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Author's Note: Set in a situation where Pyrrha accepts the maiden's power before Cinder's master plan reaches its final phase. Also implements the theory that Cinder is going to use Amity Arena as a projectile of sorts. Enjoy!

Tasting Defeat

She had failed. Lost. Fucked up. Fumbled. Choked. Ruined everything. All of the above.

And the world had become cold. So distastefully cold. She could remember the days racing through the icy marshes of her home, the tightness of her muscles and the frigid fire within that burnt the frost off her skin. It was nothing like this chill.

The chill of metal embedded in her skin. How embarrassing, that her mastery of her semblance failed so miserably. That her skill with the shield had been overwhelmed so quickly, that she hadn't landed a single decisive blow against her opponent, who had repelled her attacks with explosions and forces beyond her ability to withstand. At this point, with so many icy arrows lodged in her body, Pyrrha could only bend over in a pitiful attempt to stand and resist.

This archer had played her like a fiddle. The barrage of flame-augmented arrows had proven difficult enough, yet the power of wind that had staggered and suppressed her use of Miló and Akoúo. Damn the power of a maiden. If only she had control over her own fragment of Fall, which felt like a molten poker jamming straight into her left eye whenever she tried to tap into its strength. The aura transfer had not killed her, but the cognitive dissonance was almost worse than death, driving her mad with fear and confusion and non-identity whenever she tried to harness the strength of Fall. At times she forgot her name, her friends, her life. She could feel Amber, in limbo and in utter agony, tearing at the contours of her skull. She should have heeded her headmaster's warning, and her own reservations about the process. But she was brave and committed, determined to protect and serve. It was her destiny, after all.

But it wasn't these thoughts and regrets and pains that she was preoccupied with. She wasn't even preoccupied with the fact that the victor was putting on a thin and elegant glove of snow, with an insidious grin that promised something quite similar to death. She couldn't help herself but think of Jaune. She had been begging for his safety, for his survival, the moment she engaged this… saboteur.

She cursed the rotten luck, the false sense of security that blinded them… her. Amity Colosseum was an obvious target of terrorism: the Vytal Festival a perfect setting for plots and plans of destruction. Her rage lashed outwards to the useless Atlas forces, to those accursed individuals mouthing off in Ozpin's office, turning a blind eye to danger in favor of sparing their own minds from the anxiety over a peace doomed to die. She externalized the blame, even though she knew it had all been her fault. She blamed Jaune, blamed Ruby and her team-mates, the atlas girl, the White Fang...

Hate feeds the Grimm, Pyrrha. Your temper is unacceptable.

The sudden memory of her mother stopped her spiteful tangent. She abated her feelings of frustration and instead began to plead - desperate for salvation. Ozpin and his associates weren't blind. The should know about the danger. They should be here soon. Please, please, please let them come…

Part of her knew that this was all wishful thinking, that they would be too late. She was so disgustingly cold, and the glove was only a foot away now. The fear and negativity stewed internally once again, her self loathing bubbling up and stewing with the fear as the pure, dainty glove reached out to her face, a dark swirl of magic appearing and manifesting.

Pyrrha summoned one more act of defiance, reaching out to grasp the impending doom and push it away. The assailant just snarled and planted her boot in Pyrrha's face, knocking her onto her back with a broken nose. The concrete earth was hard to her skull and disorientation set into her vision and her already-dulled senses.

The outstretched, white palm beckoned once more, descending to her face as a heel pushed hard against Pyrrha's uninjured arm, keeping her pinned. The darkness drifting down from the hand grew, and from the blackness came a peculiar oily creature, its carapace a boney white, marked with red blood. Certainly a creature of Grimm. Deep within her mind a frantic scream echoed, tearing through her nerves and leaving agonized chaos in its wake. Amber was fearful, terrified: she knew what was happening. Pyrrha felt like screaming herself, but her lungs failed her.

Pyrrha tried to look away, but the grimm lunged forward. A dull pain splattered over her face, and suddenly her sight disappeared. Pinpricks was the sensation, numbness that slowly oozed past her face, into her skull, a torrent of poison that threatened to drown her. As if there was anything to drown. Pyrrha felt nothing at this point, all her senses inundated. Her mouth tasted like metal; eyes acidic and seeing red; her smell blocked off by blood and her body stone, empty and part of the floor. She heard nothing but a dull ring…

But then she heard her name, and the patter of footsteps. Pyrrha never really liked hearing her name. Every time, standing on the podium, with the announcer's voice echoing and reverberating throughout her body as she accepted her prize. People always said her name in reverence and respect, their voices full of awe and admiration. This time it was so different. There was concern, an abrasive and rash edge stressed in the syllables of her name. The voice itself was raw and ragged, mixed with a form of fury Pyrrha never quite experienced - nothing like the cross reprimands of her instructors or the acerbic growl from her mother. It cut through her stupor, echoed within her body, ringing throughout her soul.

