The Tampico Theater would've been a beautiful place in its heyday. The kind of place that could've put the Aces to shame. It had everything, space enough for seating and dancing, stage enough for any band, and décor that matched the Madre in style and taste. Even after being hermetically sealed for more than two centuries and change, it was still beautiful.

Minus the holograms haunting its corridors.

The way into the Tampico had been mostly clear. The front door had a terminal with the lingering last words of the former employees, and the hall to the theater held some of their remains. Altogether there hadn't been much cause for alarm, minus a few speakers and radios. If it hadn't been for them, it was as though the theater had been in stasis. Waiting for the opening Gala to commence and let the crowds in for its inaugural show. One that was long overdue. Almost made me wish I was its intended audience.

As security would have it though, I wasn't.

I'd stepped up to the stage to collect some items that Elijah and my pip-boy deemed important, when Domino showed himself. He was on a catwalk overlooking the stage, and warned me that the security system had chased him up there. I wasn't surprised he'd managed to make his way into the Madre, he'd been very upfront about what he wanted from this whole mess. Though I was surprised by the fact he was seemingly happy to see me. Hadn't figured we'd gotten on very well. But, any port in a storm, enemy of my enemy.

After a quick exchange of barbs, Domino informed me that the security Holograms had chased him up to the catwalk. Then warned me they'd be walking out of the entryway to do the same to me in a moment. With a bit of direction, he had me make my way to house right, stage left, of the Theater. Quickest way out of their sight. Unfortunately, because the system was still engaged, it meant that the exits and most of the doors in the Theaters were still locked down, trapping me and Domino inside. Made me wonder how I'd managed to get inside, but in the scheme of things it was a minute issue. Once I was backstage, I had access to the dressing rooms, and any supplies in them despite Domino's protests. The two of us were still separated by a sealed door to the Catwalk, so it wasn't like he could do much to stop me. I found some… interesting notes. Added them to a list I'd tallied throughout the Madre.

But I also found something more important: A recording. One for what was probably one of Domino's rehearsals. Meant to be played when there weren't any live performers available. The Hologram system really was multipurpose. Which had me realize two things: The system couldn't keep security going if it had to play Domino's recording. In addition, if it was a recording for the Grand Opening, it was likely to keep the same security overrides as the Gala itself. In theory, if I played it, I could down the security system in the Theater, if only until the show ended.

I'd been to a few live shows. They tended to go a while.

So I snuck back out into the Theater and kept low among the tables and chairs. The Holograms were very binary in their programming. If they saw me, they'd lock onto me and zap me until I was a charred corpse. But if they didn't see me, I was completely invisible. They didn't question if they heard something, or if they picked up movement in the shadows. It was only yes or no, was I there, or not.

With everything in between us, as I walked the rim of the theater, I was as much a ghost as they were.

Making my way to the back corner of house right, I rounded a corner into a stairwell. Behind cover, I quickly climbed up to the projectionist's booth and set the holotape into the machinery. A couple of keystrokes and button presses, plus maybe a whack or two, and it got working.

On the floor below, I watched with some degree of satisfaction as the Security holograms flickered out. Replaced by copies of a younger Domino and his band on the stage, plus a few observers on the theater floor. Milling about, or seated at displaced tables.

I breathed out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. We were out of danger for the moment. I could see Domino across the way, cheering.

"Good thinking, partner!" He shouted, before settling into a chair on the catwalk "Come back over! Should be safe now!"

I nodded and started down the stairs. Without missing a beat, I rounded the corner and started across the theater openly. Happy when I didn't suddenly come under blue laser fire.

Calmly, I walked back towards the side of house left, where I'd had to work my way from in the first place. Gave me a chance, to watch Domino's performance from the crowd perspective. Had to say, prima donna though he was, he put on a good show, even to a less than packed audience. Made me wonder what a show at the Fronds would've been like, in his day. Even through the centuries old speakers, he still sounded even crisper and resonant than he did at the present. He wasn't a bad looking guy either. I'd seen his picture before on some posters, had the sharp and defined face shape that Hollywood must have adored. Really showed just how much the Madre and the War had taken from him too.

But then, was it taken, or freely given?

I walked back to house left and backstage. Immediately to the right, the door to the Catwalk. It was unlocked so I let myself in, and was greeted by a long staircase. I could see Domino up at the top, illuminated by a single bare bulb. Without turning to look, he motioned to me to come up and join him. I did so, albeit cautiously. Wouldn't be the first time a friendly invitation from him turned out to be a trap.

At the top of the catwalk was another console, meant for controlling the stage and its parts. Along with it, Domino and another chair besides the one he was using. Unlike the first time we'd sat together though, these were basic folding chairs. All steel, no cushion to be hiding explosives under.

"Take a seat, partner." Domino said, amiably. "We made it in, might as well enjoy it while we can."

I nodded, and took the seat next to him. He was looking down at the show his Hologram was putting on. Expression was a bit hard to read. Only thing I was getting off of him was bitterness.

"Those electric ghosts aren't the kind of audience I like at the best of times. At least the ones in the Villa had taste." Domino said, then scoffed. "Don't even know how I ended up here. Guess the Madre still remembers guests even after all this time. How's that for history?"

"Better than other kinds, plenty of bad around here otherwise." I said, watching as Domino's projection danced. "You alright?"

"Yeah, now." Domino said. "Talk about a captive audience… or captive entertainer?... Ech, whatever."

I nodded. Taking a moment to pull out my Police Pistol, and reload the cylinder. Had to waste a few bullets on the speakers, better to make sure I was topped off. When I was done, I put it back in its holster.

"Look, I'm more about short goodbyes than long thankful speeches." Domino said, pursing his scarred lips. "But… I appreciate you bailing me out of a tight spot there, partner." He leaned back in his chair. "I know you didn't do it out of the goodness of you heart, so why don't I give you something a little more practical- A way we both come out ahead in this."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"I'm not an idiot." Domino said, echoing something he'd said to me when we'd first met. "I know the only reason I'm in here is because of the old guy… and you." His head lolled to the side to regard me, with a lopsided smirk. "-and you're wearing a collar. So I trust you a little more than I do the old guy. He's more controlling than I'd like."

I nodded, content to hear him out.

"Thing is, here's where being my partner pays off." Domino said, turning back towards the show, smirk growing. "See… I know how to get into the Casino Vault."

I felt my eyebrow rise in curiosity. Domino must have been able to tell he really had my attention now. His smirk only got bigger.

"What do you mean?" I asked, mulling his words over with what I already knew. "Explain."

