Chapter Twenty-Eight: Questions, Questions

When America finally stopped bawling and giggling like a maniac, he leaned against Canada's shoulder and clung to England's arm, utterly exhausted. Neither of his brothers commented on his outburst of emotion, and he could not be more grateful.

Finally, he let himself breathe and think, becoming aware of Vale's presence in his head once more. She did not speak, and he did not acknowledge her. Not yet. There were other things to worry about. The vague memories of the Institute and the burning City of Atlas became clearer and he repressed a shudder.

"Did everyone make it out?" he asked.

"Yes." England said. "No one died."

America's fingers dug into the fabric of their shirts. "That's not comforting."

"Most of the injuries were minor, though there were a few bad cases. Japan lost a leg, but it has regenerated. Australia was shot in the calf, but he healed." Canada gave him the information bluntly, and America was grateful to his twin for his honesty. Violet eyes became glazed. "Sun… Sun is Vacuo. Emerald drained part of his Aura and we think she retrieved the Relic of Destruction for Salem."

A chill went up America's spine but he slammed his horror behind impenetrable walls. He felt a burst of shock and grief from Vale but she remained silent, hiding her emotions from him again. He did not ask the first questions that popped into his mind, letting his twin continue.

"Qrow was injured as well." Canada continued tonelessly. "He shielded Ruby from Atlas's attack. He's... awake."

America barely registered the first and third sentence, his entire focus zeroing in on the second. The memories of his torment at Atlas's hands plagued his mind and his mouth grew dry. He struggled to swallow, planting on a smooth expression. He instantly regretted it when his brothers noticed.

"Oh, Alfred..." Canada whispered, voice pained.

"She's dead." England said flatly.

America blinked. "...What?"

England looked him straight in the face, green eyes burning. "Atlas is dead, Alfred. She will never touch you again."

America went over his words a few times. Then a few times more. He still failed to understand, as if his brother was speaking another language.

"Atlas is dead?" He asked, wanting— needing confirmation. At Canada's nod, America ducked his head, sniffling. "I… I'm so happy." A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of him and he wiped at his eyes. "When she— When she started using her time-freezing Semblance and got the drop on me, I thought it was over. I tried to use the poison in my ring to kill her but she didn't go down. And then she attacked Ruby..." He shuddered but looked up, face hard. "Tell me what happened."

They did so, giving every detail of how they came to Atlas and the Transformation Institute, the aftermath of Atlas's attack, and the encounter in the Vault. America's stomach shriveled with guilt when he heard about Qrow's injury and Ruby's reaction, and it only grew worse when he was told of Atlas's torment of Canada. Even the accompanying anger was not enough to expel the bitter shame that haunted him.

"...And that's when we woke you up." Canada said, finishing the tale. He paused, eyebrows scrunching together. "Al? What's wrong?"

America could not bear to look at him. Logically, he knew the injuries Canada received were long-healed, but that did not stop him from imagining his brother writhing in pain as Atlas electrocuted him.

"I didn't kill her." America whispered. "I… I didn't beat her, so she was able to hurt people, and hurt you again."

His shoulders slumped, and the bandages around his torso pressed on his back. He bit his tongue to hold back a hiss as his shoulders stung. America shifted self-consciously, belatedly realizing the bandages around his torso and shoulders were for the wounds on his back. The shame rushed back in like a tidal wave. Did his brothers know about the injury? Apparently not, for Canada's eyes did not stray towards the humiliating scars, staying on America's face.

"Al, I know you." his twin said sternly. "I know you did everything you could to fight Atlas—"

"'Everything I could' wasn't good enough." America snapped. "She still beat me. After everything she did, I couldn't defeat her!" He hit the sheets with closed fists, and it barely made the softest thud. That only made the gaping hole of disappointment grow larger in his heart. The tears that burned his eyes were not just of sadness this time, but pure, bitter self-loathing. He put a hand to his face, covering his eyes so his brothers would not see them. "I lost..."

It hurt to admit it. It hurt so much. And even worse, there was no next chance. There were no do-overs or future fights with the possibility of redemption. Atlas defeated him, had him at her mercy, and tortured him, getting the last laugh in their hate-filled tango. Someone else struck the final blow, not America. What kind of hero could not defeat the villain?

"You're wrong." England said softly. Seeing America's confused look, he tipped his head, considering his brother. "You said something about a poisoned ring?"

America nodded hesitantly. "I had a ring filled with cyanide for—" He realized just how much he did not want to have that conversation right now and changed what he was going to say. "—just in case I needed a trick." He forced a grin. "It's not very heroic, I know, but I got caught off-guard so much I wanted something the enemy would not expect."

England's eyebrows crept upward.

A slow smile crept across Canada's face. "It was you. You did it." He laughed, sweeping his bewildered twin into a hug and swinging him back and forth in glee as much as their positions would allow.

America stared at him, befuddled, and glanced helplessly at England. "I don't understand?"

"In the end, Atlas died from poison." England's eyes glittered with triumph and sported a vicious grin America sometimes recalled seeing during his brother's Empire days. "In the end, you struck the final blow, Alfred." Pride crept into his voice and America's cheeks warmed.