The voice broke her heart. Jaune.

Please. Run.

I could laugh at the situation. It was hell on earth. Or, more like hell above earth.

Amity was shattering in the sky, torn apart by Nevermores while we're still standing on it. With the White Fang, of course.

I never really understood the full extent of any situation, and this crazy scenario was no different. I remember spotting Ruby shouting down to another Huntress (Emerald, right?), calling her things I'd never thought would come out of Ruby's mouth. Blake and Weiss were right behind her and gone in a flash. I couldn't comprehend that.

I also don't get why the Atlas forces are so incompetent. And by incompetent, I mean evil. Were they tampered with? It seems like it's the Hunters and Huntresses of the other kingdoms fighting this eclectic jumble of White Fang loyalists, malfunctioning battle-bots, and Nevermores. It's a nightmar- And a Death Stalker! A DEATH STALKER. On Amity coliseum. Right now. How did that even happen? How?

I'm out of my league on a number of things, but this… I gave up trying to figure out what was going on a long, long time ago.

At least I'm not dead. There's another White Fang trooper who's targeted me amidst the chaos. He aims straight at me with an assault rifle. I put my shield up and close the distance. The barrage of bullets mostly rattles straight off my shield, their force slowing me but not stopping me. Other bullets tear at my Aura, but I've worked on that enough to deflect them handily.

I was trained by the best, after all. I almost grin at the memory:

"Jaune, you can't just hide behind the shield. Come and engage me!" She exclaims so joyfully, excited to watch me succeed. I have my reservations.

"You're shooting at me!"

"Jaune," Pyrrha returns warmly, "your weapons are only effective at melee range. You must practice closing the distance and dealing with ranged attacks."

"That shotgun is lethal, Pyrrha!"

The memory fades and I'm on top of the guy. I don't really know what to do at this point: hunting Grimm is what I signed up for, not people.

So I go for disarmament. I cut at his gun, and hilariously I get my sword wedged halfway through. Great. I've taken out a number of guns already, sliced cleanly into two pieces, but maybe I'm getting tired.

I block his other hand from hammering into my face with my shield. And suddenly, I'm on easy street: Pyrrha taught me about exposing a person's guard, keeping their limbs out into the extremities so you can slip an attack, before they can recover. Just so happens that both of the man's arms are repelled: One is still stuck on the trigger of a defunct assault rifle, and the other is stuck next to my head. I twist my sword free and lead with my hilt right towards the guy's temple. I miss (ugh) and hit him in the jaw (alright then) - his aura already falters and he stumbles.

I pull my shield back and let him have it. Another down. I hope.

And another rain of bullets catches me off guard. Some actually burn through my aura, but the damage is kept light. Some bullets rattle harmlessly off my chestplate and other armor, and others just fizzle as they impact my skin. Thank the Maidens for Aura, and the fact I've got a good reserve. I put up my shield and rinse and repeat.

This time, I end up slashing my sword straight down through the machine, no qualms about slicing apart its circuits and its servos. It's a visceral feeling and suddenly I pull away immediately, feeling as though the Atlesian Knight suddenly became a human. They make these things too darn humanlike: although that's not to say I'd be happier facing one of those humongous, inhuman and invincibile Paladin machines. Luckily for me there is nobody else after me, so I take a knee and get a better assessment of the situation.

Nora and Ren. They're flourishing. They certainly aren't very affected about harming others. I remember the first group of bad guys we took on at the start of this miserable melee. They just ran straight through them with this righteous calm in their eyes, confident and without any hesitation. Fearless. While I stumbled backwards in surprise, Ren dashed straight forward and Nora swung her hammer with a grin. As glad I was to have them as comrades, it's humbling to see how much more composed they are in these sort of situations. Always ready for a fight, always ready to seize victory and absolutely pummel their opponents.

And that's what they're doing now: Nora's just swinging hard, some of her unlucky opponents knocked clean off of the Amity. Ren's mercurial, moving through and dismantling an entire group of Knights with educated bursts of ammunition and targeted swipes with his daggers. I look away from their progress to survey the battlefield. Past Flynt and Neon taking care of the deathstalker, about 100 meters down the curve of the arena wall, there's a sparking powerline in the distance, something important to bring to Nora's attention.

"Nora!" I point to the power line. She notices me, laughs with a thumbs up, and takes off. Problem is, her previous opponents noticed me as well, and turn their guns on me. The piercing cry of a Nevermore rains down onto the stadium, and as I bring up my shield to defend against the bullets I realize that staying out in the open is a deathwish. Bullets splay around me as I dash towards the entrance to the arena seats.

