AN: I never said there was only one ending. Here's what's behind door number 2. Some of you might like this better, some of you might hate this. But that's the nature of stories. You can choose which one you want to believe is true, or make your own. This starts the same as the previous ending, and diverges in a few places, before heading madly off in its own direction. Because of that there might be some inconsistencies, and the timing somewhat bounces around, but it should mostly make sense.

Beowolf:

There are very few words which translate well into the half-truths used to describe existence. Hunger, fear, hate, grief – all provide somewhat discouraging simultaneity. Do you hunger for sustenance, or for need? Do you fear something which you face, or something intangible? Do you hate something, or does something light fire in your chest? Do you grieve for something you have lost, or for something you might've had, if the world was different?

This deconstruction, this impurity, masks any truth when one describes the Beowolf, surrounded by nothing, in Amity. That nothing, heretofore described as a 'lacking', was deep, and it was dark.

The Grimm moved from its station as the gate to said nothingness, and walked a slow trudge out of the deep bowl of the coliseum, moving with the same lethargy as a funeral procession, but not the as a grieving widow, as the murderer who got away with it. It who got to watch their handiwork play through the faces of the crowd they had brought together today. So maybe, instead of saying that the Grimm walked as if it was following a coffin, it walked as if it had brought calamity to the hearts of loved ones.

And then it felt a pulse.

Not a pulse like a heartbeat, but a small spark of emotion, one that was too faint to be anything more than an echo in the whispers of a windswept forest. But it was enough to force the Grimm to turn about face and peer back at the dim shadow it had created with its slaughter. It noticed, with somewhat of a start, that the crumpled body of Penny was still on the ground, left to rot.

Growling, it stalked up to the body and looked down, realizing that this little beat was increasing the closer it got, until it was looking down into the dead eyes of the android. But the emotion wasn't coming quite from the corpse, no, it was emanating from a completely different source. A very small, but very vibrant point, hanging from the small red cord which tried the Beowolf's necklace to the girls' neck.

Curious, it reached down, pulling the necklace off of the Android's neck and holding it up to see. The pulsing slowed, until it was a steady tone. It was longing, in part, and another part spite. A deep, gentle, but no-less intense anger. A feeling of being cheated, or somesuch. It recognized it, or perhaps associated it with the recently passed Penny, one who probably would have felt like that in her final moments alive…

Wrapping the necklace around a wrist, the Beowolf could feel a sort of change in the tone, as if something within the necklace realized that it wasn't quite bound to the dead and broken body of the android. It flashed, then went silent, dead to the Beowolf's most prodding of emotional manipulation. It simply went dead, but thrummed with some energy it didn't know. It decided to keep it, the girl would have no use for it now, and the awkward similarity it carried showed promise. For what, it wasn't sure – but it was there.

When it left that hollow it dashed along the plain walls of the vomitorium and cast its eyes about with some consternation, realizing that it had never seen this level of the construct before. Fortunately, what it did see gave it some 'Hope'. It regarded the edge of the outer ring where it stood with some wariness before approaching the guard rail. Below, several hundred feet below in fact, the surface of Remnant was being set alight by chaos. Its muzzle and chest were buffeted with equal amounts of fear and anxiety, and it growled at the mixture, though it didn't find itself nearly as annoyed with the sparks of determination that came off of the necklace. It found those easier to ignore, despite their seemingly random tone.

From what it could see, Beacon and the outer regions of Vale were in the most upheaval, while the city itself was safe. In the back of its head, wiggling like a maggot in the bottom of rotting trash, was the influence which commanded it to seek out and destroy as many Grimm as possible. It could feel the force of it, though it could hold its body steady even through the pain it exerted. The emotion which had driven it as it slaughtered hordes of its own kind… Was bizarre. Altogether too human for it to even describe to itself, and that worried it. Feeling the Nothing seep out from where it had left the intangible remains of the Grimm, it grit its teeth and peered into the sky. It caught sight of a dark shadow in the distance floating towards Vale and let out a huff.

A Dragon. That, would be an issue for Humans. A flash of fear from the necklace seemed to concur.

Knowing that nobody would return for it, and also aware of the fact that attempting to commandeer a human flying machine would end in failure, the Grimm stepped back into the Nothing and gave it a large amount of running room before the edge. Then, steeling itself, it lunged towards the edge at full speed, fully intending to save it some distance later on.

Then, it sent itself flying off into the more traditional nothing which was the air. It rotated so it was falling roughly straight, feet-first. It had never considered whether or not it could survive the fall. As air whistled past at increasing speed it neither had confidence nor doubt in its abilities, even as it was a Beowolf, and flying tended to be the domain of, say, Nevermores.

Speaking of, as it fell it caught sight of a Nevermore flying underneath it. As dark as it was against the dim ground below, it was only a glint of light off of its mask which warned the Wolf that impact was imminent.

From a distance, the effect would have looked strange. The Beowolf, large as it was, still couldn't hold a candle to the size of the Nevermore which had a wingspan of approximately sixty feet. Regardless, the effect was like dropping a bowling ball on top of a sparrow, and the bird-like Grimm gave a shrill shriek as its momentum suddenly shifted from forward to downwards. Where the Beowolf landed, between the Nevermore's wings, would have killed an animal with the crushing of a spine, but thankfully for the Beowolf, Grimm didn't have that particular evolutionary fault.

The Beowolf gripped the stalk of some of the broad feathers and dug its heels in as the Crow spun in the air to try and dislodge whatever offending being dared to strike it from above. Whipped around, the Wolf's grip slipped a bit further before its impromptu steed settled and continued on its northbound path, seemingly confident that it had dislodged the relatively diminutive Grimm.