It was not enough to snuff out the shame. America leaned his head on Canada's shoulder, facing away from his twin. "But I still didn't—"

"You beat her." Canada said firmly. "She's dead, we're alive. We won."

It was his use of 'we' that finally pulled America out of his indecisive funk and some of his guilt faded. It did not matter how it happened. In the end, the twins that Atlas abducted and tortured were still alive, while she was gone. Gone for good, if what he recalled from the burning city was any indication.

"What happened to Atlas? The city, I mean." he asked.

"Videos and reports of the Institute were leaked." Canada reminded him. "The people turned on each other and split; those against the Institute fighting those that weren't. There was a riot happening as we left."

America vaguely recalled the distorted, low voice calling for a rebellion. With all the oppression, lies, unjust laws, and under-the-table programs, he knew Atlas was a powder keg waiting to explode, and had a feeling the people were just waiting for a call to action. He did not feel bad for it, and not just because a revolution likely meant Atlas would not be reborn. Those people deserved their freedom, and they finally had the chance to fight for it. He wished them luck.

"What do you think is going to happen?" he asked.

Canada shrugged. "I think the rebels will win. They were well-equipped, and their actions were not spur-of-the-moment for the most part. They're organized. According to Qrow, the plans for a revolution were born back in Mantle before it collapsed, but that collapse only fueled the fire. I don't think we'll ever know who armed the rebels and orchestrated everything, or who released the Institute footage."

America nodded thoughtfully, but England scowled. "It may not be an assured victory. Remember that Ironwood is still out there."

America tensed. "He won't be an issue."

He felt England's sharp eyes on him. "Atlas said you were taken to his office. Did you kill him?"

America flinched. "N-No. But we're out of Atlas and he can't chase us. He'll be busy dealing with the rebellion."

His brothers exchanged glances, and America knew he was about to face an interrogation. On cue, violet and green eyes pierced him, with much more smoldering anger than he was prepared for.

"What did he do to you?" England asked levelly.

America twitched and forced a laugh. "He did a lot. Could you be more specif—?"

"Alfred." Canada— not England— growled. Uh oh. If Mattie was mad… "What did he do?"

America avoided his twin's piercing gaze and prodded at the sheet. "Just beat me up. Nothing special."

"If it was 'nothing special', why are you acting so secretive?" Canada demanded.

"I'm not acting secretive." America lied, like a liar. Who lied. Badly.

Canada's eyes narrowed, then abruptly his expression crumpled. "Al, please just tell me. I saw the snippet of the Institute footage and I— I want to know that its not as bad as what I'm imagining." His voice cracked with fear and America did not have the will to deny him.

He glared at the sheets rather than look at them. "Winter and I had a plan to get in, but we ran into Ironwood unexpectedly. He took me to his office and drugged me." America said tonelessly. "He stripped off my clothes to make sure I wasn't hiding any technology I could use and drugged me more. A lot more." He recalled the terrifying numbness and cold of the drugs and a shudder went through him. "I managed to burn it out and tried to fight him off but I… I was too weak. I barely managed to knock him out. Once he was down I got the information I needed from his computer and left."

"You didn't kill him." England stated.

America flinched, clenching his teeth. He did not try to justify his actions and knew he couldn't unless he explained everything. Ironwood's request echoing in his mind and so he held his tongue. If he told them, he knew it would only be a matter of time before others found out Ironwood helped him in the end, and that was against the General's desires. Ironwood did not want redemption. He wanted to save the people he should have been fighting for this entire time.

"...Francis mentioned you were upset when he killed the unconscious guards." Canada mentioned.

America wondered if he could feel any lower. It was a good thing he could not see his brothers' faces.

"I know it was selfish and childish and idiotic." he said in a monotone.

He heard Canada huff. "That's not what I was implying, Alfred. I understand why you don't like to kill those who are helpless, even if they may deserve it."

America hesitantly lifted his eyes, spotting Mattie's soft look. Some of his tension faded away and he managed a real smile. England's scowl— which he tried and failed to hide— killed it.

Canada shot their older brother a look. "It's not selfish, childish, or idiotic." He emphasized. "It's understandable. Just because they hurt us when we were helpless, doesn't mean we have to return the favor."

America shifted uncomfortably as it was put into words, and England's glower lifted, transforming into a pained look. Again, he cupped America's cheek, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead, like he used to when America was a small colony.

"You're safe now." he said firmly.

America smiled, even as he gave the reply his brother did not want to hear. "Yes, and no. I'm away from people like Atlas but… I can't leave, England." His brother flinched, unprepared for the topic he had danced around but not yet breached. America held his gaze steadily, and Canada's resigned but understanding nod cemented his resolve. "Atlas is gone, but Salem is still out there. You may have activated the shield that prevents people from Remnant from going to Earth, but she has the Relics of Knowledge and Destruction at her disposal. Even if they do not allow her to break the shield, she won't stop." A lance of pain went through his chest and he rubbed it absently. "She will never stop threatening us until I retrieve the Relic of Choice under Beacon or she's defeated. That's why I need to stay here and see this fight through."

England's expression grew pinched. "Alfred, this is not your fight."