Ren's on top of the ball. He closes the distance to me as I find cover behind one of the pillars before the corridors leading to the heart of Amity, safe from the talons of the Nevermore. As we pause for a breath of fresh air, chunks of cement and dust blasting off of the column protecting us, I look down the circular hallway. I spy Nora as she grasps the wires of lightning and crackles in delight as her semblance takes a leap into overdrive. She's about 100 meters away, but with one skip and smile she's sliding to a halt with the two of us. She thrusts her maniacal face two inches from mine, hopping up and down in excitement.

"Lead on leader! Who's next? What's next?! Where's next?"

"We've got to get off of Amity, but we can't just leave everyone behind…"

Ren nods, catching onto my train of thought. As he speaks Nora continues to shiver and tap her fingers on the hilt of Magnhild, eyeing the two of us in joyful anticipation.

"I bet there are some leftover crafts docked in the hangers below us."

"Ok, ok, ok…" I mutter, before remembering something grimm, "But that's where the White Fang came from. The municipal shuttles."

"We'll take back what is ours, then!" Nora exclaimed, "We take back the shuttles and leave these dumb silly festival downers to pay the bill!"

"We gotta save the others though." I mutter, irately remembering Pyrrha, "We gave Pyrrha the opening to get away from the battle in order to stop the freefall, but Amity is still dipping. Either she's still trying to stop it or she's engaged with the enemy…"

"So?" Ren asked, pushing me to focus.

"Alright. You two, secure the docks. There might be Paladin drones or other guards down there. Nora, use your semblance to make an exit if necessary, break as many wires as you need to keep charged."

Nora's joy was infectious. I couldn't help but smile as her grin widened to psychopathic proportions, tantalized by the prospect of running wild with thunder in her veins.

"As many as I want?"

"You heard the leader." Ren responded, a small, refined smile on his face.

"I'll go into Amity and warn the others. It's better that I act the messenger and signal the retreat. If by chance you guys are able to clear the hanger, Ren will come up and help me out. Got it?"

"Stay safe, Jaune. This is big." Ren reminded me. As if I didn't need any more anxiety and pressure to begin with.

"Don't hesitate to scroll me if you need someone smashed." Nora added, her grin suddenly more insidious and serious than usual.

"Yeah yeah, I know." As I trade final salutes with my team. We both dash into the corridor, but while Nora slides down the railing to the lower levels followed by Ren, I go straight ahead. The walls tremble slightly as Amity begins to tilt, but I'm already running the atmospheric circle of the arena.

Seems like there was one hell of a fight, and rubble is strewn everywhere, blocking my view of the entire stadium. Running down towards the center of the ring, I come across my first familiar. Blake. She's nearly gone before I catch her attention, and she immediately pins me down.

"What's Yang's favorite nation to play in Kingdoms of Remnant?" She hisses, her eyes sharp and interrogatory.

"Mistral, right?" I stutter, a little surprised at the ferocity in her voice as well as the edge of Gambol Shroud aimed directly at my chest.

"Favorite Card?"

"Um, pretty sure it's Ursai Charge."

Blake relaxes, only slightly, but enough to drop Shroud away from my face. I follow up:

"What's the deal?"

"Emerald's semblance. Perspective. Illusions." Blake was shifty, expecting a fight at any second.

"Oh, well we're getting out of here. Nora and Ren are getting a transport in the lower hangers. Drop the fight and run."

Blake gives me this quizzical look, before her eyes widen.

"Look out!"

I turn around to see some Grimm-masked man bring a katana down at my neck. I bring up my shield but Blake is faster, catching his edge with her own. She yells at me.

"Get out of here!"

"B-but, Pyrrha and the others." I reply as she's thrown back by the henchman, who swings at me again from below. The strength he puts into the swing is so violent I'm thrown up against some rubble, and Blake comes to my aid again, catching the assailant's weapon once more.

"Pyrrha's at the engine room - I'll tell the others, just go!"

Blake was right, and only just now I realized that the arena was rife with conflict. RWBY must have been caught by these guys trying to get to the Amity's core from the center of the arena: Pyrrha avoided them by going down the service elevator. I took one moment to glance at Blake trying to outmaneuver the red-haired, red-bladed assailant, before running off. There was nothing I could do: they were too skilled, too quick, and besides…

Time was running out.

Paladin mechs were such a pain to Nora. They just didn't have the same crunch factor as other foes: their metal bent and caved in, screeching instead of cracking. As a result, dismantling them wasn't as fun as taking out a platoon of soldiers, and sadly Ren was taking care of that situation, so there wouldn't be any leftover for her.