"There's a private elevator, Sinclair's elevator." Domino said. "It's up in the Executive Suites, in Vera's room. Not a coincidence."

"How so?" I probed.

"Vera. She was… my other partner, back before the bomb." Domino answered, his smirk fading, voice getting strangely melancholic. "Took some legwork. Some convincing, made it happen. Sinclair was already puppy-eyed, so all I had to do was the introductions. She smiled, fluttered her eyes… showed a little leg." Domino swept his arms up, gesturing to the Theater, the Madre as a whole. "… And he built this whole place for her. Made her the key to his vault, like a joke, because of her name… Her fake Hollywood name."

"Except Sinclair didn't know you'd been there first." I said.

"And I could twist her whatever direction I wanted." Domino said, voice falling to a growl. "All she had to do was get inside the Sierra Madre for the Gala, then use her voice to open the door. After that… smooth sailing. Would have been the biggest heist in history. Sinclair left holding the bag. Ruined." Domino's waxy lips cracked into a smile.

"That's when the bomb hit." I said. "Stopped this whole place in its tracks."

The smile melted off of Domino's face. "Like the flash bulb on a camera, at the finish line of Humanity's race. " He said, lowly. "Vera got sealed in here. A few hundred years go by, give or take. Almost the end of the story… Then you came along." After a moment, a smaller, more vindictive smile cracked back across Domino's face. "Now, we finish the job. Rob the Sierra Madre, rip out its heart. Last chapter of Fredrick Sinclair. Close the book."

I nodded looking down to the stage. Letting Domino's feelings of rage and spite linger for a bit. Let him marinade in them. Two centuries plus, what was a few more seconds. It made him more pliable.

"There's just one thing I don't get." I said. "Why? Why any of this? What was your problem with Sinclair?"

"Problem!?" Domino snarled "I'm not the one with the problem, he is. Acting all high and mighty, lording it over everyone. Acting so self-righteous, like nothing could hurt him, touch him." Domino's hand flared up, lashing outward in large gestures. "Never got mad at anything. Nothing seemed to shake him, even after his life kept getting dragged through the dirt…" Domino calmed himself, letting his hands fall back to his knees. "Always kept looking on the bright shining future in everything… So, I decided to take everything from him."

"… Ok." I said, a little more pointedly now. "But what did he do to you?"

"Do to me? What, weren't you listening?" Domino hissed, looking down at his younger ghost, still swinging at the mic. "He thought he was better than me. Don't believe me? Look around." Domino gestured to the Madre once more. "This big casino, this colossal monument- You think it was all for some woman?" He chuckled, derisive and mirthlessly. "No, all ego. All self-righteous in lights. Fit him perfectly. Had to take him down a few pegs, bring him down to my level." He shook his head. "'Begin again?'… Some things you don't get back up from. I was going to prove it to him."

"And you're still going to prove it now?" I asked, my voice growing stony and grave. "How?"

Domino paused, setting his jaw. "… Wasn't sure, at first." He said, after a long moment. "Then, the old man showed up. You showed up… Then the woman with the scars showed up."

I felt my stomach enter free fall at the mention of Christine. I knew instantly, before Domino had even started speaking, who'd locked Christine in the Auto-doc back at the Clinic.

"The one who makes all the hand signs, a little tight around the corners of her mouth?" Domino prompted. "It took some work, but the Clinic let me tune her, like an instrument. If she heals up? It won't be her voice she's speaking with anymore."

Another realization clicked in my head. "… You made her sound like Vera." I said.

"Assuming the Madre hasn't claimed her, yes." Domino said darkly, then shrugged. "Even if it has?... Well, there's enough of her still around. What's a few more years piecing together a few recordings?"

"And if she's still alive?" I asked, gravely.

Domino smirked "Then she can make some beautiful music…" His smirk vanished. "I'm personally not banking on it."

I nodded, then made sure I had things right. "So Vera is the key to getting down into the Vault, where Elijah wants to go. If Christine's alive, her voice can now act as the key to open the Vault."

"If she's not, you can piece together the remaining bit of Vera's voice from the recordings." Domino said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "You do that, the Madre spreads its legs, and we're in business."

I leaned back slightly in my chair as well. "All this, just to find out we need a dead woman's voice to get inside… can't ever be simple."

"No. Simple is for bass players and mindless starlets." Domino chuckled. "You and me, partner? We're cut from a different grade of material. We know what we want. We know how to get. It."

I nodded. "… Guess all there is to do now is press forward. See what I can do on my end."

"You do that, partner, knock yourself out." Domino chuckled. Without pause, he decided he'd had enough of the show, and stood up. Stretching in a way that made his centuries old bones creak and crackle. "As for me, I think I'll catch my breath for a bit. Pop down to that little snack bar in the corner there and see what's on tap. This show's put a little more… pressure on me than I was expecting."

I nodded, but didn't get up from my seat. Domino walked around my seat and went for the stairs. He started down them at a leisurely gait. Humming along to the music still playing in the background.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four.

My hand flashed to my holster and drew my Police Pistol. It whipped to my side, in line with my shoulder, and almost instantly drew a bead.

I fired at the back of Domino's head.

Missed the mark, but caught him anyway.

Blood bloomed from the side of Domino's neck, as the bullet passed just over his collar. The force of the round ripped through Domino, causing him to stumble forward. It evolved into a full fall, as he rolled forward down the stairs. I heard him connect with each one.

Only after it stopped, did I get out of my chair, fixing my armor.

I'd known Domino was responsible for what had been happening in the Madre. Getting to pick through the place with a fine toothed comb meant turning up a lot of notes, journals, receipts, and records. He didn't put his name too much, but I could see the connections. To the construction company, to the way things didn't even seem to keep to schedule. All the pain and suffering everyone had gone through stemmed as much from him as Sinclair's own poor management.

I'd only learned about his connection to Vera after finding the notes in their dressing rooms.

At the end of it all, I'd only wanted to understand one thing. Something that could turn the whole thing around, and shed some light on the subject: why? What could Sinclair have possibly done to Domino to leave him with the sole, burning desire to see him destroyed. Had it been something heinous, maybe I'd have just let the whole thing go.

But, Domino's answer?

Sinclair had the audacity to be an even remotely better person than him.

That alone was reason enough to try and sunder him.

Domino made his choice as quickly as I'd made mine. It didn't balance or even things out. A lot of people, both directly and indirectly, were dead because of the choice Domino made. More would die, as long as the Madre stood.