"It is." America stated. "I'm not fighting because I'm a part of this conflict no matter what. I'm not fighting because Atlas made me Vale. I'm certainly not fighting so Ozpin can defeat Salem. I'm fighting for Ruby, and my other friends here. I won't leave them out to dry."

"You want to be the hero?" England asked scathingly.

America gritted his teeth but shoved his insecurities away and straightened his spine. "Yes."

The fire left England and his posture slumped. "It still is not your choice." he said quietly.

"If you look into the technicalities, that's true." America acknowledged. "But I'm tired of being told what to do, kidnapped, and dragged around like a trophy to be flaunted. I know I've been drafted as the key to a Relic, but I accept that. I choose to take part in this fight so I can help the people I care about and save this world. Ozpin can spout 'for the greater good' and focus on Salem. I'm going to make sure my friends aren't sacrifices in this war." He grinned, showing all of his teeth. "And if that means getting the Relic of Choice and kicking ass, I'm game."

"I agree." Canada said softly. "After everything that has happened, it would be wrong to leave Remnant now." He reconsidered his words and shook his head. "Well... not Remnant. But Ruby and the others. We can't abandon them."

England's visage was noticeably pained. He gripped the necklace at his throat, and for a moment, America thought he was going to activate the portal and drag the twins through by force. Then he released the stone without breaking it, sighing heavily. "Even after everything that they did to you, you still have to be the idiot that tries to save the world."

America chuckled and purposely puffed out his chest. "You bet! I am the hero, after all."

Canada snickered. England scoffed, looking skyward for patience.

America slouched against his pillows, ignoring how his shoulders stung. "So where are we, any—?" Feelings and memories washed over him and he stopped. "Never mind, I know. We're in Frontier, the northernmost town of Vale."

England's expression soured. America dropped his gaze, rubbing his upper arm uncomfortably. Vale gave a small, infuriated scoff in the back of his mind.

"The locals were kind enough to assist us and the Atlas refugees." Canada explained when England did not speak. "Because they are one of the closest geographically to Solitas and Atlas, they're a refueling point for airships and even have a full hospital—"

"I know all that." America admitted quietly.

"And your brother hates that. Have you really failed to remember our last interaction with him or are you just in denial?" Vale sneered.

America withheld a sigh, even as he recalled the events leading up to his abduction. About time you had something to say. I missed your scathing remarks. Can we talk later, please? He changed the subject. "So what about Romano?"

"We're debating whether we should send him home despite the risk." Canada said heavily.

So they were considering sending the unconscious Romano through a portal despite the horrific, limb-and-organ taking side effects. He was that badly off?

"How is Feliciano holding up?" America asked softly.

"He's hiding how upset he is and acting overly upbeat." England said without ire.

A pit opened in America's stomach. "I'm sure Romano be fine." he forced himself to say. He smiled weakly, struggling to make a joke. "He's… he's always been a heavy sleeper, you know. When he lived at my house he could be worse to try to wake up than Mattie."

Canada frowned. "Al, that's not funny. Romano's in a coma."

America recoiled, arm jerking up in preparation to shield his face. "I wasn't—" He stammered. "That's not— I was just trying to lighten the—"

England sat ramrod straight, eyes flipping wide. "France activated Romano's Aura during their captivity." The twins looked at him blankly. He shot them an impatient look, rising from his seat. "Romano has Aura." he emphasized.

America put the pieces together first. "Could it be—?"

"His Semblance?" Canada breathed. His eyes went round. "They're based on personality and can be activated during times of duress—"

"And that may be why nothing is wrong with him medically." England said rapidly. "He's not in a coma. He's asleep." He hurried towards the door. "I will go tell the others. If it is Romano's Semblance keeping him unconscious, one of them may know what to do."

The door opened before he could reach it. One would think it would take hours for America to gain the strength to get out of the bed, but when an unknown man entered the room, he was up in an instant, yanking the wires from his arm and making the machines shriek.

Before he could attack, America recognized the doctor from before. He quickly touched the heart monitor and turned it off so no one else would come running. America was not sure how many people in lab coats he could handle at once.

The doctor noted his actions, holding his hands up peacefully. He raised an eyebrow at America's wire-free arm. "I see you are awake. Arthur, Matthew, thank you for following instructions and calling me like I asked."

Canada smiled sheepishly while England scoffed.

The doctor stepped closer, hands still where America could see them. "Hello, Alfred. Do you remember me?"

"Kinda." America admitted. "Thanks for patching me up, doc."

The man's eyes softened. "You are a very lucky young man. Your friend's Semblance helped you heal a great deal."

America's brow furrowed before he recalled Jaune's Semblance boosted Aura. So that's how they claimed he survived. Nifty. He nodded in apparent agreement and did not elaborate.

The doctor ran his hand through his hair. "If you do not mind, I need to check your wounds and change your bandages." He glanced at the two other nations. "Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?"

England and Canada frowned uncertainly.

"It's okay." America assured them. He stared at them pointedly and ignored his sweaty palms.

Canada caved first. "Okay. We'll go tell the others about Romano."

