A/N: The cover for this fic was commissioned from the very talented Zaheela. Visit her tumblr to see more of her art.

Saving Remnant
by hypocrite lecteur

Though the number of the Israelites be like the sand by the sea,
only the remnant will be saved.
—Romans 9:27

I don't know the path we will be shown,
But I know that when I'm with you I'm at home.
—'Home' by Jeff Williams

i. Down there

Paying little mind to the rain and the undulations of frigid water which sent shudders through the Galahad, Ruby Rose stood on deck, satisfied to watch the misted peaks of the Corbin Isles swaying into view, their snows winking in the overcast morning. Mottling the white was bare rock the colour of pumice and below stood spidery conifers whose earthy green at this distance looked like mould creeping over a wall. It was not an inviting destination, and the voyage was lonely. Access was theoretically restricted by the Atlesian government, but few would ever come out to these islands, which formed an archipelago sitting rather cheekily on the maritime border between Mistral and Atlas. Haven had paid a local fisherman in Argus to carry her there in his medium-sized vessel. She scrutinised the approaching land impassively, her signature red hood up, and thought about the man she'd almost killed.

Ruby was travelling on Huntress business, naturally. The mission had come from Mistral; they wanted a foreign agent for the job because a local would be more conspicuous, and the task was politically sensitive. Certainly they were taking no chances with the bellicose Atlas, and Ruby had a feeling that responsibility might be deferred to her were she to fail the assigned mission.

As to that mission: it was an ugly business that potentially had the makings of an international incident. The problem began with the disappearance of a Huntsman's small vessel in the seas north of Argus. It was assumed that one or several dangerous Grimm had become active; but upon investigation by a small vanguard, an alarming discovery was made. The seas weren't troubled by Grimm; rather, they were suspiciously free of them. More worrying was that an Atlas military facility had been operating right under their noses. Rightly or wrongly, Haven chalked up the disappearance of the Grimm and of the Huntsman to the machinations of their northern neighbour. Realising that Atlas was unlikely to be forthcoming on the matter, and not wishing to implicate themselves, the Headmistress of Haven, Myrtle Morgause, made backdoor calls for outside help in their investigation.

As a hero of Salem's War and possibly Beacon's most senior Huntress despite her youth, Ruby was informed of this special mission. She hadn't planned on taking it: the details were thin on the ground, and it could've been a nothingburger. Nations were always paranoid about their neighbours. When it came to her desk at Beacon, she skimmed lazily through the brief until her gaze fell upon a name that made her heart stop.

The Huntsman who had vanished was Jaune Arc. She took the job.

Two days and an express airship ride hence, she once again found herself in the sparse and foggy hills of Mistral. Brought up to speed by the Haven administration, she took a train to Argus and began by scouring the dives and back alleys for information. With a tip from an Atlesian exmilitary bar owner, she was directed to speak with one of his countryman called Percy Violet, a former engineer resident in Argus, alleged to know more about military research than his government would admit. She searched Haven's databases and found that he had been convicted of manslaughter ten years ago and exiled from Atlas; the details of the crime were confidential. Today he was working for an auto company.

Ruby paid him a visit. Violet was living pretty centrally in Argus, a mid-range apartment block on Odin Avenue. He was a stout middle-aged man, shabbily dressed, with erratic curls and thundering blue eyes that twitched neurotically as he declined to let Ruby in. Ruby, who was under instructions to be covert, had come dressed in a casual red blouse and black pencil skirt, identifying herself as an investigative reporter from Vale. It took a little coaxing, but she eventually talked him into answering her questions about Atlas under the pretext of writing an article on military technology. He was wary and restless as he invited her to take a seat on an old sofa the colour of sand. He didn't sit down himself. After a roundabout conversation about weaponry, she broached the topic of military activity in the region and Violet didn't miss a beat in refusing to give a direct answer.

'Yeah, we did research around here,' he said. 'There's a military facility off the coast. But they won't let a reporter in.'

Ruby thanked him for his interview, but her timing aroused his suspicions.

'You wanted to know about that facility, didn't you?' he asked. 'That's really why you're here.'

'No, I'm writing about Atlesian military technology,' Ruby repeated woodenly, wishing that she was a better liar. 'Just wanted to know about local activities.'

Violet glanced around. 'I thought they shut it down. That stubborn bastard,' he said.

Ruby raised her hand and said, 'I'll be going now.'

