Chapter Text
12 - Midnight
It's a hot, dry, dusty day in Vacuo—making it something of an outlier. Not in that it's notable for any of those things, of course—every day in Vacuo is hot, dry, and dusty, because this whole fucking country is like that—but it is notable in its severity. In that respect, today is irritating in every way; or perhaps Cinder is simply more irritable, given she presently lacks an arm and anywhere else to go.
Salem had blamed her, of course, when the silver-eyed nuisance and her cohort had returned. She had accused Cinder of lying about their deaths to curry favour—which is ironic, Cinder thinks, because of all the times she had lied to Salem, that hadn't been one of them. At the very least, she hadn't intended to lie; but it hardly mattered in the eyes of her former employer.
She'd torn the Maiden power from Cinder and transplanted it into the Asturias brat without so much as a sliver of pity. Then, she'd simply left Cinder to die in the Vacuan Desert, letting thirst, sand, and Grimm do what she would not deign to.
And, bereft of any other choices, Cinder walked.
And walked, and walked, and walked. Two days of wandering and fighting for her life against Grimm had passed before Vacuo was in sight. Another half a day of walking took her to the city gates, and she all but collapsed into the nearest fountain when she found it. Greedily, she had drank, uncaring of the protests that the people around her voiced. Then, when at last her thirst had been slaked, she had pulled her head back from the fountain, only to be recognised by the very thorn in her side that had plagued her all this time.
A fight, then. She lost the arm Salem had given her, and with it, any hope of currying favour back. The brat was stronger somehow, and it was all Cinder could do to escape with her life.
And so now, here she wanders, staggering helplessly through the streets of Vacuo while clutching the bloodied stump where her arm once was. There's no one left—not Emerald, not Mercury, and not Neo. Every single one of her pawns is gone, and she's alone.
Alone, and—well, she isn't weak, because she's never weak, but she's something. Not what she should be, and she hates it.
The thought alone makes bile rise in her throat. All this time, she's bowed her head—begged and pleaded and scraped for power, and just when it had been within her grasp, the brat had come back from the dead to ruin it! Now she's nothing; a vagrant cripple being hunted down like a pathetic rat, all because the traitors and idiots she'd surrounded herself with were too blind and incompetent to recognise—
To recognise—
"Recognise what, exactly?" Salem asked, tilting her chin with a finger. "How powerless you really are?"
Cinder grits her teeth as she shoulders her way through the crowds of refugees, emerging into an alley to catch her breath. They're all filthy, useless weaklings, too cowardly or stupid to help themselves. She isn't like them, and never will be. Never again.
"Without you, I am nothing."
Screaming with fury, Cinder slams her remaining hand into the brick of the alley wall. It sizzles and smokes at her touch, and she lets out another cry, doubling over as her anger and frustration mounts as a tempest in her chest. With repeated blows, the wall shatters, and she pants as the brick and mortar rains down around her, Aura flickering from weathering the blows and using her Semblance.
Damn them! Damn every last one of them! She'll come up with a plan; find the Summer Maiden and get the Crown. After that, she can… she will…
The sound of footsteps behind her alerts her to another presence in the alley, and she plays dumb for a few seconds. Then, when they've come within striking distance, she whirls, molten brick flying through the air as she strikes—
"Tough luck," Qrow Branwen says, his hand locking around her wrist. He effortlessly leans out of the way of her projectiles, glaring at her with his other hand on his weapon's handle. "It's over, Cinder. Not that I expect you to listen, but—”
He's interrupted by her lashing out with a kick, letting go of her arm to gain the distance needed to dodge. With a groan, he pulls out his sword, making a few cursory swings at her that are parried via hardened slag without much effort. He then follows up with a rising slash, and Cinder grits her teeth, shaping some of the molten brick into the form of a baton.
"Not so easy without Salem's tricks to bail you out, is it?" Qrow asks as they trade blows. Cinder spits at him, smirking when her searing saliva makes him reel back. Her satisfaction is short-lived; he lets off a few shots that drive her back and follows by closing the gap with a strike that she barely blocks. "What's the matter? Nothing to gloat about now that you're not Mommy's favourite little helper anymore?"
"Shut up!" Cinder moves to strike with her other arm—only to remember it isn't there anymore, and Qrow takes advantage of the opening. With a powerful gut punch, he sends her hurtling into the wall, and she screams in frustration. Extricating herself from the cracked and crumbling bricks, she launches herself at him—
"STAY!"
—only to be held in place by some unseen force that immediately stops all her momentum. She wants to scream again, but can't even move her mouth; all she can do is glare with her good eye as two more sets of feet approach, accompanied by an unusually cold wind.
It's a pair of Ironwood's old dogs—in this case, the literal dog and the Schnee who stole her power. Every part of Cinder longs to break free, to pulverise the woman and turn her to dust like she did the Nikos girl.
Her muscles, however, disagree. They're like unyielding lead at the moment, refusing to allow even a twitch of her cheek.
"Nice timing," Qrow says, stowing his weapon and running a hand down his face. He winces as he comes to the new burn on his cheek, visibly expending a bit of Aura to heal it. "Tch—even down an arm and Maiden powers, she's a nuisance."
"Thank you, Marrow," says Winter Schnee, giving the Faunus a nod as her eyes burn blue for a second. A moment later, the coldest ice Cinder has ever felt encases her legs, and just as the feeling of restraint lessens, it rockets up the rest of her body, making her all but a statue.
"No problem." The former Ace Operative glares back at Cinder for a few seconds. "So what now? Do we just put her out of our misery, or…?"
