did it from the kindness of their heart or as a marketing ploy to promote a product, they are no longer starving. Sure, the corporate idiot is less likely to do it again, but the still put good into the world. Maybe that corpo will do some other evil, and that would be bad, but it doesn't change the fact that the child has a home and food, love and care, a future beyond the gutter."

The lesson, in a form she can understand. "Doing good or evil is a choice, a habit. A skill or strength to practice. The headmaster put a load on you that you weren't strong enough to carry, so when someone lifted the weight off you, of course you felt relived. When I died, of course you felt relived. That's not wrong. It just means it was too much for you to handle."

"I can get stronger." Pyrrha realises, and I mentally slap myself.

Idiot, this isn't just an explanation, this isn't speculative philosophy, this is real life. She is listening and trusts me.

"I-" I look down. "I'm sorry. That's not what I wanted to say at all." Back up to meet her eyes. "If that is the path you want to take. Though I wouldn't suggest it." I've walked that path before, or something like it. "It will cost you everything." The city is bright, I realise as I look across at it. No, not bright, full night has set. "Just, know your limits."

Pyrrha nods. "Thank you," and walks off.

I think I screwed that up. Huh, I just failed a charisma roll.

It's hardly the first time.

I just hope I haven't done too much damage.

"5!"

A countdown? To the second the new year starts? Not something I have ever done before, but the New Years has never been a big party for me. I think the most is one year where I watched the seconds on the clock as the passed until the year ended, though nothing happened.

"4!"

At least nothing literal/physical happened. I'm sure there's a bunch of symbolic and cultural meaning, but that means little to me.

"3!"

Maybe I should make a wish or something. Is that what your suppose to do? No, wait, New Year's Resolution, that's the thing.

"2!"

Eh, not really important. I'm already trying to improve myself and save the world and stuff. Keep doing that I guess.

"1!"

The fireworks launch.

Pretty.

0322, and almost everyone has gone to bed. Penny came and watched the sky with me (which is what I'm sort of doing) for a while, but she went off.

I'm just passing time.

The sort of calm passing that would go good with some lofi music, though the very real soundscape of the city is enough for me. I did always prefer soundscapes, if I could find the right one for my mood.

The stars twinkle above, half hidden behind the light pollution of Atlas, the faint rising smoke of Mantle, and the persistent Auroa Borealis that always hovers above the twin cities.

Again I look at the stars... Stars that I don't recognise. I might not be an astronomy buff, but I do recognise a few constellations. Orion, by his belt. Polaris, the north star, as well as the southern cross. One of the Dippers, after Gravity Falls.

There are none up there I recognise. Any doubts that this might be Earth, just different, are gone. This is Remnant.

There's something undeniably sad about that thought. That, at my core, I am alone. Friends, (and I still internally flinch at calling them that), I maybe have, but it doesn't...

But I don't think anyone will properly get me. I made a StarWars reference a while ago, not a specific scene or anything, but nobody understood.

.

I've thought these thoughts before. My mind is running loops, maybe because of the sudden lack of work. I need something to do.

.

Is this what being the 'last of your kind' feels like?

I suppose it doesn't matter. In a few hundred years, after we have dealt with Salem and the Brothers, when we are all immortal and travelling the stars, those two and a half decades where I grew up in a different world will seem like a tiny thing.

At least I hope so.

Noise.

I turn my head. (My Head.)

It's Blake, up late, which doesn't surprise me. Looks like she was going to read or something, she has a book in her hand.

"Do you mind?" She asks.

"Not at all. Want to grab a deckchair, look at the stars with me?"

Self consciousness flares up a moment at my weird offer. Look at the stars, isn't that half romantic or something? Penny was fine, she my sister (don't freak out, push it aside and work on that later), though Blake is a mess of relationships that I do not want to get tangled in.

I push it down. I'm tired of always being cautious of what other people think of me, of always being careful of what I say and how I say it.

Still the undercurrent of fear sits in me, an old habit. Probably not good for the Grimm.

Blake glances up, then shrugs and lays down beside me. Yes, apparently.

Another shock to my crippling self esteem. Someone actually wants to spend time with me, the useless fake that I am.