'You're not a reporter,' Violet concluded. 'You're a spy from Haven. You're going to get us both killed, aren't you?'

'No—'

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than he lunged at her, brandishing a knife. Ruby dodged him and knocked the weapon from his hand with characteristic swiftness, then kicked him in the chest so he flew into a bookshelf with a groan. She realised as she saw blood on his lips that she had overdone it.

'I know who you are,' Violet murmured, his breath heavy. '…Huntress. Ruby Rose. One of them took out Salem. Thought you looked familiar.'

'I'm not a spy,' said Ruby pointlessly. She moved to help him, but he raised his hand.

'Don't touch me,' he panted. 'You've done enough as is.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't go to the island,' he said.

'Haven thinks the Atlas military have Grimm there. And a Huntsman.'

'Yeah, I heard—' Violet moaned. '…same story…when…was there.'

'You need medical attention. Please, I'll help you.' She pulled out her scroll.

'Don't—mention my name,' said Violet.

'What?'

'Don't tell anyone,' he said slowly, painfully, 'that I told you about this.'

Ruby had just apologised again and called Haven to let them know about Violet's condition as the man on the floor cursed and sunk into unconsciousness. He had lived, but the incident left a bitter taste in Ruby's mouth that was following her to these infamous islands.

So here she was on the sea route to Great Corbin. Her look hadn't changed much since the days of the war: her skirt was a little less dramatic, and her dress was embroidered subtly, almost invisibly, with dark patterns of vines and roses that curled along the upper edge beneath her cream sleeves. Her typical high collar and red trim were preserved, but the showy corset was gone. Her boots were the heavier variety she'd started wearing in Anima, and her legs were guarded against the cold by thick black stockings. The soft, fine-boned face had thinned a little into adulthood; her skin was pale, almost translucent, and the result was fey and androgynous. She was, as ever, bright and distant, on her own lonely voyage. It was always a lonely voyage in any case; but at least this time she wasn't actually alone.

'You don't look so hot there,' said Qrow as he stepped up to join her. Ruby had called him up before leaving Vale and asked him to meet her in Mistral; she wanted someone trustworthy with her on a job like this. He was dressed in the reliable grey and black ensemble that had served him well over the years, but the stubbly jawline of his youth had grown out into a modest beard flecked with white.

Ruby turned ironical silver eyes on him. 'I'm peachy, Uncle Qrow.'

'No, you're not.'

'Nothing about Jaune this time,' said Ruby. 'It's just I went too far with the Atlesian.'

Qrow laid a hand on her shoulder. 'It's not like he's dead. And you didn't have a choice.'

'Yeah, I did,' Ruby said firmly. 'I hit him like I'd hit a Grimm. I didn't have to do that.'

'I guess not,' conceded Qrow. 'But it's a dirty job sometimes.'

Ruby picked absently at the rust on the railing. 'Yeah, yeah. I should toughen up.'

Qrow smiled. 'No, you shouldn't, kid. That's not what I'm saying. Your mother was like that too. Real innocent, strong sense of justice. A little less dorky, perhaps…'

'Maybe,' said Ruby. 'She also died. Isn't that what you said?'

Pulling his flask from his coat, Qrow looked over at the isles as he took a swig for courage. 'We'll be there soon. Better get prepped.'

Ruby nodded and headed back below deck to fetch Crescent Rose. The clouds were darkening with the threat of rain. Qrow watched as the metal buildings of the Atlesian facility edged into visibility, looming behind a fence only yards from the coast, shimmering in the veil of mist.

Percy Violet's internal bleeding subsided the day after Ruby visited his apartment, and he remained thereafter in an unused bedroom for housemasters at the Argus branch school of Haven to be questioned about the Corbin Isles. Qrow arrived in Argus swiftly, three days after Ruby's call, and they conducted their interview in the adjacent sitting room.

'You want to know my story,' said Violet flatly. His shabby clothes had been replaced with a blue linen shirt and brown casual trousers. Apparently he was being well-treated; Ruby averted her eyes guiltily.

'That's the idea,' replied Qrow.

Violet nodded. 'Suppose I got nothing here to lose if you're going to go up there anyway.'

Qrow raised his flask. 'That's the spirit.'

Violet stretched stiffly, groaning. 'Tell your little friend to keep her hands where I can see them this time.'

'I'm sorry,' Ruby said quickly.

'Sorry doesn't do much good for my lungs,' said Violet.

