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Chapter Text

The glacial peaks were around them like a cage, but the rows of jagged tips shaped them more like the fanged maw of a great beast. The icy wind cut through those pinnacles, carrying with it the powered layer of white that misted and gave it the likeness of a freezing breath. Escape for any who would be caught within them appeared unthinkable - all avenues of escape closed off. The only fate for those unfortunate enough to be so trapped here was to be broken down and succumb to the cold where their remains would then be swallowed up by snow with no traces left behind. Another soul devoured by the environment.

Lost beneath another gusty howl was the sound of a sword being sheathed, hilt meeting the metal scabbard before the red gauntleted hand released it and pulled away. What was not lost was Raven's words. "I make no apologies over what I did."

Her bared head was directed upwards, red eyes staring at the clouds above – as thick and enveloping as the snow beneath her feet, the rays of sunlight unable to pierce through it. Her mane of feather-like hair was pulled along by the wind, her clothes rustling violently. She appeared to take no notice of the flurry of snow and ice that attempted to bite into her skin, nearly as white and unfeeling as the landscape.

"When I left, I did so free of any reluctance or doubt," she continued, her tone empty of those misgivings. "All that I once cherished – my comrades, my loved ones, and all that I once acquired and held – I did not even give a glance back. Not even for you."

Upon not hearing any discernable reply, she asked, "Do you wish to kill me? If you don't now, I can promise you that you will." She turned around, her chin lowering so that she could regard the one who knelt so low before her. Barren of a single iota of mercy, she stated, "If you don't die before then."

The hair was as voluminous as her own and was draped like a dirty, ragged blanket over the hunched individual. They were unable to stand, being forced to remain where they were, and that mass of hair shuddered due to the shivering of the girl's body and the heaves of her breathing. In contrast to Raven who stood unencumbered and remarkably untouched by the snow and ice, the flakes had stuck and began gathering over her – the start of what would be a frozen entombment.

"I will not grieve if you do," Raven assured. "You are but one life out of a million others. The only thing that sets you apart from them is that miniscule effort that I put into your birth. It is that part of you that makes you stand out from the rest and what granted you my interference in the past. But, as I'm sure you've been told, I was not going to give you that kindness again.

"Here it is no different. You were the one who sought me out. You who chose this. The only thing that I'll see if you die here is how I wasted my effort on you."

The scream came in time with the sudden, fiery burst of energy that instantly evaporated the ice that stacked on her and then she was launching herself at Raven. The older woman saw those red eyes full of hatred burning beneath those blonde locks, teeth gnashed together, fingers curled and seeking for her throat, and then she was stepping aside, the movement of her hand going back to her sword and the following draw that had it slashing across her attacker almost too fast to see. By the time the blonde crashed back into the snow, Raven had already resheathed her weapon.

"Your power is formidable," she granted, facing away from the fallen girl again. "But limited and brief. Such is a cycle that has plagued us mortals. We can rage and scream when conflict arises, but all too soon when the fires of war burn out, so do we. We succumb to our weakness whether it be weariness or our selfish need for comfort."

The girl began to lift herself back up, her arms shaking, and then she suddenly fell with a cry of shock and pain when the right one suddenly gave out on her, her forearm splitting in half from a clean, diagonal cut that had been made. Rather than blood and bone however, what was revealed was metal and wires that sparked from their severed ends.

"That is why it failed you, and that is why mankind is failing now. They have built their kingdoms just like you had built that arm; to hide and cover all that had led to the present. Forgetting the past, and never learning from it. Never getting stronger because they believe it was all enough. As they are learning right now, it is never enough."

Raven once again turned to examine her. "Hate me. Long to murder me. Get up and strike at me however many times it takes before your blood begins to freeze, the fingers of your only good hand become as dead as the ones on your right, and you lose your mind to hallucinations. Rage and scream, be lost in your frenzy, until you concede to your limitations and realize that you've had enough. And then you'll die."

There was a long, drawn out moment empty of words but filled with the keening wind. During then, another layer of snow began to build up upon the struggling girl. With her prosthetic destroyed, she had to desperately struggle with her remaining arm, the fingers of which so obviously blue as they scrabbled within the snow. Somewhere far away, there was the howl of a Grimm that was drawn to her suffering but unable to get to her.

Raven then tilted her head, the action almost making her look thoughtful if not for her emotionless features. "Or you'll realize just in time as to what will happen afterwards. Nothing. You will die here and I will leave your body here, unlikely to ever be discovered. And while you find your peace in death, this world and its evils will continue unabated and you will have made no difference in it save to contribute to this unending cycle."

Her charge's movements stilled save for her deep, tortured breaths.

"That is why I left," Raven revealed. "I eventually discovered the truth of our conflicts and its futility. How outright meaningless my friends and family and our entire civilization are in the grand scheme of things. I accepted this truth and learned to remove myself from all that kept us restrained. You continue to strand yourself in these petty conflicts that only feed those that relish and gain strength from it. By removing yourself of these limitations, your power will increase, and it will be as unlimited and available to you whenever you wish it instead of when you only need it. Then, and only then, will you perhaps be able to assist in contending with the immortal powers that reign over us."

There came another long moment with Raven waiting for the only reply that would be suitable. The calls of the distant Grimm suddenly ceased and when enough seconds ticked by, she was compelled to say, "Understand that there is nothing else that will save you."

Still no answer, and it got Raven to wonder if the silence and the stillness was that of death, and that the Grimm had lost interest because they no longer sensed anything that they could feast on.

But then the snow-covered shoulders turned and those red eyes glowed brighter than before as Yang spoke, "No. There is one thing."

In a rare show, Raven's brow lifted and she hummed with interest. "Hmm?"

The Alpha looked up from its meal to pinpoint the source of the roar and was met with the sight of the spinning, serrated teeth of a saw that descended and dug deep in the space between its neck and shoulder. It ripped open the hide and tore on through, the Grimm somehow managing to cling to the last few seconds of its life to flail and bellow in agony as the great saw made its journey from the point at its shoulder to its hip. Though the saw went quiet as soon as the bisected remains of the wolf fell, the sounds of violence continued in the form of gunshots and the cries that were uttered from the rest of the Alpha's pack as the cleanup resumed.

The hulking form of the lieutenant took the opportunity to survey what had once been a White Fang encampment – one of the few that they had left in Mistral. Out here in the swamps, the group had made good use of the inherent advantages that came with the wetlands. The stagnant waters, the heavy foliage, and high humidity were usually enough to deter any human from venturing far out here even before you threw in the wildlife; the Grimm and any of the common creatures that possessed their own lethality that made them almost as dangerous.

Faunus were better equipped to navigate and avoid those dangers. Even when the White Fang grew in strength and were able to make their push further into a select number of the kingdoms, they never abandoned their old outposts and encampments.

As of right now, those encampments were proving to be their last.

The lieutenant couldn't even fathom how it came to this. It had seemed like only yesterday that they had been penetrating the walls of the kingdoms, putting their boots down on the most legendary of the Hunter academies and burning them to the ground. First Vale and Beacon, then it was supposed to have been Mistral and Haven. Yet here he was now, back in the swamps that some would say where the true power of the White Fang had originated.

What was becoming increasingly likely, this may be where the White Fang will die out.

The lieutenant lifted his gaze from the torn corpse of the brother that the Alpha had been gnawing on and stared at the fires that engulfed the tents. Beneath the light of the dancing flames and within the flickering shadows of the night, there were more bodies. This had been one of their smaller but no less vital camps – all their remaining camps were vital at this point. It had been situated along the banks of a river, giving them easy access to the waterways that cut through the number of villages and straight into Mistral itself. The tents burned along with all of the valuable equipment that had been stored in them. The lieutenant remembered that there were supposed to be a little over a dozen occupying the encampment. The corpses that he could see were close enough to the number.

If there was one thing that he could even remotely consider as good fortune, it was the state of the camp. It was only the tents that were on fire, the flames having yet to spread to the surrounding vegetation. As they were in the middle of the wet season with a heavy rainfall having occurred recently, they would have a hard time of that. Despite the presence of the Beowolf pack, most of the corpses remained largely intact.

This was recent, the lieutenant surmised. If they were lucky, they could pick up a trail, track her down, and kill her. To Hell with Taurus. We're not taking her alive.

It was not solely the outside threats that the White Fang were beset by. Their internal power structure was failing, crumbling as fast as their strongholds. Many of their influential leaders had broken off, taking with them what forces were loyal to them. Fingers were being thrown around, most of them towards one figure in particular, and the name Taurus was being spoken with damnation rather than with the reverence it once held. Though the lieutenant remained at Adam's side, even he could not stave off the whispers of doubt completely. This included the suspicions of his leader's sanity.

The faunus that were with him formed a perimeter, watchful of the possibility of any more Grimm. A couple took stock of the bodies with the lieutenant making his way towards one in particular. "Well?"

"This one's hardly been touched," the uniformed faunus reported. The corpse was facedown, a rifle in its slack grip and spent casings decorated the mud. The lieutenant's night vision was more than good enough to see the three stab wounds that were located at the back, staining the white tunic with still wet blood. When his subordinate rolled it over, it was to reveal them having gone all the way through.

"Your analysis?" the lieutenant questioned.

The faunus lifted his mask, exposing the extra wide pupils within his glowing yellow eyes and the collection of feathers that swept from his brows and to his ears. He took a look around, each eye moving independently as he visually absorbed everything around him. "The obvious is that he was stabbed multiple times in the back. How that happened though…" He scooped up some of the shell casings, lifted them up, and then released them so that they could sprinkle back into the mud. "He wasn't aware of his killer. The prints, the bullets – all signs point that he had been shooting in the opposite direction when he was killed.

"As for the real telling part." The owl faunus directed his attention at the ground that would've been behind the victim if he had still been standing. "I only see his prints. Other than the wounds themselves, there is no other trace of the attacker."

It could mean anything if they hadn't visited the previous camps with the same scenes. Their conditions had been worse, the Grimm having had more time to eat the dead and the ash and smoke being all that was left of the conflagrations, but eventually they were able to piece together what happened. The White Fang soldiers, slain by blades and not always left in one piece, had been firing in multiple directions as if being assaulted by a sizeable force. On closer examination though, there would be a severe lack of evidence of aggressors. No scraps of cloth, no blood, or even the smallest print or other impressions.

It was as if they were struck down by phantoms.

It was all that the lieutenant needed to hear. He addressed the rest of his force, his voice booming, "Gather round, brothers! Our prey may still be near and we shall pursue!" He singled out another faunus. "You, contact the other squad and have them move in. Once we regroup, we'll conduct a sweep. Salvage what you can and gather the bodies."

They couldn't waste time for a proper burial of their dead brethren, but he swore that they would be granted proper rites later. Even if things were falling apart, he valued loyalty and the lives of his brothers and sisters in the Fang. He wanted to retain some sense of honor and decency amongst the compatriots that remained, clinging to the betterment of the faunus race. His squad made no objections, carrying out his orders as they grabbed what weapons they could and started rounding up the bodies. The lieutenant was already thinking of where to conduct their sweep, trying to predict where she would possibly go next and assuming that it would be north-

Gunfire. It erupted further down the river, the lieutenant instantly concluding that the only source could be the other squad. It had only been one burst but it was soon joined with the chatter of another rifle. The short bursts became longer and the number of weapons firing increased, drowning out any other noise.

It had an effect on the faunus around him as they instantly dropped whatever it was they were doing, pulling out their own weapons. A pair were actually about to run down the bank of the river towards the noise before the lieutenant bellowed, "Stop!"

They did, albeit reluctantly, giving him questioning looks that he couldn't fault them for. That same impulse had come to him and he almost acted on it, but he couldn't. They couldn't scatter and fumble around in the swamp. It was what she would want.

With no other choice, they all listened to the continued cacophony of gunfire that echoed. It remained steady, the long, unbroken sounds of weapons discharge enduring. However, it hadn't even been close to a minute when it began dying out and the lieutenant instinctively knew that it wasn't because that the squad was successfully fighting off whatever it was that was attacking them. There came breaks in between, the firing becoming more intermittent, and the lieutenant took note of those of his number with prominent ears twitching and lifting to make out the noises that they could hear during those moments.

Screams. Panicked, tortured screams that made one's blood curdle as it clearly did to the assembled soldiers. They looked amongst each other, their Grimm masks unable to hide their fear that was expressed with itchy fingers and shaky gun barrels. Again the lieutenant became the recipient of several more nervous looks but he forced himself to remain steady and listen.

Listen until finally, with one final burst, everything went quiet.

The lieutenant waited and when nothing else came to replace the noise, he ordered, "Tighten up. Eyes and ears everywhere. Make a noise as soon as you see anything out of the ordinary. She'll be coming for us next."

He had wanted his deep, heavy voice to be a source of courage for them to draw upon but he couldn't deny how particularly grave it sounded at what could be the worst possible time for it to do so. His group formed up in a line, facing in the direction of the chaos they listened to, bringing their weapons up. It wasn't the kind of confident precision he would've wanted either; the line ragged, those weapons already wandering, and he could make out the fearful twitching in the various appendages of the faunus.

The lieutenant hefted his saw, thick finger resting on the throttle trigger of his gigantic saw but shy of activating it. He forced himself to survey their surroundings with thorough, controlled movements of his head unlike his men.

For what stretched into an eternity, they waited in the darkness. The heavy foliage that had given the White Fang protection for so long became sinister, made all the more so by the ominous shadows that danced over them, manipulated by the fires that kept burning behind them.

"There!"

The lieutnenat was sure that someone would've pulled a trigger – he almost did – at the sudden call. A faunus at the edge of their line was pointing towards the river.

He wished for it to be a log or some other king of debris. Unfortunately, his vision made it abundantly clear that when he saw the object that came floating down the river, it was a body. Dressed in the white of the Fang, there was no mistaking it for anything else. That body was joined by another and though there were no others, the presence of the two floating dead had everyone knowing of what it was that happened to the other squad.

The lieutenant opened his mouth, about to remind them to keep a look out, but his lips froze when he saw one of bodies actually move. A sudden, quick jerk. Soon, the movement repeated again. One faunus made an uneasy step towards it but the lieutenant was about to warn him not to. It was not a sign of life – not that one that originated from the corpse's legs, as if something was tugging on one of them from below -, but before he could say it, she appeared.

