It is, in Yang Xiao Long's professional opinion, a terrible day for an execution.

She stands in a carefree slouch, one hip cocked to the side, dimly aware she's probably rumpling her uniform, but not remotely concerned about it. She's already singed the sleeve of this one, anyway, and she hasn't even bothered to try to scrub out the bloodstain splattered across the back of it.

She's much more concerned with the town square she stands before as she passes her violet gaze over it once again, suspicious. The square is relatively empty—the kind of ghost town the Atlesian Army has grown accustomed to receiving. She fights the nostalgia that bubbles up in her chest at the familiarity of Vale. She avoids glancing towards the ruins of Beacon that tickle her peripheral vision.

She won't look. She can't.

Houses line the square, but all the doors are closed, windows bolted, curtains drawn. A woman living in the upper floor of a restaurant is the only human visible. She stands on her balcony, hanging her laundry out to dry, her lips moving. Yang wonders if she's singing or praying.

The sun blazes overhead, and officers curse the heat as they work to set up the platform. She watches as the rope swings in the brittle breeze, waiting to be twisted into a noose.

"Something amiss, Captain?"

Yang knows that voice—that icy, superior tone. It's a voice that commands respect, but draws only a shrug from Yang, whose gaze doesn't stray from the rope.

"Not sure yet," she answers. Her eyes catch a flash of red and she zeroes in on it, only to watch as the woman hangs her crimson scarf out to dry. It dances in the wind, and Yang's stomach clenches painfully.

She curses quietly, looking away, and the woman beside her chuckles.

"You don't truly think she'd show up here, do you?"

Yang throws an annoyed glance over her shoulder to meet the even gaze of Winter Schnee: Remnant-renowned General of Atlas' Army and the biggest killjoy Yang ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with.

"How should I know?" the blonde retorts, giving the cold woman her back. "If she's desperate enough, she'll try anything."

Winter manages a small noise of irritation, but lets it slide. She's long since learned that with the seemingly inexhaustible power of Yang Xiao Long comes her equally inexhaustible temper. The girl is a fever—fiercer than fire and hot like dynamite. Easy to rile, nearly impossible to cool.

She is the Sun Dragon of the Atlesian Army.

She balances out Winter's cold and detached approach to things, and as long as she remembers who is the Captain and who is the General, Winter lets her get away with murder.

"Something's not right," Yang mutters, chewing idly on her thumb as she sweeps the square again. "I can feel it. Can you?"

Winter shrugs, unbothered. "I can't say I do. But that's not my job." She looks askance at the younger woman. "This is a critical execution, Captain. I am trusting you to ensure there are no…surprises."

Yang snorts. Surprises.

"Like the Black Sun?" she drawls, cocking an amused brow.

Winter's storm cloud eyes flash. "Among others," she agrees coolly, her voice ending with a snap. She turns to leave, arms folded behind her, chin up, shoulders back, Khione glittering in the sunlight at her side. She takes three steps before she stops, a sudden thought occurring to her.

"Captain," she calls, still staring straight ahead.

Yang frowns, looking back over her shoulder. "Yeah?" she asks.

"You have permission to eliminate any threats you find," she explains. She sends a look of stark coldness at the blonde, who goes stiff at the General's words. "I assume that's what held you back at the last execution, yes?"

It's a lie—a dig at the Sun Dragon's pride.

They both know what stayed Yang's hand the last time.

The Captain's eyes narrow to slits.

"Of course, General." She mocks the title and offers up a sarcastic salute.

Winter smiles tightly to herself and resumes her walk.

There will be no interruption of this execution. She lays a hand against Khione's hilt.

She'll kill that Faunus filth herself if she has to.

-0-

"You know, for a dead man, you have an awful lot to say."

The words—lined with icy derision, of course—come from a white-haired woman as she picks her way through a dense forest. "It's draining to keep my Summons up like this, and I'm starting to doubt if you're worth it."

The man being addressed laughs heartily, throwing his head back and crowing with amusement. Weiss' mouth tightens with annoyance.

"I'm serious. One more smart comment about my clothes and I'll—"

He cuts her off. She's used to it, at this point.