He gave America a swift hug before dragging a grimacing England out by his sleeve. The door slipped shut, leaving America alone with the doctor, and his grin faltered.

The doctor noticed his expression but did not comment on it. "My name is Doctor Charon. I've been overseeing your care for the past few weeks."

America hesitantly shook his offered hand, and the man's expression softened. The steely firmness under that look made America realize it was not pity in the doctor's gaze, but a deep compassion that left him flabbergasted.

"I know your friends have left portions of the story out, but I can infer what Atlas did to you in the Institute." Doctor Charon said, and it took America a moment to understand he was talking about the Kingdom, not the personification. "I give my word that I will not harm you like those in the Institute have. If you are ever uncomfortable, we can stop the examination. You do not need to suffer through it in silence."

He gestured to the bed and America slowly sat down, wiggling his foot as he glanced around awkwardly. "That's quite a speech." he said, feeling like he needed to say something. "Did you practice it in the mirror?"

"I'm afraid not." Doctor Charon sighed. "You are not my only patient from the Institute. Now, may I check your wounds?" His gaze never strayed from America's face, not even to glance down at the bandages around his torso.

America nodded and allowed him to remove the bandages, tensing whenever the doctor's hands brushed his skin. Charon did not comment on his patient's uneasiness, scrutinizing his back and applying a new dressing with practiced ease. It was not nearly as uncomfortable as America feared, though he supposed he had gotten used to it from when Winter cleaned the scars.

"The wounds in your abdomen have healed completely." the doctor informed him as he finished up. "But the wounds on your back have not faded at all. They are not infected, but I'm afraid they may scar."

"Typical." America mumbled.

Charon inclined his head. "Your brothers are unaware of the… nature of these injuries. I know some do not wish to show their family they are hurt."

"More like he knows how ashamed you are and that you want to hide what it says." Vale muttered.

"Thank you." America said, ignoring her.

Charon smiled before he pulled up a chair and sat in it, taking out a pen. "Since you are finally awake I have some questions for you, if you do not mind answering them." He met America's gaze, holding it. "To be blunt, it is both for medical purposes, and to compile witness accounts and evidence of the Institute's actions."

America's skin crawled and he said nothing.

Charon waited patiently for a moment before speaking again. "Do you wish to answer these questions?"

"Will my name be attached to any of it?" America asked. He did not want any more attention on him— particularly someone like Salem's. The last thing he needed was to give her more psychological ammunition and ways to track him.

"The evidence reports will remain anonymous." Charon assured him.

"Then sure." America said reluctantly. He took a breath. "Just… ask what you need to. Don't dance around the subject. I'm not delicate."

"I never said you were." Charon said firmly. He looked at his notes. "How long were you in the Institute?"

"Just a few hours." America said, not giving any more information.

Charon did not confront him about it. "Because of your friend's Semblance, some wounds may have healed before they could be recorded. Other than the stab wounds and the wounds on your upper back, do you recall having any other injuries?"

America fought the instinct to lie and grimaced. "Bruises and some cuts. And… I was injected with a lot of paralyzing drugs by Ir— by a soldier. I burned it out with my Semblance."

Charon nodded absently, writing that down. "Was that all that particular soldier did to you?"

"Yes." America said testily. "A different soldier tortured and stabbed me. And..." He cupped a hand over his shoulder, fingers brushing his back. "Another one did this to me before the Institute."

"I see." Charon said. He lowered the page, studying America. "Alfred, I know I am a stranger. I know I am from Atlas, and thus can be associated with the monsters that hurt you. But I am also a doctor, and you are my patient. I need you to be honest with me and tell me what happened with that first soldier in the Institute."

America's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "It's none of your business." he snapped. "And why are you bothering to ask me about what happened? I was only there a few hours. It wasn't that bad. There's people who suffered more than me. Go help them."

Charon was unmoved. "Alfred, you were imprisoned, drugged, tortured, and impaled, at the least. Do not underplay your injuries or your suffering. You may have healed physically, but you cannot simply walk off what you experienced, nor can you forget it."

"Watch me." America growled, glowering at the man.

Charon looked away first. "I apologize that I upset you." he said quietly.

The doctor's shoulders slumped slightly, and America noticed how tired he looked. Guilt clawed at him.

"I'm sorry I snapped." he said. He looked past the doctor, at the wall. "The first soldier that drugged me stripped me to make sure I wasn't hiding anything in my clothes. He put his gun to my head and threatened to shoot me, then kept— kept drugging me when he realized it scared me more. I used my Semblance to burn the drugs out of my system but I could barely stand. He hit me and grabbed my throat and pinned me down but I managed to knock him out eventually."

"After fighting pathetically." Vale reminded him and he winced.

"So yeah," America finished lamely. "Bruises."

Charon stayed quiet and only the scratching of his pen on the paper broke the silence. After a pause, he looked up. "Thank you. I promise this will remain anonymous."

The reassurance did the exact opposite of what he intended and America eyed him warily. Why hadn't he inquired about the "soldier" that impaled him, or the one that gave him the scars on his back?

"What aren't you saying?" he asked, harsher than he meant to.