I shouldn't think these thoughts, but I'm just so tired. Following Pietro's instructions for a bunch of tests is easy, but it only goes so far considering the deep exhaustion I'm in. James will be in worse shape, I think. I should get him something.

"Good fight today," Blake comments idly.

"Yesterday." Pedantic. People don't like that, and not everyone has a clock in their head. "And not a fight. I distracted them while I cheated." And that's even worse of a response. "Thanks."

That's the right one.

Silence.

At least I don't find it awkward.

Maybe I should talk about something. Small talk. I'm no good with small talk. Though, this is particularly worse right now, has my sleep problem finally started to catch up?

Small talk, do that, "Good book? Read that one before?"

There, that works, right? How do I talk to people again?

"It has it's moments, and yes."

Just, let it go. Don't worry about what she thinks of you, just relax. I'm in a brand new world ( have been for over 2 months), so it's time to reinvent myself.

Ugh, why can't we talk about the end of the world. I'm good at that.

"You were crying."

Oh.

I was crying again.

I suppose I can talk about that. Not the end of the world, but it's something I don't mind talking about. Not like small talk.

"I don't recognise the stars," I explain, "Try to..."

I fade off, the words leaving me.

How do I say it?

"Just, make sure your parents know you care about them."

Blake nods out of the corner of my eye, and I again I realise my eyes are full colour the entire way. Remnin eyes aren't. Maybe there are some Faunus that have full field of view colour vision and movement, but I can't think of any.

"They do," Blake says after a couple of seconds silence, "I've been talking to them almost every day."

Odd hint of warmth in her voice there, I thought she would be more uncertain. I suppose this is a far better state than the OT, when she basically just turned up on their doorstep with Sun in tow.

Blake almost asks something, but changes her mind at the last second, "They're looking forward to meeting you."

She's been feeding them some of my tech and helping with coordinating supplies from Atlas to Menagerie. The CCTS relay tower there is the best it's been since it got made, and James has ordered a few rooms to be added. One is an ISOBOX.

"Water going well, from your reports," I pause before nudging her. Something is bothering her, "You can ask, you know."

She waits a moment.

Then another.

"Do you miss it?"

Earth. I don't even think of it as Terra anymore, the degree of separation not needed to shield myself from the pain.

"Some of it. A lot I don't. I miss the familiarity, the reliability, I think. The culture I know. But... Not the people."

I shake my head. "No, not the people, they were fine. I don't miss myself and how I acted around them. Cautious, fearful. Always nervous that the wrong thing might set them off, even though it didn't. I hated... always being someone else. Always calculating the best response, never asking 'what do I want?'."

I sigh. "Ask Weiss, she knows."

"I think I do to." Blake says. "Hiding. Pretending to be what they want you to be."

Ha. I suppose she would.

"Not that I have spent much time like that." She yields.

"You spent enough, I think." The stars are pretty in their own right, even if I don't recognise them. "It's suffocating, isn't it?"

"Always second guessing everything, checking to make sure it won't give you away." That's a bit more 'hidey' than mine, but it's close enough.

"I'm glad one of the first things I said to you was 'take that silly thing off'. You shouldn't have to hide what and who you are."

I think I said the wrong thing. Blake, well she didn't stiffen, but there's a slight negative reaction I can see.

"Adam said the same thing." Ah. Adam. Not what I said then.

"Well, he was right about that. Even if he's wrong about other things."

We lay in silence for a while while she thinks it over. I could look at my internal clock (and that alone has made life so much better) to work out how long exactly, but I don't need to.

Finally, Blake speaks.

"Do you hate him?" That's what has been eating at her.

I am completely honest, "No."

"I don't hate Adam. I understand him, to a lesser degree. He's hurt and been hurt for a long time. He feels trapped, even under the sadism and supremacy. Even after he killed Yuki, I still don't hate him."

How do I feel about Adam Taurus?

"I'm... angry, frustrated at him. For choosing the lesser path. Equality means building everyone up together, not tearing down everyone to the same level. Maybe its my unique perspective" Hey, I'm an alien with 'advance' Dustless techs. "but I wish he could see that."

Blake... I don't think she was expected that. I think she expected me to want to kill him or something.

"Me too."

I turn to smile at her. "We'll just have to show him a better way."

My smile is half full of doubt, and hers is half full of pain. Adam... isn't likely to listen.

