Chapter Text
Ilia is sat on a rooftop in Menagerie when she first sees the message. Her scroll hasn’t been any use for inter-kingdom communication since the fall of Beacon, but she’s been carrying it anyway, holding out hope for some word, any word from Blake.
What she gets instead in a younger-looking girl in a red hood. Ilia has never spoken to her, but she’s fairly certain this is one of Blake’s teammates. That prospect alone is enough to cause her to tense up.
And yet, it’s Blake’s voice that she hears first.
“Okay, go ahead” Blake says from off-camera, as the red-hooded girl jumps slightly in surprise.
Ilia lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in, allowing her shoulders to relax slightly. Just knowing that Blake is safe is enough to set her at least a little at ease.
The girl on the screen introduces herself as Ruby Rose, and announces that she’s broadcasting from Atlas. Ilia allows a smile to creep to the corners of her mouth. “They made it.”
Her momentary relief is over as quickly as it began however, as Ruby continues her message. According to the young huntress, it seems that the people behind the attack on Beacon have made another play, this time against the entirety of Atlas, and to make matters worse, Atlas’ own leader seems to have lost his mind (assuming he had it to begin with).
There’s a twisted part of Ilia that wouldn’t exactly be sad to see that awful city go, but the knowledge that Blake is caught up in all of it, not to mention all the innocent civilians, is enough to silence those thoughts.
Either way, she isn’t given the time to dwell on it longer. Each new revelation contained within the message is terrifying in its own right. The Grimm have a leader? She’s been behind everything bad that’s happened in the last couple of years? She’s immortal?!
It all seems like too much to believe, but Ilia knows better than to distrust someone Blake has put so much faith in. Maybe in the past, Blake could have been led astray by charismatic lunatics, but that time is long gone. Now, if Blake vouches for someone, they’re somebody worth listening to as far as Ilia is concerned.
Of course, she still has a mountain of questions in response to what she’s just heard, but it quickly becomes clear that she won’t be getting any more answers; at least not now. As quickly as the message began, it abruptly ends, cutting Ruby off mid-sentence.
Ilia is on her feet immediately. She doesn’t know what caused the transmission to go down, but none of the possibilities are good news. Blake and her friends almost certainly need help.
Before she even has time to start moving, Ghira Belladonna is barrelling down the street beneath her. Catching her eye, he stops and bellows up to her, his voice commanding but tinged with unmistakable panic.
“Assemble the militia! We need to get to Atlas as soon as possible!”
The militia doesn’t find Blake’s team in Atlas. In fact, they barely find anything in Atlas; anything salvageable at least. Where the twin cities of Atlas and Mantle once stood, there is now only a flooded crater, whose surface is broken only by the occasional mangled building jutting out above the waterline.
Ilia’s hands rise subconsciously to her mouth. What could do this to a city? How many people managed to get out before it happened? Did Blake even-
The thought that Blake might be buried under the rubble is nauseating; so much so that Ilia has to step away because she can’t stand the sight of Atlas anymore.
She isn’t sure how long she’s been stood in the cold when she feels a firm hand on her shoulder, and turns to meet Ghira’s gaze. His face is steely; the mask of a strong leader who is clearly just as capable of motivating his followers as he was when he started the White Fang. One look at his eyes though, and Ilia can see the same fear that is undoubtedly visible in her own.
“I’ve sent out patrols in every direction” Ghira says with a voice not quite steady enough to match his face. “If anyone… The survivors can’t have gone far. Once we find someone, they can lead us to the rest.”
It doesn’t escape Ilia’s notice that Ghira had caught himself before raising the possibility that there weren’t any survivors. She can’t exactly blame him. The thought that Blake might be gone is unbearable even to her; someone who’s known Blake only a few years. She can’t even begin to imagine how it must be for her father.
Fortunately, Ghira’s scouts do find something. A trio of them come running back to Ghira after a couple of hours looking rather confused. “Sir!” a lanky jackal Faunus pants in Ghira’s direction “we’ve spotted something to the north! You’re gonna want to see this.”