With his mask, he almost missed it. Out of the corner of his vision there was movement, up high. As if deposited from the night sky, a figure suddenly dropped from five meters above one of the soldiers. Torn, ragged cloth flapped around them but, strangely, they made no sound. What they almost did was hide the pair of long, curved swords of black held in the person's hands. Pointed down, they were impaled into the back of the White Fang soldier.

He screamed as he was driven into the mud and it had everyone whirling around. There were cries of shock, anger, and then shooting. The assailant remained knelt over their victim, swords lodged in the back, their hooded head bowed, and then the shots ripped into them. There was a flinch, the figure jerked and began tipping to the side, and then they vanished, the torn rags scattering and then dissolving – dispersing into strands that curled abnormally before disappearing.

The fire immediately stopped, the soldiers staring in disbelief as all that was left behind was their slain comrade. Not even the swords that felled him were left behind, having disappeared as well.

It occurred to the lieutenant that they were all being distracted. He pulled his gaze away from the scene, started to look around, and caught the second of his number dying. Whereas the first attack came from the air, the next came from the ground. One of the shadows that were cast and manipulated by the light of the fires drifted close to the feet of a soldier. The shadow stretched and lengthened, and a hooded head emerged from its depths. Following it was a pair of shoulders, arms, and the black, talon-shaped dagger that was clenched in the hand that buried the blade low in the back before it was wrenched upwards.

Again they all whirled around, more shouts, gunfire, and both the soldier and its assailant were riddled with bullets. Whereas the soldier fell to the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds, the black-clad murderer began to fall before it faded in the same manner as before.

There was no pause this time. As soon as that one vanished, another immediately took its place, coming around from a nearby tent to hack into the chest of another soldier with a hatchet. A White Fang member turned to address it, gun coming up, only for the hands that held his weapon to be severed when a cleaver sliced down. His screams were cut off when that same cleaver came back around and split his skull, wielded by that same hooded person in black.

There came more of them. Out from the shadows, more of these figures with their torn black garbs, wielding various black weapons, descended upon the party. They moved with absolute silence. The flapping of the clothes, their boots hitting into the ground as they ran and jumped, or any kind of noises of exertion – there was nothing emitted by these beings. The only sounds made were by the White Fang as they fired and hollered, trying to fight back these phantoms who dispersed when struck, only to have another appear behind or right next to them where they would then be ruthlessly felled.

A pair of soldiers were falling back towards the river, shooting fruitlessly. That was when something else joined the battle. Water suddenly geysered within the river, and a huge, serpentine form launched itself at the soldiers.

The White Fang lieutenant recognized it immediately. It was a Stygian, known to inhabit the swamps of Mistral. It was a more uncommon Grimm, but more of its number had been making an appearance with the growing conflict. They were frightful beasts, known to travel and lurk within the rivers. Upon encountering prey whether in the water or those straying too close to the banks, it would surge up, clamp its jaws tight, and pull whoever was unlucky enough to be caught into the water where it would drown and eat them.

The battle had obviously attracted one and it was a particularly large specimen. Large enough to easily bat one of the soldiers to the side with its bulk while the torso of the other disappeared within its tremendous maw, ivory knives for teeth piercing deep and never letting go. Red, soulless orbs glowed within its bone mask, the covering sweeping up to the twin curved horns at the back of its head. It managed to hiss furiously despite its mouth being full and then it retreated into the water, taking the faunus with it.

The remaining soldier stared at where his friend disappeared with horror and he did not see the figure and its torn robe that was suddenly at his side, poised to stab down with a short sword, until it was far too late.

The lieutenant was fighting like the rest, saw roaring and swinging, his guttural cries joining it as he swept it all around him. The adversaries of black and shadow leapt at him and were vanquished, their menagerie of weapons dispersing upon touching the rotating teeth of the saw before it cut into their forms which would vaporize as well. All around him, his compatriots died whether to the blades of these never ending foes or the Stygian which would reemerge from the water, disappear with another of their number, wait, and strike again.

Upon sending another pair away with a horizontal swing of his chainsaw, it was for the lieutenant to see that he was alone. There were no more additional foes, the Stygian did not rise again from the river, and that was because everyone else was dead. His weapon rumbling within his grip, the lieutenant spun in place, seeing for himself how the corpses on the river bank had now multiplied. His breaths came out in growl-tinged pants, his massive muscles shaking with fury along with the vibrations of his weapon as he searched. Where is she? Where is she?

He was half into completing another revolution when he saw her. Only meters away, within the center of the burning tents, she stood there. She was dressed in those same, torn rags that seemed to barely hang together on her form, so much smaller and slimmer than the lieutenant. She was nearly pathetic in in comparison – reminiscent of a poor urchin that would be found in the streets or dark corners of a village.

Her hood was lowered. Long, ebony hair fell past her shoulders, golden eyes and their curved pupils locked directly onto him. From within that hair, a pair of triangular, cat-shaped ears extended outwards.

The lieutenant shut off his saw so that his snarl could be heard. "You."

"Yes," Blake Belladonna murmured dispassionately as she stood within the center of the carnage. "But you already knew that. You've been hunting me for quite a while, haven't you?"

"Weeks," the lieutenant confirmed as he examined her. She was real, of that he was certain, but it was difficult to believe that she was the one he had been hunting. His initial impression of her pitiful state only grew when he noticed the dull and stained colorings of those rags. Her shadows which had cut down his men had at least the appearance of cleanliness. "When the first outposts fell. When a survivor had managed to flee and identified you."

"He fled, but not with any luck or skill of his own," Blake corrected.

"You're saying you let him escape?"

She shook her head and it was painfully noticeable how her hair hung limply over her grimy features. "Escape wouldn't be the correct word, would it? He fled, but the only reason he made it back to any of you was because I made sure to inflict wounds that would not kill him immediately. I suspect that he did die eventually."

He did, but he wasn't going to tell her that. After having traversed the swamps for too long before he was found, the faunus's wounds had been infected. He had died, painfully, in the grip of an intense fever while he babbled what they had first assumed was nonsense. No one had been sure to believe any of what he was saying, or to make the connection that the cat faunus that seemed to haunt him and cause so much fear was really Blake.

In the end, one person did.

"You've killed many more since then," the lieutenant growled. "You've gone through five-"

Blake glanced off to the side at the devastation. A slow, lazy, almost tired shifting of her eyes. "Six."

"-of our camps." The lieutenant had to suppress the impulse to rev up his saw and attack her right then. "Dozens at least have died at your hands, their remains left to be eaten by the Grimm while everything was set to flame."

"I couldn't be sure that you actually got my message. I figured if I wiped out enough of them, someone would come hunting eventually." She shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure how many more I would've had to go through. I hear that you've had quite the business going on within Mistral so I was almost certain that I would've had to go through all of them to get you out here." The possibility did not seem to bother her, Blake treating it as – at most – a minor inconvenience.

"We did."

Blake fixed him with a long, unblinking stare. "You lost."

"We did," he repeated bitterly.

The loss was still fresh, stinging sharply as he recalled their latest defeat. It had been devastating. At least with Vale, their eventual victory had made up for the initial losses. Their numbers restored, they had the equipment to arm them, and the world falling back into the dark age of communications had given the White Fang plenty of room to maneuver.

But Mistral had changed all of that. They had their initial successes…and then defeat after defeat. Their two-pronged assaults on Mistral and Haven ended in failure. Their 'allies' upped and vanished, and with it their supplies and other support such as their agents manipulating the governing council. For once, the White Fang was directionless, unsure of where to go next, and the bickering of what they should do and even who they should trust was tearing them apart.

The rumors going around spoke of a group of students of the now defunct Beacon Academy that were to blame. Inconceivable, and that was probably why many have chosen to blame Taurus and his blunder in putting so much faith in the humans that abandoned them in this compromising position instead. The lieutenant had chosen to believe the rumors when he learned that one of them mentioned a shockingly young, silver-eyed human girl in red.

"One of your…human friends are said to be responsible," he specified. There were insults that existed, names that were used by other faunus to address humans as, but he had never felt the urge to utter them. There was no other word that caused as much hatred, or one that he would utter with as much disgust, as human. Such hot emotion extended to any faunus that held any friendly acquaintanceship to them as Blake did. "A child of red with eyes of silver."

That accomplished in bringing a bit more life into her. Blake's head jerked up, her eyes widening a fraction in recognition. A small, fond smile then came into existence as she whispered, "Of course it would be her."

The smile that she showed towards a human the lieutenant found revolting. "We have suffered a grievous defeat and one that will be difficult to recover from. What you are doing here may very well make that impossible."

"Good."

"Good!?"

"Yes." Blake raised a hand that went over her shoulder and towards her back. The lieutenant did not see a weapon on her previously but when she made a motion as if drawing a sword, it was to reveal her fingers folded over a black hilt which was followed by a slightly curved blade with a small spike protruding from the opposite side, located short of the tip.

He remembered the weapon that she once wielded in their service and then turning it against them. What she held now was identical but not the real thing. It was just a copy. A shadow of what had been lost and never found again.

"I was concerned over just how I was going to do this," Blake began explaining. "Who knew that it was going to turn out to be this easy?" Her next smile held a trace of sick humor. "Then again, I've been finding out just how simple things really are once I stopped running. I'm going to have to thank Ruby, and what better way is there than to spare her from cleaning up the scraps that she left behind?"

She crouched in preparation, holding her shadow blade low and towards the back. "She'll never know of this, and it's best that way. Let her integrity remain intact while a miserable ideal that struggles for breath finally expires and slinks into oblivion."

To listen to her – to listen to a faunus – speak of her kind and all that they struggled for so filled him with rage. What of his narrow vision was restricted further in red and the lieutenant savagely pulled off his mask and threw it to the side. His saw rumbled with renewed life as he snarled, "I should've done this sooner. When you left us in Forever Fall, I shouldn't have listened to Taurus. I should've searched for you then."

"Yes, Adam." The inflection was all venom but Blake nodded her head slowly. "Then I guess he really was the one who ordered you out here and I assume that it was to take me back alive."

"I will not make that mistake again," he swore. "I have found you, and now I will kill you."

He thought he heard something from her right then. A short treble and a minute trembling of her form but before he could wonder what it was, she was on him. With speed and grace she leaped at him, twisting around in mid-air to bring her arm and sword down upon him. It proved to be more durable than the weapons wielded by her clones, it striking but not dispersing when it hit his sawblade, brought up for defense.

She landed in a crouch at his feet and shot back up, stabbing towards his face which he deflected with a quick repositioning of his weapon. It made him lose track of her for just a moment, enough for the feet against his chest to come as a surprise as she kicked off him, flipping away. He barely even stumbled and would've pursued if not for two of her clones appearing beneath her, originating from her shadow in mid-flip. They lunged at him with their myriad of fake but lethal weapons.

He cut through them with ease, swinging his saw to dispel them, and when they vanished it was to reveal Blake already coming at him again. With his saw out of position, she struck at his head, her sword impacting with the side which had him reeling but his Aura, many times stronger than that of his subordinates, held. He recovered, turned to follow her, and roared with outrage as he felt something slash at his side.

Another clone, this one with a cutlass that failed to scratch him, and he swung a muscular arm that bashed it away. Pain then sprung at his back, the tip of a sickle trying to pierce into his spine, and he spun in a circle, catching this clone on his saw and slicing it in half.

"You're a disgrace!" he howled. He heard the sound of boots rushing along the mud and he swung his saw up and over his head, bringing it down like a hammer on Blake who deftly leapt aside, the serrated teeth churning up mud while her own blade sliced along his chest against his Aura in passing. He rounded after her. "Unfit to call yourself a faunus!"

He caught the movement at his peripheral and his thick hand reached out, seizing the hooded head of another clone and crushing it. With shadowy wisps leaking out between his fingers, he continued, "You slay your own kind with these mockeries and then leave them to die in the mud with their bones picked clean by these beasts you use against us! What makes you different from the humans that do this to us? You, who had once understood this, but are now contributing to all that our people have suffered from!"

It was a developing perception of his enemy's cowardly tactics that had him whirling around with more of those clones still coming into being. His saw went to work, shrieking as it cut them down, and then he spun to cut the heads off another pair that sought to strike him when she foolishly thought him to be distracted.

"You traitor! You monster! You…" He heard those boots again, slapping wetly against the mud, and he turned to shout in the charging Blake's face. "Grimmspawn!"

Her soles slid against the mud as Blake unexpectedly broke off from her attack and then jumped back, using a clone – a temporary one this time - to propel her further away from him.

The reprieve was unexpected but the lieutenant was happy for it when her sudden retreat was included with an ending of her clones. He took needed breaths as he settled with watching her land and straighten to her feet. Her sword was nowhere in sight either and all she did was stare at him with slight surprise.

It ended up being him who was caught off guard when her lips twisted and that same noise from before repeated, her body tremoring. It did not stop though. It went on, steadily growing louder, and she shook with greater intensity until, finally, she drew her head back and laughed.

It was a terrible sound. He had heard Blake laugh before in what felt like another lifetime, but never like this. It was high and loud, going on and on with the cat faunus nearly losing her footing with how hard she was laughing. He did not even think to attack her like this, the scene being so unexpected that he stood and stared with disbelief as Blake stumbled and wavered, nearly falling as she kept laughing.

"I-it," she started, but then gave up when another peal of laughter broke her off. She tried to calm down, taking in gulping breaths whenever she could when the act of breathing became difficult. "I-I'm sor-." She giggled some more.

There came one last stumble and then her foot dug in deep to keep her steady. Her laughter reduced to broken giggling and her hand came up to her face. To the lieutenant's shock, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I-I'm sor-ry," she tried again, somewhat successful. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, wetness cutting into the grime in an inadvertent attempt to clean her face. "I-it's just…it's just funny, really." She hung her head, still wiping as she tried to rein in her quaking body. "H-how much sense none of this makes. Just," she choked and then broke, "h-hearing it from y-you."

A loud, audible breath seemed to bring her mostly back together but he could still make out when she would suddenly heave, as if about to continue, but controlled herself. "None of this makes sense," she said, loud enough to be heard. "It really doesn't. Knowing this now…" she shook again "…it really does seem so obvious. Not just right now but…all the time." Another short-lived giggle. "The only thing that could be funnier is how I spent my whole life trying to find something that was never there."

The nearby shadows shifted and the lieutenant tensed as a new wave of clones came forth.