"I'm sorry," he remarks in what is perhaps the least apologetic tone she's ever heard. "But who fights in a dress? I mean, I'm sure it was adorable when you were a kid, but now—"

She spins around, jabbing a finger in his direction. "First of all," she begins in a blistering tone. "It's a combat skirt. Secondly, what do you propose I do? Waltz into a clothing store? My picture is plastered over every wall in Remnant!"

Qrow smirks, his icy blue eyes flashing with humor as he runs a hand through his stark-white hair. "It ain't a picture, Princess. That's what we outlaws call a wanted poster. Big difference."

Weiss stares at him, working her jaw and trying to reign in her temper. The last time she'd blown up at Qrow, she'd startled a flock of birds and attracted some nearby hikers.

She won't make the same mistake twice. She can't afford to.

"I'm not stupid." The ice in her voice bites with a vengeance. "And you aren't an outlaw. You're dead."

He shrugs, unruffled. "Okay, so I'm a dead outlaw." He flashes her a cocky grin. "Still a better fighter than you."

She huffs with irritation before marching away. He just isn't worth the time.

But apparently he's worth depleting your Summoning energies, she mocks herself.

Weiss sighs. Qrow Branwen isn't her first choice as a travel companion—he isn't her first choice as anything. But he's all she's got, and he's a damn sight better than the piercing loneliness that surrounds her, so she just purses her lips and pushes on.

"Hey, Princess," Qrow calls.

Weiss keeps walking. "Save your breath, Qrow," she replies. Not that you have any, she tacks on internally.

Still he persists. "Princess, I'm serious."

She groans, closing her eyes as she turns around to face the Summoned spirit. "Qrow, I swear to whatever god happens to be listening, if this is a joke—"

She opens her eyes, to see a flyer Qrow had plucked from the ground. Her heart stutters to a stop as she reads it, her breath catching.

"Oh, no," she whispers, eyes going wide.

"I know," Qrow agrees grimly, flipping the flyer around to look over it. He chews his lip. "That's gonna be messy business. Best we stay clear of it."

"Stay clear?" Weiss demands. "Qrow, we can't just let that happen!"

He glares at her. "So what? You want us burst in, swords swinging?" He shakes his head, and his derisive scoff brings Weiss' blood to a boil. "Forget it, Princess. You'd be dead before you drew your blade."

She bristles, resentment rolling off of her in waves. "I'm not a child," she reminds him, her words clipped and sharpened.

Qrow meets her gaze. Ice clashes against ice.

"No," he says, and his voice is low but not gentle. There is nothing about Qrow—in life or in death—that is gentle, and Weiss has her life to thank for it, no matter how reluctantly. "You are not a child, Weiss. But you are a wanted criminal, and running headlong into the center of Vale is not a strategy for self-preservation."

Weiss grinds out a curse. He's right. He's always right. It infuriates her and is coincidentally the reason she still draws breath.

She hasn't lasted this long by ignoring Qrow.

"Fine," she grumbles. "Whatever. We'll go the long way around, stick to the forests." She lifts her blade. "Now if you're finished, I really need to replenish my strength."

He nods his understating, crumpling the flyer up in a ball and tossing it away.

"As the lady wishes," he offers her a low bow, and Weiss rolls her eyes, closing her eyes and preparing the spell. A pure-white glyph unfolds itself below Qrow's feet.

"If you need me, don't hesitate," he tells her as the glyph grows.

"I won't," she tells him, face laced tight in concentration. "That's kind of the point, you know."

She hears him chuckle, and then, in a flash of brilliant light, he's gone.

She falls to one knee immediately, gripping Myrtenaster's hilt tightly to keep from falling over. She'd kept him Summoned for a full forty-eight hours, as he had even watched over her while she slept. She can't do that again, or she'll end up killing herself and this whole thing will have been for nothing.

Muttering under her breath, she pushes to her feet and smoothly sheaths her weapon. She strides over to where Qrow had dropped the flyer and bends to collect it, smoothing it out as best she can.

The logo of the Atlesian Army stares back at her. They say all snowflakes are unique, she knows this one. She'd spent her youth with it printed across her back like a target. She wonders what Winter was thinking when she redesigned the insignia with their family's crest. Did the symbol not haunt her like it haunted Weiss?