Ruby pouted, and Qrow said, 'She's sorry. Let's move on.'

'Right,' said Violet. 'I warn you, this tale has a few ugly twists.'

'I love a ripping yarn,' said Qrow.

Violet cracked his knuckles languidly. 'First off: you ever heard of AMI?'

'AMI?' repeated Ruby. 'Atlas Military Intelligence?'

'Sure we have,' replied Qrow. 'They're Atlas' spy network. Nasty guys to run into.'

'That's right.' Violet exhaled deeply before he continued: 'I joined the military as a engineer but got involved with research after a few years. General Ironwood thought I had a talent for military tech and mentored me. At some point I became aware of our facility on Great Corbin, the largest of the Corbin Isles, north of Argus. Under the stewardship of one Dr. Serge Ormolu, a famed geneticist, it was conducting experiments that even Ironwood didn't know the full extent of. Given the military application of their work, it's not surprising it became a worry.

'When Grimm began to vanish near the facility, HQ suspected the Corbin scientists were up to something of questionable character. Bet that sounds familiar, right? This was around ten years ago, mind you. Anyhow, HQ didn't want Haven sniffing about either, though they hadn't opened their Argus branch at that time and couldn't project the authority they do today. I was given a special assignment direct from the General to check out the place and determine the truth. I had a spotless record and a good reputation. The transfer could be well justified. All the same, the worst mistake of my life was taking that mission. Might be yours, too. Least this time they're sending a Huntress. You have to understand this was just treated as a routine internal matter for the Atlas military complex.

'A few weeks laters, I was on the island. Aside from Ormolu, the top people there were an officer called Captain Dolores Chrysoprase, a stiff-necked paranoiac, and Ormolu's collaborator in science and in life, a satirical-looking Faunus named Vere Claret with the white nose of a polecat.'

'Alright, alright,' Qrow cut in. 'That's enough expositing on the colourful characters of your life. What were these clowns up to?'

'Recall the aforesaid AMI,' said Percy Violet. 'Well…'

The Atlesian steel of the buildings clarified itself as the Galahad passed into shallower waters around Great Corbin. The complex was squat and utilitarian, grey as the skies, with flat roofs and thick, tinted windows. The iron fence was interrupted only by the gate, which was chained shut. There was a modest vessel by the pier: could it be Jaune's?

Before disembarking, Ruby went up to the bridge to talk to Ulrich Blau, the owner of the ship. He was a portly man of around Qrow's age, with black sideburns.

'We'll return by dusk,' she said. 'Will probably a few days mission.'

'Aye, I'll wait. Don't rush yourself. Haven's paying me enough for a month. Guest rooms below deck.' said Ulrich. He peered out the windows at the beach. 'Looks as though we're not the only ones here.'

Ruby followed his gaze and was startled to see another small fishing boat returning to Great Corbin parallel to them; its occupant was an old man in a thick woollen coat and holding a rod. Apparently in a bad temper, he was shaking his head aggressively at the interloping ship.

Ruby frowned. 'Weird. I guess we'll have to deal with him.'

She was right. The old fisherman called out to Ruby and Qrow as they hopped down to the wooden slats of the pier.

'Oy, you two!' He was skinny, with a crown of white hair around a bald scalp, and a voluminous beard. 'No one's allowed here except Atlas military.'

'We're Huntsmen,' said Qrow wearily. 'We have a licence to go anywhere when Grimm are involved, a mandate which is enforced internationally, sometimes in defiance of your government. And this facility is supposed to be inactive, so someone is telling porkie pies here.'

'All that legalese doesn't mean you can just go wheresoever you please.' The old man humphed and flicked his rod towards them.

'Who are you?' asked Ruby. 'Are you military?'

'I am employed by the military,' explained the old man proudly, 'to provide professional catering for the eminent men and women who operate this facility.'

'You're a cook,' said Qrow.

'A military cook. And a three time winner of the Argus Sea Fishing Competition.'

'Okay.' Ruby waved at him placidly. 'See ya.'

'Not so hasty, young lady!' cried the old man, paddling towards the shore as Qrow and Ruby. 'You don't know what you'll find in there.'

'Don't worry, mister fisherman,' said Ruby. 'We've got a pretty good idea.'

The old man carefully stepped out into the shallow waters and hobbled with obvious difficulty towards them. His legs were bowed, and he shuffled ungracefully, stooped over, in worn brown boots.

