A/N: I'm trying to get into get back into the rhythm of writing and I figured tackling this might be a good way to shake off some rust. It relies on some classic inspirations that will become obvious as the story progresses, but I think I'm going to have fun with it, and I hope you do as well. If you can't quite figure out what's going on right off the bat, well, that's by design. Thanks to Coeur Al'Aran for helping me develop the concept.

Beta: Coeur Al'Aran

Weiss examined the reflection in her mirror. The girl staring back barely looked like a person at all. Her hair and makeup were flawless, like a doll, carefully done up over the course of three hours under the supervision of one of her father's image consultants. Her dress had already been selected for her, with no input on her part, ensuring that it would complement the outfits her father and brother would be wearing. Buried under all of the product and artifice, Weiss tried not to daydream about running away and becoming a huntress. She would need her wits about her if she was going to get through the night.

Her father had arranged to host another gala at the Schnee Manor, a small affair for close allies of the family, with only about a hundred members of Atlesian high society in attendance. Naturally, the exclusive nature of the event only made appearances more important, especially when it came to the heiress of the SDC.

Weiss sighed to herself. All that was left now was the waiting. To fill the silence, she tapped her scroll as it lay on her dresser, prompting it to blare out news from a local radio station.

"Our top story tonight – the White Fang strike again! An attack on an SDC convoy this morning left five dead and three wounded. SDC security forces were able to repel the terrorists, but not before unarmed contractors came under fire and part of the shipment was lost. Initial estimates value the financial value of the missing dust at over a hundred thousand lien."

Weiss scowled. "Of course they're still going on about that."

She had learned of the incident at breakfast, when her father had been called away and returned in a fouler mood than usual. As usual, he had taken it out on her with a string of acerbic criticisms. Weiss hated the White Fang as much as anyone and her heart clenched for those lives lost. Her father, on the other hand, had been more upset at the effect the incident would have on their reputation and insurance premiums.

Thankfully, the broadcast was quick to move on.

"In other news, residents in Atlas reported odd atmospheric phenomena overnight. Witnesses describe strange localized electrical storms that should have required large quantities of dust to sustain. Anyone with information about unlicensed dust stockpiles is urged to come forward."

Weiss rolled her eyes at that. It was amazing that some faulty wiring could actually make the news. Still, she wasn't going to complain about the change in subject. Silliness and background noise was better than anything that came close to home.

"Atlas police are investigating a break in at a downtown department store. Police are looking for a female suspect with an unlocked Aura, who helped herself to tens of thousands of lien in professional huntsmen equipment. The suspect was last seen fleeing the scene wearing a white cloak stolen from the store."

The blessed mundanity of the broadcast was interrupted by a knock at the door. Weiss tensed. Being disturbed in her own chambers so early could portend nothing good. She hastily turned off her scroll and smoothed her skirt.

"Come in."

It was Klein who entered, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm afraid your father has called for you, snowflake. I tried to distract him but he's been in one of his moods all day."

Weiss shut her eyes and took a moment to gather herself. When she opened them again her face was a mask of perfect calm.

"I'd best not keep him waiting then."

The hallways of the manor were bustling with servants and caterers brought on for the gala. Schnee Manor wasn't usually so crowded – more staff meant more risk, and Jacques Schnee was known to value both his privacy and his personal safety. To compensate, an expanded security detail had been brought on for the occasion, including a number of men in sharp suits with earpieces and firearms. Weiss noted that every one of them seemed to recognize her and give her wide berth.

As Weiss entered her father's study, she noted the scowl on his face. Whitley stood beside him, practically clinging to him like a limpet. It was vaguely disgusting how eager her brother was to curry favor at times. It was worse when their father was angry, as if his displeasure only made Whitley hunger more for his approval.

"You called for me, father?"

"Fifteen minutes ago. Either you or that bumbling fool Klein saw fit to take your time." Jacques looked Weiss up and down. "Where have you been? Some of the guests have already arrived."

"I have been waiting in my chambers for the start of the gala," Weiss said neutrally, "as you earlier suggested I should."

"Don't be smart with me Weiss," Jacques snapped. "When important guests show up early, does it not occur to you to show a little bit of initiative, or at least common sense? I'll have you know that your absence has been remarked upon."

"I apologize father. I was not aware that any guests had arrived early."

"And yet Whitley here managed to stay alert enough to greet them like a good host." Whitley preened at that. "You are running from your responsibilities, few though they are, because you find them difficult. Hiding away in your chambers like your mother."

