AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, this is it for this story arc. See below for more notes on what's happening next.

Incidentally, Signal is located where the real Seymour-Johnson AFB is IRL. Mount Yamantau is also a real place, and rumored to indeed be an underground mountain shelter for Soviet/Russian leadership, to this day.

Signal Air Force Base

Near Goldsboro, North Carolina, United States of Canada

23 May 2001

Ruby Rose stepped out of the car onto the tarmac. It was hot, made worse by the concrete tarmac and the Carolina humidity. Instantly, foul-smelling odors assaulted her nose: jet fuel, smoke, hot metal. Her ears were equally under attack as two F-15s taxied out towards the runway. They were painted gunship gray: F-15Es, Strike Eagles, designed to rearrange landscapes, though they could fight air to air as well.

Ruby smiled. She was home.

A car door slammed behind her as Rissa Arashikaze followed her onto the tarmac; she was not smiling, but grimacing, hands held over her ears. This was not her home, of course, though she was the one giving the orders. She brought her hands down as the F-15s moved on. "No wonder you fighter pilots go deaf," she mused.

"What did you say?" Ruby asked, grinning.

Arashikaze rolled her eyes. "The others are inside, but before we go, I want you to see something. I pulled some strings, but I think it'll be worth it." She motioned Ruby to follow her.

They walked down the tarmac, sweat exploding from their pores; Ruby was wearing her dress blue uniform, while Arashikaze wore a women's business suit. But finally, in front of a hangar, they stopped.

Two aircraft were parked outside: a J-10 and an A-10. Ruby recognized them instantly, of course. Lie Ren's J-10 sported a new paint job, dark grey that probably hid all the battle damage repairs. Above the red aircraft number on the tail was his personal emblem, a purple lotus flower. Nora's A-10 was also freshly repaired and repainted—or it was a new aircraft; Ruby couldn't tell. It still had Nora Valkyrie's personal hammer emblem on the engines and BOOP over the gun on the nose, but there was a new emblem. She'd carried a heart symbol beneath the canopy, next to her name, but now the heart seemed to have a tear in it. It was a broken heart, and Ruby knew why.

Arashikaze cleared her throat politely, and pointed into the hangar. Ruby walked in. It was cooler inside. To her surprise, she saw a F-22 parked there. "Who's is that?" Ruby wondered, and then saw the marking on the outside of the twin tails. It was a spear against a sun, surmounted by a double crescent moon. Underneath the chine on the nose, painted in black, were the words Crocea Mors II. Ruby wondered no more: the Raptor was Pyrrha's.

Then she turned, and Ruby's grin spread ear to ear.

It was a F-16. A C model, she could tell; still an older model, as the Block 32s were still a decade old, but newer and more advanced than her old ADF version. Most of the differences were internal; the only quick way to tell was the antenna at the junction of the forward end of the tail and the fuselage. But it was red-trimmed on the spine and wingtips, and the blazing rose was on the tail, shiny and new. She ran around to check out the left side. Sure enough, Crescent Rose II was painted on the intake, along with ten and a half kill marks. She noticed it was already loaded: two AIM-9 Sidewinders on the wingtips, two AIM-120 AMRAAMs beneath the wings, and two "bags," large external fuel tanks. Beneath the fuselage was a slim travel pod, which would carry clothes and such. She was definitely going somewhere, and not for training: the missiles were live.

"I know I promised you a new one," Arashikaze said, ducking under the nose; she was so short that she barely had to duck. "This was the best I could do on short notice."

"It's perfect!" Ruby looked around. "Where's Chief Vogelmord?"

"Headed for your new duty station, which isn't here. Follow me."

They went inside the hangar, hit with a wonderful blast of air conditioning. They walked down the hall and came to a door. The CIA woman opened it and ushered her inside.

Nora let out a whoop when she saw Ruby, and in moments, Ruby was smothered in hugs from Nora, Ren, and Pyrrha. The latter still had dark circles under her eyes, betraying lack of sleep, but the empty look in her eyes was gone; there was more vitality there.

Arashikaze let the reunion go on for a bit longer, then cleared her throat again. All four pilots walked to where she had spread out a map on a table. It was a map of the Remnant, what was left of the United States and Canada. "All right," she began, "we'll make this rather brief. You need to get going, and so do I." She looked up at them, regarding them. "What do I call you?"