He didn't get to walk away.

I'd dealt with enough monsters like him recently. Knowing what needed to be done was old hat.

You had to shoot them in the head.

I started down the stairs keeping my pistol in my hand and at the ready. I could see where Domino had landed. He'd left a lot of blood behind him. Must have caught an artery. But the blood was dragged forward in a smearing trail. As I stepped down, I saw Domino had pressed himself up against the wall opposite the door. His sunglasses had fallen off, and his suit was soaked in red. Both hands, one of which could've gone for a pistol, were clasped tightly over the wound in his neck. Blood oozed between his fingers.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and stalked up to him. He watched me with bewildered, confused, and maybe even hurt eyes.

My pistol locked at my hip.

"It's like you said." I told him coldly. "Some things you don't get back up from."

I fired.

A hollow pointed wad of lead painted the wall cherry pie red.

…

I rolled over in my cot to find that I hadn't spent the night alone. At some point during the night, Zwei had toddled over and decided to join me. Which didn't bother me too much, cleaning up the dog hair would be annoying but not unmanageable. Though it did annoy me that he stole a sizeable chunk of the cot. Literally laid down in the middle and forced me to try and mold around him.

My sleep disturbed, I got into gear maybe an hour before I otherwise would have needed to. Put me roughly back into the frame of when I needed to wake up to do morning training. Though knowing I had both aura training, and prowling Vale to look forward to later in the day, I opted to take it slow instead. There wasn't much sense in grinding myself deeper into the ground.

So I got dressed, made a pot of coffee, and headed up to the roof of the dorms. Even carried Zwei with me, because I felt like having company.

I took a seat at the east-facing edge of the roof and waited. My cup o' bean and chaw juice in one hand, and my tactical support pup using my leg for a head rest. For posterity, I was sipping through my straw. Just safer that way. Most people might not be looking up this early in the morning, but there were more and more transfers coming in everyday for the Vytal festival. Despite it still apparently being a few weeks from actually starting.

But I sat there, on the roof for a while, watching towards the horizon. It'd be coming up over the wilderness at the Kingdom's edge. The air was cool and damp, for a summer morning. Dew was settled on the stonework and plants below. The heat wave we'd been going through had decided to back off it seemed, even if only for a short while. Though it'd make little difference elsewhere.

I turned and looked over my shoulder, to the west.

And the distant, dark, and nightly silhouette of Vale.

I'd be returning to it in about twelve hours, with a gaggle of teenagers in tow. Things weren't going to be getting any easier from here, but it was hard to imagine them getting worse either. It was a bridge we'd need to cross and burn together when we got to it.

Until then, why let it spoil the morning?

So I sat and waited, with Zwei, and my drink. Watching as the sun painted the sky like oil on a canvas. The extra humidity in the air promised it would be an exquisite work.

No matter what else happened, it was the start of a good day. If I believed that, maybe I could make it so.

…and maybe molerats would fly.

…

I held the armor plating in my hand, lifting it up to get a better look at it.

"How is it?" Ruby asked leaning in over my shoulder

"Better than I thought, but still not good." I mused "Did my best to not get hit, but anything that did needs to be checked over."

The damage from my getting ambushed by the Fang was evident. Dust wasn't as good about putting holes in things, but they still left marks, divots. I could see a long scratch where Neo had been able to catch me. Pock marks where some spicier bullets had gotten their mark.

Smartest thing to do would've been to scrap them and get new material to work with.

But that would mean working to find out what grades of material would be reasonable substitutes. Which would take more time than I had…

"You wouldn't happen to know what steel around here would be good for armor, would you?" I asked Ruby. "I'm familiar with some of the scrap available back home, but I'm a little out of my element here."

Ruby pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head. "Nope. Sorry."

I shrugged. "All good. I'd rather not take the chance if I could avoid it, but shit happens." I set the piece back with the rest. "Most of it still seems serviceable, the material I made the repairs with was of a comparable grade. I just know this stuff has limits. Should be able to take a few more hits though."

Once more in the workshop, my teammates, and JNPR were going over their equipment. Methodically, with a fine toothed comb. Anything that could be a problem would be, and I told them they needed to be ready for tonight. While there were a lot of things that were going to be left to chance, their personal effects couldn't be. They were the one thing that we had any control over. Last thing I needed was for someone's gun to hang-up, or get jammed mid-transformation. Just because it hadn't happened yet, didn't mean it couldn't.

The only one who I wasn't really concerned about was Jaune. His weapon was pretty simple, and as long as he knew how to use whetstone, he was in good shape.

I set my hand to the chin of my mask. "… I could scrap the targets from the Range out-back. They're made to take a beating, so they'd have to be a decent quality material."

"But then you'd be breaking the range." Ruby said.

"… Good point, that kills that idea." I agreed, affixing the armor plates back into position. "Gonna need to do some reading. You're bound to have something around here that can stand pretty close."

"What's this made out of anyway?" Ruby tapping at one of the armor plates.

"Originally?" I asked. "A high grade, abrasion resistant steel, sealed with an anti-spal coating and belted over a Kevlar tunic. Unfortunately, everything has its limits, so I've had to make repairs. Most of the plates are actually an improved layering of ceramic and ballistics steel. Cuts down on the weight, while keeping the protection the same. Though the use of ceramics eats away at its durability, when sandwiched between steel plates, it still serves its purpose."

"Why not use a different material?" Weiss asked, next to Yang across the table, the cylinder of revolver-rapier-toothpick… revolrapick?... her weapon hinged open in front of her. The cylinder pulled off its axis as she cleaned the timing grooves with a wire brush. "There are bound to be better solutions than just layering things together."

"Well, yes and no." I said. "Yes, there are better alternatives. But most of them came with their own drawbacks. Material costs, weight, workability, availability, and chemical make-up to name a few. Ceramics and steel were just the more common choices because the facilities already existed to readily produce both. Not to mention formulating them was simpler and easier. Same goes for Kevlar, since it's just aromatic polyimides synthesized with the appropriate lab equipment."

"Aro-what?" Ruby asked.

"Synthetic fibers brought about by mixing an Amine with Carboxylic acid and applying heat." I explained. "They produce a fiber similar to asbestos that can be woven into cordage and sheets, which are then woven into Kevlar."

Ruby gave me the glassed over look of a dead fish.

"… It makes armor." I said, simplifying it, before turning back to Weiss. "Point is, there probably were some classes of material that did make better armor. But with resource shortages and the price of materials, cheaper was better. Wouldn't be surprised if the higher-end stuff did use some combination of a Titanium alloy and self-healing ceramic"

I knew T-51b and later variants of Power Armor did. That and their electroplated silver coating. It made them a bitch to repair.