The corridor leading to the hanger was narrow, with barely enough space for a Paladin to move freely, and annoyingly long. Nora slammed against the wall, rupturing another power line and grabbing hold of the sparking coil. The electricity rammed through her muscles, cramming into her muscles and joints, leaking out of the tears and fissures. Nora hated feeling the limit of her semblance, as her ability to retain and channel the charge of lightning faltered and began to bite back. It was still too early to be concerned, and with another straight leap she separated the Paladin's main operator compartment from the rest of its body with a thunder-charged hammer uppercut. The last of the great battle mechs lay dismantled before her, their drivers twisting themselves out of the dead, useless metal husks.

Nora landed neatly at the end of the hall while Ren staggered up behind her, huffing and puffing as usual.

"C'mon Ren! Shuttles don't fly themselves!"

"Don't… start." Ren gasped, grabbing onto Nora's shoulder for support, his other hand pointing to the corner.

"We still have one more."

Nora shrugged and ran off, robbing Ren of his small respite. The hustle around the corner came to a short little stop as Nora oggled at the assorted craft. Some bi-helicopters sat idiling, while at the center...

"OmyGOSH Ren look it's a Sunchaser!"

The craft dwarfed the bi-copters, at least four times their size. A small prototype of the sky warships Atlas used in war, the Sunchaser was the corsair of the skies, quick, agile, large to carry a raiding party but small enough to avoid radar and the common eye.

"Sunchasers are outdated tech, and so few were built because of their fuel costs during the Great War and the amount of resources devoted for the more battle-efficient tanks and warships. I can't believe that the White Fang were able to get one that must explain how they got a freaking Death Stalker up here!"

Ren continued to make his way up behind Nora, ignoring her rants and re-iterating.

"One more."

There was a whirr of a chainsaw, and Nora looked down to see a heavyset White Fang warrior made his way out from the deployment bay of the Sunchaser, moving forward to address the two students.

"Never gutted a hammer-user before..." Was his grumbling salutations.

"Ooh, this model comes with its own forward missile pod!"

"Which they used to take out the broadcast array. Right. Cool. Nora?! The guy in front of us?!" Ren repeated a bit louder as the chainsaw scraped at the ground, its owner advancing in a lax yet threatening fashion.

"You just don't appreciate modern engineering." Nora frowned at Ren, who just rolled his eyes and growled back, exasperated.

"Didn't you say this was 'old tech'?"

The lumbering opponent leapt at Nora, taking the first offensive with a sort of obliviousness and ham-handedness that was surprisingly threatening, given his devotion to shaving Nora straight down the middle. She was able to hop back away from the attack and swung back with Magnhild, which was blocked by the attackers hand.

Nora's surprise was honest, and she activated cannon to explosively disengage a couple of meters, coming to a stop next to Ren. There was an audible pop as the muscular opponent strode forward, seemingly unaffected by the blow and rolling out his shoulder.

"Uhhh…" Nora mumbled awkwardly, surprised by the challenger's strength.

"Nora. Together." Was Ren's only response, his magenta eyes sharpening.

"Alrighty then!" Nora cried out, rushing forward with Ren right beside her. This time to attack, Nora drew from her semblance, sparking her arm muscles and adding to Magnhild's velocity with a well-timed shot from her cannon.

The chainsaw caught the swing at an angle, slopping it down to the ground. It was made easier that the chainsaw teeth were moving that direction, and the simplicity of the block allowed the White Fang to take a swing at repelling Ren who slid under the attack and let loose with his bullets.

They rattled harmlessly off of the fighter's aura. He stopped the swing of his chainsaw and swung once again, at Nora, attempting to bisect her. It was a simple parry, but the attacks were relentless, forcing Nora to match him blow for blow in rapid succession, feeling an uncomfortable burn in her limbs.

Ren came to her aid, jumping up and punching at the back of the man's head with one of his Stormflowers. The man fell forward, dazed by the blow but still safeguarded by his aura.

"Brats." Was his hissing grunt as he pulled up his chainsaw from the ground, the teeth suddenly burning red dust. Swinging in a circle, the flames spread out, searing at both teens and cutting through their aura. While Nora was able to duck the swing, Ren was not so lucky because of his reckless attack, and had to deflect the ripping teeth of the chainsaw with a both of his knives. He flew a number of meters back, his aura flickering and injured.

"Ren!"

Nora made split-second motion to move to her injured friend, but quickly backtracked to avoid another cleaving swing from the fanatic. He seemed undaunted by all of the prior trades, all too confident in his endurance. And Nora was running out of hers. Her face darkened as she tensed up, summoning every drop of electricity at her disposal. No time for a fight, it would have to end here and now.