The Beowolf stalked up the Crow's spine until it was able to see over its shoulder, fighting against that impulse in the back of its head to try and kill the Nevermore in the air. As reasonable the chances for success were for such an attack, it felt it may as well wait until it was closer to Beacon before attempting something as stupid as mid-air-combat with a particularly large bird. It couldn't help but start determining the best way to kill the beast while it was in the air, which would probably be to drive a clawed hand into the beast's eyes and grab the brow of the mask from the inside and pull. Such a trauma would—

The Wolf shook the image from its head, growling to itself. This foreign influence was starting to grate it more deeply than it had first suspected, and a sudden urge to tear out the back of its own skull to remove the offending entity overwhelmed it, if only for the breadth of a microsecond. It regained its composure after the Nevermore started swerving again in pain as the Beowolf drove claws into the thick hide of the beast, the top of its palm already submerged in the inky black.

It knew that the nevermore wouldn't be tricked a second time so as the great Crow swerved back and forth the Grimm grabbed handfuls of feathers in each hand to hike itself further along the 'spine' of the creature. No matter how hard the Nevermore bucked, the Wolf's firm grasp prevented it from being knocked clean off, and it if the risk ever became too great it would pause and dig in for a moment to let the flip or roll pass. Wind tore at the Nevermore's back, and more than once one of the feathers would tear loose and the Grimm would lose its balance, flailing for a moment to try and stay upright.

Finally, the Beowolf reached the neck of the beast, and set to work. The Grimm began rolling its neck feebly, a sense of panic obvious in its movements as it realized that the Beast was on a mission. The sudden bobbing was nowhere near as disorienting as the weaving and rolling, so the Beowolf picked up some speed and tried to leap the remaining distance to the mask of the Crow.

The avian monster proved to be unwilling to go down without a fight, and with a flash it pulled its wings in close to its body and spun, its belly now to the Wolf as its great maw opened wide to try and swallow the Beowolf whole.

The World:

The Nevermore righted itself and flew for nearly another Kilometer before something appeared to be wrong with it. It started twitching in the air, its head jerking side to side before one of its eyes bulged out of the socket. The eye exploded into a black mist as a white and clawed hand reached out and grabbed the mask from the inside, another hand bursting from another eye to do the same.

There was a pause, where the Nevermore should have screamed in pain, but instead there was only a thunderous crack as its cranium peaked out. The mask between its eyes was cracked down the center all the way to its beak, the force of the pull cleanly tearing the Grimm's skull in twain.

Instantly, the Grimm evaporated into mist, the foreign agent that had lodged itself in its mouth resuming its fall to the ground far below.

The Beowolf:

With dispatching the Nevermore came a rush of euphoria which felt as natural as oil replacing blood in the veins. Its teeth grit as it tried to overcome the foreign sensation, thought it was quickly dispelled when the Beowolf got a rather sudden, though probably not unexpected, reunion with solid ground.

Crashing at high speed into the top of an automobile, the sudden cacophony of metal crunching brought an end to the tingly sensations which had filled its body. Lifting itself from the wreckage it cast its eyes about, looking to the sky to see if it could determine exactly where it had landed. The fact it was standing on one of these human contraptions implied that it wasn't on Beacon, and instead it was somewhere farther away. To its left it could see some large tower rising up, more Nevermores flying overhead while one or two Huntsmen fought with smaller Grimm on the ground.

Pulling itself from the wreckage the Beowolf grit its teeth, having a foreign sense of déjà vu with its surroundings. Before it could step too far, however, it found itself grind to a halt. The pull to fight its own kind was strong, strong enough in fact that it almost found itself salivating as if it was hunting humans as a youngling again. No, this pull was much more… Basic.

A tongue dipping out of its mouth and running along its lips and teeth it felt consciousness fade again as a delectable scent overcame its senses, dulling even the forced ecstasy.

Evil. Malicious intent. Hate. Its chest swelled as it breathed in the sweet stench of the rotten human. Something rank.

Something like a chuckle escaped its mouth as it snatched a passing Boarbatusk and lifted it into the air, the weak Grimm struggling to evade the massive hands which were digging into its flesh. The Beowolf leaned down and opened its mouth wide before clamping down on the other Grimm's stomach, swiftly tearing through the soft flesh before manually ripping the helpless lesser being in two down the middle.

It relished the sensation in its mouth, a bubbling and dissolving flesh which was all too cold. A stark contrast to the fantasy of soft human muscle splitting under-

It dropped both halves of the swiftly-dissolving Grimm before clenching its fists, the armor of its gauntlets squealing against the force of its own grip.

Genocide.

Murder.

Placate the Parasite.

Its choices seemed clear. The bloodlust hadn't been able to pierce through the mantra pulsing in its head. It could tell, in that moment, that it wasn't truly in control. It was a Grimm, but… It couldn't.

And then the anger struck. Like a freight train carrying granite, the Parasite was beaten into submission by a sudden flare of spite and hurt that emanated from the Grimm's hand and spread like warmth through its body. It glanced down to the Necklace and felt something like determination and malice. The necklace was urging it to find the people responsible for this, and make them pay. And it recognized these people as being responsible somehow.

The Beowolf didn't understand why, but it connoted those feelings with Penny. The urge, the drive to protect was simply steeped in an anger which had probably festered in an hour of being dead to the world and unmoving, but witnessing the carnage which had taken over Amity. Maybe this was, in some small way, a reflection of that anger, of Penny, captured in the fang.

But that could wait. The will to protect, and to fight, welled up and allowed the more sinister bloodlust to settle in the Wolf's stomach. Regardless of these emotions, it was given the tools to hunt. And right now, faced with this morsel of a rotting human, it couldn't help but oblige.

Ozpin, later on:

The headmaster's eyes were pinned to the blue screen in front of him, watching the letters under his fingertips light up or dim in fractions of a second. There was no full screen readout, a precaution in case someone managed to divine the purpose of these pods. They might get as far as loading two people into the machine, but with the precautions against someone accidentally fusing auras it would impossible for them to continue with the procedure.

Ozpin himself had wondered if this day would ever come.

As Pyrrha's screams started to echo in the hall he winced and closed his eyes. He could only imagine the sort of agony one would experience when their aura was being stifled by another's. Crammed and consumed, to be lit ablaze and then snuffed out like a candle being dropped in a bowl of water.