“Is that?..” Ilia mutters as she stares out at the massive structure sitting slightly askew in the snowfield in front of them.
“Amity Colosseum” Ghira confirms. The hulking stadium looks a little different than it did on the broadcasts; had she just never noticed that big tower coming out of the top of it? Or was it a recent addition?
“What the hell is it doing out here in the middle of the tundra?” Ilia asks.
“Your guess is as good as mine” Ghira answers. “Either way, it’s the only decent shelter for miles around. If the survivors went anywhere, this would have been their best bet.”
“Then let’s get in there” Ilia says, feeling her eyes prickle. She knows they changed colour for a moment, but she doesn’t know which one, nor does she want to. All that matters right now if getting some answers.
Getting into Amity isn’t a challenge. Fortunately the entrances are still above the snow, and the militia members are able to get up to one of the main gates simply by giving each other a boost. Dull light emanates from the corridor leading inside the stadium. Ilia takes that as a good sign. Light means power, which hopefully means heat as well, which would mean that anyone inside is likely to still be alive.
She takes off down the corridor before the rest of her cohort are even finished clambering up. Ghira and a few others bolt after her, not willing to let her go alone. Panting from exertion, she shout into the cavernous metal space.
“Blake! Blake?! It’s Ilia! Are you here?!”
Nothing. There’s a twisting in the pit of her stomach, but she forces it down and keeps yelling.
“Blake! Can you hear me?! We brought the Faunus Militia! Shout if you need help!”
Still nothing. Ilia tries not to panic. Who else might be here? That girl in the video was called Ruby Rose, right? And who were Blake’s other friends; the ones from the train station? She mentally scolds herself for never bothering to introduce herself to any of them.
She remembers that there was one that Blake wouldn’t stop looking at; the blonde girl; what was her name? Yin, or something? Ilia can’t remember for sure, but she remembers the face, as well as some… other features. The thought of how Blake stared at her from that bridge makes Ilia’s eyes prickle red for an instant, but she pushes the petty thought away. Yang! That was it.
“Yang! Ruby! Anybody?!”
She’s out of breath as she reaches the end of the corridor, and finds the already large space around her opening out into a massive circle; the arena where the world watched Beacon fall into chaos what felt like an eternity ago.
Finally stopping for a moment, she looks around the cavernous space above her. Dim lights illuminate the walls, and windows in the ceiling let in the daylight, so pretty much the entire stadium is visible. Some surfaces are pockmarked with holes and slashes, and the metal tower running up the centre seems to have had its supports pretty badly melted. She doesn’t even want to guess what went down, but it can’t have been good.
She’s about to go and take a closer look at the tower when she hears footsteps, or something that sounds almost like footsteps, coming from a corridor to her left. The steps sound heavy, metallic, and there’s this mechanical whirring sound between them, as though they’re being driven by servos rather than muscles.
She wonders briefly whether some Atlesian Knights have been left to autonomously patrol the structure, and notices herself grimacing slightly at the thought. The last time she had seen any of those things, it had been on the news, watching them fire into crowds of civilians during the fall of Beacon.
Ruby’s message had made it clear that Atlas hadn’t been responsible for that, but if those were Knights she was hearing, it couldn’t hurt to be careful. So, she slips herself against the wall beside the tunnel, and turns the same sheet grey as the metal.
What rounds the corner is very much not a group of Atlesian knights. Instead, Ilia finds herself staring at an old man, sat in a chair supported by four spider-like legs.
“Wha- Who are… Oh, like it matters! Thank goodness you’ve come!” The old man blurts out, grabbing Ilia’s hand in both of his and shaking it with surprising energy for someone who looks like he hasn’t walked in years. He’s smiling at the sight of her, but Ilia can see the tinge of panic in his eyes.
“Uh… Ilia. Ilia Amitola” she answers. “I’m here to help.”