"Yang," she whispers, the name tasting like poison as her eyes read over the words Public Execution. "What are you doing?"

-0-

"Hey! Watch it!"

The young woman immediately turns, one hand ghosting to the pistol tucked into the waistband of her pants, but she relaxes as the man turns instead upon a young boy who had the misfortune of stumbling into the older man.

She looks away, returning to the task at hand, but finds it hard to block out the resulting uproar. Slurs against the boy's clumsiness wash over her, but when she hears the phrase "your kind" a one of the ears hidden beneath a dust-colored beanie twitches.

Her eyes drift upwards to catch a reflection of the scene in the glossy café window before her. The man is red-faced and screaming and the boy is clutching something in his hands, looking horrified.

Golden eyes narrow as she studies the reflection closer and sees it's a…tail.

A smooth, sleek, cat tail—white as snow.

Blake's jaw tightens.

She rises from her seat, keeping her expression carefully schooled as she spins on her heel to stride past the commotion. As she does, she reaches into her jacket to smoothly extract a spare bullet she hasn't bothered to replace into a magazine. With a quick flick of her nimble fingers, she flips the bullet into the air. It shines in the light for a brief moment before it clatters to the ground.

Her aim, as usual, is unmatched. She watches out of the corner of her eye as the man takes a step back, his foot landing directly on the bullet. His ankle rolls, and his arms flail uselessly in the air as he tries to catch his balance. He fails, quite impressively, and goes crashing into a café chair.

The Faunus boy's eyes snap to hers, and she touches a finger to her lips. He nods eagerly, face lighting up like a sunbeam, and scampers off as she makes her way calmly past the man, who lies on the ground, cursing.

She's barely made it three steps from the café before a presence joins her. She tenses— hand again drifting towards her pistol—but then the warmth touches her, and she stills.

"Ah, so you do have a heart," a voice muses bedside her. His shadow looms over her.

Blake glances up, amusement tugging at her lips.

"So I've been told," she murmurs. "Usually by you."

Sun smiles broadly at her, and she'd scold him for being so obvious in a public setting if she weren't just as happy to see him.

"Missed you," he tells her lowly. His eyes burn and she hopes he keeps himself and his infamous bear hugs well in check.

"You're tolerable," she replies, voice layered with her own brand of dark humor.

Still, she tips him a wink and gives him a small, but undeniable smile. She had missed him.

"So," he begins as they set out. "Scarlet checked the place out."

Uneasiness darkens her features as they begin to walk. It's unlike Sun to bring up business so quickly. Things must be as bad as she'd feared.

"And?" she prompts.

"It's Velvet," he tells her quietly. "Velvet Scarlatina."

A vicious curse falls from her lips and her hidden ears go flat against her skull. "I knew it," she hisses.

"Blake," he begins, his tone riddled with apprehension. "The entire Atlesian Army's there." He cuts a glance at her, as though making sure she understands the meaning of his words. "Like, all of 'em."

"I have no issue facing Yang," she tells him, a brisk bite to her voice. "I've done it before and I will do it again."

"It's not just Yang," he warns her. "Winter too. And probably Penny."

She works her jaw. That is a complication.

"Then we'll take it slow," she murmurs. They cross the street, and Blake spies a hulking boy with a shock of green hair standing on the street corner. Their eyes meet and she nods at him. Sage lifts his chin in reply before looking away. Bless that boy for watching their backs all the time. She'd be dead a thousand times over if not for him and the rest of his team.

"We just need to disrupt the execution and extract Velvet," she reminds him. "With any luck, we can do that without having to cross blades."

Sun shrugs. "Sure, I mean, you know I trust you." He flashes her the cocky grin that has kept her sane on her darkest days. "You don't need luck, Blake."

Dark amusement quirks her lips again. "Good," she mutters, mostly to herself. "Because I'm all out of it."

-0-

"They're gonna execute Velvet?"

Ruby's whips her head around to scowl at the boy. "Jaune, keep your voice down!" she hisses at him. The flyer she'd picked up flutters to the ground as her hand automatically finds the grip of Crescent Rose.