He turned his glance to see Jaune not keeping guard and his teeth bared in a moment of weakness. "Jaune!" He bellowed, catching the young man's attention immediately as the young Huntsman dragged his eyes from Pyrrha's writhing form to the Headmaster. "Focus!"

Those two words seemed to be enough, and Jaune whipped around again, brandishing his shield. Ozpin didn't know whether or not the young man had the technical prowess to stand against the Fall Maiden or her underlings, but with Ozpin watching over the transfer the options were limited. He had to hope that either She was delayed by her own machinations, or that Jaune's will to protect his teammate would override his own shortcomings. Such thoughts created a bitter taste in the Headmaster's mouth, and he swallowed thickly.

A massive explosion was heard overhead and the pillars around them shook with the force, sending small amount of masonry down all around them. Ozpin batted away a large chunk which threatened to crack through Pyrrha's pod, and bit his tongue to hold back an oath or two when the rumbling failed to stop.

Minutes passed and the transfer was complete, and he helped Pyrrha step out even as the shaking continued. The distant look in her eyes wasn't good, it was in fact similar to the one that the Spring Maiden had worn when they found her. Ozpin felt panic rise in his gut before he stamped it down. Cinder would be arriving any minute now—

The door across the hall blew open but the people who arrived weren't who he expected. He saw Huntresses and huntsmen, young ones, his own students, pour into the room. He recognized members of Team JNPR, as well as students from other schools. They rushed in with the speed of someone being chased by the devil itself, and when they started to slow a massive roar urged them on, forcing some that had slowed to stumble as they tried to get out of the way of their comrades behind them.

Before Ozpin could ask any questions Coco, the eldest of the group approached. She looked tired, and surprised, and the fact that her trademark beret was missing implied that things had gone horribly awry up above. "Sir, don't mean to interrupt, but something fucked is happening."

"What?" Oz demanded, not moving from his position near Pyrrha. Despite this strange turn of events, he was as wary as ever.

"Some giant Grimm appeared out of nowhere." Sun muttered, whistling low. "Weiss and it sort of talked I guess, then they ran off warning us that we needed to get down here or else. Then the explosions started, and things got…" He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Hot."

"What he means," Coco sighed, pushing her glasses a bit further up her nose. "Is that the entire sky is on fire. If we had been a minute later, we probably would have been burned alive up there."

"Ozpin." Pyrrha gasped, from beside the headmaster, struggling to stand on her own two feet. "The Fall Maiden. I think she's dead."

The Beowolf: Earlier

"Ohoho, I'm getting all of it." The gray-haired human said with a chuckle. To his right were two more humans, one with green hair and another with black. The rightmost female was swimming in conflict, but not remorse. The man was enjoying himself, his body thrumming with excitement and vanity. He was enjoying the carnage below.

But the one which truly drew the Beowolf to the roof, the one that made it salivate, the one that incited its anger so strongly that the parasite was drowned in bloodlust. The Grimm flexed its fingers, the necklace it had retrieved from Penny's corpse dangling lightly from a wrist. Its fingers split apart In the middle and claws swung out like Swiss-army knife. It had made the trait so long ago, but in its haze it had forgotten even this ingenious little development. Four inch claws, built into fingers, perfect for rending flesh from bone.

It scented the air once more to take in the pride that the woman had. She was viewing the carnage as her handiwork, and it was inflating the fractured soul that the Beowolf could sense. She was rotting, her aura like a gangrenous limb, blood long having stopped circulating to the putridity. It knew, in some back part of its mind which was above this all, that she must have some sort of culpability in the chaos. No human would observe such events with the sort of svelte self-gratification she felt without being responsible.

This thought seemed to enrage the bangle, and lifting the necklace so it could see it more clearly it noted a green sheen to it, nearly imperceptible to the eye. It gently, but no less insistently than the Parasite, insisted that action be taken. It did so in a warm glow of hatred which spread up the Beowolf's arm, urging it to take action. This same glow had numbed the parasite, giving it the will to begin on this little adventure. And now, it had no reason to hesitate.

The Rotten was about to say something more, but the Beowolf decided that it had waited long enough. It crept forward, silently, then grabbed the man by the shoulder and heaved him back. The Human let out a cry of main as claws pierced through the skin and flesh, severing sinew and muscle under the grip. He said something, not that the Grimm cared as it lifted him up into the air when the two others whirled around.

It could feel their shock as it held the still-struggling human in its grip, flailing with his free hand and legs to try and beat it away. The strikes weren't well-directed, however, and his feet were too far away to connect with the Grimm's body. He coiled and bent but the Beowolf only increased the strength of its hold, feeling softer bones give way with wet pops, the young man now screaming in agony, unable to contain himself.

The Rot's expression didn't change, but a sort of dark realization crossed her face. The Beowolf frowned internally at that. She knew that the young man was as good as dead already, and for some reason she didn't quite care. It was as if it was simply doing something she was going to wind up doing anyways. It was a dissatisfying realization for the Beowolf, who sneered and dropped the useless construct of flesh on the ground with a thud. It had hoped to incite more delicious sensations of anger and contempt form the woman but it was clear she was too far gone for that. She didn't care, which was too bad.

Penny wanted her to suffer – or pay, at least.

The Wolf could still arrange that.

When the young man tried to shift the Beowolf carelessly stepped on both his legs, the action filling the night air with two distinct noises. One was the crushing of metal, much like when the Beowolf had landed on the car minutes ago, the other was the sound of some bone being crushed, and some bone poking through the surface of the skin. An unfortunate development for the young man, who howled into the night, his eyes filling with tears.

That, surprisingly, got the attention of the Rot, who's eyes narrowed and glowed with a foreign power. Some disgust wafted off of her and the Grimm almost grinned at her. The only thing that was putting her off-balance was the fact that her broken allies were so… Weak. It almost commanded respect from the Beowolf, though it knew that leaving your allies to die when your very life was in danger did nothing to improve your chances. And this woman was in very real danger.