"Sounds like a lot of work just to stop a bullet." Blake said, breaking down her weapon on the opposite side of Yang.

"It is, which is why you're better off not getting shot in the first place." I said.

"Sounds like something you have a lot of trouble with." Yang said, removing the ejector from her shotgauntlet/ballistic fist.

"…"

My hand snapped out across the table, and I grabbed at Yang's gauntlet. She was ready for it though, and immediately pulled it out of my reach, my fingers only barely catching on something as she did.

Yang gave me a bright smirk. "Really?" she asked, quirking and eyebrow.

"Really." I said, holding up the piece I'd still managed to get.

The main recoil spring.

The smirk melted off her face.

I placed the spring between my thumb and pointer finger of my right hand. The two began compressing the spring rhythmically. Testing its strength and the amount of resistance it had. I could, almost annoyingly, already see how far it could go if I let it.

"Kinda an important bit, this spring." I said. "You really ought to take better care of it."

Yang's brow creased, and her voice took on a warning tone. "Don't you dare-"

I compressed the spring, angled my hand, and let it slip my fingers. It shot off into the air, wiggling and spinning as the material returned to form. Yang's arm snapped out to catch it. Too slow, as it passed right over her hand. We watched it rise higher and higher into the air, moving in a shallow arc. Upward, five feet. Seven. Nine. Apex at ten.

The spring trailed back down through the air in an easy line. I'd gotten my angle right, so it would've landed back on Yang's weapon. Except Yang had moved forward to try and catch it.

It bounced off her head instead. Springing off it and onto the floor behind her.

As it rolled to a stop somewhere in the background, Yang gave me a soft glare.

"Your spring is worn down." I said, helpfully. "Were it up to snuff it would've disappeared. Might want to replace it, last thing you need is for your gauntlets to jam mid fight. You've got a good punch, but a gun is a gun."

Yang didn't say anything, just giving me the stink eye and a sharp exhale through the nose. She pushed out of her seat and went to go find her spring. I had to guess it hadn't gone far. Most of its momentum was lost in the initial arc. If she lost it, I could spend some time helping her make a few spares.

I focused on putting the plates back into place. Once they were secure, I set the vest aside and turned my attention to my duster. It was in worse shape by a mile. The vest might've been able to tank the multiple shots well enough, but my coat couldn't.

"Can you fix it?" Ruby asked, looking it over.

"Sure, it'd be easy enough, just time consuming." I said weighing things out. "The question becomes: is it worth the investment to make those repairs? If it still works despite the new tears and holes, then I can put it off for a little while longer. If it can't, it means replacing large stretches of fabric, since stitching individual holes doesn't really solve the issue."

Ruby nodded, poking at my coat as it laid on the table. It seemed like she was counting the bullet holes. There were maybe a dozen of them, spread across the thing. One in particular stood out on the left sleeve. Byz would be pissed if I brought it back for a fix already. Or maybe not, since he seemed to enjoy having a customer that paid in precious metals. Aside from them, there were a couple small tears, and some dirt and debris, a smearing of oil and what looked like paint chips.

"… It'll have to do." I decided, shaking my head. "There're more important things I need to do here today, and fussing over my armor isn't one of them. Clock's ticking, if it's not gonna slow me down it'll have to do."

"It's just a coat." Yang said, sitting back down.

"It's a duster." I clarified. "You should try one sometime."

Yang looked at the coat as I folded it up, then smirked. "I wouldn't say it's dusty, but it's definitely dirty."

"Har-har." I said, setting my armor aside. "Next you'll tell me it's only a thin coating."

Yang smirked. "Well, if you're going to say it-"

"That wasn't an invitation." I said.

Yang rolled her eyes, but kept smirking as she began playing with her spring, her face turning thoughtful as she did.

Armor set aside, I picked up That Gun and started on a basic maintenance routine. It hadn't taken much of a beating, but basics were basics, and you neglect them at your own peril. I finished it quickly, and moved onto my Lever-action shotgun in short order, snapping open the action. Most of the internals were looking good, not much new wear and tear. Maybe a little bit of residue building up in the barrel, but nothing a quick swab and cleaner didn't fix. I gave the parts a quick hosing with oil for protection, and lube, then set it aside. Only simple one left was my flare gun, and it was even easier than the other two.

It had served its purpose in spades though, and deserved one last cleaning before retirement back into my locker. I was going to need more than it could give, going forward.

Funny, wasn't the first time it had made such difference.

I reassembled my Flare gun and set it neatly with my shotgun and That Gun. I then took out Blood Nap and carefully began stropping it on a whetstone among the assembled tools. Felt a snag when I'd used it on myself. Couldn't have that. Totally wasn't trying to put off the bigger problems I needed to deal with.

One of which was sitting directly in front of me.

Well, what was left of it.

I'd lost the electrode and seventy percent of the shaft from my cattle prod. What was left, was arguably the more important pieces. The power cell, the controls, and most of the electrical components. The parts that made it work, but not the ones that made it useful.

"What happened to it?" Ruby asked, clearly tracking my gaze.

"Gave up the ghost keeping me from getting cut in half by a chainsaw." I said slowly stropping Blood Nap. "Thought it could take it. Chainsaws aren't meant for cutting through metal. Turns out, someone else wasn't happy with that."

"Sounds like something out of a horror movie." Ren said, running a swab down the bore of one of his pistols.

"Felt like it at the time." I said, testing Blood Nap's edge. It was good enough, couldn't put it off any longer. Too much to do, not enough time to sit on my hands.

"What do you want to do?" Ruby asked. "We can probably fix it, there's a lot of spare parts around here, it wouldn't be hard to make something work, right?"

I shook my head. "No, it wouldn't, but that's not the biggest issue. During the fight, I kept having to juggle my weapons trying to keep ahead of everyone. If it were just my shotgun and pistol, it wouldn't have been so bad. But my cattle prod was good for buying me breathing room." I rolled the remains of the weapon around with a finger. "Simple, effective… but ultimately limited by its size. Better than punching someone, but too slow to draw and either required me to lose a hand, or leave it stowed. But it still works."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Just not good enough." Ruby said.

I nodded, reaching up to the chin of my mask again. "Fixing it would be easy. It's all about arcing a current through someone. I could fix it as easily as connecting two nails to the stump and soldering the wires into place. But it wouldn't resolve the bigger issue, if anything the changes in design would make it harder to draw and holster."