Despite her practiced calm, Weiss felt her face begin to burn. Don't argue. Don't give him a reaction.

"I will make myself visible at once," she almost mumbled.

"See to it that you do." Jacques inclined his head. "I'm not sure that I can stand much more disappointment in one day."

Weiss ignored the gloating expression on Whitley's face and stiffly turned to leave. As much as she liked to think that she was used to it by now, her father's words still hurt. Her expression betrayed nothing but on the inside she wanted to scream or cry or both at once.

As she went through the motions of greeting guests out in the courtyard, making herself visible as it were, her thoughts turned to her dream of becoming a huntress. Winter had done it, chased her own ambitions, escaped. Winter didn't have to attend the stupid gala. Weiss rather thought she would prefer a school outside of Atlas, as far from her father's influence as possible. Beacon was the obvious choice. It would put an ocean between her and Schnee Manor, but Vale was an allied kingdom with enough ties to the SDC to make for a politically acceptable destination.

When her father was in a better mood Weiss was confident that she could sell the idea. He wouldn't just allow it of course, he'd put her through some punishing test for sure, but Weiss was willing to endure a lot if it meant winning a little freedom.

"Would you care for some petits fours, young miss?"

Weiss looked up, startled to find Klein offering her a tray of delectable little confections. There was a tug at the corner of her lips. The kindly butler had made it seem like part of the service to any observers, but Weiss knew that he had fetched the sweets for the sole purpose of cheering her up.

"Why, I think I just might."

She popped a chocolate into her mouth and savored the richness as it spread across her tongue. For a moment she allowed herself to forget about her father and her stresses.

Klein leaned forward and whispered. "Don't mind anything the old windbag says. There'll be no sweets for him until the dessert course."

Weiss allowed herself a small smile.

"Thank you Klein. Truly."

"Think nothing of it. I am merely—"

Gunshots rang out in the distance. Weiss' head snapped towards the sound as the handful of guests began to murmur. The servants and caterers carried on as though nothing had happened, while the security began to move and speak into their radios. The sound of gunfire continued. Weiss creased her brow in irritation. The White Fang? Here? If they thought to attack the gala then they had well and truly lost their minds. Schnee Manor was a veritable fortress, never mind the additional security brought on just for the event. It would require an army, the kind of army that one couldn't sneak into Atlas.

At least it would be over soon.

Weiss sighed. Even if there was no real danger, this was only going to make her day more miserable. Being punished for something the White Fang had done wasn't enough apparently; now she was being punished for something that her father had done. Her life was so frustrating.

Klein however still seemed focused on the disturbance.

"They're not stopping," he muttered.

He was right. If anything the gunfire had grown louder and had been joined by shouts. There was the rumble of an explosion. Then another. The guests were becoming agitated now and even some of the servants had stopped what they were doing. Right before their eyes some of the manor's robotic defenses emerged from the hedges and trundled off in the direction of the commotion. Weiss frowned. Something was wrong. Something felt off about this.

"Perhaps we should head back indoors," Klein suggested. "Whatever is going on, it'll be safe there."

Weiss wanted to argue that she wasn't helpless, that she had aura and training, and yet she found herself unsettled enough to obey. The guests seemed to have the same idea. As a group they jostled their way to the doors, passing a veritable stampede of men in suits who ran across the portico with weapons drawn.

They reentered the manor to find that Jacques had emerged from his study, red faced, storming into the foyer with Whitley in tow.

"Does someone want to tell me what's going on?" Jacques demanded.

A tall man in a suit, the chief of security, looked up from his scroll. "There's been a perimeter breach," he said calmly. "As far as we can tell it's a single assailant. All of the mansion's defenses have been engaged. We should have the situation under control soon."

The statement was punctuated by the muffled roar of a laser cannon.

Jacques scowled. "What am I paying you for if you can't even deal with a lone attacker?"

"As I said, we should have it under control soon. In the meantime, sir, you may want to retreat to one of the panic rooms. Your private bullhead is also being prepared as a precaution."

"I'm not going to be driven into hiding or chased out of my own home!" Jacques shouted. "By one rabid animal? Think of how that would look!"

"We've not yet confirmed that the hostile is White Fang."

Jacques continued to rant while Whitley looked lost and nervous. Weiss met his eyes briefly and then looked away. This wasn't the petty world of words and politics that they were familiar with, this felt realer somehow, it felt alien. If Weiss was honest with herself, she was feeling nervous too.

Focusing on the task at hand, the security chief turned away from Jacques and tapped his earpiece.