The Rot summoned a bow, knocked an arrow, and launched it in the breadth of a second, her expression blank. The arrow collided with the Beowolf's chest, the razor edge piercing through its armor where it was blocked by the hide underneath, and shattered. It could tell this was the part where it was expected to flail about in agony, as the shards drove deep into the hide and tried to worm their way into its very flesh.

While the woman watched, the tar-like blood of the Grimm pushed the shards out, dropping them on the roof as the liquid burned into a mist. While it wasn't necessarily going to harm it too badly if it didn't deal with the shards, it imagined that having enough of those pieces in its chest would eventually create quite the distraction later on.

And then the shards on the ground started to fizzle and glow, their heat burning the concrete on the roof. The Beowolf eyed them curiously, noting their similarity to the grenades that it had encountered on Amity that the White Fang were equipped with. Those shards would have been sharp enough to burn it from the inside, where it probably would have experienced quite tremendous pain.

It inclined its head, looking at the woman. Too bad.

It took a step towards Rot and the other girl approached, flashing in front of it and staring intently at its eyes. Her lips were slightly up-turned as she focused, her eyes shaking as she obviously wrestled with the urge to look to the young man groaning on the ground. It recognized her, she was the one that the Guard had tried to abduct. The one which made humans see things which didn't exist. Humans.

It caught the Rot trying to slip away and its attention shifted. It turned its head and looked at her, following her steps. The Woman realized immediately that the influence wasn't working and barked a command to the girl, who drew her weapons. A flash of anger and exasperation from the Rot made it clear that she wanted to leave, and the girl staying to fight wasn't part of the plan. The Beowolf considered this a small victory, even as it was playing with its food. If the girl was so useful that she could evoke some small panic from the Rot that meant that her life still had some value. Some Utility.

The Beowolf felt a rapid stream of bullets strike its chest, where they glanced off or dug in and were removed by the blood. The girl used this 'distraction' to jump away, but the Grimm considered this old hat by now. Humans seemed convinced that Grimm had never come into contact with bullets before from small arms. In punishment for the human acting so predictably it lunged forward closing the distance until it was in the girl's personal space, only mere inches away from it.

Humans always froze in this situation, it recalled. In seven hundred years of fighting humans it remembered the easiest way to dispatch any of them. At this distance they couldn't fire their guns, and unless they were armed with specific physical arms. Which this girl didn't seem to have. Which meant she was as good as dead.

The girl tried to dodge back but found itself being matched step for step before the Beowolf grabbed the girl by the arm and wrenched her in the other direction so she was standing in the same direction as the Rot, who had watched and waited. She had a grim look on her face, and she was speaking quietly to the girl, who was bearing a striking combination of fear and anger. It was as if she believed she could still fight, as if she had the strength to continue on in this child's game of cat and mouse, where the mouse was nothing more than dust under a giant's step.

The girl ran past the Rot, who brandished swords she conjured in a manner similar to her bow. She regarded the Beowolf with caution, her expression guarded though the Grimm was privy to even the masked emotions. She was cautious. She wanted to leave the roof, and her irritation when she saw the Grimm rotate so it was in full view to humans below, that emotion grew. She didn't want people to see this.

The Wolf considered that for a moment, finding it strange that the Rot would be concerned with whether or not humans witnessed this fight. She lacked any fear, which would indicate she was confident enough in her fighting skill that she would win, so it doubted the Rot considered her grisly death a blow to the morale of those below. Suddenly wary of such confidence, it crept forwards, its body slightly bowed low as it kept its eyes on the woman.

When it moved another foot closer the ground below it suddenly shone a brilliant white. There wasn't much time to determine what was going on before it noticed a thin ring of dark glass below it, so thin that it would have been impossible to see if it had even looked. It had enough time to look back up to see the impassive look on the Rot's face before the world turned white.

The heat was immense, so much so that it was uncomfortable through the mask of its armor. This concentrated ring of flame was nearly silent, though it was vaguely aware of a jet-like sucking of air to fuel the flames. As the fire started to begin eating away at the armor, the Beowolf decided that it probably wasn't going to be able to wait out the fire unless it moved quickly, but before it could move, what could only be arrows pierced the tops of its feet, pinning them to the ground. It was trapped.

Cinder:

The Huntress watched with dispassionate eyes as the pillar of flame spiraled in a self-sustaining vortex. The heat was strong enough that a human standing nearby would have been given third degree burns from simply standing within a few dozen feet of it, but her Aura bore the brunt of the heat, leaving her with only the gentle breeze that convection was generating.

When the glass ran its course, and the fire died down, she was treated to the charred form of the Beowolf. Its white armor had been stained black by the fire, leaving nothing but a charred husk behind, and she smiled. She hadn't ever come across anything like this before, and she suspected that the Grimm must have been hiding near the Kingdom and been waiting for the most opportune time to strike when she happened to blow the doors open. If she had known sooner she might have used it as a distraction, as such a thing probably could more decisively deal with the children who managed to overcome the regular Grimm.

She dispelled her bow when she noticed something strange. The Grimm, despite being charred, wasn't dissolving. Before she could investigate the ash covering the beast was flung off in all directions, and she had to raise a hand to prevent it from getting in her eyes. When she lowered her hand she saw the Beowolf, no worse for wear, with small holes covering its body with dime-sized pores. From all of them there was a tarry substance pouring forth, one which evaporated on contact with the air.

Unsettling. She admitted to herself as she tried to summon her weapons. While she did feel the familiar tug against Dust, she was puzzled when the dust that was woven into her dress did not appear in the form she expected. Glancing down on herself she saw that the 'ash' which had landed on her wasn't dissolving like the tar on the Grimm. Instead, it was turning white.