"It really is hilarious. All this time, thinking that I could actually find a place in this world. Locate the sense in the senseless, thinking that I could really escape and hide from it all. Live as I wanted to. Now that I know better, it all seems so very simple. As to what I want now…"

The lieutenant's foot happened to touch one of the rifles of his fallen brethren. Without a second thought, he bent down and retrieved it, wielding it in one hand and the saw in the other.

Blake lifted her face up. The tears were still falling but her smile was wide and absolutely mad. Her clenched fist came with it, her shadow blade returned, and she pointed the tip towards the lieutenant, singling him out to the mob of clones and their myriad of weapons.

"I just want you to die."

The gun barrel came up as soon as the first of the clones made their move, the lieutenant's roar joining with the sound of the shots as they came for him. He moved it in a sweeping motion, trying to get as many as he could before he was forced to use his saw. There was the howling of the saw as he swung it, then joined by the firing of the rifle in a bid attempt to hold them back while his saw returned to address them.

Despite his efforts, he still felt the blades break through, striking at his Aura. He struck back, shadows dispersing, and him barely feeling any resistance, but then he would feel the tip of another weapon slip on through and try to stab him, convincing him that despite how these wraiths did not even breathe, they had weapons real enough to kill him.

The gun clicked empty and he threw it aside. Gripping his saw in both hands, he madly swung it in a desperate bid to stay alive. There was no thought other than that need to keep on living and fighting as hard as he could to remain so. It was what made him miss the critical mistake he was making that became apparent when he heard the water erupt behind him.

The Stygian!

Forgetting his foes that had drawn him so close to the river, the lieutenant was seized by the fear that was awoken by this terrible blunder. Blindly he struck, pure luck guiding his aim to strike the Grimm against the side of its mask. Not enough to cut, but enough for the Stygian to be deflected, hissing its fury, but then reorienting to come at him again, jaws opening wide.

The lieutenant braced and screamed in pure animal fury as he brought his saw down. It met the top of the skull mask, just above its snout, and his muscles seized as he held the toothy maw from claiming its prize. There was the hissing of the Stygian, his desperate cries, and the shrieking of the saw as the sawteeth grinded against the bone mask for what appeared to be uselessly until the first cracks formed upon the layer of bone.

The layer broke and the lieutenant almost fell right into the river when the Stygian pulled back, hissing in pain at its torn snout and upper lip. Its long body thrashing madly the whole way, it dunked back into the river.

The lieutenant stood on the edge of the bank, heaving with the exertion of such a close call. For just a second, the euphoria of being alive took over.

And then he suddenly lurched when the first blade stabbed him in the back. His Aura held and then began struggling as two, three, and four more blades punched against it. It was with the joining of a sixth that his Aura gave out and they were all free to pierce through.

His saw slipped from his grip, becoming silent as soon as it did. It rolled over the edge and hit the river with a splash, sinking out of sight. He fell to his knees but managed to prevent himself from joining his weapon. He looked down and saw six blades protruding out from his chest. They remained in existence for a little longer until they faded and the quiet noise that he made was inefficient to describe that torment of feeling shredded organs shift in the spaces left behind, blood pumping freely.

Somehow, he was able to take note of someone settling themself behind him.

"I had hoped to draw you out here," Blake spoke. "As in you specifically. I intend to visit Adam next and I'm very confident that I know where I can find him. But first, I wanted to meet with you again. Do you want to know why?"

He could not reply, unable to do anything else except stare ahead while his tunic got increasingly red with every breath he struggled to finish.

"You probably don't think so, but I see a similarity between us. We both joined the White Fang early on, and had been with it for a long time. Even though I was the one who left, I do believe that we both chose a path within that same timeframe based on our need to find that sense in the senseless. I tried to find it without while you did the same within."

She paused and then, aware that he did not have much time left, said, "You're strong. I'm confident that you'll live just long enough to see what's about to happen to you next. When you do, I want you to remember everything about your life up until this point. In those last few seconds, see if you can find any sense in it."

She left him there, kneeling at the edge of the bank. Her confidence was not unfounded for he was still alive and able to comprehend just what was about to happen to him next when the head of the Stygian slowly lifted from the depths of the river, glaring at the lieutenant past the torn remains of its snout.

He started remembering and it was…miraculous as to what kind of clarity death could grant an individual. Not only was his strength leaving him but his rage that had been so much a part of him was absent too. When he remembered his time toiling in the mines, bowing beneath the weight of the unjust labor placed upon him while faunus weaker than him collapsed dead from exhaustion, he could not remember the full extent of the agony and despair at the treatment administered to his kind, or the start of that eternal hatred to his human overseers that treated each death as an annoyance.

He remembered the day of his freedom, and his swearing of fealty to the White Fang for releasing him of his imprisonment while his hands were soaked with the blood of a former human master. Never again, he remembered swearing, would he bow to a human. But bow he did on that day in Forever Fall – to the flame-eyed woman and her companions. No matter the reasoning, all that he focused on now was that he had bowed along with everyone else in the White Fang. Going further, he had even presented another human associate to recruits, praising him as the key to what they wanted and instructing others to bow to him as well.

He remembered both the failure and the success at Vale and Beacon, the images that stuck to him most being those of his kind running, howling, and killing exactly like the beasts they ran with, the masks which they willingly shared. So many of the dead left in their wake – human and faunus – with the Grimm consuming them. Going to Mistral and Haven, the scene became a reverse when they fled, the two races willingly standing against them. What should've been the predicted and yet still unforeseen abandonment by their human allies, Taurus's descent in what he knew now to be insanity, the rupturing of all that once united them-

And here he was now, about to die in a swamp to the same creatures that they had tried to use at the hands of a faunus girl who had attempted to avoid all of this lunacy only for them to be the ones to drive her mad instead.

It was when the Stygian hovered over him, water and drool dripping upon his head and shoulders, did the lieutenant see the truth deep within its gullet.

There is no sense.

The teeth lowered-

Because this entire world is mad.

-and closed around him.

With her head tilted and a cat ear perked up, Blake heard that crunch of finality and silently listened to the Stygian sink back into the river, taking its final victim with it. She heard the water splash and slosh before it started settling. When the last air bubble popped and the surface stilled, she quietly sniffed. "No, I didn't think you would."

Next Chapter:

Maybe Em had the right idea in running off. None of this seems very fun anymore.

Mercury did not recognize the woman who was clearly challenging him, but when he saw that mask he smirked. "Been a while since I had to deal with one of you." He rolled his head around, stretching neck muscles and performing a couple hops before he began to lower into a fighting stance. "Just in time too. I've been craving for a bit of fun."

She did not answer, instead crouching into a stance of her own. Her left arm came forward, all defined muscle. He still couldn't make out her right arm though.

Chapter Text

The place reminded Mercury too much of a life that he's tried to forget. A little cabin located in the middle of nowhere, nearly cut off from society and too insignificant for even the Grimm to take note of. He hadn't been here often – the visits of which only recently becoming a bit too frequent to his liking – but Mercury was able to deduce that there was a past contained within these walls.

It was actually no ordinary cabin. It was more than sizeable enough to house a family and when he had chosen to satisfy his own curiosity on the rare occasion, the doors that he casually opened revealed rooms with bedspreads crowding the floors. That and the training hall that he was currently standing in clued him in as to what the purpose of this place had originally been. It hadn't only been a place to provide shelter but one to teach others in the combat arts.

Whether that was true or not, it didn't change the fact that it was now a part of history. Whereas Mercury had willingly set his on fire and let it burn to ashes however, someone had taken the time and effort to preserve this place. He had a rough estimate as to how old it at least had to be but the wood paneling always had a coat of polish, the few rugs hardly ever had a speck of dirt, and even the candles which burned and provided illumination were always tall as if constantly changed.

Or barely used, Mercury suspected. Though others may not think it of him, he could be very perceptive, and the few visits here were enough for him to notice things. The only scratches on the wood being those made long ago, the lack of impressions that would usually be made from moving furniture, and even those bedspreads that he thought of before were always perfectly smooth without any kind of folds or creases that would've came with use.

Other than making sure that the place gave off the illusion of always being fresh and new, someone had taken great care to not create even the slightest amount of disturbance. That alone would've been enough for Mercury to get an idea as to the deteriorating mindset of the one he was meeting with.

The map that was pinned to the wall Mercury suspected to have been the last addition to this place. The bottle that was on the short table with the full wine glass at its side was always different though and his nose twitched at catching a hint of the smell.

"We're not getting anywhere in Mistral," Adam Taurus stated, intently gazing at the map, the hilt of the sheathed Wilt coming up to tap upon the kingdom in question. "Nor can we expect to if we just remain in these swamps, bashing our heads against one target."

Mercury was tempted to make a bull-related quip with the last but chose against it. Best to just stick to the script. The less deviations made, the quicker he could leave. "Sounds like you should start branching out then."

Adam nodded, lowering his sword. "That's exactly what we should do. Our revolution cannot be expected to become the sweep of change if we cannot go beyond the boundaries of one kingdom. Smedya shares my sentiments. She's already gone to Atlas, seeing what she can do about gathering our brethren there and unifying them in a more concentrated effort against the industrial zones."

Mercury didn't bother to learn any of the names of these people save for those who held influential power in the White Fang. Smedya was a short-tempered boar faunus who had been the most vocal of dissidents after the Fang's failure in Mistral. It was true that she had gone to Atlas in an attempt to push for more aggressive moves there…but not before damning Adam and making it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him. She really did get more than just tusks from her particular breed.

"Ailuros had sailed away last week," Adam continued, not even straying from the map. "He's probing the trade route between Vacuo and Mistral, searching for abandoned ports or other old hideouts to harass ships from. Our efforts that have been made here and making Mistral focus inwards should make their merchant and trade ships more vulnerable."

Ailuros. Panda faunus with those funny-looking black patches over his eyes. He sailed away two weeks ago with no one having any idea as to where he and those who joined him had gone.

Choosing to humor Taurus, Mercury held a hand to his chin, making a noise that was supposed to sound like him contemplating something before saying, "Sounds to me that Vale could use a bit of pressure."

"And I will be the one to administer it," Adam declared. "The heart of these kingdoms and this corrupt existence that humans have forced upon us shall be impaled upon my blade. When it falls, the others will be scattered and isolated. Faunus will flock to our cause, and we will purge what remains are left behind one-by-one. When I return here to Mistral, it will be to erase it from existence and new kingdoms will arise to replace it and the others. Faunus kingdoms."

"Yes, yes," Mercury said, having fun with trying to play the role of the evil, conspiring villain of a cliche film by nodding his head slowly. "When shall the humans expect the great coming of such a revolutionary as yourself?"

Here Adam paused, the bull faunus lowering his head and appearing deep in thought. "Soon." He looked back at the map. "I still need to take care of things here. Other than gathering the suitable numbers, I've taken note of some…troubling developments as of late that need to be dealt with."

Mercury guessed that he was speaking of the annihilation of several camps scattered throughout the swamps and the slaughter of all those who inhabited them. Not that he really cared, but Mercury had kept an ear out for anything that could tell him as to what the story was behind that. Recalling the frightened whispers of evil spirits and other causes that were more…idiotic in nature, the young assassin had settled with something more sensible: infighting. Like the pack of dogs they were, the White Fang had chosen to express their displeasure in the situation by killing each other in bloody skirmishes for dominance. That or the Grimm had spawned a new, more efficient killer that was making a name for itself.

"I'm sure it's no problem for you," Mercury said, not quite eliminating all the traces of mockery.

"Hardly," Adam retorted, ignoring it or truly that deaf. "I have a trusted lieutenant leading a party and the situation will soon be handled." He reached over, picking up the wine glass, but didn't sip from it yet. "I've also acquired very encouraging information. A person very dear to me may be returning to my side soon."

That was a new one and it was the closest that Mercury had to having his interest piqued. "Who would that be?"

"None of your concern." There was a bit of sharpness to Adam's tone, one that carried over as he turned to face Mercury, jutting a finger out towards him from the hand that held his glass. "You should be more concerned with upholding your end of our bargain."

Annnnd we're back on course. Managing to keep from rolling his eyes, Mercury assured, "It will be as we agreed. Money and equipment for all your needs, plus prearranged contacts within Vale that you will able to call upon to supply information and other help for whatever infiltrations and assaults you plan on easier to carry out. We're just waiting on you."

"It won't be long now." Adam held the glass up in a toast. "The beginning of what will be the end of humanity is close at hand."

This time Mercury did roll his eyes. "Yeah, right."

Adam's lips curled unpleasantly, perhaps only now picking up on the human's blatant ridicule. His fingers tightened on Blush in a show of threat but, rather than draw Wilt, he used it to direct Mercury to the exit of the training hall. "You are permitted to leave now."

Mercury was almost too late to present his back to Adam and hide the sneer on his face. He slid the sliding door open, stepped out into a hall, and left him to his delusions.

The guy really is full-on bonkers, Mercury summed up once he left the dwelling and stepped outside. To think that when Cinder had told him to remain in contact with Taurus, it had been to see if one of the leaders of the White Fang could still be considered as useful. If he was proven to be a liability or an actual threat, it was up to Mercury to eliminate him in whatever way he saw fit.

He had actually expected Adam to go ahead and try to kill him as soon as he saw him, not grudgingly let the human step into his place of residence and his retreat from reality. To think that when Mercury sat down with him, it was to relive a deal that had been made years ago.

He wasn't really sure as to what Adam remembered, what he chose to forget, and what he was modifying in order to adapt to his delusions. For example, he wasn't exactly sure if Taurus was referring to the latest failures whenever he mentioned their lack of progress in Mistral or if he had reverted back to whatever delay had first convinced him away from the kingdom and switch to hijacking trains in Forever Fall. What he was certain about was that Adam believed that the White Fang was still united and their fight continuing on rather than falling apart with its dispirited members scattering in an attempt to continue with their cause without his leadership.

As for Mercury, he was still a resented but necessary ally of a faction that Taurus was expecting assistance from when, in actuality, Cinder had long-since decided to leave the White Fang to their fate. She thought Taurus to be potentially salvageable but, as Mercury had cited in his last report to her, he was really a lost cause. His patron had not given him further instructions other than to wait.

He hated waiting.

At no point since he classified Adam as a waste did Mercury go through with killing him. True, the faunus would've been a very formidable foe but he was certain that, as Taurus was now, Mercury could kill him with the right plan of action. Instead of that, he had chosen to keep engaging the deluded man in conversation. Cinder had said to eliminate him in a way that he saw fit and, technically, Adam was killing himself at this point. Mercury was just taking enjoyment in how, with each visit, Adam was trying to rationalize his latest defeat and desertion as beneficial.