'My name,' he said, 'is Pelles. And you're not to go to that building.'

'Jeez, old man,' said Qrow. 'And people tell me my posture is bad. Get yourself to chiropractor before you try to take on a Huntsman.'

Pelles grunted dismissively as he slung a rope over his shoulder and tugged his little boat onto the stony beach. 'Huntsman, eh. You'll be sorry.'

'Worry about yourself.' Qrow turned his back on the old man and headed up the beach. 'Let's make a move, Ruby. Whoever's here will know about us by now.'

They had only walked a few yards up the coast when they heard the sound of plastic thudding rhythmically behind them. Ruby glanced back to see Pelles shuffling behind them, his bucket of fish tip-tapping against his stiff leg, murky green eyes glaring out beneath bushy eyebrows.

'What are you doing?' asked Ruby.

'What do you think?' snapped Pelles. 'I'm bringing up the fish to the building. This is dinner.'

Ruby raised her eyebrow. 'So will you try to stop us?'

'How would I do that?' Pelles shook his head. 'I'm in no right state to fight. Isn't that what your old man said?'

Qrow smirked at his error, and Ruby said, 'Qrow's not my dad.'

'Qrow's his name, then,' Pelles said. 'And you are?'

With a sigh, Ruby stopped and lowered her hood cautiously, revealing her bob of black cherry hair. It whipped across her face, animated by the wind. 'I'm Ruby Rose.'

Pelles nodded. 'There was a Huntsman came here a week ago.'

Ruby's breath caught in her throat. 'So you saw him?'

'Saw him? 'Course I did. A tall man. Sword user. Went by name of Jaune. He was seasick.'

'That's him. Down to the seasickness. Is he…?' Ruby bit her lip.

'Alive?' Pelles shrugged. 'I only made him supper.'

Exasperated, Ruby stepped closer to the old fisherman. 'You don't know anything?'

'Calm yourself, lass.' Pelles cackled. 'Your boyfriend is probably alive.'

'He's not—' Ruby rolled her eyes at being so easily wound up. 'How do you know that?'

Pelles affected a nonplussed expression. 'Obviously because I cooked him a little cod last night.'

The tension flew out of Ruby's body and she slumped with a groan of relief. 'He's alive.'

Qrow smiled at her, then asked Pelles, 'What's he doing here?'

'He came because the Grimm in the waters about here were disappearing,' continued Pelles. 'Seemed interested in environmental business.'

'That's plausible,' said Qrow. 'He's Head of Operations at Haven's Argus branch. Plans out and executes regular raids and patrols with other Huntsmen. Always has an eye on Grimm populations and the state of different habitats.'

Pelles' owlish eyes twinkled as he nodded. 'Aye, he was scouting out the seas when he found us.'

'So why's he still here?' asked Qrow.

'I'll show you,' Pelles looked back at the sea. 'It looks like rain. Come with me. If you won't leave, let's go up to the main building. Welcome to the Corbin Military Research Station.'

'Dr. Ormolu was conducting experiments on Grimm,' continued Percy Violet. 'What kind of experiments, and why, I couldn't tell you in detail, but I'll get to that later. They were keeping a whole bunch of Grimm at the station. Remnant's most dangerous zoo. All off the books, of course. They were a big part of the reason why Grimm were attracted to the place.

'The trouble with dealing with Grimm as a biologist is that they don't leave corpses. Soon as they die, poof. You have to keep them alive to research them at all, which makes questions of physiology or anatomy difficult, perhaps impossible. Now, Grimm bleed black smoke. You can seal samples of it in specially prepared phials, but it's a tricky process. Some Grimm can be sedated. Some can't. An Apathy, for example, remains startlingly alert through the most powerful sedative while its malevolent influence may guide you into deathly sleep even as you administer the drug. On the other hand, others, like Beowolves and Ursas, respond to sedatives so that genetic samples can be withdrawn.'

'Hold up,' said Qrow. 'You're telling me they took genetic samples from Grimm?'

Violet grimaced. 'Surprised? It's perfectly possible. Not even remarkable. Ordinarily, our scientists based their innovations on Semblances. Ormolu's great works had followed this convention in the past—building military machines that could create illusions, manipulate objects, and even alter emotional states of enemy combatants. He took great pride in reproducing the most unique and powerful skills of Huntsmen and Huntresses—but Grimm also exhibit enviable abilities with military applications.'