He glances around too, one hand on the hilt of his sword. The two Hunters stand, tensed and straining to listen, but nothing happens. Ruby finally straightens, still shooting him an annoyed look.

"You have to be more careful than that, Jaune," she says firmly, bending to retrieve the flyer. "We're in Vale now, remember? People will recognize us if we're not careful."

"Sorry," he apologizes, properly contrite. "But seriously, Velvet? What has she ever done?"

Ruby shrugs, frowning down at the leaflet advertising the public execution of one of the kindest Huntresses she's ever known at the hands of the sister she used to hero-worship.

"What has anyone done?" she murmurs. She wallows in her dark mood for a moment before pulling herself out. She can't think like that. It's darkness that started all this, and she refuses to lose herself in it.

Jaune looks thoughtful. Ruby eyes him warily. No, not thoughtful—hopeful.

"Ruby, do you think, since it's in Vale and all, do you think Pyrrha—?"

"I don't know, Jaune," she cuts him off callously. Hope can be just as deadly as a blade, and he can ill-afford the inevitable disappointment it brings. It hurts her to hurt him but she knows she's right and tries to take comfort in that. "I doubt she'll be making any public appearances, but anything's possible."

He sags under her words, and she wishes she could take them back, wishes she could tell him that yes, Jaune, I'm sure Pyrrha is just around the corner. And I'm sure Nora and Ren are with her and you all can be together again and it'll be just like old times.

But she knows better than that. So she just looks away, unable to look him in the eye.

"If it's being put on by the Atlesian Army, that means Yang will be there," she muses, tasting the name. She doesn't often speak it aloud, and it sounds foreign to her—the way voices ring oddly after a stretch of silence.

Jaune nods in agreement. "Blake too, probably. She usually gets hired for these kinds of things."

Ruby bites her lip. She almost envies Jaune's position. He has no idea where is team is, or even if they're still alive.

She, in turn, has a fair guess at the location of her team, and knows they're all alive and well and trying to murder each other.

She longs for the days of ignorance, where her naiveté had spun her a tale of a Team RWBY reunion—no pain, no lies, no violence—just four friends who had fought the odds and found their way back to each other in the darkens.

Weiss has since been removed from that daydream, given the last action she'd seen the heiress preform—plunging her blade hilt-deep into her uncle's chest—has left her a little unsure on how to handle that situation.

So she keeps her face towards the sun. Towards Yang. Her sister.

"It'll be tough," she says, stuffing the flyer in her pouch looking over her shoulder at Jaune. "Sure you're up to it? I'm not going to ask you to put yourself in danger for me."

Jaune shrugs, flashing her a grin. "So don't ask," he suggests. "I'll be right behind you."

She nods, thankful for his dedication and his friendship. She hopes with all her heart he never finds out about Pyrrha—he doesn't deserve that. No one does.

"Alright then." She pulls up the hood of her cloak—pure white—and turns toward the city that sits just beyond the hill they're standing on. Her eyes settle on the ruins of Beacon, and she studies it sadly. She wonders if Ozpin is watching her—wonders if this is why she was chosen. "Let's go try and knock some sense into the Sun Dragon."

Ho boy. Hang onto your hats, ladies and gents.

So this is an AU. An "everything goes to shit" AU, if you will. And while I'm very excited to work on it, I wanted to make a few things clear:

1. I'm shit at multi-chapter stuff. Literal garbage. I cannot tell you how many works I've abandoned over the years purely because they were too ambitious and I wrote myself into a corner. I'm going to give it my best shot, and I've got a pretty okay plan (like I made a storyboard and every guys aren't you proud?) but we'll see how it goes.

2. In the event that I do complete this, it's not going to be complete complete. I'm not writing this with a real resolution in mind. It's more about the events that led to this AU and how the characters interact with each other. There's no big "fix" at the end. It will most likely end pretty ambiguously. If that ain't your cup of tea, I totally understand.

3. I take a lot of liberties in this story, obviously. If you don't like people messing with canon, that's totally fine, but you're gonna have a bad time. I'm probably going to name currently unnamed weapons, create new areas, and do things to characters you might not like. That being said, I will try my absolute hardest to stay true to the characters, but it is, by nature of an AU, going to be a bit different.

With all that being said, thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!