"Status report. All units check in."

They could hear distorted screaming and explosions over the comm.

"Status report!"

Nothing but static.

The security chief looked to a nearby technician who was frantically tapping an oversized scroll.

"Must be an equipment malfunction," the technician explained. "We've lost all signal from the mechanized defenses. Can't get a response from any of the robots."

The lights went out. Weiss started. Quite a few people screamed. There was still muted evening light from the windows, but it was dim, and everyone in the room was on edge. Jacques appealed loudly for calm, acting for all the world like he was in perfect control of the situation. That confidence provided enough reassurance to quiet things down. For a change Weiss found herself impressed by her father; there was no denying that he had qualities of a leader.

"Backup power should be up within a few minutes," the technician said helpfully. "The power station probably got hit by a stray shot or something. The manor has its own generators, don't worry."

The security chief put a hand on Jacques' back and began leading him firmly towards an opposite hallway. Whitley trailed along as if by reflex, while Weiss remained behind with Klein.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jacques snapped.

"My job. With respect sir, my contract says I'm to do whatever I believe is necessary to keep you safe. Right now that means seeing you to a panic room whether you like it or not."

Weiss felt her heart begin to beat faster as she stared after her father and brother. What was going on? Never in her life could she remember Schnee Manor being threatened in this way. Jacques knew what kind of target he was, he knew how many enemies he had, and he had invested more in home security than anyone else on Remnant. It should have been ridiculous overkill. What kind of adversary could have brought them to such desperate measures?

Klein nudged Weiss gently. "Young miss. I think we should also—"

There was a crash as the front doors were knocked from their hinges. Something large, something black like a shadow burst into the manor. All at once there was screaming and chaos all around them. Jacques froze where he stood and for the first time Weiss thought it looked like he had no idea what to do. Whitley trembled beside him. The security chief drew a pistol and fired a series of explosive dust rounds, illuminating his target with each shot but otherwise having no effect.

It had the vague shape of a woman, but the proportions were all wrong and there were writhing tentacle limbs sprouting from its back. It crouched on all fours like a beast as it surveyed the room. Its face was covered by a feminine mask, white with red markings, and its eyes glowed a hateful red. Like a Grimm making mockery of the human form.

Then those eyes fell upon Weiss. The Grimm, for what else could it be, went very still.

The security chief's pistol clicked empty and he moved to draw a melee weapon instead. With dispassionate ease, the Grimm impaled him upon one of its limbs, its barbed end puncturing the man's aura like a soap bubble. Almost as an afterthought more tentacles began lashing out, killing everyone within reach, smearing bodies across the floor and walls. Weiss watched in horror as a black tendril stabbed through Jacques' open mouth and out the back of his head. Another caught Whitley in his chest. Through it all, those soulless red eyes never left Weiss.

"Weiss, RUN!" Klein shouted.

The butler physically shoved Weiss out of her stupor and towards the nearest door. Her feet obeyed even as her mind was frozen, her vision swimming. Her father. Her brother. Nothing made any sense. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a nightmare. At any moment now she would wake—

Behind her there was a wet gurgle. Weiss glanced over her shoulder and a choked sob escaped her throat. Klein was dangling limply from the end of a long black limb.

Weiss didn't wait to see more. She broke into a full sprint, charging down the corridor, leaping over abandoned trolleys meant for the gala. The hallways were still filled with frightened and confused staff, and in her wake Weiss could hear them dying. They were running too now, but few of them had unlocked aura, and none of them could outpace her. Weiss ducked around every corner she could, took every shortcut to try to lose the Grimm, and yet still it kept coming.

It was here for her. It wanted her specifically.

The realization was as confusing as it was terrifying. Why would Weiss be its target? Because she was a Schnee? She had never asked to be a Schnee! She had never asked for any of this!

And now her world was screaming and death as she ran for her life and others got in her way. The Grimm was slaughtering everyone that crossed its path; caterers, servants, maids. People who had been kind to Weiss, people her family owed for their service, people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Was it her fault they were dying?

Weiss felt her heart pound in her chest as she cut through the family armory and snatched Myrtenaster from its resting place. If she kept running more innocents would die. Even if she managed to hide herself in a panic room who knows how many the Grimm would kill while trying to get to her or draw her out. If she tried to fight, she would die. She wasn't a huntress yet.

She wasn't a huntress. But she wanted to be.

A strange sort of calm settled over Weiss as her decision became clear. She had aura. She had a weapon. She had training. That was more than most of the remaining servants in the manor could say. Huntsmen protected the innocent and gave their lives to hold back the Grimm. Weiss knew now that she would never make it to Beacon, would never become a huntress.