"Captain Ozpin gave us flight codes based on the letters of our first names," Ren replied. "So we're Reaper Flight."

"Reaper?" Arashikaze raised an eyebrow. "There's no 'N' in Reaper."

"It was either than or Nerp Flight."

"Or Peener," Nora chirped.

"Or Pern," Pyrrha added.

"Reaper Flight it is," Arashikaze quickly said, before the four of them could come up with other outlandish names. "Very well. You're going to fly from here to Hill Air Force Base, north of Salt Lake—right on the edge of the Western Dead Zones. From there you'll fly to Vulcan, in Alberta, and thence to Eielson, in Alaska. From Eielson, you'll be making a long haul from there to Matsushima, in Japan. That's where Leonardo Lionheart will meet you. Because Matsushima is a bit of a mouthful, and because certain people might just be listening in on your radio calls, the codename for the base will be Haven. That should be easy enough to remember.

"On the way, you will likely be required to render assistance to any units in contact with GRIMM. Already we've had reports of an uptick of GRIMM activity in the Dead Zones. We can assume that Salem is taking advantage of the chaos caused by the fall of Beacon. Besides lending your expertise to our forces, it will also maintain your cover as simply a flight of fighter pilots heading to our bases in Japan—and for you, Captain Lie, returning home to China." She spread her hands over the map. "Because Cinder Fall and her cohort were able to so easily insert themselves into Vytal Flag, we must assume that we are compromised somewhere along the line. While you are on your mission, I will be doing what I can here to clean that up; Ironwood is doing the same in Europe. I have not yet informed him of your mission, but I will once you have reached Haven."

"What about Yang, Blake and Weiss?" Ruby asked. It was probably a vain hope, but she had to try.

"If Captain Long decides to join you, I will brief her of your mission and she will join you as soon as possible. The same with Captain Belladonna-if she so chooses. Hauptmann Schnee…" Arashikaze shrugged. "I'll do what I can, but don't expect her."

"How long will this take us?" Pyrrha asked.

"Take your time. I should think about two weeks, but if you need longer, that is fine. We are not really in a hurry. You should be at Haven no later than July 4." Her lips quirked into a smile. "Entirely appropriate."

"How do we communicate with you?" Ren wanted to know.

"You don't. When you get to Haven, I'll know. Let's leave it at that. If I need to communicate with you, I will find a way, rest assured. Besides, you'll get briefings at your waypoints from the base commanders on local conditions. You don't need me for that." She rolled up the map, and began to hand it to Pyrrha, who shook her head, and gently pushed the map towards Ruby. "Major?" Arashikaze questioned. "You're not leading the flight?"

"Not this time. I do not think I am…mentally ready for that. And Captain Rose has shown herself to be eminently qualified as a flight leader."

Ruby wondered if Pyrrha's mind was still wandering. "But I'm a 1st Lieutenant."

Arashikaze smiled. "Actually, Captain…the Major is quite correct. You're out of uniform." She reached into a pocket and pulled out the double bars of a Captain.

Half an hour later, they had changed into flight suits—a new one for Ruby, but the other three still wore their faded and battered ones. All four retained their helmets, however: Ruby's was still bright red, but there was a silver slice into it where she'd hit the canopy. Arashikaze had offered to get her a new one, but Ruby refused: this was a mark, a reminder.

Now they stood on the tarmac, all four aircraft ready to taxi. Ruby regarded them: Nora, Ren, Pyrrha. She wished Yang, Blake and Weiss were here too, but someday, she promised herself, they would be. For now, this was enough. These people were her family as much as Taiyang and Yang were. They were bound by bonds as deep or deeper than blood: love, friendship, camaraderie, and just a tinge of revenge. As they put their helmets on, it reminded Ruby of knights, gearing up for a crusade. That was entirely appropriate, she thought: it was a crusade, one that was going to rid the world of Salem, once and for all. It might not happen in this mission, or this year, or even with all of them still alive in the end. But it would happen. Even if only one of them was left, it would happen.

"Haven's a long way to go," Ruby sighed.

"I know," Pyrrha said. "But it's the only way we have."

"The journey will be perilous," Ren said. He could be eloquent when he wanted to be. "And whether we'll find our answers at the end is entirely uncertain."

Nora touched his shoulder. "But we wouldn't be here if we weren't up for it."