Or rather, he used to. These meetings had been losing their enjoyment but for some reason this latest one had left him with a sour taste. Maybe he should consider killing Adam but…then what?

Maybe Em had the right idea in running off, Mercury thought, letting his feet travel the familiar direction to his destination on their own. None of this seems very fun anymore.

He hadn't been thinking of Emerald much so he was marginally surprised when his former partner came to mind. That was what she had been, right? His partner? He had never felt the urge to call her a friend despite their lengthy association anyway and even 'partner' sounded a bit too generous.

He did call her an idiot when she one day disappeared. He had known that Emerald had been left with certain misgivings after their victory in Vale, having not enjoyed it as much as he certainly did, but he thought that she had gotten over them when they returned to Mistral. Then again, perhaps the more accurate thinking was that he hadn't cared enough to be concerned about it and was more focused on what kind of fun they'd be having next. Whichever the case, her vanishing act had come as a surprise to him.

She must've realized how low she really was, was what he had thought back then. He had always known about her unhealthy attraction to their benefactor – which included the memory of when she made it quite clear that she despised his added company when Cinder recruited him – so it was either only a matter of time before it dawned on her as to what her real position was in Cinder's eyes or she would continue with her blissful idiocy. Apparently the former occurred and Emerald hadn't taken kindly to that.

Or maybe she had been on to something all along. Mercury had always known that Cinder's desires were of something that went to a level what was – and still is – beyond his comprehension. In her company, he had seen her do things that were frightening and unveiled truths that he found outlandish until he experienced them firsthand. The things she's revealed about the Grimm, these Maidens, and other truths…they were amazing.

It all sounded like so much fun.

It was only now occurring to him though that there were many more things that she hadn't told or shown him…and may have no intention of ever doing so. She had been displeased when Emerald ran off but not overly upset which alerted him to this snag. Then there was all that happened in Mistral-

No, even before then. There had been a warning sign as far back as Vale, right at the height of their victory. It was when all things were going to plan – when Beacon was falling to faunus and Grimm beasts alike, Atlas's great army turning on itself, and giving the world an in-depth viewing to all the carnage – that something went wrong.

And Cinder had been spooked by it.

Mercury had never thought Cinder capable of being scared, especially after acquiring the powers of the Fall Maiden. It was why it took him longer than it should've to realize that that was exactly what she was feeling. Something had not gone according to her plan and it had been troubling her this whole time. And when all that happened at Mistral did happen – with Mercury wondering if Emerald might've been involved in their plan's unraveling-, he had gotten an idea as to the source of Cinder's fear: Ruby Rose.

What did Cinder have to be afraid of from a girl who Mercury himself had kicked around for sport? Asking himself that again, and thinking of how Cinder had been shunning him as of late, was making him think that the playing field had gone to a plane that he may be woefully unfit for. Much like Emerald and Adam, was he soon to be deemed as a useless tool and discarded?

Mercury hit the side of his head with his palm, the action accompanied by an aggravated grumble. This was why he hated waiting: he started to think of stupid things.

Mercifully, it didn't take him too long to reach what served as his home for the past couple days. It had once been a large wharf dating back to the Great War, used extensively by the infamous smugglers and other pirates that had turned out to be a great asset to Mistral. Since then, the wharf had grown and expanded into a walled-off, coastal village, most of which was raised over the waters with a pair of bridges connecting it to the gates and the mainland. Its proximity to the home kingdom and the global unrest had given it heavy traffic – people who wanted passage in or out of Mistral's borders without going through official channels for one reason or another. With the CCT network remaining down and everything still a mess, smuggling and piracy was seeing a new rise in activity thanks to a lot of the trade goods that had once passed freely between the kingdoms currently being restricted, thus gaining a higher price on the black market for those who could supply them with their own illegal methods.

The sun had been setting when Mercury departed from Adam's abode and the last rays were disappearing behind the horizon when he entered through the gate and crossed the bridge into the village. There were still people – locals, mariners of various types, refugees, you name it – that passed through the spaces between the buildings that could barely be considered as streets with their wooden planks instead of pavement. Lights were coming on but purposely dimmed, being sure to not stand out as a tempting target whether to Grimm or other threats.

Between the wall, the bridges, and the nature of the village itself, it would and had been a difficult target for the Grimm to destroy in the past. Other than the construction and the location though, there was an added bonus that came in the mentality of the people. Living outside the protection of the kingdoms, villagers learned to develop their own state of mind to best deter to Grimm. Some attained it through – and Mercury inwardly gagged while thinking of it – harmony and the close bonds that are formed between each other. It made it entertaining for when those bonds could be broken apart through manipulation or a big enough threat that had the following lamentations that much sweeter to the Grimm.

This village though drew its strength from its particular population. Those who braved the unpredictability and wilds of the sea, and then made their port to this place that was so close to the wilds of the Grimm, became more annulled to the dangers of Remnant in general. This extended to the nomads who traveled through the heart of such territory. It made them harder to shake, and contributed to a more mentally sound group that knew how to keep to themselves and not concern themselves with things such as the business of others unless it contributed to solely them. It made the efforts of any mischief-makers that wished to cause trouble rather difficult.

How boring.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Mercury cast his gaze around, watching boredly as the area became deserted, people disappearing into the taverns and other establishments to turn in for the night. Passing by one, his nose wrinkled at the scent of alcohol consumption and the muffled laughter from a rowdy bunch. He disliked that smell, it itching at the dark recesses of his mind to draw up bad memories. He quickened his pace, desiring to reach his own lodging and be done with this uninteresting day, and hoping that come morning it will be with a message or Cinder herself arriving to point him out to a place that could turn out to be more amusing.

A call of a bird got him to glance up, spotting the winged shape that flew above him. A crow or raven, he guessed, but it was already gone before he could be sure and he soon forgot about it.

Ugh. His features twisted in disgust upon passing another seedy joint, that bitter scent exuding from it. If there was one thing he hated more than the drink itself, it was how people allowed themselves to be so enslaved by it.

Unfortunately, there was a severe lack of stores for leather goods here – leather and sea did not mix well -, and even if there were the products would probably be diluted with the chemicals of coatings meant for protection and to make them look pretty, all the while giving the leather itself such a repulsive, plastic smell. While the aroma of alcohol brought up hated memories, true-quality leather was a longing reminder of what he once had – when he had last felt whole.

Kind of… Mercury sniffed and his head rose to attention. Kind of like that, actually.

It was a strong, smoky smell that easily cut through the offensiveness of alcohol. More than strong enough to get his attention and it reminded him of the shops that had been in the nearby village of his and his father's home. It turned out to herald the arrival of the figure who stepped in front of his path, manifesting from an alley. They moved with purpose, alerting Mercury immediately that this was no wanderer before he even saw what they looked like.

They stopped directly in his way and what caught Mercury's eye first was the long scrap of leather that hung from their right shoulder, descending in such a way that the arm was hidden by it. Black, fresh, and treated perfectly right if Mercury was to judge. The only addition made to it was what looked like some kind of gold fur lining all across the top.

The black color matched the sleeveless gi top and pants. Mistrali design which was no surprise, yellow braiding that acted as the fastening going down the front of the top where a sash of the same yellow was tied around their curvy waist. The pant legs were tucked into knee-high boots.

Finally there was the mask and, really, someone would have the right to question why Mercury didn't notice that first. Bone white, reminiscent to a Grimm mask except it was more like an entire skull that was worn by the woman – definitely a woman, with how the gi top swelled at the chest. Reptilian in design, with two protruding horns at the top, and Mercury had a feeling as to what it was designed to imitate when he saw the six slits that acted as three pairs of eyes. The top and bottom pair revealed pupilless, wrathful pits of red but it was the center pair of crimson orbs that were more aware. Human, intelligent, and utterly hostile with how they fixed onto Mercury.

Mercury did not recognize the woman who was clearly challenging him, but the sight of the skull mask caused him to smirk. "Been a while since I had to deal with one of you." He rolled his head around, stretching neck muscles and performing a couple hops before he began to lower into a fighting stance. "Just in time, too. I've been craving for a bit of fun."

She did not answer, instead crouching into a stance of her own. Her left arm came forward, all defined muscle. He still couldn't make out her right arm though.

It had to be an assassin like him who was associated with the White Fang, or at least from one of the broken off fragments of the organization. He could think of very few people who wore masks like that and wanted him dead and he actually had dealt with a couple of their ilk in the past. Despite all that they did for them, there had still been faunus who did not agree with Taurus's alliance with humans and had taken it upon themselves to break it through their standard means of violence.

Thanks to recent events, it was clear that some faunus had decided to renew their attempts. Mercury was going to savor it when this assassin understood the folly of it.

Ailuros is gone.

The thought snuck in on Adam while he stared at the map of Remnant and he frowned when it came almost out of the blue. Of course Ailuros was gone. He sailed away to test the security of Mistral's trade routes.

…Didn't he?

His brow furrowed beneath his mask while his frown deepened. There was something odd about that question too. Like the thought about Ailuros, it was just suddenly there and his initial reaction was to deem it as ridiculous because of course that was what Ailuros was doing. He heard the news himself from one of his subordinates about how his comrade had sailed off two weeks ago.

Two weeks?

There was what he could only describe as an itch located at the back of his mind and one that he couldn't scratch although he tried to anyway. It was that sensation that came when something just didn't add up or was missing altogether. A detail that was just beyond his reach and remaining frustratingly aloof as he tried to pin down just what was wrong. What he got instead was another peculiar question.

Why did I hear that from a subordinate?

Why wouldn't he have heard that from one of his own? How else was he expected to know of Ailuros's departure? After they had their discussion on how to proceed…

A blank. That was all Adam got when he tried to recall just what he and Ailuros had spoken about. He must've forgotten then. Unsurprising since it had been two weeks – no, it was a little over a week ago at most – and there's been so much other…confusion going on, but Adam was sure that Ailuros had taken their revolution to the seas. What else would he have done? It wasn't like he would've…

Left?

Adam shook his head, so strongly the word resonated that he attempted to physically throw it out. No, preposterous. Why would Ailuros up and leave without any reason behind it? They've made great progress, them and the Fang. He may not remember Ailuros, but he had spoken with others on their movements.

Smedya. Yes, Smedya. He had spoken with her, of that he was certain, as to what she desired to achieve in Atlas. Their debate had been grown quite intense-

She cursed you. Damned you.

-but the results were the same. While Ailuros took to the seas, she would set out to organize a more concentrated effort against the capital that held itself the highest, even amongst its fellow human kingdoms. Their revolution was growing stronger, their reach greater, and soon humanity would be crushed in their grip with him ripping out the heart that was Vale.

Why Vale?

Adam scowled at his self-questioning. Why not Vale? They had a great victory once before, so all that's left is to finish it off. Their setbacks in Mistral could be made up for with the gains that they could make in Vale. The forests would provide excellent cover, much like the swamps, and there was Mountain Glenn. Harry the railway lines, find a way to strike the center of the city, and…

Adam felt a different kind of tingle; not something attributed to a missing detail, but that his strategizing felt…familiar. As if he had done this before. He tried to explain this feeling away with the reasoning that, perhaps, he had mulled it over so much that it felt like he had done it. But, no, what was convincing him to go to Vale now was the support that he would acquire from some human reprobates if he was to pursue this venture. He had just spoken with one of them to finalize the details. He wouldn't trust them completely obviously, what with them being human and who knew when they would decide to pull out whenever they desired it.

The first sign of trouble and they'd probably abandon the White Fang, leave them without direction if the faunus depended on them too much, and Adam knew far too well how his fellow members could so easily argue and debate, getting them nowhere and – at worst – fracture them. That's why the Fang needed a leader like him – to push and, if it came to it, force them to act. He could bear their insults and curses, cut them away if he needed to, and even if Ailuros and Smedya left he would continue and-

But they didn't leave! It was the headache that made him snap like that, Adam reasoned while rubbing his fingers against his temple, trying to quell his pain and this sudden surge of anger. The headache began to ease, his anger suppressed, and he loosed a calming sigh.

It never used to be like this. Somehow he was particularly certain about that. It had never been this…difficult before. Something had been feeling off. Warped. It was making it hard for him to think straight. If only he had something – someone who used to be here.

Blake.

He needed her back. He knew that as soon as he heard the sightings of a faunus that could only be her. Just hearing her name and thinking about her was enough for everything that had been feeling wrong to become right again. He wasn't sure as to what needed to be done but he just had this growing belief that if he could see her again and be in her presence…he would know what he needed to do to make everything right again.

What's taking so long? He had sent his most trusted lieutenant out to find her and invite her back. He should've heard word of their success by now.

He needed another break. He reached over and lifted the bottle on the low table, tilting it to make the empty glass full again and only accomplished in pouring a not good enough amount when his head suddenly rose to attention.

It was subtle but he noticed it; that slight degree that was off in the temperature. The miniscule disturbance within the sanctity of his safe haven.

Setting the bottle aside, Adam went to the sliding door of the training hall, Blush clutched at his side. He carefully slid it open, his finger resting right over the trigger guard of his sheath as he took a look out. The hallway was empty. Unsatisfied, Adam stepped out, making sure to return the door to its proper place before venturing further.

He didn't have to go far to discover what it was: a window, just a couple inches shy of being closed. Enough to let a tiny draft slip through. Adam gently pushed it down the rest of the way and locked it.

He returned to the training hall, repeating the same action with the door as he opened it, stepped inside, but didn't close it as his attention went to the center of the room.

It turned out to be true all along. As soon as he saw her there, he felt his world center itself. Everything that had been so confounding seemed to sort itself out. When he spoke her name, it was with tangible relief. "Blake. I see you've accepted my invitation."

"I have." She was sitting at the far end of the low table. The glass – fuller now – was held delicately in her dirty fingers. "It was difficult for me to refuse, considering how insistent it appeared to me."

"You look beautiful," he complimented. "Better than I could ever remember."

A smile of white cut into the filth of her face, partially obscured by the hanging tangles of hair. "Only the best for you, Adam."

He bowed his head. "I'm flattered."

Blake mimicked the gesture and then her gaze wandered, taking in the interior of their surroundings. "I remember this place. To think that it all started here: a little retreat for orphans such as us in the White Fang, where we could train and learn to survive in this life outside the kingdoms."

"We've come far since then, the two of us, haven't we?"

Blake closed her eyes sadly, the glass tilting but not enough for the wine to spill. "We've fallen so far since then."