"So that just means you change the design to something that works better." Ruby said, smiling. "We've got the tools and stuff, you just need to figure out what would work."

"Hm." I grunted. "That's the problem then, what would work better?" I loomed over the table, looking at the broken weapon. "Electricity-based weapons aren't super common in the Mojave. Most of them are ranged weapons."

"Like the Tesla-"

"Yes like the Tesla cannon, Nora." I said, looking over at the girl.

She merely smiled back.

"Don't sweat it." Yang said. "I'm sure inspiration will strike you eventually."

I rolled my eyes, and turned to address her next. But before the words could leave my mouth, my eyes trailed back down to the table. To Yang's gauntlets. Almost as soon as my eyes settled on them, I could feel the wheels begin turning in my head.

We didn't have a lot of weapons in the Mojave that used electricity. Plenty that were powered by it, but few that used it directly.

But I knew about the ones that did.

"… Get it?" Yang asked, smirking. "Strike you?... like lightning?"

"Hm, yes, shocking, brilliant, thank you." I mumbled, staring intently at her gauntlet before flicking my eyes down to my busted cattleprod.

'… this might work.'

"… You ok there?" Yang asked.

"… Yang, I'm gonna need to see one of your gauntlets real quick."

She quirked an eyebrow at me "You think after-"

Unfortunately, Yang mistook my words for a question. My hand shot out, and took the more fully assembled of the two from her. She'd probably have protested, but seemed more shocked by the fact I was going to ignore whatever tirade she levied at me. I engaged the weapon, expanding it to its full size, and set it next to the handle of my prod. Comparing the size of the two, and the complexities in each. I wouldn't need something as mechanically sophisticated as what Yang had. But they were similar in dimensions. For comparison, I compressed and expanded her weapon, Ember Celica, a few times. Getting a feel for the bracelet and gauntlet mode's sizes and weights.

With each moment my fingers played over them, I could almost see the blueprints forming in my head. Every way the bolts had to be cut, the grooves milled. How her weapon needed to articulate itself to run right.

Then I set it down, and picked up my prod.

The plans were far simpler. Less cutting and shaping, more tacking and wiring.

A few more seconds and I set the weapons down. The pieces were falling into place in my head. But I was missing something. A point of contact…

I knew one I could provide.

The idea went crystal clear in my head. A crude one, but one I knew would be effective.

Everyone looked at me curiously.

"Six?" Ruby asked.

"… I'll be right back." I said, immediately bolting up from my seat. With a level of urgency I normally didn't have, I ran back across the workshop to the locker room. Slipping past a couple students blocking the way, and resisting the urge to trip Cardin as I passed him, I went back to my locker and pulled it open. Of all the odds and ends I'd brought with me, I never would've thought that I'd need to use them like this.

I pulled a set of spiked knuckles from my locker, along with my boxing tape and the switchblade I broke when first landing here. The former I'd brought with me, but had never been able to find a proper use for. Compared to a lot of what I'd seen they were underkill. Only serviceable in their conceal-ability. The tape I'd found more use for in training, but had ultimately phased out as well.

They'd both prove useful in this little venture.

Weapons in hand, I shut my locker and hurried back out to the workshop floor. Thoughts swirling in my head about what I needed, versus what I already had waiting at the table. Materials, some wire and scrap metal, something sturdy but thin enough to be easily worn. I was going to need tools, too. Tongs, maybe a torch, definitely a soldering iron for the electrical work, and hammer. A vice probably wouldn't hurt either, but I could probably get pretty close with what was at the table.

Arms stuffed with my plunder, I made my way back to the table and set everything down. I arrayed the materials in a rough diagram in front of me, some vague idea of how they needed to be pieced together. If I'd time to make blueprints, I'd have an even more thorough understanding. But we had what was left of this class to cobble what I might need together. Then it was back into the fight for all of us, tonight.

Didn't matter how crude it looked, if it worked I wouldn't care if it was made of booger welds and scotch tape.

"What're you thinking?" Ruby asked, eying my all of the gathered garbage with a curious gleam.

"There is one electricity based weapon back home, not too different from the Cattle Prod, called a Zap glove." I said, scoring the pieces at the lengths and angles I pictured in my mind. "Thing is, it's not built to function like it either, it's meant to be an anti-armor piece of sorts. Acceptable against soft targets, better against robots and machinery."

And power armor, but I wasn't going to mention that.

"…A zap glove?" Blake asked, amused by the name.

"Yes." I said bluntly.

"And you're going to try and… make one?" Weiss surmised.

"Not exactly." I said. "More treat it as a guideline. The standard zap glove is a bit cumbersome. It needs the extra amps and voltage to punch through armored targets. Meaning more components, wiring, power cells, and so on." I set the bits down and took up the remains of my cattleprod. I began disassembling it. Any components that could be readily repurposed set aside, anything that couldn't was set to be scrapped. "I've got no plans to try and fry armor, robots, or armored robots right now. I just need it to be more functional than it was."

"But wouldn't you need to take the time to plan it then?" Weiss asked. "Designing your own weapon can take days, weeks even for you to get everything-"

"I've got an hour at most, a weapons enthusiast, a keen understanding of what I'm doing, and a nitpick who's apparently trying to invest herself in my affairs." I said, looking up at her from my work. "I think I'll manage."

Weiss stopped, and gave me a sharp look.

"… You wanna keep picking my brain, or work on your own stuff?" I asked.

"…."

Wordlessly, Weiss picked up her stool and scooted around the table, taking my empty side.

"I'll take that as a yes." I said smirking.

"I merely wish to watch." She defended.

"Sure." I said, passing the materials to her. "Do me a favor, double check the measurements I give you." I then turned and looked at Ruby. "How good are you with power tools?"

Ruby smirked. "I can put an edge on anything."

"… Right." I said, decidedly moving the power tools away from her. "You'll be on de-burring and hand-tool duty." I said passing her a file. "Maybe welding duty if you behave."

"Deal!" Ruby grinned.

"Are you really sure this is a good idea?" Weiss asked. "A set of blueprints-"

"Will take too long to draw, just… trust me, alright?" I asked. "I got a feeling about this. Could be I'm about to start a whole new trend in weapons design."

Weiss merely chuckled.

Some people just don't appreciate genius until they see it in action.

With daylight burning, we dove into our work. I finished marking the pieces and gave them to Weiss to double check, and eventually help cut, I processed them, and passed everything to Ruby for cleanup. We went surprisingly smooth about it. Maybe a testament to the skill of my teammates, or maybe I was just giving good instructions. I had at least some faith it was the former.