"Then let's get started." Ruby put out a gloved hand. Pyrrha's landed on top of it. Then Ren's, and Nora's. There was the briefest of holds, a silent prayer, the feeling of the world shifting under their feet, even the slightest brush of an old friend, as if a fifth hand was lying on top of theirs, Jaune Arc's.

And then they pulled their hands back, and left to their aircraft. No one cheered, or spoke words of encouragement, or said anything at all. They were beyond that.

They were Reaper Flight.

Rissa Arashikaze watched from the hangar as they took off. As soon as Nora, the last in line, left the runway, she turned away. There was no reason to watch them any further. "You can come out now."

Qrow Branwen stepped from the shadows. He was also wearing his old, battered flight suit. "Thanks for not telling them."

"It was foolish. They should know you'll be tailing them the entire way. You'll be lucky if you don't accidentally get shot down."

"I can handle myself." He took out a flask, took a drink, replaced it, grinning at Rissa's discomfiture. "Don't worry. I don't usually drink and fly."

"Ozpin trusted you," she said. "I suppose I must as well." She stared at him, and sighed. "You know how to contact me."

He patted the paper folded into a clear pocket on the right leg of his flight suit. "Got it right here."

"If you lose that, there will be hell to pay."

"I won't. You'll find Oscar Pine?"

"Yes. I'll let you know when I do."

He began walking out of the hangar, squinting in the sunlight. His F-117 was parked in the hangar next door. "You sure you won't meet us there?"

"I have business here, and then perhaps in Europe."

"Yeah. I guess that would be quite a trip for a pipsqueak like you." He winked. "Catch ya later, kiddo."

Rissa watched him go, smoldering, and not with the heat. "Don't call me pipsqueak," she said under her breath. "And I'm older than you, moron." Then the humor hit her, she laughed, and walked back towards her car. It was a long drive to Greenbrier.

Mount Yamantau

Ural Mountains, Russian Dead Zone

23 May 2001

Emerald Sustrai looked out over the forest below the mountain. It seemed unending, and was pristine. Above her was a gorgeous cerulean blue sky. It was not at all how she'd anticipated the legendary lair of Salem. She'd expected some sort of blasted hellscape, not this lush woodland.

Of course, there had been hellscapes, though it had gone past in a blur in the week since the fall of Beacon. She and Mercury had driven due west, escaping the bulk of the refugee traffic, and they had been extraordinarily lucky: they'd seen the dogfight between Cinder, Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, and Ruby Rose. They'd seen Cinder bail out after Ruby had rammed her. Mercury had wanted to find Pyrrha and Ruby, and kill them both, but Emerald had overrode them: they had to get to Cinder. Rescue crews would be all over the area, and then none of them would escape. Luckily, he'd listened to reason. They'd found Cinder, gotten across the Mississippi at La Crosse in the chaos, and met up with Arthur Watts and Adam Taurus at the now-truly abandoned Mountain Glenn base. Then it had been a whirlwind of safe houses, smuggled cargo flights, and assumed names across the Atlantic, to Menagerie, where Adam had left them. Then across Scandinavia, into the wilds of Russia. And here.

"Are you all right?"

The voice startled Emerald. It was soft, the English accentless. She swallowed, turned, and looked into the face of Salem herself.

Not that the face was unpleasant, Emerald thought; Salem, for a woman who should be at the least pushing sixty, barely looked forty, aside from the gray hair pulled into six severe braids. She also didn't look human. She was tall, her skin was so white it was nearly translucent, enough that Emerald swore she could see the veins beneath. It was the eyes that were worst: they were red. Emerald's own eyes were a reddish-brown, but Salem's was the color of blood. She wondered if Salem was an albino, but even that didn't seem right.

Salem was waiting patiently for an answer, so Emerald gave her a brittle smile. "I'm all right, Miss Salem." It occurred to her that she didn't even know the woman's real name; Salem was a codename, she knew, but the woman seemed to prefer it.

Salem stepped forward, though not entirely into the sunlight. "It is a rather beautiful day."

Even though she really didn't want her to come any closer, Emerald decided that being polite was a good idea. There was something about Salem that simply exuded a wrongness, something that should not walk upon the earth. "I was going to go for a walk, if that's all right. Did you want to join me?"

"No, thank you," Salem replied, to Emerald's relief. "I find myself not liking sunlight much anymore. But you go on. Take someone with you and stay close to the mountain—there are wolf packs in the woods. Unlike those you find elsewhere, these have a taste for humans."