The chainsaw wielder was unaffected by the sparks flying off from Nora's skin, but after all that had happened nobody was really surprised that he was so unimpressed. In fact, he was already attacking, swinging downwards once again. The binary ham-handedness of his attacks were so frustratingly effective: Nora dodged to the right but the speed of her opponent's left fist nearly clocked her in the jaw, and when she weaved around it, his chainsaw was already moving fast towards her chin. The intense, sputtering flames that spat forth from the animated sword continued to rot away her aura.

Nora was beginning to get desperate. In terms of physical strength and damage, her opponent was outmaching her. Not to mention the fact that she was quickly running out of reserves. Another two-handed powerswing from the attacker was too quick for her to dodge, and suddenly she was stuck blocking a burning sword, her hair wilting under the flame. Nora could only stare as the molten teeth began to dig into the hilt of Magnhild, sparks flying.

Ren came to the rescue, throwing his entire body at the foe, barely moving him. But then Ren dropped low and swept upwards at the man's feet, creating imbalance. Shaken, the attacker took his tool off of Nora and began to twist towards the pest, swinging down with one arm and punching out at Nora with the other. Nora couldn't avoid it and stumbled backwards with a broken nose, but her grip on Magnhild didn't loosen. All she could see was the chainsaw barrel downwards, its fire cutting through Ren's shirt. A step over the line. The sparks cauterized her skin as she brought the hammer up, and she brought the thunderclap down onto the last remaining hinderance.

Lighting. Lightning everywhere, blossoming from Nora's hammer and sweeping over the floor. Ren coughed through the smoke, his weapons still trained on the possibly unconscious but certainly defeated chainsaw maniac. Nora stood at the center of the blast site, trembling and putting everything she had into leaning onto Magnhild. She saw Ren, but Ren knew that she was far too exhausted to speak coherently.

So he would do the talking now. He put his shoulder under her arm, and they both began to stumble towards the nearest bi-copter. Ambient electricity sparked and stuttered from the ground, a testament to Nora's sacrifice.

"Don't do such reckless things." Ren dictated to his exhausted, deadweight friend, who just gave a limp little cough as a response. As they entered the chopper, he spied the ignition keys hanging right in the cockpit. He set Nora down on the loading bay bench, pulling the shutter down before hopping into the cockpit.

And staring at the controls. Simply oggling at the various instruments and modules that spelled out so much information. Ren couldn't help but gulp, his determination wavering momentarily.

"Ren?" Nora squeaked, lethargic but alive, "Why close the doors? We gotta wait for the others."

"They can get another copter."

"No," Nora shot back as a fraction of strength and good humor returned, and with some movement, tried to pull herself up, "Jaune told us… Jaune told us to secure an exit. That's what we did!"

Ren felt the perspiration on his neck, the weakness in his arms. He wasn't going to take any chances. Not like last time.

"What if more White Fang come? Grimm? Something worse? We're spent Nora, we have to go."

"No, no no," Nora shouted at him, although her voice was barely audible at all, her good humor dropping as realization dawned, "Not again, Lie! We can't just leave them-"

"We have to, Nora." Ren repeated at her, but it sounded more of a affirmation to his own conscious, turning the ignition key and grasping the controls. There was no reply from his friend, a wonderful merciful silence that left him alone with his demons. The bumped against the walls of the hanger once, twice, but soon they were free from the doomed monument. When the clouds enveloped them, when Ren couldn't see anything, he finally felt at peace.

"PYRRHA!"

Jaune was terrified. The run to the dust core of Amity was so long, fraught with hazards and rocks. He cut his arm on some rebar, he was sure, but he didn't have time to check. He could feel it. Maybe it was his aura, sensing that its unlocker's aura was dying. Maybe it was his semblance, he didn't really care.

All he knew was that when he entered the cavern, there was rubble and dust. Decay caused by battle, dust staining the air. Through it all he saw was his partner brought to her knees and then to her back, and an outstretched hand feasting over her face.

The victor heard him, glaring up from the now blinded team member. Jaune was advancing, against all common reason, but seeing the infraction of Aura and that black creature feeding on Pyrrha's face was disgusting. Nauseating. Horrifying.

He had a sword in his hand. He didn't quite remember how he drew it, but Jaune's mind was clear when he stabbed directly through the beetle.

That was it. He stood there, stuck in some ungodly clutch, trying to understand what was happening. That was Jaune, always trying to catch up and understand.

He never knew the full extent of the situation at hand.

"You've made a big mistake, boy." The woman stated darkly, in a slow tone that dripped with dark, hateful, spiteful satisfaction. He looked at her and nearly fell backwards with how enraged her eyes looked, a monstrous sense of frustration that took away her humanity.

He tried to think of something to say. Something reasonable, something brave. Something. But… Nothing. He had nothing but blanks.

"Can't I ever get work done in peace?"