'Abilities we should stay well clear of,' said Qrow.

Clicking his tongue against the palate, Violet shrugged. 'Atlas has other ideas. And Ormolu isn't your average Joe, anyway.'

'This Ormolu,' said Ruby. 'What was his S—'

'—his Semblance?' finished Violet. 'I'm glad you asked. It's a hereditary Semblance—Ormolu is a branch family of one of the great Atlas bloodlines, the Palatinates, descended from Maud Ormolu, the elder sister of Boris Palatinate, whom you may know as the former ambassador to Vale. His Semblance, as well his son's, is the same as Ormolu's.' His digression complete, he looked expectantly at his audience.

Ruby shrugged and glanced at Qrow, who was rolling his eyes. 'Yeah, yeah,' he said. 'Glory to the Kingdom, yada yada. He has the Machinic Eyes, right?'

'Machinic Eyes?' repeated Ruby.

'He sees men as though they were machines,' said Violet. 'Like constructed objects. The lines and joints, the marks of their assemblage, the internal workings that grind and pump and flex are all visible to him. Just from a glance, he knows precisely where on the body he could make a fatal incision. Even the invisible workings of Aura and Semblance are often apparent to Ormolu. Some call them the Eyes of God. They can see everything—except colour, interestingly. Now I'm sure you understand why this man was so valuable to the military.'

'He used this power for his work?' asked Ruby.

'Very effectively,' said Violet. 'Take a person with a Semblance that lets him create illusory clones of himself. Ormolu could see the source of their formation on the body and the composition of the illusions themselves. He could measure out any chemical combination with enough observation. His family had produced warriors and Huntsmen in the past, but the Palatinate powers were eminently suitable to scientific work too. What seem to us like immutable objects, continuous and indivisible, were just an arrangement of discrete and manipulable parts to him.

'The Grimm were likewise no more a mystery to Ormolu under his observation. Most Grimm are simple enough creatures, but Ormolu played a key role in expanding our understanding of their physiology. Ever hear the Grimm Dust hypothesis?'

'Grimm Dust?' echoed Ruby. 'Grimm using Dust?'

'Not exactly. Grimm can't activate true Dust without Aura,' said Violet matter-of-factly. 'However, Grimm exhibit a great deal of extraordinary energetic phenomena that raise questions of their biology. How does a Geist possess an object, for example? What marshals that animating energy if not Dust? Presumably they convert Aura and maybe even Dust itself into usable energy for themselves, but because of the difficulties involved in examining Grimm anatomy, scientists use the term "Grimm Dust" as a placeholder for faux-Dust substances produced by Grimm. Very little is known about them, but it's supposed that Grimm aren't capable of exceeding the capabilities of humans. Their powers are destructive—their origin itself is destruction—so everything they create is borrowed from us, from Aura and Dust.'

Qrow interrupted for the second time. 'Okay, bud, I think I get the picture when it comes to the scientific wonders of Atlas. Didn't these guys exile you?'

Violet sniffed. 'It was my own fault. I should never have gone to the islands. But we're skipping ahead. Dr. Ormolu clearly realised that there was a basic incompatibility between human magic—Aura and Dust—and the alien powers of the Grimm. So the military application of his project relied either upon including Grimm elements or the simulation thereof. The latter might be achieved by combat robots.'

'I met an Atlas robot once,' said Ruby. 'Her name was Penny and she was totally sweet.'

'There's the first twist in the tale,' replied Violet with an unnerving smile. 'He didn't make any robots.'

Besides the conifers out of which the peaks lanced and the various mosses and lichens crawling over the rocks, Great Corbin was barren and mountainous. The only fauna were seabird visitors—albatrosses with austere squared-off bills peering into the deep, fat puffins shuffling on the rocks. The Corbin Military Research Station stood below cliffs that jutted starkly over the beach, tucked into a former quarry whose Dust reserves were exhausted during the Great War. It was composed of three structures: a central building with two stories, a dormitory on the western edge of the quarry, and a warehouse at the back that kept vehicles, vessels, tools and a miscellany of military equipment.

Pelles leisurely unlocked the gates and led Qrow and Ruby towards the main building. The two visitors glanced about warily, but the yard was empty.

'I'm sure you know this,' said Pelles, 'but we have dangerous creatures here.'

'Captured Grimm,' said Qrow.

'Something like that,' Pelles said. 'You hear about Dr. Ormolu's project?'