"R-Right." Emerald went back inside. Maybe Mercury, if his legs were healed up, might want to go for a walk. That reminded her. "Miss Salem? How's Cinder?"

Salem folded her hands in front of her, as if in prayer. She wore a light cloak, black with red trim, that made her look even more pale and sinister. She also did not have the figure of a sixty-year old, but of a much younger woman. "Cinder will recover, but it will be slow. We could not save her arm; gangrene set in, and it had to be amputated."

"Then she won't fly again," Emerald said sadly.

"On the contrary. I will have her fitted with an artificial arm, made from the same material that the GRIMM are made from. Skin grafts will take care of the area of her left side and face where she was burned. Unfortunately," Salem told her with sorrow, "we were not able to save her eye, but she is a good enough pilot to compensate."

"What about her lungs?" When they'd found Salem on the forest floor, the left side of her face a blackened ruin, her arm shattered, she could not speak, and her breathing was labored.

"They were slightly burned, but she should be able to recover…in time. It will all take time, Emerald." Salem touched her shoulder. The other woman thought Salem's touch would be ice cold, but it was surprisingly warm. "We will take care of her, my friend. Now go on. You should take Hazel with you—he could use the exercise."

"Yes, ma'am." Emerald walked away briskly. Salem was not offended. She had that effect on people.

She walked back inside the mountain, through a switchback that let no light from the interior outside at night, past two burly guards dressed entirely in black, even their faces covered. Their masks were white with red around the eyeslits, making them look like GRIMM themselves. She nodded at them, and then entered the mountain, going down a stairwell, through a three-foot thick blast door, and into the hollow interior of Mount Yamantau.

It had been built as a vast underground complex for the Soviet government to take shelter in, in case of nuclear war. None of the Soviet leadership had made it here before Moscow vanished under two American Minuteman ICBMs, but Salem had. Yet shelter was not all Mount Yamantau had to offer.

She looked down onto a vast factory floor, stretching off beyond where she could see. Under soft lights, GRIMM were being constructed by an army of workers. Their grandfathers and grandmothers had come here, seeking shelter from the nuclear holocaust, for as bad as the Soviet missiles had devastated America and Europe, the American, British and French nuclear weapons had done far worse to the Soviet Union. The American, British and French governments had survived more or less intact. Their Soviet counterparts had not, leaving Salem in control almost by default. There was no one else.

And for an exhausted, starving, irradiated and desperate Russian population, if they did not have a Premier or a Czar, they would make do with a Czarina.

She'd fed them, healed them, sheltered them, and put them to work. Word had spread throughout the devastated land, and more had made their way to Yamantau. Gradually, they had come to like their life in the mountain warrens, under their benevolent Czarina. And for those who didn't like it, and wanted to try and leave, there were the wolves, and the GRIMM.

GRIMM assembly lines stretched out, swarming with people and robots they'd built. Beowolves, Locusts and Ursai came together here; under other nearby mountains were larger assembly lines for Death Stalkers; the Nevermore were built under vast acres of camouflage. And there were others Salem were working on, more advanced Beringels, Griffons, and Geists.

Salem leaned against the balcony railing. She returned the wave of one worker.

"How does it feel?" she said to herself softly, in English. "How does it feel, Ozpin, down in Hell? Knowing that all your time and effort has been for nothing? That your guardians, your Maidens, have failed you? That everything you built will be torn down?" She nodded. "Your faith in mankind was not misplaced, my love. When banded together, unified by a common enemy, they are truly a threat. But divide them…place doubt in their minds…and any semblance of power they have will wash away."
She paced down the line of the balcony. "Of course, they won't realize it at first. Like you, they'll cling to their fleeting hope, their aspirations. But this is merely the first move, Ozpin.

"So send them. Send your guardians, your precious Huntsmen and Huntresses, and when they fail, and turn to your last hope, your smaller soul…know that you send her to the same pitiful demise. This is the beginning of the end, Ozpin." She smiled. "And I can't wait to watch it all burn."

This is the end of "On RWBY Wings II: Vytal Flag." I'm going to take some time off and recharge a bit, and then be back with "On RWBY Wings III: Reaper Flight," which will take us into Seasons 4 and 5 of canon RWBY.

Once more, thank all of you for reading this story, for your kind reviews, and your support. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. More is on the way! And thanks again to Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum for creating such a wonderful universe to play with and play in.