"G…" Jaune managed, driven by his pesky gallantry, "Get lost. You won't... hurt her."

"Oh, I suppose not," the dark haired monster purred, reaching to her sides and pulling out her two swords before merging them into a bow, "because the leader of JNPR himself will see to it that Miss Nikos will never fall into the clutches of the big… bad. Cinder. Fall."

She dropped the last words individually, each syllable strumming her bow with a look of revulsion on her face. Jaune wanted to back away, but a step back would make him trip over Pyrrha. Her body, form... memory. It kept him rooted in place, despite his fear, his weakness. He put his shield up, between him and the opponent, trying to figure out what he could do to survive. He would try.

Cinder casually notched a bow, drawing it at such a speed to draw a flinch from JNPR's leader. She stopped, and smirked at the set of blue eyes that peered out from behind the shield. Only then did she let the arrow fly, straight at his leg.

Jaune reacted, but not exactly enough to avoid the arrow…

RunrunRunJauneplease

She heard him step over her. Was this death? Was death this terrifying? Was death so malignant to answer her most innocent desire and her deepest fear? Was it her fault, for pining for his touch, for him to grab her by the hand, by the neck, by the cheek and tell her that she was alright, that everything was going to be fine? She did not want him here, but she desperately needed him. Desired him. Only to be trapped, listening to him struggle against the archer known as Cinder?

The terror was everywhere in her, and it the feeling made her sick. She needed to move, something, to banish the cloying revulsion of this torture. Or just stop feeling altogether. But try as she might, she could not kill her feelings, her emotions. That only left one other option.

She tried to move and free herself. Nothing.

The arrow ripped straight by his shin, all thanks to some minor reflex and a major dip in aura. Jaune sickly fascinated, surprised, by how lucky he was. He was sure that the arrow cleanly streaked right through his leg.

"Jaune, remember to keep your eyes on the barrel."

"Pyrrha, it's the barrel of a gun!"

"And that's why you don't take your eyes off of it!" Pyrrha agreed enthusiastically, oblivious or enjoying Jaune's silly emotions, "Watch your opponent, see where they're going to shoot, so that you can deflect the blow ahead of time!"

Jaune snapped out of his mindlessness, immediately ripping his eyes off of his body and searching for the attacker named Cinder.

She wasn't in front of him. It was a confusing situation, but something that made his heart drop as well. As if an arrow had gone through it…

He jerked to the side, frantic and vulnerable, while also twisting to use his shield to cover his back. The set of arrows slammed down next to him, their origin from above. Two missed due to his reckless and instinctual evasion, but the third firmly planted firmly into his shoulder.

It stuck so deep. It was cold. It was painful. Jaune couldn't help but howl, as he realized that moving his left arm - his shield arm - was suddenly an act of pure agony and unnatural friction. Only then did he see Cinder falling down and landing on the ground, her face happy.

"Those were meant for your cute little face… Maybe I underestimated you a little too much from the reports."

Reports. What reports? Jaune thought, confused and lost in the details. Another thing he didn't understand. They just kept stacking up. He felt so alone. It hurt more inside than the arrow did.

She heard him cry out, and she screamed in response, thrashing and throwing a tantrum. But to no avail, the world did not allow her the luxury, still restraining her to the prison of inability. So she lay there, howling her heart out despite the fact that it amounted to nothing in the darkness. It was happening, it was happening right there in front of her. There was nothing she could do, but flail in the confines of weakness, blackness and death.

No. No. Nooo...

Jaune grasped the arrow shaft. The movement alone terrified him, but he could see Cinder's mirth at his actions. He didn't let his eyes leave her, taking one short yank.

Nothing. Pain, certainly, but pain he had expected, pain that barely amounted to the feeling of an arrow in his shoulder joint. Jaune realized he was gritting his teeth to a paste, and that Cinder had once again moved.

This time, he was following her, as she dashed straight… towards… him.

He was scared. The edge of her bow came down crashing towards him, and he parried with his sword. His one good arm. In a flash, Cinder brought her bow down and rammed the opposing edge straight into his hip, slicing deep into his gut.

Jaune took the blow as well as he could, as he tried to bring his sword down and… do something.

Cinder just hopped back, notching another arrow. Jaune was looking. He saw it gleam with aura. He brought his shield up, his adrenaline keeping him mobile.

The arrow came nowhere near him. Instead, it embedded itself on the ground and flared in a reddish hue. Jaune felt the heat, saw the delayed explosion slowly melt out of the arrow, and threw himself to the side.

The blaze caught his legs, but barely. It pushed him further than expected, and he hit the ground in such a way he felt like staying there. But he got up, shield first and then his head. Just in time to feel another arrow enter in through his back. Everything stopped as he shuddered from the impact, but miraculously he kept his balance, fighting off the cold. But getting to his feet was suddenly a herculean effort.