Strangely, Adam did not feel the desire to lash out at her as he should've. That feeling of rightness weighed down enough to smother any such aggressive feelings. With both of them here, within the middle of what had been their beginnings, he was attaining a lucidity that he had desperately needed.

"It looks as if nothing changed," Blake spoke again, back to examining the place.

"I've taken great care to preserve it," Adam explained. "I know well that every end must have a beginning, and I am not someone who shies away from theirs."

Blake tittered, sighting back to him. "Even when you had been at your most crazed, you always had a flair for the romanticism."

"Because I always had you at my side, my love. I took you under my care, taught you everything I knew, because I knew that you were the one I wanted to help me change the world. What generations of faunus had tried and failed to do, it would be us who would be the ones to finally succeed and turn Remnant into a paradise for our people. We would've been free of the humans who had subjugated us because of how we didn't fit into their corrupt image of a superior being. And then you betrayed me, lured away by the same lies that had tricked our ancestors."

Blake shook her head. "I betrayed no one. I stuck by those same beliefs that had once been the core of the White Fang. Nonetheless, it did hurt me, Adam. If nothing else, at least believe that I did care for you and the cause that you abandoned with the rest."

Adam stared at her, standing there as he contemplated her words and whether he truly believed them or not. He then nodded. "As much as I may've disagreed with you and no matter how many times you've hurt me, I do believe that you did care. Once."

"I suppose that will have to do. Whether you believe this part or not, I want you to at least hear that when it comes to what I'm about to do next, I'm still following those beliefs. You will curse me for it, maybe kill me if that's how this will turn out, but it is as you say: every end must have a beginning." She held up the glass. "I'm just going to make sure that within this site of our beginnings, it will also mark our ends."

Adam said nothing more, letting the silence fall between them. Just as he thought seeing her would make everything right, he also figured out just what it was he needed to do next. As they drifted away from their bittersweet pasts and the present pleasantries, he could feel it returning to him. His hatred for her and the same for him that he saw in her golden gaze. His finger slipped beneath the trigger guard of Blush, touching the trigger itself, and the wine glass became exceptionally still in Blake's grip.

It was the glass that signaled their clash. It fell away and then Blake pounced, leaping up from the floor and over the table, a shadowy blade replacing it. There was the resounding boom of Blush, Wilt flying free, and then they met with a clash, the specter of Gambol Shroud impacting with the malicious red blade of Wilt and then sliding against one another, sparks flying, as Blake flew past and came to a halt behind Adam.

The wine glass hit the floor, shattered, and as the red liquid spread and stained the floor, the two faunus spun around and flew at each other again.

The strike slipped through his defenses, pain immediately lancing up and down his calf and forcing him to drop to his knee. A handful of his hair was seized in that moment, pulling his head back with a yank, and a pungent stench wafted over his nose.

"Guard your legs!" a harsh voice barked in his ear, the smell growing heavy with each word. "Use them but guard them!"

He didn't get a chance to utter a word of response before a knee was knocking in to his exposed chest, breath coming out explosively. The grip disappeared from his hair but only so that a solid blow could be delivered in between his shoulder blades. Somehow he managed to act through the pain, falling and then rolling. He attempted to push and lift himself back up into a ready stance, but only succeeded in coming up halfway before falling again, the agony from the dual hits deterring him from rising.

"This had been one of the first lessons I taught you!" the voice of his father angrily lectured. "I taught you again and again and again before I left to support your worthless existence! This is my thanks?"

He didn't bother to argue but not because of the blows that still pained him. As he rubbed a palm against his chest to soothe it, he bitterly recalled just how hard he trained and practiced since his father left to collect another bounty – another life – in order to, as he said, provide for this little private Hell. No matter what improvements he made, his father would always find fault. There was no winning with him, especially if he had happened to stop at a tavern as that horrid aroma clearly stated he did before returning to conduct another coming-home lesson to his son.

Words were useless. The beatings were without mercy. No pleas would change that as they haven't for most of his life. His pitiful, worthless life as his father made sure to make a tirade about over and over again.

"To think that your mother died in order to birth such a cur," his tormentor continued ruthlessly.

Hatred burned within every fiber of his being. It coursed through him, running hotly. The pain vanished but he was still debilitated by this fury that sought to seize control and hurl him at his blood bound mentor in a rage-fueled frenzy.

With great control he suppressed it, containing it deep within his being, letting it smolder deep within his soul. More than enough incidents had occurred to get him to learn that it would do him no good. Words spoken in anger were useless, and actions that were driven by it were aimless and sloppy. All they ever rewarded him with was a more violent pummeling and harsher insults.

So when he was able to will himself into looking up at the face of Marcus Black, Mercury forced his lips into a strained grin to hide it all. Contain it, let it build, wait until that day came when he would be exactly what his father wanted and more.

Long for when it would be he who was standing high above his father's murdered corpse.

Marcus sneered at his son. "Have you finally lost your mind, boy? You must've if you're getting back up with that look on your face. Begging for more, are you?"

Mercury said nothing, maintaining his grin while he fought to get back on his feet. They shook, the limitations of blood and flesh not up to par with his will. Marcus did not wait for them to steady as he approached Mercury, first as a steady walk, and then in a sudden burst of movement that had him in front of him in an instant, Mercury too late to bring up his arms to block as a fist sped on over them, aiming right for his face-

-and impacting right against his cheek, his head ringing and world spinning for a moment. Mercury stumbled but forced himself to keep fighting. His prosthetics were more efficient at obeying, machine more resilient than what they replaced, and all they needed was his mental command in the form of the electrical impulses that traveled from his brain to the interface module located at his synthetic kneecap which connected his robotic legs to the living flesh of his thighs. It took a fraction of a second and then his right foot straightened and pivoted, his left raising, and a spinning kick was sent towards his opponent.

The dragon-masked woman already had her arm in place, the meeting of flesh and metal more violent in this instance as they clashed against each other. Neither faltered.

Mercury pulled his foot back, trading it for the other as he struck low at her right. Rather than her arm, she shifted and lifted her leg up, taking the hit harmlessly against her thigh and leaving her one arm available to block Mercury's left foot when it came back up in an attempt to connect with her chin.

That black leather flapped with their exchanges and again Mercury caught the sight of something beneath it. She did have something hiding there. A right arm – or, at the very least, most of a right arm – but she had not used it once since they began their fight.

Though she had blocked his foot, the bottom of his boot was still pointed at her chest, including the gun barrel attached to it. It fired with another of his silent commands, the round catching her in her chest and throwing her back while Mercury similarly carried himself backwards with the recoil. His feet nonetheless pressed his advantage, kicking towards her and firing off more rounds to chase after her. The projectiles – tightly-compressed balls of air conjured by the Wind Dust stored in the cartridges – flew towards her.

The woman managed to twist in mid-air and land on her one hand, springing off of it to dodge the first pair of wind blasts that struck and tore through the solid planking of their arena, wood disintegrating in the face of them. That leather flapped again as she spun, another pair of air blasts spiraling past her, and when she landed it was for her left arm to come up and effortlessly slap aside the remainder, deflecting them in such a way that they streaked up and over the surrounding buildings before disappearing into the night.

Mercury's sharp eyes caught something that glinted within the low light of a nearby lantern but before he could make out what it was the leather settled back down and hid it from sight.

She has something there. As sure of it as Mercury was though, again not once had she decided to make use of it. Not that she really had a need to. He had to admit, even if she was only fighting with one arm, she was proving to be a dangerous adversary with that punch having not been the first that she managed to land on him. He made a swipe at his mouth and his fingers came away with blood from a split lip.

At no point did anyone come to investigate or interrupt their battle. There were curious looks – heads poking out of the safety of alleyways before ducking back down, curtains of windows that were parted and then immediately closed, doors shutting and being bolted – but nothing else. Mercury was not surprised. The only kind of security that a village like this would have are bouncers and their concern only extended as far as the walls of whatever bar they guarded.

Confrontations like these could very well be the norm with the locals having come to understand that the best course of action was to let the disputing parties be and settle things between themselves no matter what the end result may be. Keep your business to yourself, limit the conflict to as few people possible, and this place will not appear as appetizing as it could be to the Grimm. Not to say that there wasn't the chance that anyone that would be driven by their own sense of justice and morals would intercede but, at least for this night, there appeared to be an extreme lack of such a person.

Which left Mercury and this dragon lady all to themselves, the latter of which currently standing all relaxed and waiting.

Mercury ran up to reengage, performing a short leap and lashing out with a flurry of kicks. The woman backed up, letting the kicks slap uselessly against her forearm as she blocked them. Mercury took a chance, reaching out and grabbing her arm to immobilize with one hand while he struck at her head with his fist.

She surprised him when she ducked and not only moved away from his fist but her foot hooked behind his leg, unbalancing him, and she took the opportunity to twist her arm around, getting out of his hold and grabbing his arm that once held her and pulling him in for a headbutt, her skull mask smashing into his face. She let go and her now freed arm came up to further punish him with an elbow to the same spot and the back of her hand soon following when it whipped across his cheek. Mercury fumbled for a second time and then he was falling when a leg swept out his feet from under him.

The back of his head bumped into the decking. He looked up, blinking to clear the blurriness out of his vision, and saw those six red eyes staring down at him with a fist raised high. He rolled to avoid it as it came down, it punching through the wooden planks, and he managed to spin on the ground and connect a foot with her head.

She reared back, her arm ripping free of the hole she made, and Mercury launched himself from the floor with his hands, both feet extended to knock into her mask again, but at the last second she tilted it away, his soles brushing past, and Mercury touched back down on his feet before sending a back kick into her direction. She grabbed him by the ankle, keeping it raised, and her one foot lashed out against the single leg he stood on, hitting and then pressing hard rather than retract it.

Mercury yelped, pain spiking into his brain; the neural network's way of telling him of the stress that was beginning to compromise the integrity of his prosthetic. The creaking of metal starting to fail emphasized his need to get away and he blindly fired off a shot from the leg his opponent held captured. He didn't see if he hit her or not but she did let go and Mercury didn't waste time to step away from her.

He noticed the misalignment as soon as he put weight on his damaged right leg. Nothing too serious – just enough for him to wobble when he tried to even himself out. He shifted the weight onto his left while he shook and stomped his right in a vain an attempt to somehow straighten it back out in this crude method. He only succeeded in venting a marginal amount of his frustrations.

He settled it back down, cursing when he had to modify his stance in order to counteract the unbalancing. How annoying.

To add to it, the woman he was fighting was content to let him flounder. He couldn't read any facial expression obviously, but how she was watching him, he couldn't help but feel like he was being mocked. As if to prove it, her one hand rose and her fingers wagged in a beckoning fashion.

"All right," he snarled. The lines of shells spun around his ankles as he checked to make sure that they were still functional. "You asked for it."

She waited.

Dual blasts of air occurred right beneath his feet, his boots firing in unison to blast him high into the air. Mercury waited until he was at the apex of his ascent, started to fall, and then fired again to send him streaking down towards the woman, his leg dropping down towards her.

She didn't move out of the way and somehow he knew she wouldn't. Her arm came up to intercept, flesh and metal once again coming together with tremendous force. Her arm stood strong, her legs bending but keeping her up as she took it.

But the wood beneath her failed. The planks splintered and she disappeared from sight. Mercury would've fallen through the hole and into the water below too were it not for another use of Wind Dust to propel him back up. His shells spun again, Wind being replaced with Burn, and when he fired down towards the opening in the decking it was to launch explosive missiles that disappeared into it, muffled explosions following soon after along with bright flashes and water shooting up and showering the deck.

I bet they all felt that one! he thought merrily, referring to the villagers. He made his landing and the slip that occurred in his footing reminded him of the defect in his prosthetic. It did little to diminish his sense of victory that carried him over to the hole so that he can peer down into it. And she's probably feeling nothing at all.

He remained cautious, half-expecting the typical jump scare when she would suddenly surge up and reengage him. Tense for a retreat if that did end up being the case, Mercury leaned half-over the hole, craning his neck around to try and catch any sign of her while straining his hearing to catch something other than the lapping of water. He waited and counted down the full minute that he deemed acceptable before he took a small step back and waited again. When nothing happened again, he felt the tension leaving him when he took another step back, followed by another.

That was fun, he admitted, putting his back completely to the opening as he walked away. For a White Fang assassin – if that was what she had been -, she had given him a fight that he didn't realize how much he really needed until now with the aches that he collected and his not quite straight walk setting in on him. He spat a wad of blood from his split lip off to the side, his Aura only now given the chance to begin healing it now that the fight was over. The same mending would not be occurring with his leg though but the flush of victory may last through the repairs that would be needed.

Mercury took a deep breath, held it, and gradually released it, the last of the tension being carried away with it right as the decking suddenly exploded right in front of him.

This time it was the skull mask he saw first and all that he did see when she rose right in front of him. That middle set of human eyes stood out the most, smoldering with such infernal red that outshone the bottom and top pairs. At her shoulder, the fur-lining of the leather was also shining with a brilliance that drew his gaze to it.

It was how he was able to get a look at her right arm when it revealed itself and reached out towards him. It was not human fingers but draconic claws that sought him out. From the sharp tips to her elbow, it was not flesh but some kind of clear, translucent metal close to glass or crystal. It made it easy to witness how the same fire that burned in the lining and her eyes extended to her arm – a yellow inferno that bled from her elbow and into the insides. The arm actually glittered with its internal flame, the surface customized to take on the appearance of scales that made it look beautiful despite its monstrous appearance.

When it gripped Mercury's head though, his vision obstructed by the smooth palm with slight ridges to better grab him, all he felt was agony when those pointed tips attempted to stab into his skull, held off only by his Aura. That shielding did not fare as well against the heat, a shrill cry escaping him against the scorching touch that began searing the flesh at his face and burning the hairs on his head. He was forced into silence when there came a pull that picked him off his feet and slammed his head into the wall of a nearby building. He was brought back, and then he was sent for a second hammering that actually had his head going through it, surprised screams echoing in his ears from the occupants.

He was torn free, the grip releasing him as he was tossed aside. He staggered and then fell, one arm desperately going to the ground to catch him, his feet scrabbling as he fought to get back up. He glanced up to catch sight of the masked woman following him, bathed in gold save for those demonic reds. Her human hand was curled tight in a fist but the claws of her right which was being left out for his viewing impatiently flicked and scratched at air.