The doctor hesitated briefly, then sighed. "You may not know this, but I am part of an Atlesian relief unit." Charon revealed. "We were providing aid to Vale when we were ordered to return, and refused to listen. We were locked out, until an old comrade asked for aid in assisting freed captives from the so-called Transformation Institute. In other words, we are a civilian-focused military unit. We have taken upon the task of helping those hurt and figuring out what happened." His back straightened, spine growing stiff in a militaristic fashion. "That being said, I have seen the footage released to the public and know Ironwood was the first soldier you speak of."

America felt his face drain of color. "Has he been captured?" he breathed. "Is that why you want evidence?"

"In the event of James Ironwood's trial, this information may be used in the prosecution." Charon said vaguely.

America could not repress a shudder. Yes, Ironwood did many terrible things— including what America had told the doctor— but putting him on trial seemed wrong, somehow. He should be relieved these people were considering the possibility of a trial in the first place rather than an impromptu execution in a dark alleyway, but instead America felt dirty. He could not be part of the prosecution— or possible witch hunt— against Ironwood. Not when the General had helped him in the end. Except… Ironwood had not just helped him. He had hurt America a lot too.

He did not know what to feel.

"He stopped." America blurted. "He… he realized what he was doing was wrong and he stopped."

Charon shook his head. "That does not undo what he did to you, Alfred." he said gently. "Or what he did to everyone in the Institute."

America lowered his head, struggling to keep his turmoil off his face. "I'm sorry." he said, unable to think of any other response.

"It's alright." Charon promised him. "It's understandable to feel conflicted and wish to humanize the one who hurt you."

America wanted to protest that was not what he was doing, but it was. Ironwood helped him. But he hurt him. Ironwood sought to save Remnant. But in his attempts, he did unforgivable things. Even Ironwood understood that. Unless America shared the entire tale and revealed he was kind of important in the grand scheme of things, one act of mercy would never counter hundreds of villainous actions. In fact, it might just make Ironwood seem worse. So he kept Ironwood's final decision to himself. A part of him still wished he could do more for the General, and that thought disgusted him as much as it pained him.

"Are you some sort of therapist?" he asked, unwilling to follow up on the previous topic of conversation.

"I have some experience, yes." Charon said.

America opened his mouth and shut it again, shaking his head. "Do you have any more questions?" he asked tiredly, just wanting the interview to be over.

The doctor smiled thinly. "Not for today."

Charon rose from his seat, and America's attention was caught by the way he stood. He stood like a soldier, for that was what he was trained to be, in the end. He may be a doctor, but he was one meant to go into places torn apart by tragedy and help the survivors. The thought made America extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden, and although he knew it was untrue, he could not help but feel used. Did the doctor genuinely care, or was he just following orders and trying to get evidence for the investigation?

Either way, America hoped they would leave this place as soon as possible. A thought struck him and his stomach twisted into knots. "You aren't going to make me testify if he's taken into custody, are you?"

Charon eyed him with a carefully crafted neutral expression. "We will not force you to do anything, but you are one of the few Ironwood harmed directly."

Crap. America tensed, silently shaking his head in denial. He had enough on his plate to worry about without having to include standing as a witness in a huge trial as well.

Some of the sympathetic warmth returned to Charon's face. "But you need not worry about any of that now. Do you want me to call your brothers back in?"

"Not yet." America said, still ill at ease as he planned how to escape the town if the need arose. He had better, more important things to do than be stuck here. "I'd like to sleep, if you do not mind."

"Not at all. Rest well." Charon said, and left, closing the door behind him.

America stared at the wood, still shaking his head. 'Rest well'. Sure. Like I can rest after that conversation.

"I wonder if they're going to force you to stay here." Vale said. She gave a low, mirthless laugh. "You just have to be under lock and key no matter what, don't you?"

America sighed and laid down, already feeling a headache coming on. Hey, Vale. Still being your new and improved snippy self, I see. Do you want to tell me why you threw a hissy fit now?

Vale ignored his question as if he had never asked it. "You're too forgiving. I can't believe you feel guilty because Ironwood might get what he deserves."

He let me go. America reminded her stiffly.

Vale snorted. "After he kidnapped you, tortured you, threatened you, drugged you, shot you—"

Enough of that, America interrupted her tersely. I'm sick of this! Why are you being such a pessimistic bitch?

Vale said nothing.

Anger rushed through America's veins and he was surprised the bed did not burst into flames. Fine. Fine! Keep being unhelpful. Keep insulting me like I'm worse than the scum on your shoe. You want to be cruel? You want to lash out at me because that's all you can do? Go ahead! I don't care.

He felt warmth on his upper lip and growled in frustration, wiping at his bleeding nose. Really? He got another nosebleed now? This was becoming ridiculous.

I'm not even using my Sembl—

Realization struck like ice-water over his head. He… wasn't using his Semblance. Not even a little. When he thought back on it, the facts did not line up. He had gotten nosebleeds multiple times when he barely used his Semblance for little tasks. Actually, he got them when he did not use his tech Semblance at all. Which meant...

It's not my Semblance. It's— I-It's...

—Animalistic figures prowled through burning streets.