Ghira bounds over to her, panting slightly from his efforts to keep up with her. “Ilia! Don’t run off alone! We don’t know that the enemy is entirely gone!” His expression softens slightly as he takes in the sight in front of him though. “Though… I don’t suppose these two are a threat”
“Uh… two?” Ilia asks, before jumping back slightly as a small head appears from behind the old man’s chair. Stepping into view, its owner is an old woman wearing a pair of bizarre goggles that look like something Atlas would have manufactures decades ago. Ilia hadn’t even noticed her from behind the man’s chair.
“That’s right” the women says in a slightly crotchety tone. “Leave it to a youngster to completely overlook and old woman. Name’s Maria Calavera by the way, and he’s Pietro Polendina, since you didn’t ask.” She gestures in the direction of the chair-bound man.
Ilia isn’t in the mood to deal with attitude right now. Thankfully, Ghira speaks up before she can say something undiplomatic.
“Apologies ma’am. I’m sure we’re all a little on edge right now. Is there anyone else here with you?”
“I’m sorry to say it’s just us” Pietro answers, holding his cap against his chest in a way that looks far too much like paying last respects for Ilia’s liking. “We were here trying to use Amity to send out a broadcast signal to get help from the other kingdoms, but we… took some damage, so we had to set her down all the way out here. I never knew how much of the message got through, but if you’re all here, I suppose it was enough.”
“Rest assured, we’ll get you to safety” Ghira says calmly, placing a hand on Pietro’s shoulder.
“Never mind that” Pietro says with a shake of his head “please, did you stop by the city before coming here? We haven’t heard anything; my daughter, she… did anyone-”
“I… I’m sorry” Ilia answers, not wanting Ghira to be the bearer of bad news; he’s going to have to do more than enough of that in the days to come. “We’ve just come from Atlas. The whole city’s… gone. Mantle too. Atlas… crashed right on top of it. We don’t know if… we don’t know who else made it out.”
She can practically see the moment the hope leaves Pietro’s eyes. He slumps back in his chair and puts his head in his hands. “Then… we were too late.”
“You don’t know that Pietro” Maria speaks up from his side. “There could be any number of survivors, and looking after them could well be keeping the kids busy.”
“That’s not good enough dammit!” Pietro shouts with surprising ferocity, banging a fist on his armrest. “I’m so sick and tired of not knowing if my own daughter’s alive or dead!”
“I understand what you’re feeling right now, but please try to stay calm” Ghira urges him. “Believe me I do. My own daughter was caught up in all of this too, and I’ve thought of nothing but what might have happened to her since that broadcast, but we are useless to them unless we take action.”
Ilia has never felt more admiration for Ghira than in this moment. To stay in control when he must be feeling Blake’s absence so acutely is… frankly amazing. It’s only when this though occurs to her that she realises she’s been doing the same. It hasn’t felt like it because she still feels like she’s been ripped apart on the inside, but on the outside, she’s stayed on her feet and done what needs to be done. She allows herself a brief moment of pride for that.
“What to we do now Ghira” she says assuredly, ensuring that Ghira can decide their course before Pietro can make any further objection.
Pietro steels himself. “Go to the only place that makes sense. “If Blake and her friends did make it out of Atlas, they would have headed to Vacuo. It’s the only kingdom this ‘Salem’ hasn’t hit yet. It’s going to need all the help it can get to defend against her.”
“Right… you’re right” Pietro says, his voice noticeable weaker than before. “It’s what Penny would do, and what she would want me to do if… if she couldn’t”
“Alright them” Ghira answers. “We have a transport convoy not far from here. If you’ll follow me outside, we can join up with them and be on our way immediately.”
And the group turn to leave, Ilia steals a look at Ghira. Despite the confident speech he just gave, there’s no more hope behind his eyes than there is in Pietro’s. He knows as well as she does that there’s every chance they won’t find their loved ones in Vacuo.
What she also knows though, is that they need to go anyway. Ghira was entirely truthful about one thing: Vacuo is going to need all the help it can get, and providing that help is their duty, even if there’s no reward at the end; even if the only lives saved are strangers whose survival can never fill the hole Blake leaves behind. It’s what she would do, and Ilia will just have to hope that that’s enough.