'Oh, yes,' said Ruby.

'Well, he revived it,' Pelles explained blandly.

'Why didn't you burn the station when you had the chance?' asked Qrow.

'Destroy the life's work of Dr. Ormolu?' Pelles affected stupefaction.

'So he came back here?' Ruby asked.

Pelles nodded. 'Who else? He couldn't leave something so important unfinished, could he?'

'When I see this old bastard I'm introducing his face to my scythe,' grumbled Qrow. 'Genius be damned.'

'You may get the chance in any case,' said Pelles in an unconcerned tone. 'I know outsiders don't like Atlesian methods, so I imagine you'd like to arrest him.'

Ruby wasn't sure whether she appreciated the irreverent humour of the old fellow: was he trying to unnerve them or just being disingenuous? Come to think of it, his identity was a mystery as well. Ruby reserved direct judgement on Pelles but anticipated a trap. Pelles waiting to meet them, Ormolu's return, the repeat of the same mistake by the same people: it was all too neat to be true, and the old man barely seemed to believe it himself, such was his cavalier manner. As they neared the double doors, Pelles stopped.

'Right,' he said. 'Your Jaune is being kept under lock and key. Dr. Ormolu will want to speak to you before he lets you see him.'

'Why'd you lock him up?' Ruby asked.

'Because he was trespassing,' said Pelles.

'How about you?' Qrow's eyebrow twitched. 'You're all alone out here. Awful convenient.' Ruby guessed that he shared her suspicions.

'We have to eat, don't we?' Pelles shrugged. 'The other three are always together.' At last the old man opened the door. 'This way.'

It was warmer inside. An impersonal hallway of metal walls and bluish plastic floors extended in both directions. Pelles turned right and walked a few yards to the stairs. On the first floor, they were led to a door designated on its face as the portal to the recreation room.

'They should all be in here,' Pelles drawled. 'Get yourselves acquainted and I'll crack on with dinner.'

They entered. The room was large and sparsely furnished: a dining table; a bench upon which rested a coffee machine, canisters of teas, and two rows of mismatched mugs; a small fridge beneath the bench; and a pool table standing forlornly opposite the other articles with only a three-quarters stocked bookshelf for company.

At the table sat the three people they were looking for. A Faunus with graying black hair and a furred white nose, upon which perched silver pince-nez, looked at the new arrivals archly. To his left was a slim middle-aged gentleman with sleek neck-length blonde hair in a ponytail and shrewd reddish brown eyes. Finally, a woman in a dark blue blouse and black trousers with a white pixie cut sat with her back to Ruby. She turned her head, revealing a severe profile and eyes the colour of jade.

'The hell are these guys?' she said.

The thin man regarded Ruby curiously. 'Don't you recognise a celebrity, Major?' His voice was gentle. 'That's Ruby Rose.'

'And you're Dr. Serge Ormolu,' said Ruby. The thin man nodded.

'These are Huntsmen sent from Haven,' Pelles explained. 'Just came up the beach looking for that Jaune Arc.'

'Of course,' said the Faunus. 'I'm Dr. Vere Claret. Specialist in Grimm biology. And the sourpuss is Major Dolores Chrysoprase.'

Chrysoprase glared at him. 'These foreigners shouldn't be here.'

Claret laughed in a high whistling tone. 'I suppose not. Though I'm hardly shocked by the attention. Seems these Huntsmen are as regular as homicides in Vacuo.'

'So,' said Qrow, 'you've come back for your science project.'

'And you are?' asked Claret, tilting his head forward.

'Qrow Branwen. Not quite the big name like my niece here, but don't test me.'

'Gentlemen,' said Ormolu. 'Let's remain civil.'

'Quite civil.' Claret tittered. 'Anyway, in answer to your question, yes. We—that is to say, this crack trio of ours, the old gang—got back together to finish an old job. We've rather improved on our past performance, wouldn't you say, Serge?'

'Certainly,' said Ormolu tightly.

'Your cook says you're performing illegal experiments,' remarked Ruby. 'Like last time.'

'Our cook is a practical joker,' said Claret. 'Pelles, what did you say?'

'Nothing at all, Vere.' Pelles blew out his beard flippantly. 'I mentioned the incident ten years ago. They hallucinated the rest.'