He barely cringed when the Dragon's claws tore through his heart. It was only because he was braced against pain that the sudden flare in his ankle did not send him crashing to the ground. A smaller town had just been overrun by Grimm.

Pain lanced through America's chest, taking his breath away. It was followed by an agonizing tearing feeling in his left wrist. His legs buckled and he saw Grimm swarming over cobblestone streets. Another one of Vale's towns had fallen.

The Dragon roared behind his eyelids.

The flare of pain from the Dragon's claws was to be expected but his vision still went white.

The Grimm were everywhere, circling the destroyed tower and prowling through the abandoned school grounds. Their presence sank into his skin, filling his blood with their vile sludge as his soul screamed get them out get them out get them OUT—

Comprehension dawned, as cold and unforgiving as an arctic wind, and America felt numb.

Vale chuckled, low and strangled. "You finally figured it out. Your technology Semblance isn't what's hurting you. It's me. Vale— my Kingdom— is dying. And you're dying with it."

XXXXXXX

Lithuania did not want to do this. He did not want to take the final steps into the room where Germany was speaking to Prussia and Hungary. Doing so would make the blond-haired nation notice him, and set in motion a series of questions Lithuania was not sure he was ready to face.

He gripped the tablet with both hands and watched them quiver, his nausea rising with every passing second. He took a few gulping breaths and steadied himself before walking through the door. The three nations noticed him immediately, and Hungary waved.

"Hello, Lithuania." she greeted him cheerfully. "How are you today?"

"I'm well." Lithuania lied. "Germany, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Germany immediately caught on to his tone of voice and nodded, excusing himself from his conversation with Prussia and Hungary. He followed Lithuania out of the room and down the hall. Lithuania gripped the tablet to his chest, hiding its contents despite the screen's current black state. He and Germany stopped in an empty study and the blond-haired nation closed the door behind him.

"What is it?" Germany asked. His eyes landed on the tablet Lithuania held and sharpened. "Did something happen on our last mission?"

"No." Lithuania said hurriedly. "Well, not the last mission." Germany tipped his head, silently urging him to continue and Lithuania reluctantly did so. "After we found out about the attacks on isolated settlements, something was bothering me about the Grimm situation. S-So I took it upon myself to investigate the list of casualties." He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. "I called Estonia and he pulled up the records we had… and… some of them are not our people."

Germany's face went blank. Lithuania clicked the tablet on and handed it to him, wringing his hands. Germany slowly read the list of names and Lithuania saw the moment of clarity dawn on him. He lowered the tablet and pinned Lithuania with a piercing gaze.

"These names… They are all based around colors like Remnant's." At Lithuania's mute nod, Germany's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying we have an unknown number of Atlas soldiers in our countries?"

Lithuania forced himself to meet burning blue eyes. "Yes."

XXXXXXX

"You continue to impress me, Emerald." Salem said.

The Relic of Destruction lay before her, shimmering against the darkness of the table. Against the blackness, it appeared to flicker like a flame, burning with a hellish power just waiting to be unleashed. Emerald should be proud of her accomplishment, but she was anything but. She glowered at the Relic of Destruction, fists clenched at her sides.

"Matthew Williams is alive." she snarled. "Cinder's murderer still lives."

"Yes. He is alive." Salem said gently. "And despite that, you chose to fulfill Cinder's wishes rather than foolishly seek vengeance. You put Cinder's mission over your own desires. She would be so proud of you, Emerald."

Emerald gritted her teeth, eyes squeezed shut. "I… I hate him. I want him dead. But this is what Cinder would do. This is what she would want." Her teeth bared. "Why didn't you tell me he was one of those Earth nations?" She spat the name of the planet like it was a level of hell.

"I only found out recently, thanks to a friend." Salem glanced suggestively at the Relic of Knowledge, which glowed serenely next to Destruction. In truth, she found out about Earth long ago from Polendina, but Emerald did not need to know that.

Emerald did not ask for details. Her red eyes flashed. "I can't kill him!" she howled. "He's immortal." Her rage dwindled and her face crumpled, tears building in her eyes. "I can't avenge Cinder."

Salem noticed a Beowolf approaching the girl from behind and silently ordered it to leave. It reluctantly did so, tail twitching in annoyance.

"You can avenge Cinder. You will." Salem swore. "We have Knowledge and Destruction. With them, it may be possible to kill what is thought to be unkillable." She reached out and gently squeezed Emerald's hand. "Do not give up hope, child. You carry Cinder's will. I know the temptation of using all your energy to slay your enemy, but I have learned such tactics tend to end in failure. If your enemy's life cannot be taken..." she smiled. "...then you must take everything else from them instead."

Emerald looked up at her, red eyes peeking out from under her bangs. Along with the black vein-like marks creeping up her arms, she more Grimm than human. The way her crimson eyes hardened with fury and resolve only solidified that comparison.

"What's next?" she demanded.

Salem let her smile slip away. She looked to the door. "Tyrian, Watts, Hazel. Come here."

The three entered upon her bidding, bowing low before sitting.

Salem did not waste time with pleasantries. "We are close to victory. We must only retrieve Creation and Choice. Luckily for us, our targets are in the same place at the moment."