But at least she could die like one.

"Get out of here, get everyone to evacuate the manor!" Weiss screamed at a group of servants ahead.

Banking hard through a set of double doors, Weiss emerged in the dining hall. The cavernous room had an upper walkway held up by a series of columns, the best battlefield she could pick under the circumstances. She made a diagonal cut through a nearby support column with Myrtenaster's blade, then spun around to fire a couple quick shots at adjacent columns. A moment later her pursuer burst into the room after her, just in time for a chunk of walkway to collapse on its head.

It might as well have been cardboard for all the good it did. The Grimm caught the masonry with its tentacles, cracked it in half, and hurled the pieces at Weiss one after the other. She dodged the first, but the second slammed into her like a wrecking ball. Weiss grunted in pain. Her aura had just barely held up against the impact, but the debris had her pinned against the wall.

Straining against the weight of the collapsed walkway, Weiss raised her head. The strange Grimm was approaching fast, wasting no time, its movements cold and mechanical. So much for her last stand. She hadn't lasted ten seconds. Weiss felt the tears finally break free and roll down her cheeks. She didn't want to die. She was too young. She wasn't ready.

There was the sound of breaking glass. A window nearby shattered inwards as something entered the manor. The Grimm lunged forward with all of its many limbs outstretched, aiming for the kill. In that moment Weiss thought she saw a flash of silver, and then the Grimm shrieked as it was kicked across the room with bits of its mask crumbling off.

Weiss stared. A woman in a white cloak towered over her, bristling with weapons and equipment, her face cast in shadow as she bent down to free Weiss from the debris. Weiss felt her breathing resume with a gasp as she was pulled to her feet. Her savior was a huntress, obviously, but not one that she recognized, certainly nobody in her father's employ.

"Stay behind me," the huntress said firmly.

Reaching into her cloak, the huntress retrieved a grenade and pulled the pin. She tossed it at the Grimm and then swept Weiss off her feet, carrying her up onto the upper level walkway. The Grimm sent a tentacle after them, but the woman deposited Weiss on the ground and smoothly deflected the limb with a large two-handed blade. Her posture was relaxed, confident, as if she had done this a dozen times before. A moment later the grenade went off in an explosion that shook the whole room. Taking advantage of the opening, the huntress leaped from the walkway and into a graceful somersault, spinning in the air, bringing the heavy blade crashing down with tremendous force. There was another flash of silver and an inhuman scream of pain.

The Grimm reeled, several of its tentacles severed and evaporating on the ground. The sword had been left buried deep in its body. The huntress leaped back onto the walkway, standing before Weiss, looking down at the heiress with an expression unreadable beneath that white hood.

"That won't keep it down for long. You need to come with me, now."

It wasn't a request. Weiss swallowed a lump in her throat. Realizing that she still held Myrtenaster with trembling fingers, she lowered her weapon in tacit surrender. She wasn't arrogant enough to think that she'd stand a chance against this woman. At least she didn't seem to want Weiss dead.

"W-Who are you?"

The huntress paused, as if she had never considered that question before in her life.

"Rose," she said at last. "Just call me Rose."

Weiss' eyes widened. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but the huntress who'd called herself Rose was already moving. The woman spun to face the resurgent Grimm without any weapon in hand. It had leaped up onto the walkway after them, sword still protruding from its chest, limbs poised to strike.

On a night full of surprises, what happened next still managed to shock Weiss – silver light exploded from beneath that white hood. The monster screeched in what could only be described as mortal agony. Its remaining limbs turned to stone, the petrification creeping over it until it had engulfed half of its body, leaving the unfrozen half thrashing about like a dying animal.

The light faded. The huntress turned again, almost stumbling, clearly exhausted, but catching herself in time. In that motion Weiss thought she recognized the bearing of someone for whom leadership was as familiar as breathing.

Weiss swallowed the lump in her throat.

"That took a lot out of me," Rose mumbled as she approached. "Was hoping I wouldn't have to do that so soon. C'mon, we have to go!"

What was the point of resisting? This woman could apparently turn her into stone with a look. Wiess was so full of unnamable emotions that she was shaking, barely able to stay on her feet. Darkness encroached on the edges of her vision. Sensing her distress, her savior, kidnapper, or whatever Rose was, stepped forward to sweep a passive Weiss up into a bridal carry.

Then they were gone, leaving Atlas' largest private residence in ruins behind them.