That doesn't mean we aren't going to try talk to him.

Blake nods, before pushing herself up. A glance over her shoulder and she jumps off the balcony.

Huh, Remnant must be affecting me more than I thought. I just watched a girl jump off a couple of stories and was totally okay with it.

0532. I'm still trying to relax.

F=MA. Force equals Mass times Acceleration. I jot that down in the open file in my head.

"Let me guess, you're working." Qrow's voice echoes out from the doorway disapprovingly.

"Reinventing Metric," I justify weakly. Yes. I'm working.

"You mentioned that before. It's your measurement system, right?" Hmm, I wonder if I can convince Qrow to use the Metric system.

"It's a vastly superior system of measurement, thank you very much," I tease.

Qrow snorts. "Right."

"It is!" I quietly exclaim, "Unlike your terrible imperial system, it makes sense. 1 kilometer is 1000 meters. 1 milimeter is 1000th of a meter. And it plays nice with other measurements, like 10 newtons is needed to accelerate 1 kilogram 1 meter per second per second."

"So it's all standardised?" it's an almost teasing tone in his voice, though an interested one.

"Yes," I say.

"Sounds boring," and just like that Qrow dismissed the wonders of Metric.

"Remnant," I scoff, "always trying to be special."

Qrow walks out and sits down next to me as I snigger,"Qrowshot, huh?"

If I had lungs, I would cough.

"I didn't name it, I swear." Qrowshot is an idea in the book. "It started out as a way of quickly remote deploying a group of Atlesian Knights or supplies."

"By shooting them out a giant gun." Come on, that's a vast simplif- okay yeah. Shoot them out a giant gun.

"I mean, it would work, and you could point the artillery to almost any required location. Then I thought, 'Why not a Paladin?' before jumping to the logical conclusion."

Qrow cracks up. "The logical conclusion is to shoot huntsmen out of a gun?"

"I was tired." I whine, err, defend myself.

Though that the idea is still in the book shows how much merit it has. Knights don't have squishy bits to splatter, Paladins, or the paladin pod, can have gravity Dust to prevent splatter, and a team of Huntsmen all have their own landing strategies, though a special pod would help.

"Jimmy would love to shoot me out a gun." Qrow chuckles again.

"I wanted to call it 'deep striking', but Qrowshot sort of caught on." Half my fault. I was tired, and 'Qrowshot' is funny to think about, so I kept slipping up. "Don't worry, it's not even designed yet."

Got to design and make a big artillery cannon first, then the special pods for people. The sketches we did make it look more like an assisted rocket platform than an artillery cannon, but Remnant's crazy engineers will solve that I'm sure.

We sit in silence for a while, and oddly I find myself relaxing around Qrow. It's... sad actually. I've spent my whole life wound up around other people that being able to just sit and be with someone is the weird thing. No expectations or fear that I might say or do the wrong thing and set them off, no undercurrent of having to pretend to be normal or fill some role.

I can just be me.

Even if I don't really know who that is.

"Thanks for the present," Qrow offers a topic.

I try to remember what I got Qrow, he was one of the people who was hard to buy for. I think I just got some little gimmick thing. Oh, the smell thing. A little adaptor with scent pods that you smell as you drink water, tricking the brain into thinking it's tasting it. Flavour without actually flavouring the water.

"It wasn't that great. I mean, I did have to half design-slash-steal it, but I didn't really know what to get you."

"Not the scent flavourer." I turn to look at Qrow. "Since Vytal. My Semblance."

Oh. Spending time with Yang and Ruby without fear of screwing things up. I guess he didn't really get to live with them before, always orbiting but never really staying. This is probably the largest uninterrupted time he has been with them, and if it wasn't, the fear of Misfortune is gone.

"No problem. I bet they're sick of you now."

Qrow laughs and leans back. "Nah, they can't get enough of me."

"Wow, such self confidence. Such delusional self confidence," I deadpan, channelling Winter.

He waves me off. "You're just jealous of my rugged good looks and enviable charm."

I stare at him, as if assessing him. "Subject note: Delusion has seeped into the deepest part of his psyche. I'm afraid this one is beyond saving."

"You've been spending too much time with the Ice Queen and Ironwood," he counters.