"Surely they won't be foolish enough to keep Vale and the Relic of Creation in the same place?" Watts scoffed.

"I'm afraid you overestimate Ozpin, Watts." Salem chided.

Tyrian perked up, head tipped questioningly. "Ozpin, my Lady?"

Salem almost smiled. "The Relic of Knowledge is quite useful. It has told me that Ozpin is in the body of a young boy named Oscar Pine."

"Let me kill him, my Queen!" Tyrian begged. "Let me ensure he will never touch you again."

"Thank you for your enthusiasm, Tyrian." Salem intoned. "But you need not fear for my safety." She placed a snow white, black-veined hand on the Relics of Destruction and Knowledge. "With these two Relics, Ozpin is a nonissue. He only has Creation, which is useless without the Knowledge required to utilize it. We hold the advantage. Which is why..." Red eyes gleamed. "It is time I fight beside you."

XXXXXXX

A/N: I know, I know. Cliffhanger endings. Oh noes! It was kind of unavoidable. When I tried to go past this point, the ending just went on and on and on and I couldn't find a better place to end this book. The "ending" I previously headed towards felt more like a beginning and there were too many loose ends to wrap up so I'm putting that stuff in the next one.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, and supported this story! You are the best. :D

FAQ: (Please skim through them.)

Did Prussia name his weapon Rapunzel because of Holy Rome?

Yes.

Why didn't America break the chains in his cell?

Just like Atlas and her forces from the lab, Polendina knows how strong America is. He got materials America could not break, and used them to make everything from the chains to the bolts to the table and ensure America could not snap them. America could not break the chains holding Romano and Australia for the same reason (which is why he had to melt them). Their captors weren't taking any chances.

Who was Polendina working for?

He was working for both Salem and Atlas without the other knowing. Both approached him and promised him they would let him use the Relic of Creation to resurrect Penny if he gave them America/Vale. Even though Polendina was not convinced of the existence of "Relics created by the Gods", he agreed because he was desperate for any way to bring Penny back. When he recalled what America's Semblance was, he disobeyed both of his "associates" and kept America to try to resurrect Penny. He gave France, Romano, and Australia to Atlas (the closest and most prominent threat) to distract her and buy himself time.

Where did Polendina get the Aura-draining gauntlet?

He built it himself after basing it off of the machine he helped build to keep Vale alive and transfer her Aura to America.

How did you come up with the Silver Eyes' cost?

Although canon hints that Silver Eyes might only work against Grimm, I knew I wanted them to be useful against any enemy because most of Ruby's opponents would be human. I also knew there needed to be a reason why Ruby could not whip them out whenever and disintegrate every enemy she came across. There had to be a limit.

So I got to thinking about the theory on how Silver Eyes are connected to the moon. The moon is broken, and if Silver Eyes are connected to them… what if using them now has a negative impact on the Silver Eyed Warrior? Add in the fact that Ruby freaking mauled Cinder in canon with Silver Eyes and I came up with the "loss of control" cost.

First, the Silver Eyed Warrior targets the Grimm and the enemy. After that, they turn on their friends, because while using Silver Eyes, all they want is to destroy everything, almost like the Grimm they were meant to fight. There is no "I'm your loved one, you're stronger than this, Power of Love and Friendship" to stop the rage. There is no way to gain control or have the Silver Eyed Warrior randomly snap out of it. They use that power and they go berserk, attacking everyone they come across until they're knocked out or collapse. The moon is broken, and the Silver Eyed Warriors shattered with it. Because of that, Silver Eyes is too dangerous to use recklessly.

What was Ironwood's deal in the mines (chapter 13)?

He was feeling conflicted. As stated later, he intended to capture America and bring him to Atlas. However, upon seeing him, Ironwood could not shoot America like he was ordered to. Instead he tried to manipulate America into coming with him willingly and thus unharmed (and he was acutely aware of the hypocrisy and myopia in such an attempt). When that did not work, Ironwood reluctantly changed tactics to violence. After Ironwood saw America's scars, he almost told Penny to let America go, but forced himself to follow Atlas's orders. When he was pacing, he was essentially trying to harden his heart and force himself to shoot America. Penny rescued America before he could follow through.

Long story short, Ironwood's loyalty to Atlas was in conflict with his morals. Atlas said "Shoot him." while his morals whispered "This is wrong."

POVs are fun. :)

Sun is Vacuo?!

Yep. That was planned from the beginning. Sun remembered he was Vacuo before he ever came to Vale and met Blake. He and Vacuo happened to be similar enough in temperament and personality (and Vacuo is the most lax Kingdom) so Sun pretty much only got new memories when he remembered who he was. He didn't become a new person, unlike other Remnant nations who tend to erase the human personality they had before. And since he is such a freedom-loving person, Sun did not want to go to Shade and reveal himself. So instead he went to Haven to become a Huntsman, and Vale for the Vytal Festival. He wanted to be Sun before he had to be the representative of Vacuo. If he had revealed himself, he would have been hidden away by Ozpinati because of what happened to Vale (not that he knew that. He suspected Ozpin might do that, but he didn't know.)

But I'm rambling. Oops.

What is Germany's Semblance? Why did you give him that?