She glowered at the Beowolf, which looked somewhat smug despite its lack of expression. It then lifted a hand and flexed its fingers, flipping its claws into and out of its fingers, beckoning her to attack. She stepped sideways towards the opposite end of the roof and considered her options. Cinder had her blades and her bow, and while the latter had proved quite useless, the former might be more effective if she could avoid the mutt's hands. If she was caught… The Beowolf apparently understood the limits of an Aura, with how it handled Mercury, who was still sobbing like a wretch on the ground. Being grabbed without an exit strategy would be the same as putting her head in the Grimm's mouth herself.

The wind picked up again and she glanced in the direction she was supposed to be going. She knew, instinctually, where Ozpin would be, as well as the half-dead Maiden. She didn't have much time, and judging by the way that the Beowolf continued to play with her, it was willing to wait.

So the question was whether or not she could out-pace the Beowolf. That much she was confident in. We'll see if it has as much luck next time.

Dashing away at high speed, the Maiden gained enough speed to make the leap to the next building. She heard scrabbling behind it and imagined the Grimm slipping and sliding to try and keep up. That humor caused her to miss a gut-wrenching noise, though she heard Mercury cry out again. She sneered at the thought the Beowolf considered Mercury an individual she would stop for.

She heard a whistling noise and ducked left to avoid a wet lump that had been launched at her head, ignoring it even as she tried to leap. What she wasn't expecting, and in this case the fatal error was not understanding something important about all Grimm, was progeny.

A hand, hard like iron, clamped around her ankle, and she felt a jarring force as all of her forward momentum worked against her bones, her body being flung like a ragdoll down onto the ground. Stars shone behind her vision and she blinked to try and clear the shock. She felt a body straddle her chest and she snarled, but was shocked to be met with a visage she found peculiarly familiar.

Penny. The android. The dead android. Her face wrought in porcelain and her body made of a murky shadow, a fang pendant hanging from her neck. Her eyes, blank like white marbles, were distant, and her brow was creased in a scowl. A morbid thought crossed Cinder's mind as she joked internally that it was ironic that the only avenging angel to catch up to her was that of a machine. Her comedy was cut short when the wraith placed both her hands around Cinder's throat and squeezed.

The face leaned down low as the Maiden struggled, a crack in the face appearing between the lips, allowing air to rush in with a thin whistling noise. Then, with a halting voice, grating and bubbling like a frog speaking a human tongue, a final threat was made.

"You. Won't. Hurt. Ruby." Was all it said, before leaning back, heaving, and thrusting the Maiden's head into the roof of the building with a sickening crack, and the Maiden's world turned black.

Penny ? :

The raw words were all she, no, it could muster before ending the life of the Maiden. No throat to speak with, no lungs to draw air, no form to give force to words. She was in a peculiar state as she rose from the corpse of one of the most dangerous women in the world, shifting on half-formed legs to try and pull herself upright. She struggled, her mind and her body acting in concert, more accurately the remnant of her soul and the body of a Grimm fighting for progress.

Before she – or it – could fall, the Beowolf surged to its side, holding her up by her sides. It was silent as it pulled her away, resting her against the lip of the roof. She was struggling to keep her form, even having a face was a task she had thrown together at a moment's notice so that she had something to show that… Evil, evil woman.

She felt her form fade for a moment when she stopped focusing, and this entire business of thinking without a brain, or in her former case a processing environment, was trying. It was like how humans complained about their issues of rubbing stomachs and patting heads, but if their problem was a bit more existential in nature. Literally.

She tried to imagine legs and feet and arms and all the good concrete things which she needed to walk and move, but it was hard. She never had to actually conceive of the shape of legs and arms and hands. They simply existed, and in her programming she never had any inkling of some sort of… Self-definition? She knew where her limbs were and how big they were because they were defined, not that she observed. How could she hope to –

The Beowolf nudged her with a foot and she noticed that her feet had somewhat formed, though they were somewhat primitive. She brightened at that revelation, and nearly tried to stand when a very curious sensation spread through her in a phantom sensation. It was like a body was filling up, not her old one, something that had all these extra bits. She felt like blood was running through her veins and as if it was on fire. None of those sensations made sense even in a referential way because she has never had veins or blood or felt fire. But there it was, a warmth which tingled through a body she didn't have, and it… It felt nice. Like, felt nice, not registered as nice or—

She stood, feeling her body take concrete form, and looked down at herself. She had a body, one that felt human, and most importantly looked human. Though her body was still a somewhat shaggy black it had the general shape of a human, with the gentle slope of her bust, definition on her arms and legs. She wondered whether or not she would be able to hear a heart pumping if she closed her eyes and listened.

"So this…" She began, glancing to the Beowolf who might have looked shocked if it hadn't lost most of those convenient human reactions when it had broken free of the influence. "Can you do this?"

The Beowolf regarded her for a moment before shaking slowly. Penny had been able to sense a great many of the Grimm's urges from the moment it had picked up her necklace from the battlefield. At no time had she gotten the impression that it wanted to be human, even when it considered whether or not it was worth pursuing the lives of the trio above. It had wanted to be free more than anything, and Penny knew her own anger at the chaos had helped push it to act. Its form change to look more human was one of practicality, so she wondered if it had ever considered that looking this human was even possible.

She was about to ask another question when she noticed the thin yellow line which was connecting the dead Maiden to herself. Penny tilted her head at the sight and walked over, prodding the woman with a foot to see if somehow the woman had survived the broken neck and caved skull that the impact had caused.

Then, the illusion broke, and everything was aflame.

Beowolf:

Penny, or something much like the Android, seemed to be fine at first when she approached the corpse. But that impression swiftly changed when she started shaking violently. Molten fire, like metal being poured from a kiln, splattered from her mouth. The molten material splashed on the body and a stench of burning flesh filled the air.

The Beowolf tried to approach but the girl held up a shaking hand, which was fading in and out of existence.