After all the necessary pieces were either cut, cleaned, disassembled, or some combination therein, we skipped along to assembly. Started with a basic rig I could strap around my right forearm. A brace at the wrist for stability. Provide a hinge point for the mechanism. A pair of bars on either side of my arm, ribs running between them for support. Provide a mounting point for the power cells and electronics. Additional space for the switch and regulator. Yet compact enough, close enough that it could be easily worn under my duster. No need to worry about finding space on my belt. The tricky part turned out to be the wrist mechanism. But the hinge, spring, and latches from the Switchblade worked, if crudely. I was going to need it to be able to deploy immediately when I needed it. A bit of rod as a guide had it pop out near my palm. Coming out far enough I could slip my fingers through the holes. Would need to practice the motions, figure out how to make it smooth. Bit of counterpressure had it slip back into my sleeve when I let go. A little push to get it completely out of the way, but that was a later problem. Set the mechanism to a hair trigger. Tap it, and it'd release. Likewise, swing hard enough, I could give a follow-up punch with a little extra oomph.

By the time we were done, Yang and Blake were watching us intently. JNPR had slowed down their own maintenance as well, but knew they had their own goals to meet.

"Well, what'd I say?" I asked. "Not bad for a spur of the moment design right?"

"It's… not as bad as I thought it would be." Weiss conceded, looking over my arm.

"Imagine what I could've done if I had a napkin to doodle on." I said. "The things I could've accomplished."

"Does it work?" Ruby asked, flitting and orbiting around my arm, eyes sparkling.

"Assuming we soldered everything in place right." I said, double checking the wiring we tacked to the spiked knuckles, wrapped with the boxing tape for cushion, plus an extra layer of electrical tape.

I then extended my arm out to Yang, tapping the trigger and catching the knuckles as they snapped forward. I could hear the electronics begin to hum.

"Fist bump?" I asked, smirking.

Yang looked at me. Then my fist. Then back to me. "… Nah, I'm good."

"Chicken." I said, lowering my fist to the table. Letting the spikes contact the wood.

The electrical current immediately began burning fractals through the tabletop. Forcibly finding the fastest way to close the circuit.

I let out a low whistle. "Ok, I'll admit, it's definitely pulling a better current. Cannibalizing the soldering iron wasn't a bad idea."

Guess Dust tech had some other facets I needed to take a better look at. Admittedly the fact it'd been a wireless soldering iron had been impressive on its own. Though I thought it strange they were still using lightning Dust to operate it. The end goal was to heat the solder, and fire dust was just as stable as lightning. More strange design choices.

Yang looked at the table grimly. Probably glad she'd listened to her common sense this time. To be fair, it wouldn't have severely hurt her, probably. It shouldn't have been pulling the amperage to cause lasting damage. She would've been in for a shock though.

"So, what are you going to name it?" Ruby asked, eyes still sparkling.

"Pardon?" I asked, shifting over to Ruby.

"A name." Ruby repeated. "You gotta name her, it's tradition."

"Maybe around here, but not so much in the Mojave." I said, twisting my arm, looking over my improvised zap gauntlet. "… Well, ok, there are some exceptions, but they're rare. What am I supposed to name it, Sparky?"

"It's not a dog, it doesn't need an actual name." Weiss chastised. "Just something that identifies it as your own."

"So still a name." I said, fiddling with the electronics and turning it off. "…If I gotta name it, I want it simple."

"How about the Cow Puncher?" Yang offered, smirking.

"…" I looked up at Yang, confused.

"Because you used a cattleprod to make it." She said. "… and you punch things with it."

"… that's dumb." I said, unclasping the Cow Puncher from my arm.

"Fine, call it Sparky then." Yang said, rolling her lilac eyes. "Just thought you'd want something with a little more zap." She shrugged. "A little more… punch."

"I think you mean zing, not zap." I said. "Lasers zap, electricity zings, gunpowder goes bang." I lifted up my pip-boy and grimaced, seeing the time. "Got maybe fifteen minutes left. Need to keep moving."

Pushing away from the table, I set down the Cow Puncher, and started towards the reloading bench with my supplies. I wouldn't have time for a trial run of the Cow Puncher until tonight, but I could deal with that when the time came. Don't think there was any doubting at that point we were going to be punching people in the face. Only a question of when, not if.

Being as it was a matter of when, I needed to make sure I had the right ammo when the time came.

I approached the reloading bench and set my materials down, brushing aside anything that might slow me down. It looked like someone else had been using the table as a catch-all for their crap while I wasn't looking. Wasn't surprised, not many knew how to use the equipment, but a table is a table. Without missing much of a step, I set about making the Dust-epoxy mixtures I'd been using in the past. Having found that they'd been viable, for the most part. However, unlike past attempts, I opted for a smaller projectile size. Jumping down from the range of a 12 gauge slug, to a 20.

First step, give myself faster follow-up shots, even if it meant a smaller bullet for now. Which meant a change of weapon. In this case, my shotgun for the flare gun. No time to experiment with styles of shot. Though the idea of pelting people with buckshot that worked like dragonsbreath on Buffout was tempting.

First order of business was actually making the bullets. Slugs in this case. Ice, fire, and 'gravity' dust had proven stable enough to work with. So I was going to make a half dozen of each. Enough I could load a tube of them if I needed to, didn't have time to make more. Mixing three different types of epoxies and Dust at the same time, knowing I needed to work with each of them quickly didn't leave a lot of room for error. I did, however, take some of the leftover epoxy and mix some 'lightning' dust into it. Lightning and wind made a flash bang, Ice made statues and engine blocks, and 'gravity' sent people through walls. If Fire didn't hit people with a fireball, I'd give up on logic altogether.

The epoxies mixed, I poured them carefully into the bullet molds. Watching the mixtures glitter and glow as they settled into the cavities. They were going to take time to set. Probably longer than class, but I could always finish later, after classes were done. Just could spare a lot of time. Working quickly, I began prepping the shotgun hulls. Taking the empties that I had and popping the spent primers out of them, then setting new ones before priming and wading. I could leave them like that, at least for the time being. Until I had the slugs ready. As long as they weren't tipped over, they'd be set.

My preparations complete, I paused and checked the time.

Five minutes had passed.

Might have jumped the gun a little bit. Now all I had to do was wait.

Which meant my mind had time to wander. Which can be extremely dangerous given some of the places I knew he liked to roam. The only control I had was over the things I was looking at.