'Oh, what fun,' Claret laughed. 'Have no fear, visitors. Those experiments failed. We're merely considering alternatives at present. Simulate the powers of Grimm in less ambitious ways. Granted, we have got Grimm in the basement. They don't really die unless you chop them to pieces, so our old collection is all still down there, locked up nice and safe.'

'So no need to worry.' Pelles grinned toothily.

Chrysoprase, who looked bemused, abruptly spoke up, glaring at Pelles. 'Just what are you playing at, Ormolu? Haven't we got what we came for?'

'Patience, Dolores,' muttered Ormolu. 'It appears,' he continued, addressing the visitors, 'that you are in need of a proper explanation.'

'Look, science guy,' Ruby said, adopting a low and threatening tone she'd learnt off Qrow. 'I want to make myself clear before you start confusing me for someone interested in your biology project. You guys are obviously wrapped up in some Atlas politics that I don't really care about. I'm here for two things.'

'You want blondie back,' interrupted Claret.

'I want Jaune back,' repeated Ruby. 'Preferably without a diplomatic incident. That's the job. Second is personal. I want to know about someone connected to your research. Someone who stole something from me.'

Ormolu leaned forward and laid his thin white hands on the table. He had sharp, carefully articulated fingers. 'Who might the thief be?'

'Mordecai Cinnabar,' said Ruby.

'And what business do you have with our national spymaster?' asked Claret.

Ruby ran her fingers over Crescent Rose. 'I want to kill him.'

'The project was more ambitious than standard Atlesian robotics,' continued Violet. 'There was an interest in creating something more organic. An interest I can only assume traces back to AMI. They were the ones I got in trouble with when all was said and done. Anyway, when I came to the island I discovered that the intention was rather—controversial. Hence the secrecy.'

'He was making Grimm hybrids,' concluded Ruby.

'Good guess,' said Violet.

'I've seen it before.'

'You're in rare company,' commented Violet. 'But yes. The hope was to reverse-engineer Grimm. For national security purposes, of course.'

'So let's get this clear,' said Qrow. 'What we got is a team of kooks making monsters out of Grimm DNA? This has got to be breaking some international regulation.'

Violet smirked. 'Welcome to Atlas. But the work did go against the council's wishes. Grimm experimentation is forbidden. That's the precedent, anyway. Or was.'

'Go on with the story,' said Ruby.

'The project was unsuccessful. As you may know, Grimm and human biology don't mix well. Humans are individuals, with agency and cognition. Creature of Grimm are purely of darkness. They are anonymous, empty and destructive. They live off our negative Aura. Put them together and—'

'One has to win,' completed Ruby.

'Right,' said Violet. 'That's the theoretical problem with Grimm hybrids. The Grimm part would be insatiably feeding on the Aura of the human part. Like a Grimm, it'd be driven to kill; and perversely, it would need to feed on other humans to protect its own humanity. Murder isn't just a possibility but a certainty. If it ever reached that stage, at least. When I came to Corbin, their attempts to incubate such a creature had resulted in the cells cannibalising themselves. Also attracted Grimm like crazy.'

'So that solves the mystery of the Grimm,' said Ruby. 'But what happened to you?'

'The official version,' replied Violet, 'the version you would likely find in a confidential file in Atlas Military Intelligence, is that a rogue engineer murdered members of a research team at a scientific facility on Great Corbin.'

'And your version?' Ruby uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.

'Your friend Weiss Schnee,' said Violet suddenly. Ruby stiffened. 'Something happened to her last year,' he said.

'She turned traitor,' Qrow muttered cynically.

'No.' Ruby looked hard at Violet. 'That's not true.'

Qrow cocked his head. 'No?'

'I never told you the full story about what happened to Weiss,' Ruby said. 'And the only other person who knows is Jaune.'

'Jaune?' Qrow leaned in. 'So what happened to her?'

'Mordecai Cinnabar happened to her.'

'Mordecai Cinnabar?' Qrow sucked in a sharp breath. 'Shit, Rubes, why didn't you tell me?'

'Language,' murmured Ruby.

'Mordecai Cinnabar happened to me too.' Violet explained: 'Here's my memory. Off the books, I was ferried by air to Great Corbin. Oppressive place. Met Ormolu, Vere Claret and Chrysoprase. Few others there too. William Akai, a technician and mechanic. Big guy, bald, ruddy, full red beard. Then there was Doc Navy, the cook, and the janitor, Vert Raine. They were tetchy and evasive with me, but I pushed Ormolu and Claret until the latter eventually confessed the aim of the project. Naturally, I reported to the General and he said they'd be arrested. Warehouse had military equipment. Grabbed a shotgun and told the whole crew none of them were leaving my sight until the authorities arrived. Marched them outside.