"No." She gurgled softly, spitting out more of the material. "Find her. Underground. Please. Minutes. Can't…"

That was all the girl could get out before she purged more, the liquid fairly exploding where it came into contact with the concrete of the roof. The Beowolf shielded itself instinctively as the flecks of rock collided with its body, and for the first time since it had broken free of influence it let out a grumble. Through the thick shadow on the ground which connected it to the progeny, it commanded a Mask to cover the necklace, just in case. It could sense fear, pain, agony, but above all that a worry for someone else.

Making a noise that could have been mistaken for a swear, it leapt from the building, and rushed towards where it knew the majority of the humans had been fighting. It seemed like the best place to start, and judging by the pain which it could feel at even this distance from Penny, sooner sounded much better than later.

Stone underfoot gave way under its strides as it approached the group of huntsmen at high speed, singling White out from the crowd and ignoring the others. One or two of the group seemed to notice its approach and shout, one or two brandishing their weapons, but it ignored them for the most part. A green-haired man and a black haired man, both with broadswords. They looked ready to strike, so the Beowolf dodged around them, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the larger man's sword.

It came to a brisk stop right next to White, who looked shocked that the Beowolf was even present. It noticed a Faunus with blonde hair jumping at it, who was shouting some gibberish, which the Grimm didn't quite have the time to wait for White to explain the situation. Instead, it roared in the man's face, causing him to slide to a stop and hold up his hands in a placating matter.

Immediately ignoring him the Wolf turned back to Weiss who had apparently mostly gotten over its appearance. It drove a claw into the ground and sketched a rough 'R', before pointing to Weiss, and back to the letter.

The heiress cocked her head for a moment before showing some understanding. "I don't know, she disappeared on us. I think she had something to do with the ship that went down. Pyrrha and Jaune went with Ozpin somewhere, I think they went down under—"

Catching on to the last word she said the Beowolf looked to the tower behind the group and moved towards it. It caught sight of the assembled Shepherds moving to block its path, each brandishing their weapon aside from Orange and Black, familiar faces, who both looked a bit confused as well.

"What is that thing trying to do?" Demanded the blue-haired one, who had his hand tight on his weapon, the fear that wasn't showing in his expression still clear to the Beowolf. In fact, most of them had confusion, though few showed any real fear. More wariness in fact.

White didn't respond at first, though she approached the Beowolf's side and handed it her scroll. It was much smaller than the one the Beowolf had used, and it was definitely not as hardy to scratching and such, but the Beowolf set to work all the same, opening the now-familiar pain application and sketching deftly with a single outstretched pinky.

"Uh, Ozpin let us have it." White explained slowly, some nervousness wafting off of her. "We don't even need to clean up after it. Doesn't eat, doesn't make messes, basically the perfect pet."

The Grimm snorted at the last word it understood, grasping what she was saying. The motion seemed to draw some suspicion from the humans, and the sharp jab in its side from the human's elbow made it clear the utterance wasn't exactly welcome. It ignored that, instead handing the picture to Weiss.

The picture was simple, the tower a cross intersecting with the ground which was a flat line. A room was drawn as a square, with some stick people inside. The 'sky' had a fairly large skull and crossbones, making it clear that they weren't supposed to be outside. A swooping arrow pointed from where they roughly were to the tower, and down below. The Beowolf nudged her when she seemed to hold her tongue in explaining.

A sudden explosion rocked the group and the Beowolf didn't have to turn to know it was fire that had lit up the group, causing some of the students to cover their eyes with the brightness. Reaching out, it found that Penny was still conscious, trying to hold back whatever it was that threatened to rocket out of her at any moment. Her resolve was grim, and the Wolf estimated it probably had about five minutes to find Ruby and the rest of her group before this all went up in smoke. Literally.

"It wants us to find shelter from that." Weiss said with confidence, as if the Beowolf had actually explained the problem at hand, when reality all she was holding on to was a vague and crude instruction. "We need to find Ozpin. Before whatever that is happens."

The group looked at her skeptically, before one of the Faunus said the door to the tower would be locked, or some other such nonsense. The Beowolf fixed this little excuse by tearing the arm off of a nearby Mech and throwing it at said door with all its might, sending the metal through in a cacophony of bent and straining metal, leaving a particularly neat hole in the middle large enough for a human or two at a time to squeeze through.

Before they could ask another question of either the Wolf or White, the girl pocketed her scroll and hauled herself on top of the Grimm's back, latching a hand onto a suspiciously hook-shaped spine at the bottom of its neck. The Grimm stood at full height and looked at the one who seemed in charge of the group, a tall female wearing shades and holding a rather large gun. It held the gaze for a moment before she nodded, albeit reluctantly, and began ushering the others inside. The emotion which dripped off of her in that moment was strange, but the Beowolf couldn't quite place it.

The rest followed the woman's lead, leaving the Beowolf to dash away, following the directions of White, who's voice seemed a little clipped. It ran until it was out of the more crowded section of Beacon, instead they traveled towards a side area where the Grimm recognized more of the buildings. The humans ate their meals in this area, and they weren't too far away from where it used to hide out in the woods. It could sense a few disparate emotions in different directions and tried to sort through them all, looking for familiar tones and hues.

Eventually, it found what it was looking for, and turned sharply. Two people, one of them was unconscious, but her mind was plagued with fear and doubt, as well as an incurable rage. Immediately obvious as Yang, which meant that the other conscious near it was Blake, according to Weiss' account of events. There was no third set of emotions, which wasn't a good sign. If Ruby wasn't here, where the hell could she be?

Approaching the pair, Weiss gasped, and it was plain to see why. Yang was spilling blood out of the stump of her arm, while the Faunus was leaking blood out of her abdomen. Both looked like they had already lost quite a bit, judging by the paleness of the blonde, and the stagger of the Faunus' gait.

Swearing, White jumped from the Beowolf's back and dashed to the pair, helping pull Yang off of Black and lay her on the ground, though the Faunus' emotions flared with panic at the thought. She tried to convince her teammate to keep moving, and she was almost hysteric before the Beowolf stepped forward and growled low, cutting off the argument. Yang would die if they continued like this. There wouldn't be enough time to find a clinic and treat her after waiting out whatever it was that was happening to Penny.