"How many more, I wonder?" Cinder mused out loud, relaxed and ready to finish the fight.

She could feel. The debris of rocks, pebbles, and other flecks of dust from the explosive arrow rained down onto her body, burying her in a thin film. Then there was a faint whistle and the sound of flesh before the archer identified as "Cinder" spoke up again, mocking and humored by Jaune's continued existence.

She could feel the lack of oxygen, as if cement had filled her lungs, or an iron clamp holding them shut. It instilled lethargy, a tyranny of breathlessness that she could not overthrow.

But she could feel. The claustrophobia was lessening. And with sharper senses, Jaune's suffering was more and more obvious. When he began to cough blood, the terror in her soul almost inspired her to move. Almost.

The coughing continued, the only thing that she heard, save for the splatter of blood.

Nooooooooooooooo...

Jaune couldn't help but cough, hacking out wet globules and barely breathing enough to satisfy himself. It was only after the third stutter that he actually tasted the blood in his mouth. How easily he could move uselessly, but when he needed to stand up he was so slow…

Cinder notched another arrow, and Jaune mentally begged her to keep talking, keep insulting him. Anything but more wounds and blood. He never felt so mortal.

"Answer me, Jaune," the victor asked, cool and unaffected by Jaune's miserable appearance, "Why would someone as ineffective as you try?"

Jaune thought hard about that response, falling for her trick. She bluffed with her arrow again, forcing a weary but desperate defensive action, while instead of firing she rushed forward, sweeping his legs out from under him. As he fell forward, she put an arrow through his thigh with surgical accuracy, then decided to place one into his other lung for good measure. She had reached a conclusion. She wanted him to choke: die slowly as Amity crashed into and shattered his cute, pathetic world. He could watch! Just like everyone else.

He was basically slobbering blood by the time she approached the fallen maiden. The pain in her joints from summoning the pact still lingered, but she had the strength to attempt the transfer yet again. A glove for her left hand, then.

"Is it your partner, I presume?" Cinder announced, continuing her monologue, knowing that the blond-haired leader would be gasping at her, watching her stand triumphantly over his partner's comatose form, taking out a white glove to wear on her left hand.

"Your sweet maiden of fall… Icing on the cake, really. And you? Just an blemish. Are you watching? Or will you look away, close your eyes, sing lullebys as I sap her soul."

Finally, a situation that Jaune could grasp completely: Pyrrha was going to die. He wasn't sure of his own fate, but the realization of her peril was enough. He could feel ringing in his ears, a pitch of resonance, and somehow he was able to lift his upper body. Plant his feet beneath him, and gripping his sword, rise.

"Get… away from her." He coughed angrily, raising his sword and pointing directly at the would-be murderer.

Cinder tilted her head, curious and pleasantly surprised. She could dawdle: There was still time to kill and she was enjoying this kid's perseverance. She still wanted him to suffer, but by the way things were going he would rob her of the satisfaction.

"Make me."

There was hatred in Pyrrha now, grimm thoughts directed to the inhuman lack of respect that dwelled within Cinder Fall. Black ooze blocked her eyes, her nose, her taste, it's numbness a plague to her sense of being, but somehow her lips had parted. Air moved. Her lungs burned in surprise, but despite the development she remained still and stone.

She tried again, and she felt movement. She searched herself for power, for something to fight, and she felt a prickling sensation in her left eye, embers…

Jaune…!

Breathing was a luxury, a prospect the leader of JNPR could no longer consider. He had to stop her. He had to save Pyrrha. He had to try harder. He wished he had worked on his semblance, hoping that it would rescue him now. How silly. He had nothing in his playbook but what Pyrrha always taught him.

Need to get close.

He closed the distance quite well and swung first. Cinder didn't even honor his attack with a parry, instead stepping and weaving under the attack before aiming an arrow at him point blank. Jaune pushed forward with his shield, proactively interfering with Cinder's ability to get a clean shot. Cinder responded with a roundhouse kick to chin, grinning as she aimed and launched her final missile. It spun cleanly in the air before being deflected by Jaune's shield.

That wasn't expected.

Cinder frowned, quickly drawing another arrow while Jaune stepped forward again, cutting her off from his fallen comrade. His breath haggard, blue eyes dull but sharp. The trio of arrows attacked his extremities: one to his foot, the other to his hip, the third towards his head. The arrows to the hip and the foot connected, but the crippling blow was deflected yet again, and then Cinder had to duck over another tired swing. He was losing by default, guaranteed to never contact her, but Cinder was still irritated by the fact that her coup de grace had been so rudely repulsed.