He kicked out with his feet, firing a couple Burn-infused shots at her. Her right arm came up, the incoming projectiles striking the center of her palm, detonating into fireballs…and then being sucked in. Drawn into her arm, they only succeeded in feeding the flames that burned within, increasing their intensity. It didn't even slow her and when Mercury stood up, she sprung at him.

He tried to put up a defense. A couple kicks that she ducked under and then closed in on him. As soon as that happened, what occurred next could hardly be considered as a fight.

A punch got through and if the last one got his world to spin, this latest one completely upended it. The scaled fist struck him, the power and that searing touch – brief as it was – overwhelming his befuddled senses and backing him into the wall of another building. She pressed in on him, Mercury instinctively curling in on himself when blow after blow struck him. Each hit was like that thrown from some kind of behemoth rather than a human being, rattling Mercury to bone and teeth even if he managed to block it, with the ones that got through devastating.

He was being beaten – as defenseless as he had been against his father when he had been younger and weaker. A position that he was to never be caught in again but here he was now, being pummeled against this merciless onslaught. Strength, skill, and cunning had been thrown out and reduced to what he now knew to be a far weaker opponent being beaten by a much stronger one. Gold shone in his face and blinded him while those devastating punches kept him trapped and disoriented.

A shadow of something above got Mercury to duck, a fist just barely missing striking him in the face and demolishing the wall behind him instead. He frantically attempted to move to the side and away from his attacker but then he clumsily tripped over his feet in his haste. A hand seized him by the front of his shirt, keeping him from falling entirely but also keeping him in place on his knees as that draconic hand resumed raining down on him.

He tried to shield himself but he felt for himself how thin his Aura's protection was becoming, the vambraces at his arms all he had for protection and even then the punches struck with enough force that easily dented the metal and bruised the skin beneath, possibly crack and break bone if this continued any longer. In a last ditch effort, Mercury grabbed the arm that held him, using it as a lever as he sprung up from his kneeling position and swung with his leg.

It was caught, the clawed hand grabbing it, then squeezing it, and before Mercury had so much as a chance to prevent it, there was the shriek of crumpling metal as the robotic limb was crushed and, with a powerful heave, torn free.

The feedback caused by the destruction and sent to his brain had Mercury screaming before it was swiftly cut off with another punch. The grip on his shirt loosened, letting him drop to his back, and if he thought that was the end, he was gravely mistaken when one last punch sank deep into his gut. Mercury retched, vomit spilling onto wood that was already stained with blood.

The pressure on his stomach was relieved, leaving him to cough and gasp as he laid there, bruised arms with warped vambraces splayed out and missing half a leg. The golden radiance dimmed and then was extinguished but the swelling of his face from the beating made it difficult to see. He knew she was still there though, standing over him, and when he opened his eye that wasn't fully swollen, it was to see that mask and those six eyes staring down at him.

"W-who-?" he shakily asked but stopped, the act of talking difficult. "Who are you?"

She didn't see fit to answer him immediately, taking several long moments to just glare down at him. Her hand came up – not the claw, it back to being concealed by the leather -, fingers hooking beneath the chin of the dragon skull. Then she peeled it off.

Mercury had to turn his head to better look at her with his eye but even then he had to stare at her face for some time, haunted with a faint awareness that she did look familiar and that he should recognize her but couldn't immediately. Gradually he began to remember, filling in the details that this face was missing or had changed, and, surprising himself, his bleeding lips twisted into a humorous grin.

"O-oh." The shaking that came with a broken chuckle hurt but he braved through it. "I almost didn't recognize you." His focus switched from her face to that golden fur at her shoulder, except now he knew that he had been mistaken about it. "Did you do something to your hair?"

Her foot came down hard, his strangled cry almost masking the sound of a rib breaking beneath her boot.

"A-all right!" he choked out, the copper taste of blood becoming excessive at his mouth. "Bad joke. I get it." He grinned through the pain. "I thought you would appreciate it."

She wasn't amused and her leg tensed, the pressure of her foot noticeably increasing.

"You want something," he stated and was proven correct when she eased up. "I'd be flattered if you really just came all this way to see me like this. I'd certainly love to catch up, get the story behind that new look of yours, but that's not why you're here, is it?"

She removed her foot and lowered herself down onto a knee, setting her mask next to her.

"If you're looking to find out what our next biggest plan is," he continued and shrugged weakly, "gotta say, you're talking to the wrong guy. Your friends really screwed up everything we had going on in Mistral and right now I have no idea as to what we're going to be doing next to come back from this – not that Cinder has been telling me anything lately." The last was spoken with an unexpected brush of bitterness but he moved on. "Hope you enjoyed beating me up because that's all you're getting from coming all the way out here."

She just knelt next to him, her irises still retaining that red coloring and not reverting to a shade that he thought he remembered her having in the past. She leant close to be heard and told him exactly what she wanted.

He was a little taken off guard, staring incredulously at her when she finished. "That's all?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Apparently so. The idea came and went about lying or misdirecting her, but in the end Mercury told her with the thought that the effort for that would be too much for something that he didn't really care about.

As he told her, she remained silent, just looking down at him as she talked, and Mercury found the whole thing unsettling. It didn't take him long to understand why: she reminded him of Cinder.

It was how she was looking at him. He remembered the part he had played in all that had happened to her and in Vale. He expected to be the recipient of the loathing that she had to have for him. However, he didn't see any sign of it on her face. She was expressionless, the only thing she took any interest in being the information that he was telling her.

Then there was that power that came off of her. When combining those two aspects…he felt the same way as he did in Cinder's presence. That inadequacy. That understanding of how there was someone who surpassed him in power and ambition and in a way that left him doubtful of how he could ever hope to match them.

That never mattered to him in the past as he had tagged along solely for the fun that could be had by following someone of that magnitude. Here though, with him broken and bleeding under the shadow of this woman who he assisted in tormenting but had managed to reach a similar position regardless, it really drove home as to just what it is he really was.

That feeling grew once he was done. With her not saying another word, she turned and picked up her mask. The only thing worthwhile of him was the information. Now that she had it, she was ignoring him. She wasn't using the chance to acquire revenge or to bring him in, she just stood up and placed that dragon skull back over her head, his presence willfully forgotten.

"Wait," he muttered. "Don't leave me like this."

She was doing just that, leaving him amongst the rest of the garbage within this village. After her mask was fitted in place, she turned her back to him and walked off.

"I know what you have to be thinking," he tried again, listening to her retreating footsteps. "That I'm not worth it."

The steps continued, unabated.

"You know what the funny thing is? You're not wrong. I actually agree with you" Mercury did not hear them anymore after he said so. He did his best to lift his head as far as he could, trying to see if she was really gone while he asked, "Are you still there?"

He did see her. A few meters away, nearly out of earshot to catch his weakened voice, Mercury saw her back. It was still presented to him but the fact that she was still there gave him hope.

"It's not just about Taurus, is it?" He got no answer, but he was sure that she was listening. "There is something else that you're looking for." With a bloodstained grin, he let his head drop back with a barely-audible thunk. "To think that, at one point, I entertained the thought that you might actually be like me. But you really aren't, are you? You're the exact opposite. Of what I could've been but…not."

People, including his allies, always said he talked too much. Considering that was all he could do at the moment, and with this truth that was ebbing its way in with an epiphany, he found that talking was all he wanted to do.

"The first thing I ever did when I was born into this world was kill my own mother," he revealed. "She died giving birth to me, leaving me with my old man who only ever knew how to kill. He hated me, I know he did, but he couldn't kill me; I was all that was left of her. So he raised me and taught me in the only way he knew how."

Mercury chuckled. "You could imagine what that was like. Believe me, the feeling was mutual. Growing up, I had nothing else but him and this wish to one day kill him. I got it in the end, and I lost nearly half of me by then, but it never made things better. The hate stayed with me and grew, and my legs…I can still feel them. The pain, even now..."

Though the rest of him was too beaten up and tired to move and most of it was already gone, the remains of his destroyed leg still managed to move just enough when he willed it to. "No matter how long it's been, the pain is still fresh. I can still remember what I lost, and when I finally got out to see the rest of the world, I immediately despised it. I hated this planet and the people who lived on it, completely unaware to what I had gone through. The only thing I wanted to do was destroy their peaceful little lives and show them just what things were really like.

"You must understand at least a little of that, don't you? I was the one who turned the world against you for a time, wasn't I?" Mercury sighed in fond recollection. "Vale, what fun that had been. I know you suffered quite a bit. What happened at the tournament and your arm…I know you had experienced it. Losing such a part of you, trying to cope with the loss yet the pain constantly reminding you of it, and just that feeling of how utterly selfish these pitiful creatures are to not be able to understand it and too busy worrying about their own lives."

He couldn't see it but could imagine it: how she turned her head just enough to bring him into view. Oh, she knew.

"I think I kind of shot myself in the foot after that though." He faintly laughed at his own joke. "It was never that fun anymore after Beacon and getting everyone panicking. Like when I killed my father, I just wanted to find something else to do with all that I had been cursed with. But now, after what just happened in Mistral, seeing how these people are coping with it, and now you..."

He tried to catch sight of her again, at least see that leather covering, but couldn't quite do it in this instance. "Your arm. You didn't just replace it and restrict yourself to do only what you were capable of. You did something that I couldn't. Maybe you had help, maybe you were able to do it on your own, but you've become something else. To be quite honest, you terrify me. If this is a sign of how there's only going to be more people like you and your sister who will be able to play with what Cinder's cooking up, well, I think I can guess what's going to happen to me, and I find it to be so…boring.

"I can't live like that. I refuse to." He ended with that, letting the implied request float in the air between them.

He heard her walking again, but not away from him. Her shadow was cast over him again and soon he saw that mask of hers staring at him from above. The leather was swept aside, that scaled, crystal-like arm making another appearance so he could see how the claws spread as it lowered down to him.

When they seized him by the neck, it did not burn him. It was cold, unfeeling, and it started to tighten. Against the building pressure, he tried to speak, "Than-"

That was how Mercury died: with gratitude on his lips and the scent of leather at his nose. She squeezed, his neck being crushed faster and easier than his leg. A final burst of impulses were processed by his prosthetics, getting them to twitch and jerk, but a second later they went as limp as the rest of him.

She released him, letting him settle, and her arm ducked back into hiding. She remained over him for only a brief moment and then she straightened, turned, and went on her way.

Next Chapter:

"What did you think was going to happen, Adam? By helping destroy the CCT and separating the kingdoms, did you hope to become the leader that would drive the White Fang into wiping them out? That when the last one had been annihilated and every remaining trace of human civilization was swept aside in the later years, you would be hailed as the great hero who would be worshipped for all time as the liberator responsible for ushering in an era of faunus supremacy on Remnant? Let me tell you what's really going to happen."

Chapter Text

Within the spacious room, they were nearly untraceable to the untrained eye. Sudden streaks of shadow that crisscrossed throughout the interior, the nearby candlelight manipulated by their passing. When they met, a burst of violet and red energies erupted.

Such a thing occurred again when Blake's shadow blade met with Wilt and then retreated. Rather than wait for her to return, Adam aimed with Blush, the booming of his rifle deafening as he fired upon the moving cat faunus. The rounds punched holes in the wall and the floor, coming just shy of hitting Blake who ducked or used her Semblance to speed out of the way. Adam continued to track her with his weapon, but then had to immediately switch targets when he realized that the clones that Blake left behind didn't dissipate but draw weapons and move to attack him.

He blew off the head of one, swung Wilt to take the other, and was surprised when his sword was caught within a pair of sai wielded by it. The clone twisted the blades around, better trapping Adam's sword within the prongs of the small weapons. Something pulled on his left leg, almost getting him to fall, but he instead caught himself on his knee. The compromising position was enough for the clone he was locked with to free a sai and stab down, the tip hitting at a point between his shoulder and neck. It would've been an efficient, brutal kill if not for his Aura stopping the sai from piercing through. Adam pressed the barrel of Blush against the clone's stomach and fired.

Behind him stood the real Blake, clutching a length of shadow-made fabric that had wound around his leg. The nails of her one hand flashed with violet light before she made a violent clawing motion directed at him. Four small, slash-like conjurations of her Aura leapt from her fingers and struck Adam in the back. Once again his Aura held but he felt the attack literally scratch into his back nonetheless. He snarled as he spun around, slicing the ribbon from his leg.

Blake was already leaping at him again when he looked to her, him barely getting Wilt up in time to protect him against the fake but deadly edge of Gambol Shroud. She's faster.

Blake pressed her advantage against the not-quite balanced Adam. With a hand behind the blunt edge of her sword, she pushed against him with her strength and weight, forcing Adam off his feet and having his back hitting and then breaking through the wall that he had previously damaged.

Stronger, too.

He fell, Blake on top of him. The dirty rags that she wore brushed against him, a foul smell offending his nostrils. Yet this filthy appearance belied her fearsome abilities that she must've honed for this day. Behind the dirty tangles of her hair, Adam saw her lips curled into a snarl, a sharp incisor standing prominently. Those amber irises were alight with a rage that had finally been let loose and would only ever be satisfied with one thing: his death.

Blake had become faster and stronger with her powers having evolved, but it was only upon seeing the removal of a restraint that had debilitated her throughout her life that Adam understood just what kind of person he was fighting now. He had always chided her for it and had done all he could to get her to rid herself of that weakness. In a way, he seemed to have finally succeeded.

Never did she appear more exquisite to him than she did right now, with that expression of murder on her face.

Never did it hurt more than it did right now when he thought of what could've been.

It gave him the strength to throw her off of him, a heave accompanied with a knee against her front to send her away. He got to his feet, sheathing Wilt, and when Blake similarly recovered and reengaged him, he blocked her next attack not with his sword but his sheath. With her blade caught by Blush, he unsheathed Wilt with his usual quick and powerful draw, slashing across Blake. There was no dodging or clone, he hit her full-on, her Aura negating the sharpness of the edge from cutting her in two but not the power behind the attack that hurled her through the hole in the wall that they had created.

"You stupid woman," he growled, approaching where she disappeared. "Why couldn't you have been like this before? Why now, when you could've done this at any time? And against me? To think of all that we could've accomplished at this point together if you had only embraced this sooner?"

Two silhouettes ran through the opening, neither of them Blake. More copies. Adam dealt with them as such, blocking their ineffectual attacks and then cutting them down.

"It's not too late," he mentioned, stopping and waiting for her. "Even after all that your foolishness has done to impede us thus far. This doesn't have to be the end that you desire."