"Uhg. Your right. Good thing I have hot beaches and sexy people for my holiday." I look down at my crotch. "Wait, where are my?..."

If only Qrow had a mouthful of water, then it would be all over the balcony floor. I am relentless. "Dammit Pietro. You got everything almost right."

"Stop." Qrow wheezes.

I don't. "I mean, with how much energy I have, I can go for literal days. Days! And that's without plugging in."

He's coughing, no water required.

"Maybe I can get an adaptor or strap-on or something." I turn to him with a hungry grin. "How do you feel about pegging?"

God. I would never do this. Too much fear and hesitation. Too deeply suppressed, a choice I made a long time ago. Buuut... to mess with Qrow?

No, I'm just tired. That's what I'll blame.

I stop to give him time to breathe. For a little while. "Note to self, powerful Huntsman Qrow Branwen is vulnerable to innuendo. Seems he can dish it out but can't take it."

Which is weird. I flicker my eyes through it's vision systems to check him, suddenly concerned I'm talking to a Semblance projection or a shapeshifter or something. I'm at war, can't forget that.

No, it's him.

He doesn't notice. "Only 'cause you look half like Ruby."

What?

I run a mental checklist of my... black hair, silver eyes, short, small breasts, wears primarily black. If I were to wear a cape and switch my white for red, ditch the freckles and dye the tips of my hair, I would look like a cosplayer of her.

Oh shit. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise I-"

Summer. She used white.

A shiver runs up my spine. Oh god. I'm so sorry.

Idiot. Idiot. I should have realised the questions they were asking were about my-

"Stop." Qrow cuts my thoughts off. "Colours don't belong to anyone."

That's... one of the issues I had when I told the teams about black and white. I was concerned I was stepping on Blake's and Weiss' colour schemes. I guess everyone talked about it during the book writing.

I have to ask. "I... I don't look like Summer, do I?"

Pain. I'm sorry. "A bit. Just, don't wear a cape."

"I won't." I turn to look back up at the stars and change the topic. "Thanks for your and Ruby's present."

"Got any ideas?" A couple of books, but mostly kits, parts and materials for making my own weapon. Clearly more Ruby inspired, though Qrow probably realised I don't really know how to make one and threw in a book.

"I have an understanding of a couple of whoosh based weapons, though nothing personal. I'll probably recreate some of those as practice before I try and make something big." A P90 sounds nice right now, it's fairly mechanically simple with just a unique magazine system.

"Ruby'll want to be there to see your alien gun," Qrow says, and I hear him smiling at the thought.

"Well, I should have a weapon before I head to the beaches, and I can't learn how to make one fast enough before I leave. I guess I can ask for some help," I make it out as some big burden to carry.

"How noble of you," Qrow deadpans.

"It's a great sacrifice, but it's one I'm willing to make."

Hmm, I could start now actually. Got a sketchbook in my head and all.

Though, thinking of which...

"Can I get your scroll number?" I ask.

"Sure." He pulls out his scroll and sends it to me through the local net. Oh, right, local wireless.

Oh well. "Um, here." I send the song over, and he hits accept to download the file. "It's... well it's your character song. Kinda inaccurate now, with your Paradigm Shift, but it's still yours."

"Yeah, the half Schnee said something about that. Thanks," I hope the music wasn't too harsh on her. Unlike Qrow, a lot of it is still true.

Half Schnee? "Why do you call her that."

"Well, Ruby vouches for her, so she can't be that bad." Ha!

"Speaking of Ruby and guns, how is development going?" Just because I have been half useless doesn't mean everyone else has been.

Ruby has been working on a Whoosh mixture, adding stabilising agents and all the other things needed to reinvent the other half of smokeless powder. I think she's been having fun.

Qrow flicks me over a bundle of files and I skim over them, "She's been pretty excited to try out the new cartridges for her baby." Ah, that is what she was working on yesterday. "Your winter present sent her in an all new buzz."

"You know, I didn't technically give that to her." I realised that nitroglycerine is just glycerol (a by-product of soap making and a common industrial food substance) nitrated. Even uses a similar process as nitrating cellulose. "And that is technically work."

Qrow snorts. "Why does she get the fun work while I'm stuck with the boring stuff."

Boring. That's not the word he wants to use, I can tell. Not with him still working under Ozma.