Whatever they were going to do, they would need to do it quick.

Weiss:

Blake wasn't thinking straight, that much was immediately obvious. She couldn't get a single sentence out without trailing off into mumbling about how Yang lost her arm, how it was her fault, she couldn't… It just wasn't making any sense!

Thankfully, Weiss thought as she rearranged Yang into a more comfortable resting arrangement, the Beowolf seemed to shut her up long enough for the heiress to assess the situation. Looking at Yang's arm, it was clear that the cut had been clean, a neat horizontal slice through the flesh and bone, blood spilling out with each pump of the girl's weakening heart. Weiss felt a wave of nausea pass, but gritted her teeth as she thought of how to fix the situation.

She thought about different ways to treat Yang, such as cauterization or a tourniquet. They didn't have the tools for the former even if they wanted to, and the cure in that case might be even worse than the disease, so to speak. A tourniquet might work, but just binding it and hoping for the best wasn't a good plan either, they needed to stop the blood now, not try something and hope it works while Yang dies in their arms.

Deciding that the only good way was the manual way, Weiss lifted Yang's arm as high as she could perpendicular to the body and felt around in the shoulder for the arteries she needed to seal. She could try and force them closed at the stump, but if she did that there were all sorts of problems with infection that could arise that would be infinitely worse than whatever Yang had already been exposed to.

Three arteries, that's the number she needed to find. If she placed the bandage around where she could get at all three then Yang would be safe, and they could move on. They didn't have time to find Ruby and fix up Yang, and based on how Blake was acting there was something seriously wrong going on at Beacon.

Why does this stuff keep happening to them? Weiss seethed as she found the dull pulse of the first artery and kept her finger on it searching for the next. Blake has issues with the Fang which seem to keep leading to dangerous situations like this, Yang has her arm lopped off and seems to keep getting beat up by random people and embarrassing herself, Ruby isn't even here and it looks like a bomb is going to go off thanks to her heroism. Am I the only normal one?!

Glancing to the Beowolf who was standing stock still, she had to admit nothing that bizarre happened to it. Yang was sort of the one who started the whole mess with it trying to escape, and it wasn't like it had much choice up until now. So it was normal under her current criteria, which she guessed was hardly the worst thing in the world. At least it didn't do anything stupid.

Finding the second artery she was basically certain of where she'd need to bandage, but she was having trouble finding the third. Was there a third? Or did the arteries split further in the arm? She grit her teeth and dug her fingers more deeply into the muscle and ignored the pained moan which escaped Yang's lips. She looked up to see the Beowolf looking quite anxious and decided that fuck it, do or die.

"Blake, your ribbon." Yang gritted, looking at the Faunus with determination in her eyes. She saw the momentary resistance in Blake's face before it crumpled, the reservations over her identity crumbling when she stole a glance at their dying teammate. She nodded, smiling though her eyes pricked with tears.

Weiss thanked the Faunus quietly before tying a knot in the ribbon to create a loop, then placing it around the stump and pulling one of her pins loose she started to spin it within the ribbon. As the ribbon coiled around the pin it started to take up the extra room until the ribbon was snug, then she turned it five more times until it felt like the ribbon might tear. She then tucked the pin into the knots of the cloth, keeping it from moving at all.

The blood looked like it was stymied, or maybe that was wishful thinking, but it was the best they could do for now. "It'll do."

She grimaced at her own lack of confidence, and based on the Grimm's reaction she wasn't feeling very confident either. She stood, looking to Blake, who was still kneeling on the ground. Her wound, the stab wound, was also bleeding, but from this distance it was impossible to tell how bad. Looking up to the Faunus' face, it was clear that the answer to that question was somewhere between 'I'll deal with it', and 'possible internal bleeding'.

She was about to press the issue when a bellowing howl surprised her into covering ears. Before she could chastise the Grimm for the noise she saw what it was warning against. Turning to look at it she noticed that the dark form of the Grimm was standing against a spire of fire that was reaching hundreds of feet up into the air. Random gouts of flame jutted off at odd angles, arcing like gooey meteors and colliding with some nearby trees which immediately went up in flame. Weiss gasped at the heat, throwing up a hand to block her face from the uncomfortable sensation, and she could see Blake doing the same. It was like a fire cannon at a concert going off right in front of your face, a blistering heat that you couldn't help but wince at.

"Just what the hell is that?" Weiss ground out, lowering her hand when the tree's temperature dropped from scalding-anybody-in-sight to normal 'ablaze'. She could see that the Beowolf was peering at the sky distractedly, and it didn't look like it would explain even if it could. "How do we find Ruby?"

The Beowolf looked at her with a curious glance, before nodding its head to the blaze. They realized the reason for the anxiety immediately.

Ruby would go investigate the fire, wouldn't she? Weiss realized, a feeling of dread setting ice in the pit of her stomach. If things continued the entirety of Beacon could be set ablaze. There was no way Ruby would let that happen, even if it seemed like a foregone conclusion that whatever was going to happen… There was nothing they could do. Fire was fire, fighting it seemed a bit impossible at this juncture. It's so stupidly moronic but she would try wouldn't she?

Beowolf:

This much was clear: If Ruby was going to be anywhere it would be as close as she could get to the fire, trying to form a plan to put it out. The Beowolf, even without inside knowledge on at least a little bit of what was going on, knew that to be folly. But the White reaction was enough to confirm its suspicions. So it would go. Only one who had a chance of withstanding the blaze was the Beowolf, the humans would be powerless. There wasn't enough time for everything it needed to do.

It scooped Blake and Yang up in its arms and estimated the nearest path to the Cliffside, and dashed in that direction, White following alongside with confusion in the air. When it reached the cliff it paused for a moment to look at the sheer drop, and scanned for anything that would be of use. Glaring at the edges it eventually found a small ledge that would work, and decided that if anything was going to be safe from a firestorm, that would be it. Nothing to burn, in the shadow of the fireball, even if the land up top was in flames and the forest below was an inferno, they'd have some chance of surviving on the ledge where flame wouldn't be able to reach them.