"It's not what I desire." She moved faster than her clones, Adam having to quickly bring up Blush in time to block her sword when she suddenly appeared. "It's what's already here. You're just too blind to see it."

"A defeatist," Adam insulted.

"Whatever will let you avoid reason," Blake countered.

"Enough!" He freed Wilt, drawing it up and then bringing it down on her.

Gambol Shroud was still against Blush but that didn't stop Blake from defending herself, this time with another specter of her lost weapon. With her sword against his sheath, it was the memory of her sheath that she called upon and then gave substance, it appearing to intercept Wilt. The two faunus strained against each other, their swords and sheaths and the muscles behind them struggling with neither gaining ground.

It was Blake who turned to words. "What did you think was going to happen, Adam?" She disengaged, took a step back, and then flipped over Adam's head to land behind him and thrust the point of her sword to pierce through his skull – mask and all. Adam half-turned and lifted his blade to deflect it, the edge of Gambol Shroud passing so close that he felt it come just shy of scraping his Aura.

Blake spun on her heel, becoming a whirlwind with her dual weapons that repeatedly struck against his physical defenses while she managed to keep talking. Keep beating at the mental walls that had been erected around his mind.

"By helping destroy the CCT and separating the kingdoms, did you hope to become the leader that would drive the White Fang into wiping them out?" A retaliatory strike from Adam had her jumping over it, spinning around so that her feet touched the ceiling. While she propelled herself to the side of the room, towards another wall, the clone that was placed in her stead came down on Adam with a scimitar.

The bull faunus stepped away, the curved sword slicing past him. The clone landed at his feet and it was a simple matter to stab down and through its back to dispel it. He sheathed Wilt again and swiveled to Blake when she sprung off from the wall and towards him, her weapons poised to strike.

They met as they did at the start of their duel. Adam performed another explosive unsheathing in time with Blake's attack. They passed each other, Blake landing in a steady crouch, her weapons extended at either side of her. It was Adam who faltered, flinching at the blow that had successfully hit him at the side. There was a clean cut through the fabric of his coat. No blood, but it was a sign of how close his defenses were to giving way entirely.

"That when the last one had been annihilated and every remaining trace of human civilization was swept aside in the later years, you would be hailed as the great hero who would be worshipped for all time as the liberator responsible for ushering in an era of faunus supremacy on Remnant?"

Adam responded first, his angry cry combining with his lunge at the kneeling Blake. The cat faunus turned, crossing sword and sheath together above her to weather against the heavy blows that came down again and again, her body shaking with each, but her defense holding despite it. It was at his last that her weapons came together in a scissoring movement, trapping Wilt which she then shoved to the side before shooting up to Adam.

She did not attack with her blades, Adam instead being harried by the frayed strips of her clothing that temporarily blinded him. He held up Blush, shoring up a desperate defense while he brought back Wilt to stab with little guidance. He hit regardless, Wilt penetrating something with substance.

"Let me tell you what's really going to happen."

The last was delivered not in front of him but at a distance. It was that and how what he stabbed dispersed into wisps of darkness that got him to realize that Blake was no longer in the same room and what he felled was just another clone. He stood alone.

"You still know how to run so well, I see," he spoke to the empty air and caught sight of the door that was ajar; an obvious indication of where she had gone.

Blake's voice carried over to him. "Shall I strand myself in a hopeless war, the goals of which unattainable?"

"It is not hopeless." After returning Wilt to the embrace of Blush, Adam threw the door open the rest of the way and stepped out, preparing for a fight. All he got was an empty hall. "And we will succeed, with or without you."

Her voice beckoned him to travel down. "You speak as if there is anyone left other than yourself. I know enough, Adam. I know what's become of the White Fang and of you. Your failure in Mistral, how your human allies abandoned you, and how even those who have followed you for so long have come to hate and leave you."

"You speak of nothing but lies!" he responded loudly.

"I speak only of the words your men gave to me before I killed them. Mistral still stands. Those who have not perished have sailed to parts that are unknown to you. I hunted down and killed any who chose to stay and follow you. I may've missed a few – an outpost or some other hideouts that I'm unaware of – but all that matters is that the army that you had built up is no more."

"Lies!" Yet as he shouted that, Adam was holding a hand to his temple, a painful throbbing that had started and grown as Blake spoke. With that pain was an impossible feeling: that what Blake was saying was not false.

A pause, leaving Adam with nothing but the quiet and the throbbing that would not lessen, and then Blake said, "I think I understand you now, Adam."

"You understand nothing, least of all me." Despite the headache, Adam still felt the sudden increase of power charge the air, coming from a door he hadn't notice himself wander in front of. It burst apart, violet Aura slashes cutting through and heading towards him. His head twisted to the side, one coming just shy of caressing his cheek and splitting it open. His weapons came up, Blush being forced to hold out against a second and then Adam drew Wilt to intercept and absorb the last two.

"I don't know if you rationalized it the moment you allied with Cinder or did so later, but once you did, it was like jumping off a cliff. Once you fell, there was no stopping."

The last vestige of power that he absorbed disappearing from glowing steel and red locks, Adam entered the room that the attack had come from. Standing within the middle was Blake, a sword held out to her side. She smiled mockingly at him. Adam took a few more steps and then fired a shot from Blush.

Blake's smile and most of her face was obliterated. Darkness bled from the remains, her body tipping but disintegrating before it hit the floor.

"Putting the White Fang under her control," her voice resonated. "Following her orders. Leading so many faunus to die for the sake of her plans. Using Grimm. You were willing to do it all. Why?"

Because… The reason was there, but the pain was attempting to smother it. A savage noise slipped from Adam – the sound akin to a tortured but angry animal as he held his head.

Behind him, a form rose up from the shadows of the floor. Another of Blake's clones crept towards him, a dagger with vicious serrations clutched in her hand. This one lacked the hood much like the previous one, so the eager expression for the kill was out in the open.

"Because you thought you could fix it all in the end," Blake answered. "Take whatever measures you could, no matter what it would cost to those who followed you. Immerse yourself in the shame of bending to her whims. As long as you were victorious – as long as you were able to kill her and silence all who had witnessed your disgrace – you could shape your own history in the world that you would create. Hide from everyone as to how pitiful their great leader really was."

Wilt slashed through the arm holding the dagger, severing it at the elbow. With a bestial roar Adam ran the clone through, bringing it to the floor, and stabbed it again and again, even after it disappeared and all he was hitting were the floorboards.

"You're going to die here, Adam."

Adam whirled around just in time, cutting another clone in half at the waist. As the pieces fell away and vanished, it was to unveil the rest that were behind it – at least a dozen, with more forming from the shadows of the darkened room. All of them with their hoods down. All with Blake's face. All sharing that eagerness for his death.

"You're going to die," Blake repeated again as her clones attacked. "Alone in this cabin within the swamps of Mistral. You will not be remembered with fondness or greatness. Those who still believed in you are dead while those who have forsaken you are spreading the word. Adam Taurus: the great betrayer who led the faunus of the White Fang to ruin. Another madman, no different from the many others who you will join with in history."

Her words were as relentless as the faces that swarmed him. Wilt and Blush were but a blurred shield with how fast Adam swung them, cutting and bludgeoning the clones that approached him. The room was cramped and they closed in at all sides. No matter where he swung, he was hitting several.

But they came on and though his rage drove him, the insistence that he could not die here like this fueling him, he could only keep going for so long. His Aura that had fallen low was beginning to give out, with a blade coming away with not only cloth but blood too. He began to tire, his movements slowing, and more cuts began to gather on his body – a mark for each of the crimes he had committed and was now out in the open.

He fell to a knee, his clothes nearly as tattered as those who assaulted him, his grip on Wilt and Blush slick with the blood that trickled from the numerous wounds. He swung the former with obvious weakness and little direction, and for once he did not hit anything. That, he soon saw, was because Blake's clones had decided to step back, switching from an attack with weapons to the stares that they aimed at his low position.

"Die," came Blake's final order. "Let your sins anchor you to your rightful place for all eternity."

Not like this, Adam silently dreaded as the shadows closed in on him. It can't end like this.

They all raised their weapons.

"NO!" Adam swung Wilt, wielder and weapon ablaze with red power. In a full circle, the power leapt and cut through the entire mob of clones and beyond. The shadow clones disintegrated where they stood, an entire cloud of darkness filling the entire room.

All except one. With a surprised shout, Blake's Aura took the brunt of the attack, held, and then shattered as she was flung back, striking a wall.

There! Without a moment to spare, Adam sprung up from the floor, a second wind empowering him upon locating her.

Partially slumped against the wall, Blake held up a hand, her shadow blade reforming.

She was too late . Before it could be used to defend herself, Adam was already on her. Wilt's tip stabbed forward, hitting high at her chest – and then going right through. Just inches from her shoulder, Wilt pierced through, earning a scream from Blake as the blade continued on and buried itself into the wood behind her, pinning her in place.

"I'm not going to die!" Adam shouted in her face. "I will not let this be my destiny!"

Blake, grimacing and in clear agony, glared at him. The arm that she could still use jolted up but before she could do anything the end of Blush came across and hit her right in the face, stunning her. When it came again for a repeat with the same amount of brutality, Blake was knocked out.

She followed the instructions as told by the man she killed, wandering over a good hour before she came upon the cabin. Even at this distance, she could spot the damage that spoke of a recent fight. The entire side that she could see was scarred with holes and several large cuts. She strained her hearing while focusing her vision, trying to pick up on any sign that whatever battle had taken place was still going on. She found no such thing, leaving her with only one course of action.

However, as she was about to proceed, the call of a bird stopped her. She looked up.

A raven was perched on an overhanging branch. It did not repeat its call and instead stared down at her with its red orbs.

She stared back at it, her human middle pair of eyes narrowing hostilely. She shifted to better position herself against the small, feathered creature as if expecting it to attack her at any moment. If it so chose to do so, she was ready for it as the curling of her fingers expressed while the sharp tips of her claws slid into view as a sign of warning.

The raven tilted its black head curiously but then went still, the two staring each other down as they waited to see who would make the first move.

"I'm sorry."

It hung like a pall, the miserable clouds that had blanketed the skies as the Grimm did upon the ground. Rain had begun to fall in a great deluge. With the chaos over, it was nature that was taking it upon itself to wipe the blood away as the cleansing shower soaked the land.

But it could do nothing about the desolation; the crumpled buildings or the bodies that were entombed within and scattered around – yet to be recovered or consumed by the monsters that had run amok in this once protected and untouched settlement. The outpost that had been constructed for defense against such destruction lay in ruins out in the distance, crowned with the great dragon that had ushered this tragedy.

"I'm sorry."

Within the center of it all, a lone cat faunus wept where she lay on a roof, having traveled as far as she could until weakness forced her in such a position. One arm was flung over her eyes, the other clutching at her side. The hot tears and warm blood were in sharp contrast to the cold raindrops that drenched and numbed her.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Such remorse did little to change what had transpired no matter how many times she repeated it. The lives lost would not return, and the ones that were ruined could not be fixed.

The ones that she ruined.

The whole time running, Blake couldn't elude the memories of all that had transpired only hours ago and now she wallowed in despair as they overtook her. Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Weiss.

Yang.

Blake lifted her arm from her face and through her blurred vision she stared at her hand as she opened and closed her fingers, the movement of each digit invoking the horrible image of another limb, stronger than her own and armed with a gauntlet, flying from its owner, completely severed, and dropping sickeningly to the floor.

Blake closed her fingers, nails digging painfully into her palm as she brought her hand back and ground her knuckles against her forehead, a sob managing to break through the suffocating hold around her throat. "I'm so sorry," she gasped, the mantra having refused to end since it began when she was clutching her partner's remaining hand, silently pleading for forgiveness from those ashen features while the evidence of her crime was as plain as the blood-drenched tourniquet.

She could never be forgiven. Not for any of this. How could she? It was why she ran. She preached that it was for the protection of her teammates but here within the wake of this cataclysm, how could she argue for anything other than this being her fault?

Stupid, careless, and weak. How could she have been so foolish to believe that the White Fang would've stopped and given up? How could she have been so naïve to fall prey to the peace and joys of a celebration of unity when she knew firsthand of the forces that went against those public misconceptions?

How could she have been so helpless against it all when she should've been the one best equipped to combat it?

There was no room for denial of her part in this. The dead and the ruins near and afar, all the result of the darkness of the Grimm that had fallen upon them all - that darkness of which had been delivered with the methods of the White Fang. The group that had once been hers, the members that belonged to her kind, and the leader who she thought she could run from without him ever giving chase when she knew too well of his ruthlessness.

As a result, her home that had been held up as a beacon of light had been snuffed out. Her friends who had known so much happiness and were allowed to be so carefree were and would never be so ever again because of the black cat that had crossed their path and doomed them.

I want to die.

To be left with nothing once more, plagued with wounds made to her body and her heart, and comprehending how cursed her existence was, the sole wish that Blake had was to remain where she was and do just that. One more to join with the deceased, the addition so trivial until she thought of those who would be spared when she would no longer be there to live amongst them and those she knew who couldn't possibly experience any pity if she died after all she had caused them.

The logic and the release from her own guilt made the notion of death nearly too tempting to resist. As her arm dropped away from her face, coming to rest at her side while the pressure she kept at her wound ebbed, she was on the verge of surrendering to it. That was until the one thought that entered her mind. One name.

Adam…

So set on blaming herself for what had transpired, she thought little of his part in this. Of what that she did think of, she attributed to her accursed being for having brought him into proximity with her friends.

But as she laid there, she thought of how she had done so at his feet. Him, standing over her, mocking and hating her, speaking of the destiny that he believed he controlled and his justification of punishing her for going against it. Promising o take all that she held dear, and that cruel smirk as he had faced Yang, goading her into the attack that resulted in the loss of her arm when he stabbed into Blake without hesitation. All that he had done…

Blake was not unfamiliar to rage. As a faunus, it was unavoidable to feel it when humans and insulted and spoke to her with such scorn. She never let it overpower her and command her into senseless violence even when so many others fell to its temptations.

She felt it now. Thinking of Adam and the White Fang and their part in this – the actions in which they took whether Blake lured them here or not -, Blake felt it creep up on her. From where she had contained it deep within her soul, always dwelling but never spreading, it encroached upon her. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together, and the grip that had slackened at her side retightened so hard that her wound protested, the pain of which becoming fuel for the hot emotions that circulated through her.