"Well, we have to counter your recent upbeat attitude somehow. Imagine if we didn't and had to live without a grumpy Qrow. Did she even like my present?"

"'I'll get to it later.'" Qrow quotes.

Oh, that... My expression apparently says it all. "Shuddup. Stop laughing. I spent a long time thinking about that."

Small gravity Dust crystals (expensive as all gravity Dust is, I thought I was going to have to pay off the cost to James for a couple of months) to put along the barrel of her weapon and some laser sensors. Should add even more power to her shots, and if she doesn't want to do that, the Dust and sensors can be used for other stuff.

"This is what I get for trying to be nice, I guess." I think I'm pouting. Can I do that?

Meh.

"How about you?" Qrow asks. "Did you like your presents?"

"Qrow, I don't know what to do with half the stuff I got. Weapon kits, Dust, clothing coupons. I mean, I literally don't know how to use Dust or how to make a weapon, nevermind what I want to wear. More than that, I'm still trying to get over this." I gesture up and down my whole body. "I'm still pretty numb from working and having a whole ass body dumped on me."

And... Something else.

The things themselves are nice but...

"I don't like the meaning behind it." I confess out loud. "I'm not used to positive... anything. At least not genuine things."

I look up at the stars. With it being winter and the fact we are in Solitas, the sun won't rise for a few hours yet. "I always hated presents. 'Get him a puzzle or a gimmick thing.', 'what do you want for your birthday?', 'Something useful, like clothes or food.' Nobody, including me, ever knew what I wanted, because I didn't want things." The stars, how far away is the closest star to Remnant (other than it's sun, of course) I wonder. "There were presents because it was expected that gifts were to be given."

"And this is different?" Qrow... I'm not sure if he's genuinely asking or poking at the whole 'new years, birthday, Christmas' thing.

"I didn't even expect to have the capacity to have stuff. And it feels different, like they are getting me these things because they don't know what to get me, but... Like they want to know what to get me."

"Like we care." He completes.

"Yeah." The brightest star isn't necessarily the closest, but it would be a good place to start. "Like there's a future."

The stars aren't suddenly twinkling brighter, it's just the tears over my eyes messing with the light passing through the water. Great, I'm crying again. What a mess I am, crying because there is a tomorrow.

I've lived without a future for so long. Always trying to just survive the next week, the next day, the next hour. The idea that this time, next year, that the obligatory presents I might get will be personal... It's so much. So massive.

Scary even.

I shake it off and look to Qrow. "So, tell me, how did Yang react?"

"React?" His eyes widen. "It was you."

I may have given Yang her favourite hair conditioner. And they may be mixed with dye (washable dye, I'm not suicidal). Seems someone is going to prank Yang, but not me. I literally didn't have the hands to do it.

Not that it was the only thing I got her, a few things for her bike as her real present.

I grin, hard, and quote. Good thing I can translate my thoughts directly into sound, which means it's obvious I'm quoting something they don't know. "Yes, it was I. My machinations lay undetected for years. For I am a master of deception."

Though... That reminds me of an idea I have. Clever I might be, but this is personal.

"Qrow..?" My tone drops. Really personal.

"Spit it out."

"Um. I can make music from my memories. But... I can make images to. Would it be too much to 'take photos' of-" Yeah, he gets it. "I mean, they would be reconstructions, but they would be reconstructions of real memories. All photos are illusions of the past anyway."

"Heh. Isn't it suppose to be your birthday? We should be the ones getting you things." Qrow half deflects with the topic change, but he doesn't sound hostile. No, he's almost smiling.

"It's also New Years." Chibi Ruby took candy from everyone else on Halloween, claiming birthday privileges. Here I am, doing the opposite. "Besides, my birthday was hours ago."

"Happy New Years, Alloy." And that is a Yes.

I get to work on new photos of Summer.

"Happy New Years, Qrow."

Author's Note:

Upload it now, before I hesitate.

I've taken a long break. Longer than I would have liked. The Persistent Nightmare (that is reality) has been particularly persistent for a while, so much so that the gap between this chapter and the last was spent trying to recover.

It didn't work.

More on that next chapter's author note, but...

I am trying to push this, get it done in a month, so expect the quality to drop. This chapter was half stitched together from notes, which I can notice though I'm not sure anyone else can.