Bullets and Dust.

What could I do, with bullets and Dust?

But after a moment, I felt contented, knowing there wasn't much. I'd worked things out enough to get an acceptable answer.

"What'cha workin' on now?" Ruby asked.

I turned calmly around and watched her walk up to the table. She eyed the shells and molds, but was smart enough to not touch anything. After watching me tinker and toy with them for the past few weeks, I knew she'd probably started to take some fascination. But she also knew well enough not to tinker with things she didn't understand. Well enough, at least, to know observing was the first step to understanding.

"Moving to the next step." I said, motioning to the curing slugs. "They're not perfect, but they're good enough that I'm willing to start putting them into my main weapons. Made a couple more flash rounds, some more ice, and a few more of the gravity. Saved my tail once, never know when you need to blow down a wall."

"You have a tail?" Ruby asked checking my butt.

"Very funny." I said.

Ruby shot me a smile, then looked at the curing slugs. "Why are you only using epoxy though? Wouldn't they not be as good as bullets then?"

"Yeah, which is unfortunate, since it takes some of the utility out of them." I said. "But I've had time to mull the idea over, and there's issues with the current setup." I began ticking them off on my fingers. "The rifling of my guns would disrupt the epoxy, and run the risk of causing the Dust to go off."

"Meaning it would explode in the barrel." Ruby followed.

"Which would be bad." I said. "Which limits me to smoothbore weapons. I can't imagine making buckshot out of the dust or crystals would be hard, but it'd take more experimenting time, which I don't have right now."

"-and you don't want to just use Dust like we do-" Ruby said, smiling. "Because your guns are made for Gunpowder, and you don't want to damage them, and because you like having them hit harder."

"Another excellent point." I nodded. "Lastly, the idea of filling the base of a lead slug with Dust did cross my mind. Unfortunately, if it impedes the Slug's ability to form to the shotgun, it can affect accuracy and overall velocity. Two things that wouldn't be worth the tradeoff for the meager power the small Dust charge might provide."

"Which means you have to stick with this for now." Ruby said motioning to the slugs. "Because you can't come up with anything else?"

"Not at the moment, no." I said, leaning against the table. "A lot of it is trial and error, more error than trial really. The two can be really disproportionate."

Ruby nodded, looking down at the table. "I remember trying to chamber Crescent Rose was like that for forever. I wanted to try and make her as strong as I could and I had to do so much math."

"Don't you have to do a lot of math as a sniper anyway?" I asked.

Ruby shrugged, blushing "Sometimes- shut up."

I chuckled, and watched for a moment as Ruby began fiddling with some of the sizing dies. As she did, a thought occurred to me. "What cartridge does your rifle fire anyway?" I asked "We clarified it as .50 in the past, but I don't think we ever really got in the weeds about it."

"Oh, nothing special." Ruby smirked "Just 12.7x152mm."

"Yeah that soun-" As the words left my mouth, I felt my brain hit the delete button. "Duh-um… run that back real quick?"

Ruby smiled "12.7x152mm."

"One-fifty-tw– holy crap Ruby." I sputtered "That is a massive bullet."

"As big as I could make it and still carry Crescent Rose around." Ruby nodded.

"Uh, you think!?" I asked. "The standard .50 MG cartridge from the back home is 12.7x99. You're practically double the capacity!"

"…" Ruby chuckled, biting her lip.

"… what?" I asked.

"Mine's bigger." She chuckled.

This girl, I swear.

I took a breath through my nose and did some quick mental math. Given what I knew of Dust. Things actually started to make sense fairly quickly. Dust wasn't as good a propellant, so you needed more of it to achieve the desired result. We'd estimated that Dust has about a third the power of Gunpowder, so a larger cartridge made sense to compensate. The heavier round would still carry most of the energy via inertia, so it worked in its own way. Meaning…

"What pressure is Crescent Rose rated to?" I asked.

"30,000 psi." Ruby said smugly. "I don't normally put those kinds of rounds through her, but she was rated at around that when I tested her."

I smiled.

"Well, then that makes her half as powerful as the 12.7x99." I said. "We cap out closer to 50K at the low range."

Ruby's silver eye bulged. "50?!" She squeaked.

"50," I said, shrugging as I leaned a little further into the table. "But, 30 isn't a bad number, not at all. We've got a .50 cartridge rated for that too. Call it the 12.7 Intermediate." I leaned in a little closer to her. "We use it in Pistols and Submachine Guns."

Ruby looked at me aghast. Not because she was horrified by the mention of new weaponry. Oh no.

I'd just called her baby weak, to her face.

"You jerk!" Ruby said, bopping me with a tiny fist.

"You started it." I chuckled, her fist bouncing harmlessly off my arm.

"You take it back!" She said.

"Can't fight facts Ruby." I replied.

Ruby scowled at me. "Crescent Rose isn't weak, she's big! And strong!"

"Which is why she eats pistol ammo." I needled.

"I never got to test her any higher!" Ruby defended hotly. "She could take it, easy!"

"Of course, of course." I said, trying to wave her off. I'd gone a little hard on her, but there was no reason to push the matter.

Then Ruby marched back to the table, messed with Crescent Rose's magazine for a moment. Then she marched back over. Arriving with a long, silver and red bullet in her hand.

"Unload it." Ruby said, scowling with the fury of a thousand insulted puppies.

"Ruby." I tried to say.

"Do it!" She snapped. "Then reload it like you would one of yours!"

I felt my blood chill.

"… I'm not gonna do that." I said, bluntly.

"Why?" Ruby challenged. "Scared now?"

"Yeah, actually." I said. "Ruby, you've got no idea the pressures we're talking about that'd be sitting right next to your face. Calm down and think about this: if something goes wrong-"

"I'd be fine." Ruby said, picking up a reddish glow. "I've got an aura."

"Not the point." I said. "C'mon Tiny, I know you're smarter than this, and you respect your weapon too much to do something that reckless."

Ruby continued to scowl at me for a moment, all fury and puppies. But as the seconds ticked down, the fury began to melt away, following her aura. The red glow she gained instead lingered on her cheeks in a light dusting.

"… She's not weak." Ruby defended.

"She's not." I agreed. "She's just not tested to handle… that. Don't get upset about it, she's your weapon. You can get her there over time if you want to."

Ruby nodded, still pouting and red.

While she did that, I took the bullet from her and set it in the press.

"What's the normal powder charge in one of these?" I asked.

"…" Ruby paused, watching as I began to set the dies. "I'm not sure. I never really got into this sort of thing."