'I'll save you the drama and intrigue. Things got bad when we reached the beach. I guess all the negative emotion attracted a pretty big Grimm, one of those long sea dragons. Akai got swallowed, as did Raine. It was a tough fight but survival united us, and Ormolu's Semblance meant we knew just where to strike. Obviously we took it out, but with the pressure on I lost my nerve. I said it was unsafe, that we had to kill the Grimm in the facility even if it meant burning the place. Claret and Navy agreed. Ormolu and Chrysoprase didn't. But I had the gun.

'I led them back to the warehouse to fetch some gas,' said Violet in a heavy voice, like a confession. 'I turned toward the vehicles. The light of the arctic sun ricocheted off the glass of the snow sweeper. I felt feverish. The next thing I remember is courtesy of Mordecai Cinnabar.

'I was in hospital, back in Atlas. I felt nauseous, hollow. A civil servant visited me to tell me I burnt the Corbin station down. I confirmed that this had been my intention. I was made to repeat this story and incriminate myself. Due to my memory loss and confusion, I was determined to have lost my mind in the process of undertaking my mission and took the fall for the whole disaster.

'Obviously I didn't know what the hell had happened to me. At first I was pretty mad, wanted some vengeance, but someone from AMI swung by to pre-empt me and throw me cash. He told me Mordecai Cinnabar was responsible for my memory loss and I realised I was dealing with powers beyond my reach. Cinnabar has a lot of proxies and you leave when they turn up. I was instructed to leave and keep quiet. I left. But the ones behind this are Mordecai Cinnabar and his organisation. I'm sure of it.

'As for Corbin,' Violet concluded. 'I'm sure as hell that place is still active, but my memory—well, I'm sure you understand. I don't know what's going on there now. Possibly they returned to the Grimm hybridisation project.'

'After ten years?'

Violet raised his hands. 'Ironwood couldn't protect me, but he cracked down on science and research. Research Ethics Committee had the run of things for a long time. I've contacted Ironwood a few times to check up on it all. He knows I'm not responsible, obviously. Last I heard Corbin Station was completely sealed off. They kept up maintenance on the place. I think there was enough interest and curiosity in the project. It was an ambitious idea. But that was three years ago. Everything waxes and wanes. And the Grimm have been substantially less aggressive since Salem was defeated. The council's view may have changed.'

'Ironwood wouldn't stand for it,' said Qrow. 'Despite his faults, he'd never accept Grimm hybrids in the Atlas military.'

'No, but he's not the only powerbroker in Atlas.' Violet gave a throaty, somewhat violent cough and his hair shook about like a little shrub. 'I don't know how AMI or Mordecai Cinnabar play into this, but if you're going to start sniffing into Atlas military secrets, you should know what he'll do to you.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Ruby. 'Believe me, I know. But how the heck do you know about Weiss? No one's supposed to know. Weiss fell out with us. That was the story.'

Violet closed his eyes and shuddered dramatically. 'When I try to remember,' he said, 'I come over like this. Shaking, paranoid, a nameless emptiness inside. I saw her press conference with Jacques Schnee, the vacant look in her eyes. Something missing in there. And what else would explain her actions? She used to be so defiant. Cinnabar leaves his traces.'

Qrow spoke up abruptly. 'Whoa, hold up,' he said, 'you're seriously telling me Mordecai Cinnabar is the reason Weiss is…'

'I'm sorry.' Ruby turned to Qrow, her shoulders slumping gloomily.''I thought I'd sound crazy with it all over the news. You were at Signal and I was in Vale. I guess I didn't want to talk about it either. What that guy can do isn't like anything I've ever felt.'

Qrow's eyes flashed in anger. 'That bastard got you too?'

'N-no,' Ruby stammered. 'Only a little. Not badly. Not like Weiss.'

'It's like something went wrong inside of you, isn't it?' said Violet. 'A tongue of death laps at your hand, and your hand necrotises in a moment, turning black and withered.'

'Something like that.' Ruby crossed her arms.

'So that's what…' Qrow scratched his beard. 'Umbral,' he said. 'He took Weiss in Umbral.'

'You got it,' said Ruby. 'Umbral.'