"No," Winter says, and Cinder feels the tiniest twinge of something else amidst her anger. The Winter Maiden takes her by the arm, drawing close. "She needs to answer for everything she's done. To everyone she's hurt."
#
The only upside to missing an arm is that handcuffing her is impossible—and in spite of the rage she feels at being humiliated so thoroughly, Cinder can at least draw a modicum of satisfaction from the fact that Winter Schnee has to personally escort her with a hand on her remaining wrist. The white-haired woman's displeasure at this is incredibly evident; Cinder feels a smirk grow on her lips at the sight.
"Are you afraid, little Schnee?" she mocks, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Scared I'll escape and humiliate you all over again?"
Instead of rising to the challenge, however, Winter tightens her grip. Then, with her lips hardly a breath from Cinder's ear, she whispers: "I'd like to see you try."
And, despite herself, Cinder shivers.
She's marched through much of the city. No matter how much she goads after that, Winter doesn't respond; with a growl, Cinder just lowers her head and focuses on the lingering stiffness in her joints from being frozen. Every time she tries to jerk away or escape, Winter sends a fresh surge of cold through her body, immobilising her until the woman can calmly re-establish her grip and continue leading her along. She never recovers enough Aura to use her Semblance, either—and so even in the middle of a hot summer day in Vacuo, Cinder is left shivering.
At long last, they arrive at Shade Academy, where she's promptly escorted to a meeting room of sorts. She dimly reflects, as she's forced to sit, that she might be forgiven for mistaking it for hell, given that it appears to be occupied by an all-star cast of every single person who's ever wronged or betrayed her and still drew breath.
(Sans Salem herself, of course.)
But oh, yes—there is Ruby and her group of idiot followers, all staring daggers at her.
There is the boy with the sorcerer's soul, his eyes old and tired.
There is Raven Branwen, expression hidden behind the mask she'd once used to trick her.
And there is Emerald, looking at her like Cinder was the one who'd betrayed her.
The sight alone makes Cinder's blood boil.
And then, in earnest, they begin to debate what should be done with her right in front of her. The idea of executing her outright is quickly and predictably dismissed, and she just rolls her eyes at the bleeding heart sentiment behind it all. Sending her out into the desert is "too dangerous", for they have no way of guaranteeing she won't sneak in again. Imprisoning her through normal means is impossible, given her Semblance; with sufficient time, she can melt through just about anything.
Finally, it's Oz who put the matter to bed: "With the power of two Maidens, it should be more than possible to construct a space only accessible by them. A… miniaturised type of 'Vault', if you would. I believe that would serve as adequate containment."
While there is some further debate, mostly on the grounds of if they really plan to leave her in there until she dies, the ultimate decision is that it's the best solution at hand. Thus, she is blindfolded, led somewhere else, and made to stand around for awhile while her new cage is constructed, simmering with fury the entire time. She can't even attempt to escape; the infuriating Atlesian Faunus, accompanied by the whiny blond in armour, keep her locked down and unable to struggle.
Minutes, maybe hours, pass before it is done—or so she assumes—and she's shoved forward. Her heels hit wood, and her hand is released. She stumbles, falls, and growls. Immediately, she tears the blindfold from her eye and sees—
—a clock.
Well, a clock tower, actually (for that is undeniably where she is, with all the gears and shafts and chains and levers), but there, right before her, is the face of a clock. Both its hands rest on twelve—noon.
No, she realises with a grimace as she peers into the darkness beyond, midnight.
She is alone, and there is no apparent way out. The stairs leading downward just meet a solid stone wall, and following the ones leading upward leads her to a small living space closer to the centre of the clock face. It's pathetically humble, hardly bigger than the old space she'd carved out for herself in the Glass Unicorn. There is a bed, a desk, a table with chairs, what looks to be a small kitchen…
Growling, Cinder looks at the flight of stairs on the other end of the room. With a purposeful stride, she ascends those, and finds herself in a still quainter space. It's a sitting room, or perhaps a study, with its walls lined with shelves containing old, dusty books that she does not care to inspect the titles of. With a derisive snort, she looks around for another set of stairs.
There is none. The very top of the clock face leers at her from the place where the floor meets the wall, but otherwise, there is no sign of an 'outside' or any possible egress. The roof here slopes, and even a blast of superheated air provides not so much as a scorch mark on the apparently-impervious wood that comprises Cinder's own personal Vault.
Well—that's fine. She can see the vaguest hint of somewhere outside; stars and the snow on hillsides that reflects them. She has to be somewhere on Remnant. She'll escape, and then…
And then what?
It isn't as if she has anywhere to go. Everyone on Remnant knows her face now. Her own power has been taken from her, and she's been cast aside like some discarded plaything. Here she is again, with nothing, while the one who promised her power continues on as if Cinder had never been necessary in the first place. The Summer Maiden is unknown, the Fall Maiden is Salem's newest prized soldier, and the Winter and Spring Maidens are surrounded by people that Cinder has no hope of besting by her lonesome! The Relics are out of her reach! Ruby is—somehow—alive! Mercury has decided to wag his tail for Salem, forgetting who he ought to be grateful to, and Emerald—!
She isn't sure when she started screaming—only that when she's done, her throat is raw and bloody from it. By the time she comes back to herself, the study is an utterly-destroyed catastrophe of burning books and smoke. She staggers a few steps more, then collapses to her knees, heaving and panting and letting out one final, choked scream before she folds in on herself.
And she cries.
Pathetically, like the utter weakling she had sworn never to be again, Cinder Fall kneels amidst the flames and cries. She cries until it hurts. She cries until the tears no longer come. She cries until her head goes fuzzy and her vision goes dark and until, at long last, she sinks into blissful, silent nothing.