I nodded "Let's find out together then, eh?"

Using the press, I broke down Ruby's bullet and emptied the charge onto a scale. Didn't mess with the bullet or primer, we'd need them yet. Only real question was the amount of powder.

It was… surprisingly a lot.

"Roughly 250 grains of Dust." I said. "Way more than I'd use to reload a .50MG, but with energy conversions the power isn't the same."

Ruby nodded, watching intently.

I set the Dust aside and began to levy out what I thought was an appropriate amount of powder. Something in the ballpark of a hundred grains. "This should put us roughly near your established threshold." I said, pouring and tapping it into the cartridge. "That way you have a baseline to work with. If it doesn't fire properly, we might need to try a different primer size."

Ruby nodded, taking in what I was saying like a sponge.

I recapped the cartridge with the bullet, seated it, then crimped it shut. Gingerly, I handed it to her. "It's nothing special." I told her. "There's no dust mixed in there, just good 'ol-fashioned gunpowder. It's meant to hit a target hard and put a hole in it. A single job, but it does it very well. I'd recommend not mixing Dust into it either. I get the feeling the two wouldn't play very well."

Ruby took the large, silvery bullet into her hand and held it gently, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully. "… So it's just meant to shoot something."

"To reach out and touch from a distance, yes." I agreed. "And hit them really hard at that."

She nodded, beginning to look more intently at the bullet, pursing her lips. It was perhaps the hardest I'd ever seen her concentrating on something. Couldn't even tell what it was until she started speaking. "… so you can't mix Dust and gunpowder, and making the bullets out of Epoxy only kinda works…" Her eyes widened a little. "What about filling the bullet with dust?"

I felt my head tilt slightly. "…. I don't follow."

"The bullet." She said, tapping the tip of the cartridge. "It's solid metal, so it would protect the dust from the rifling and the gunpowder. Since it's not smoothbore like your shotgun either, you wouldn't need to worry about accuracy either. If you bore out the bottom of them, you can fill them and have them work the same without losing anything."

"…" I felt my blood begin to warm a little. The idea was good, but not quite there. "Good idea, but I don't know if it'd work, Tiny. We're talking about a much smaller amount of Dust because of the bullet size, and the Dust is still exposed to the exploding powder. With those two factors, the risk for damage is still the same, and we'd be losing power."

Ruby's brow furrowed, confused. "Then just use a bigger bullet and cover the back in an extra layer of epoxy to seal it."

"…"

I stared blankly at Ruby, but felt my brain kick into overdrive as she continued to explain her thoughts.

"Bullets are measured by grains, which is their weight beyond their size, right?" She asked. "The only way to add weight is to make them longer, meaning more room for Dust, and then only having a small bit of stuff at the back wouldn't change much, right?"

"…" I cracked a bewildered, positively wondrous smile. "You little genius."

"Hm?" Ruby hummed.

"You, yes you, Ruby Rose, are a genius!" I said, beginning to wheel into motion, feeling a surge of adrenaline. "Don't let anyone tell you differently, the answer was right in front of me, and I couldn't see it, but you could."

With time against me, I began to work at the equipment. There were a lot of guns I could try with, but only so many I could carry. While further changes to my kit were needed, the safest option was just to take one or two 5.56's and test out Ruby's idea. Taking some spare lead, I cast a pair of bullets in a spare mold. The first I kept solid cast, the second I sank a nail into it as the metal was cooling. Try to pre-form the cavity, save myself some work. Once it was reasonably cool, I took a drill to both and bored out the bullets. One thinner than the other, to test the effect. The bigger the bore, the more Dust I could pack in, but the less structurally sound it would be. Though if the thicker of them blew up in the barrel it wouldn't matter anyway. Would need to try again with a stronger metal for a jacket. Copper would be the next guess. After they were formed, I took whatever epoxy mix I had hanging around and nearly filled the cavities, namely 'Gravity'. Then capped them with a layer of non-reactive material, and un-infused epoxy. Should've been more than enough to stop the gunpowder from igniting them.

I set the bullets down, now holding their deadlier payload. "They're going to take a while to cure. But I should be able to piece them together before we leave tonight."

"Do you think they're going to work?" Ruby asked.

"Honestly? I have no idea." I said. "But the theory is sound, as long as they don't tear themselves apart, they should act as a good middle ground between Dust and Gunpowder. They'll have more pop to them, but still carry some of the effects that make Dust so desirable. They won't be as good in either department, because the Dust charge will be limited, and the bullet weights will be lower. But it should be a balanced enough compromise to get as close to the best of both worlds as possible."

"The only way to know for sure would be to actually shoot them." Ruby said, nodding as she looked at her singular Gunpowder bullet.

"I wouldn't be too concerned with that." I said, motioning to her bullet. "Crescent Rose should be able to handle it, especially with your aura."

Ruby turned the bullet over in her hands, pursing her lips. "… Do you think I need to make her stronger?"

I shrugged. "Dunno, haven't shot her. You'd be more knowledgeable than me in that department… Has she served you good so far?"

Ruby nodded.

"Then it sounds like she's fit for what she's doing." I said, cleaning up my messes. "She was built to handle the greater stresses of what you knew. You didn't know about Gunpowder, so didn't build her with it in mind. Could you replace and change parts about her that would make her stronger, and able to handle those differences? Of course. But if the only reason you'd want to make those changes is to prove a point, then is it worth the sacrifice?" I looked towards Ruby as I cleaned off the bench. "Crescent Rose is your weapon, and you're clearly fond of it, more so than I am with most of the guns I use. While change is a natural and healthy thing, not all changes need to happen. As long as you're happy with Crescent Rose, don't let her not being to my standard bother you. I'm not the one using her."

"And what if she's not enough?" Ruby asked.

"Not enough?" I asked, chuckling. "Tiny, you swing around a gun that would put most grown men on their asses, but to you might as well be a broom. You tell me, how is it not?"

Ruby paused for a moment, mulling the words. Then a smile blossomed on her face, and she laughed.

"That's the spirit." I said, my eyes flicking up to the edge of the room. I could see Port was starting to wrap up his own work. "Looks like we're just about out of time anyway."

Ruby followed my gaze and nodded. "… Y'know, if I need to work on Crescent Rose-"

"I'd be happy to help." I finished for her.

She nodded, then motioned for me to follow her. "C'mon, we've got sparring today!"

I nodded and fell into a slow step behind her.

Unbeknownst to her, I had some plans of my own for that too.