Germany's Semblance is a type of danger-sensing thing. Germany grew up in war, and has such he has/had trouble trusting others (just look at his first meeting with Italy). He also deeply cares for his loved ones and wishes to protect them from harm. Thus, his Semblance is 'Danger Intuition'. Think of it as a sixth sense/Spidey-Sense. It allows him to sense danger and incoming attacks, not only to himself but to those around him, and to take steps to avoid that danger. It's pretty much a sixth sense that screams "Go left!" "Incoming attack!" "Friend in danger!" or "Stop here!" with the bonus of granting him enhanced reflexes to follow through with that danger-evasion.

What is Italy's Semblance? Why that power?

Italy's Semblance is intangibility. I gave him that power because he does not see himself as useful, important, or strong. On Remnant (both times) he felt as if he might as well be a ghost when accompanying the others. He does not see the ways he assisted his friends, and that feeling of uselessness made him feel like he might as well not be there at all. I know some people don't realize this, but Italy has a lot of insecurities here and in canon. He spent an entire strip or two trying to make sure Germany saw him as a friend, and had nightmares about being left behind because he was "useless". So a Semblance that makes him a ghost that cannot touch (or influence) things around him was perfect.

What is England's Semblance? Why that?

England's Semblance is pretty much empathy in reverse. Instead of him feeling what others are, they feel what he is. His emotions are released in a blast that forces those around him to feel what he is feeling, and what he is feeling is often strong enough to incapacitate, especially for cruel/sociopathic/evil types who usually do not feel the emotions he does (like grief, sorrow, regret, or remorse). England always has trouble sharing what he is feeling, and hides his real emotions behind anger or a stiff upper lip, so I decided to give him a Semblance that made his emotions perfectly clear.

How old is Ozpin?

Older than China. So Ozpin is more than 4,000 years old. I can't be more specific than that… yet.

Why did the villains get Destruction so easily?

Again, this was planned from the start. I never intended to do a Vacuo arc. I felt it would be too repetitive and I had no interest in exploring that Kingdom in this series. I always knew Emerald was going to take a part of Vacuo's Aura and use it to retrieve the Relic of Destruction with no problem. (Sorry, Sun.) Vacuo is known for its lax approach to things, (they barely have a government) and that lax approach came to bite them in the blubber. As the narrative said, no one in Shade (other than the Headmaster/Headmistress) knew about Salem or that they were meant to protect something so they just let Emerald and Watts (two "random" people) walk out with a "random" sword.

Is Atlas dead-dead?/Why you no nuke Atlas?

Yes, Atlas is dead. She is not reincarnating. I know that might be considered a spoiler but I want to assure you that she is gone. Another thing I planned from the start was Atlas's death through poison. I felt a combat-based death (or a nuke) was too expected, so instead a little needle killed the great and mighty personification of Atlas. Again, she is not reincarnating. She is dead and gone. Remnant personifications' existences are a lot more fragile than those from Earth so the war-sparking split in her people killed Atlas for good. I know I'm repeating myself but I want there to be no question about this.

As for a nuke, I seriously considered it. But then I realized that a) I would have to give Earth another path to Remnant (other than England's ritual) which I didn't want to do and b) I wanted Atlas to destroy herself. And she did. Her shady and reprehensible actions were revealed to the public, so her own people turned against her (and each other). This might be considered a spoiler but Atlas isn't a Kingdom anymore: it's an apocalyptic warzone. The mighty Kingdom of Atlas was destroyed not by an outside force, a nuke, or the Grimm, but by its own arrogance, actions, and lies. To me, that's much more fitting end than simply blowing it up. (Though there were a lot of smaller explosions happening so plenty of it was still explodified…)

In case you can't tell, I loathed Atlas as much as you do, and killing her off was freaking cathartic to me.

Were the people of Atlas planning a rebellion before the riots?

Yes. The spark of rebellion originated in Mantle— where the people there were getting real sick of being left behind and forgotten— but when the city fell, not all the rebels fell with it. The oppressed of Atlas/Mantle only grew more discontented as Atlas's rules grew more strict, and the reveal of what the Institute did was the straw that broke the camel's back.

As for why the heroes did not know about it… why would they? They were outsiders, Huntsmen and Huntresses, and were housed in the military barracks. In other words, they could be considered as part of the "elite" of Remnant. The rebels had no reason to trust, approach, or seek them out. In fact, the rebels had no reason to know they existed. I purposely did things that way to show the world doesn't just revolve around the characters we see, and that things can happen without the characters knowing. The world is bigger than their group, and so the rebellion happened completely without their influence. That being said, I did leave a few hints about a budding rebellion throughout the fic. It just isn't the focus, nor did I feel like I had to write it.

Why did Vale become so mean?

She figured out Vale was crumbling and taking America (and her) with it.

She did not react well.

Why did America keep getting nosebleeds and other injuries?/Why is he weakening?

Vale is dying and he's going with it.

Who released footage of the Institute? Who armed the rebels? Are Weiss's parents alive? What is going to happen to Ironwood?

Those are nice questions. ;)

The next and final book will be called "The Charlatan of Choice". The first chapter will be released next Friday (October 12th).