She stepped forward and slammed her heel into his leg, reveling in audio of snapping of bone and cartilage. He dropped to the earth once again, defeated and immobile.

"There we are. What did we learn today, pupil..."

"You…" Jaune sputtered, placing his hands on the ground in another attempt to stand up.

"We learned that heart means nothing. Just a muscle, you know." Cinder chuckled as she brought her foot down on his exposed hand, delighting in Jaune's shout of pain.

"What did you expect? Its…. sad, really. RWBY, JNPR, you kids thought that you could do things, while you lounge about and sleep on nice tidy cots in warm rooms after your hot showers… Every need granted. You children had it all, and with all of your complacency, innocence, idiocy, you still expected results? You never even saw me coming. The world didn't see me coming. And now the world suffers. And you can watch."

Cinder was at peace, happy to be done with the dirty work and free to escape Amity. It was such a frustration to see that Pyrrha somehow on her feet, the oil on her face melting in but somehow losing effectiveness.

"Jaune!" The polarity user screamed, one hand tearing at her eyes to try and see, while the other drew from her semblance and pulled her spear back into her hand, straight out from a pile of rubble.

"Jaune! Please... Please!"

"Pyrrha…" Jaune answered, still alive and fighting, despite the soggy red of his clothes. He reached out with his one good hand, pushing trying to grab at Cinder's ankle to stop her from attacking. Cinder jerked her foot away in response.

"Get away from him." Pyrrha screamed, livid, driven mad with the torrent of emotions that had cascaded within her up until this point. Cinder grit her teeth, unamused by the unprecedented situation. She took out an arrow, lamenting that she hadn't shot the maiden straight through the heart earlier. But then Pyrrha could have expired during her escapade with Jaune…

Jaune lunged forward, using his broken arm to push out and made one last mad grab at Cinder's ankle. It was tight and inescapable, a dead man's grip. Cinder had to shoot now.

"PYRRHA, HERE."

Pyrrha heard the source and her face jerked to face that direction. She had the Miló in her hand and she let it fly straight above where she heard Jaune's voice. Cinder twisted to avoid the arrow, hissing in anger as it cut past her flank. She kneeled at the ground, clutching her wound, before recovering and retaliating, firing off the arrow straight at the red-haired huntress's heart. But not quite, too much to the center. Maybe enough to cause a tear in the atrium?

The impact was enough to make Pyrrha to shudder and stop, a physical manifestation of doubt lodged in her chest. But the doubt had no hold over her, the fear of losing Jaune blocking out all weakness. She felt the wind stir around her, and suddenly her eyes opened: a stream of fire and blood and ooze erupting from her left eye.

Cinder hissed in surprise, summoning her own powers of Fall too slowly to stop Pyrrha's magic. The gust blasted her against the wall and restrained her while Pyrrha limped towards Jaune, still weak and bleeding.

Cinder howled in anger, activating her own eye and causing the power of Fall to spiral out of control and short out for the two of them. Cinder dropped to the ground, barrage at the ready, while Pyrrha shuddered from the disconnection, already losing whatever strength she had summoned beforehand. But even weakness would not stop her. She drew from her semblance again, recovering Akoúo just in time to weakly deflect Cinder's arrows. One of them embedded itself into her thigh, but she had reached her partner. Injuries, pain, none of it mattered now.

"Jaune, jaune, jaune," She whispered her mantra, her wishes and dreams, collapsing to a kneel and reaching out to his hand, placing hers over his and lifting it up, "S-s-tay awake ok?"

"What are you doing?" Jaune grunted weakly, struggling to brush away Pyrrha's hand as she placed it over his face. She didn't want him to see.

"Shhhhh…" Pyrrha shushed him, like her mother would often do whenever Pyrrha cried over her bruises. She would be brave for him, holding his hand until the end. She suppressed the urge to sob or whimper as Cinder stood over her, victorious as always.

"You're stupid," Cinder muttered with a smile, irritated by the peaceful look Pyrrha had, "He's going to die in the crash, before it, whatever."

The walls shuddered and Cinder glanced at them suspiciously, before hissing in quiet realization.

"Do your worst," Pyrrha stated calmly, unaware of Cinder's sudden shift in expression, "I'm not afraid."

Cinder ignored her, taking out a shard of black dust and squeezing it until it's dark smoke poured out, flinging it out and obscuring the room - just when the sound of rebar and cement exploded around them.

Pyrrha just sat, waiting, feeling everything fade once again. She squeezed Jaune's hand weakly, feeling at peace with whatever happened as her vision faded and the cold returned. The last thing she could remember was a spectacled, blond-haired figure kneel at her side and the feeling of two fingers pressed to her neck.

And then there was only the chill of metal and the warmth of his hand.

End