Weiss caught the look and shook her head for a moment before another, much larger explosion rocked Beacon. Her defeated nod let the Beowolf know that she didn't have any better options.

The Beowolf wasted no time, and after leaping down to the cliff and depositing the injured women it immediately scaled back up to the ledge and dashed for the Spire, the heat from it now great enough that it looked like it had lit buildings far ablaze, despite the fact there was nothing really to burn. It had simply gotten to the point where glass was imploding, and flammables on the inside of buildings were beginning to catch. At this point, even if the Spire were to die out, most of Beacon would be caught in its own inferno before the night was over.

Focusing on emotions in the area, there were numerous sentiments of panic and fear, as well as confusion. Those humans, if they wished to survive, would have to find some place with a fire-proof door. It ignored them, not knowing how to and not caring about whether or not it could help them. There was one person, and it found her with a single thread of wonder.

Skidding to a stop at the plaza in front of the tower it found someone with a very unique blend of emotions. Wonder, incomprehension, surprise, and most surprisingly, hope. It contrasted with the being right next to it, an overwhelming fear, and excruciating caution. Ruby hadn't only found the fire; she had determined the source. And judging by the range of emotions she was going through the Beowolf could only surmise that she had somehow found Penny in that mess.

Dodging a ball of flame that lazily popped out of the side of pillar, the Beowolf was surprised to see that as it got closer the girl didn't seem perturbed by the heat. Ruby was standing only a few feet away from the flames but didn't even lower the hood of her cloak to fend off the heat. Growling, the Beowolf leapt from the ground to halfway up the building, and scaled it as fast as it physically could without tearing walls down with the force of its movements, alarms ringing in its head. It could feel Penny's control of her body slipping, the necklace struggling to keep her aura stable while a foreign influence tried to override it. The Beowolf didn't understand Souls and their excitations normally, and the sort of conflicts that were going on within the girl made no…

Gritting its teeth, it hauled itself onto the roof and fairly tackled the young Shepherd, snapping her up in its arms and covering as much of her body as it could by tucking her flush to the Beowolf's body. Turning its head, it noticed a light fizzling in the air as the flames crashed against some invisible force, the bow shock sending sparks in a neat sphere around the Grimm. Or, more accurately it realized, Ruby.

It could make out through the vine-like woven threads of fire the dark silhouette of Penny, or at least the form of a Grimm that Penny was controlling. It still looked quite human, but the image was distorted both by the boiling air and the obvious instability in her form. The Beowolf knew that the form dissolving was essentially death for a Grimm, but Penny's soul lived on, if only technically, in the Necklace. If she lost her form this might all stop but…

The girl was probably afraid. And she had no better an idea of what was going on than the Beowolf.

The Grimm didn't wait for her to urge it on, and instead threw itself from the roof against Ruby's will and with a flash of sadness from the being in the firestorm. Landing heavily on the ground and with Ruby shouting this and that about what she thought she saw the Beowolf made a snap decision to head for the tower, and assume that the humans made it somewhere safe.

Running to the door it could feel the heat on its back and the stones under its feet creep up in temperature. Careful to keep the girl out of direct line of sight with the fire, in case the very light burned her, it burst through the doors to the tower and eyed a pried-open elevator shaft. Barreling through the barrier it grabbed a metal cable which was dangling from up above and used its iron grip to slow its descent. They fell for quite a while, the only sound being the metal buzz of the cable in the Grimm's hand echoing against the walls. The girl was muttering quietly, and the Beowolf was too focused on trying to listen for what was going on above to try and make sense of it.

When they reached the ground, or at least where a large metal box got in their way, the Beowolf tore the roof off of it and dropped inside, landing with a metal thud. Immediately, it heard a soft gasp as one of the people among the semi-circular crowd that had their weapons leveled at the doorway rushed forward. A faunus with rather long ears paused halfway to the Grimm and tried to peer around its arms as to get a better look.

The Beowolf gently released Ruby, careful to make sure that she didn't try and dash back and climb up the elevator shaft like a fool. The girl simply slid to the ground, holding onto one of the Grimm's hands for support. She spoke softly, quietly, pleadingly.

"What will happen to her?" She whispered, her eyes turned back up to the Beowolf, welling with tears. The Grimm couldn't catalogue all the different emotions in the silver, and didn't try. It remained silent for a moment before shaking its head. "But it is her?"

A nod, if hesitantly, was all the answer it could provide.

The Grimm looked up to see the shocked and confused faces of those present, most of them having their eyes trained on the hand that Ruby held, or flicking between the two very different beings. One person stood out, his emotions much cooler and his expression much more guarded.

"What have you done?" Was the dark question asked by the silver-haired man, his expression tight and his hands tight around the hilt of his cane. The Grimm had no answer for him, even as another explosion rocked the building, but this time the shaking didn't stop. Instead, the jarring quake continued unabated as fear and hysteria started to bleed through the walls. Whatever had begun, it was far too late to stop it now.

AN: While I might edit this, this is probably the last ending I'm going to sort of write out. Writing on the Wall sort of covers a more straight-forward ending where the Beowolf kills Cinder and none of the other stuff happens here, while in the original ending the Beowolf leaves, letting the events of plain 'ole RWBY happen anyways.

I imagine that this chapter is going to be the same as the ~14 chapters, where this is where I go off the rails and things stop making sense. It's why I originally didn't want to post this chapter now, and rather as a beginning to HatM2 (when it happens), at whence point I'll know exactly how I want things to continue. However, after receiving nearly a dozen calls for my head on a pike, I thought I might as well placate the viewers with this other ending. Though it's likely to get people riled up in other ways.

This is probably the end of HatM, I'm not going to add any more endings and what's left is editing of earlier chapters. Thanks for reading! I hope you all like this ending more than the last one. See you all around :)