She swallowed down the knot of grief and what came free were angry, ragged breaths that grew in intensity. She blinked, clearing her eyes of her tears and the rain that continued to fall upon her suddenly seemed incapable of dousing the flush of anger that burned her skin. The idea of death returned but rather than encourage weakness, it gave her intoxicating power.

She deserved to die. She wanted to die. To do that though, and to let Adam and his ilk get away with what they did…

It was ironic, when Blake rolled onto her front, as to what she was thinking now. She had always stood up for her people and had always clung to what righteousness could be found in their cause. Even when presented with the increasing inhumanity of her kind's actions, she tried to find some explanation in it. Some trace of sanity that she wanted to believe in. But now…she suspected that her thoughts were no different to that of the humans who belittled them and thought of them as nothing but animals.

They were animals; Adam and the cretins who followed him. Her fault or not, they came here. They did this. They brought the Grimm here, had murdered and raved alongside those monsters, and had destroyed those who Blake cherished most with that smile

She wanted them to pay. As she remained there, hunched, with her body heaving and shaking with breathless anger, Blake could only think of the revenge that she was fantasizing. Hunt them down. Kill them one by one. Slaughter them as they did to these innocents. Show them fear the likes they've never experienced. Make them understand that they couldn't and wouldn't get away with this.

They thought they earned a victory this day? She would find them and show them just how gravely mistaken they were.

A pair of feet appeared without warning. It was enough to bring Blake out from this stifling hatred for her to look up at who had suddenly arrived. What she beheld was her own face staring down at her.

It was one of her clones but not. It stood over her, solid, with no intention of disappearing. It wore her bow, her ribbons, her clothing, and had her hair and eyes.

It was also grinning. A wide, lengthy grin that stretched across its face, creating an expression that could only be described as malicious. Vengeful. Eager.

And Blake found herself admiring that look.

He said, Blake began to recall as her newfound strength gave her the means to gradually pick herself up. He said all he wanted was me.

Her clone watched, waiting for its mistress to rise. As Blake forced herself to stand, she met the gaze of her clone and, soon, she felt her lips stretching to mimic its expression.

That's exactly what he'll get.

When Blake opened her eyes, it was to find herself standing but not of her own accord. With her head hanging low, she saw how the tips of her toes just barely touched the wooden floor beneath her.

There was pain. It was the only thing that broke through the weakness that enshrouded her – both her body and mind. Weakly, she turned – more like rolled – her head to the side to bring her shoulder into view. Most of what consisted of her sleeve had been torn away, and she could see her bare skin and the wound itself. It had been stitched but sloppily; enough to close the wound and keep her from potentially bleeding out. The same effort for cleanliness seemed to be the same as blood – still not quite dry – painted the skin around it as well as the dirt.

It was much harder for her to look up to discover the source of the agony at her wrists that were currently held above her. A weak lifting of her chin measured in an inch before she gave up. She could guess what was hurting her though and what was responsible for having her hang there as her wits gradually returned to her. Something was biting painfully into her wrists, wound tight enough that it broke skin – a thin but noticeable wet trickle descending down the length of her arms.

Some kind of cord. Not rope. Colder and harder, like metal. Thin too, making it easier to cut into flesh. Difficult to break out and, in her state, impossible. It would make her Aura recovery difficult as well, between it and the wound at her shoulder that required what energy that she could muster to be transferred to healing.

Blake's chin lowered back down and she grimaced as her surrender cajoled another lance of pain to travel out from her injuries as she settled with just hanging there. Any suggestion of freeing herself came and went, leaving nothing but the obvious defeat. She lost, reduced to a feeble prisoner, and there was no chance of her changing that.

All that did come to her was the lingering remnants of the past that she unwillingly dredged up with her loss of consciousness. Forced to remember all that she had lost and everyone who had been hurt with the most important of them – her home, her friends, her new family and life – having suffered because of none other than her existence.

It did nothing to add to her weight but she felt it settle heavily upon her soul. Regret and shame welled beneath it, and the words that she had uttered over and over again passed quietly through her lips. "I'm sorry."

"It's too late for apologies."

It came from behind her but Blake didn't show any sign of being surprised or attempt to correct him about what she was sorry for. She remained hanging limp in her bindings, listening as he approached her back and then circled around to position himself at her front. She did not look up at him.

Wilt's hilt was tucked beneath her chin and she was forced to look up at Adam at his urging. He hadn't cleaned himself up any better than he did with her, still wearing the coat that had been torn in multiple places, the discolored patches distinguishing where the blood had stained it. She caught sight of bandages but what really got her attention was how he was smiling. His lips were constantly twitching with mania, and Blake suspected that their fight had something to do with it. Whatever had been retaining what little remained of Adam's sanity, it had become unraveled.

She couldn't help but muster up a smile of her own which she immediately paid for when Adam's palm smacked across her cheek.

"What are you smiling for?" came his tremulous tone.

Blake didn't answer, her cheek stinging from the print that was left by the slap. Back to hanging again, all she did was watch Adam's feet as they moved back and forth in front of her.

"This seems familiar," Adam noted, still pacing. "I actually remember everything now thanks to you – a mistake on your part. You shouldn't have come here. If you didn't, I would've forgotten most of what you've done. All that you've ruined."

Blake again didn't say a word, but with her chin lowered Adam couldn't see how the corners of her mouth were being tugged upwards for a second time.

"Things were finally becoming the way they were supposed to be." His foot tapped against the floor. "This was where we were supposed to ascend from. After we got out of Mistral, it would've been you and me that would've changed things – not just the White Fang but the world too. Destiny itself would've been ours to create if I recall correctly."

He halted his pacing and reoriented himself to regard her. "Things were going our way, but then you ruined everything. It all fell apart the moment you broke with us. Had you remained by my side, I would've remained strong. I wouldn't have been forced to ally with those despicable, double-crossing humans if you had been there to help me fight them. Our victory in Vale would've been ours alone with fewer casualties and our power would've doubled at least.

"And when we returned to Mistral…" There came a frustrated, angry bark. "It would've been different! We would've won! We would've been able acquire so much more! Enough to rival even Atlas! If only you had just. Stayed. With me!"

Blake's cat ears flicked at the spittle that drizzled on them at Adam's rant but there was no other reaction.

"So here we are now, the two of us together again. What could I possibly do, now that this day has come?" The end of Blush appeared, managing to hook itself at a tear in Blake's clothing. There was a tug, the intention obvious as the fabric barely held on to her form. "We did have some pleasant moments, you and me. Shall we revisit them?"

Blush retreated and was replaced by the cutting edge of Wilt, the tip hovering right where the point could almost poke into her abdomen. "Or should I finish you here? Take my time with claiming all that you owe me with each cut and each limb that you can endure before you die? Decisions, decisions…"

Blake made it for him in a sudden surge of motion. Her body curled and then threw itself forward, her toes gaining what momentum they could from the floor. She gasped when Wilt sank effortlessly into her.

"No!" was Adam's shocked exclamation as he lurched back, removing Wilt so fast that the sword actually slipped through his grip and flew away from him.

Blake hadn't been successful to have it go right through her, but it had gone in enough. Blood flowed anew, the vital fluid making the cloth over it slick. The light swinging that was the result of her maneuver proved to be dizzying, Blake's vision swimming, but she was able to make out the result that she desired. Before her, Adam was in shock, openly gaping at her.

"Do?" Blake whispered to him, her growing delirium causing her to grin up at him. "What are you going to do, Adam?" She witnessed how his jaw hung open further when she giggled. "Nothing."

The blood loss was being counteracted by the flush of mad success that she experienced. To finally be here, right at the culmination of all her planning, all her waiting, all her killing – all for this moment that she had longed for and finally reached. Her revenge now within her grasp and what she gripped with no intention of letting go.

"Did you really think that you won?" Blake asked. "How typical of you to think that because you beat me with violence means that you won. You couldn't be farther from the truth." She struggled to hold herself as high as she could, ignoring her weakness so that she could stand at the pinnacle of her triumph.

"Tell me, Adam, what will happen once you've taken your recompense? A moment of release before total despair befalls you. I did come here with every intention to kill you, but not until I robbed you of whatever pitiful retreat that you had taken up to hide from the truth: you have nothing. Your war is lost, your followers gone, and your name dragged through the mud. As for this…"

Unable to shake her hands, she did her fingers to direct attention to her restraints. "I was aware of the possibility, and this makes it even better. I'm enjoying this. Watching you threaten me, listening to all the horrible things you want to do to me but won't – at least not immediately. You said that all you wanted was me? Well, not only do you have me, but I'm all you have left, and you won't get rid of me that quickly.

"So, go ahead. Kill me or attempt to make my life the hell you already made it to be – it doesn't matter which. Because no matter what tortures you put me through, we both know that you're only delaying the inevitable. Nothing will change your fate so all it is is a question of when you'll finally face it and whimper upon realizing how powerless you really are. Will it be when you've finally had enough and take off my head, or will it be one cut too many or a wound too deep that takes me from you? Or will a slip allow me to break free and kill you instead? What if whoever is left of the White Fang decides to come for you instead with me to watch?"

She leaned as much as she could forward, a predatory grin on her face, and was delighted when she saw Adam move a breath away from her. "The possibilities of what could occur, and I'll be right here to see which it will be, because all I have left is you. The difference here is that I am ready to die and be forgotten while you are going to remain in infamy long after I take you with me."

Her vigor couldn't last. Shortly after she finished her tirade, Blake swung back as her energy gave out but her expression of maniacal triumph remained leveled at Adam as she waited for him to respond in some manner or not at all. She wanted him to at least try and fall back on his brutality so that he could really see for himself as to how ineffectual it would be.

Before he could decide on that or any other method, there was a tremendous crash somewhere within the cabin, the noise sounding like someone having just broken in. It snapped Adam out of it, the bull faunus whipping his head around in its direction and Blake eventually did the same. A second crash didn't follow the first and she strained both sets of ears to catch any sign of what had to be an intruder.

Footsteps. Slow, heavy footfalls of someone undergoing a search. After every few seconds they would pause, the sliding of a door following, then the footsteps would resume.

She and Adam waited, both listening as whoever was prowling around went from room to room, steadily coming closer to the one inhabited by them. It was then, while listening intently, that Blake noticed a dripping sound. Steady, with one drop of liquid followed by another. It took her longer to figure out that the dripping sound was coming from her. She was still bleeding, her life still leaking out of her.

The mysterious person stopped right at their door. It slid open.

Six glowing red eyes pierced through the darkness, illuminating the room with their malevolence alone. They were set within a horned skull shaped like a dragon and Blake experienced a fleeting chill, her memories flashing back to the soaring leviathan that had circled the towers of Beacon Academy on that fateful night. It was not any kind of Grimm though, the body attached to it that of a woman dressed in a Mistrali gi top and pants, her right arm concealed beneath a long piece of black leather lined with gold at the shoulder.

This was not someone who had come for peace, enmity rolling off of her in waves with all three pairs of eyes focused on Adam. Coming to her own conclusion, Blake smirked and murmured, "I guess I won't have to wait that long after all."

Adam had done little else since the woman's appearance other than be confused by her presence. Blake's comment drew him to her, leading him to look at her with that same confusion. It dissolved into comprehension and he looked back to the masked woman, then Blake again, anger coloring what of his face that wasn't hidden.

"No," he seethed. He bent down, snatching Wilt from the floor.

Meanwhile, the masked woman stepped into the room, her attention on Adam as she went around him, taking a side of the room for herself.

"It's not going to end like this," he growled. "Not here." He glared at the woman. "Not to the likes of you." As soon as she took her position at her end, Adam sheathed Wilt but didn't let go of the hilt, still clutching it as his legs spread apart and knees bent. "You're the one that'll die here tonight."

Blake felt Adam start to gather his power, his efforts indicated by his hair and the designs of his coat and mask lighting up in an identical red. It charged the air in the room, immediately becoming oppressive, and Blake couldn't prevent her head from drifting low, her vision turning hazy with black encroaching at the edges.

If she lost consciousness here, would she wake up at all? It was that inquiry that motivated her to struggle to retain her consciousness and quite likely her life as well. If death was in fact hovering above her, waiting for her to submit and then whisk her away, she wanted to stave it off long enough to witness the outcome of this battle. Either of them would satisfy her whether it be Adam actually being killed or him killing his adversary only to then turn around and realize that he had in fact lost once he beheld the hanging corpse and the blood on the floor.

Her vision cleared but the weakness remained, debilitating her. She could barely feel anything, including her wounds. She fought to keep watch, Adam and the woman's positioning thankfully putting them in easy view. The former continued to gather power but the latter was…standing there. She was making no move to attack, appearing to be fine with letting him acquire whatever power he needed.

Wait…

The top and bottom pairs of the woman's eyes were staring forward at Adam. But the middle pair - the ones with human irises and pupils - had shifted, looking away from Adam and to…

…Me?

The woman was staring directly at Blake. The cat faunus stared back, at a loss at what to think.

"If you want her," Adam broke in with a grin of a man who was sure that he already won, "you'll have to deal with me first."

The woman took the hint, gaze swiveling to Adam, but they hadn't done so immediately, having lingered on Blake. The leather that covered her right arm was swept aside as she revealed the limb, Blake shocked to see the crystalline material that started at her elbow and ended in the savage claws that shared the same saurian features as the skull.

The woman held the arm out at her side, claws spreading apart, and a second source of power ignited. Rather than red, a brilliant gold alighted to battle with Adam's red, the fur at her shoulder – No, Blake realized, noting the difference in follicle density, it's hair. – illuminating. The transparent metal of her arm glittered, the pattern akin to that of scales, and what Blake could only describe as molten power bled from her elbow to fill her monstrous arm with that gold. Once filled to the pointed tips, she calmly approached Adam with it remaining extended out at her side.

Blake's vision grew dim again, the pressure that was being produced nearly overwhelming. The space between the two combatants had become a point of contestation, their individual Auras clashing and sparking against one another like electricity with neither overcoming the other. Two powerful storm fronts that were about to collide.

Adam waited until his opponent was within range before he attacked. With her distorted vision, Blake couldn't make it out in detail. She saw Adam unsheathe his blade, the immeasurable speed making it nothing more than a moment's blur of red that crashed with a flash of gold. The faunus instinctively turned her head, averting her eyes for a second when a strong gust came and went from the collision. She instantly looked back.

Adam was standing, his arm and sword out after performing the slash. The woman of gold remained at her feet as well, her body slightly tilted to the side as if having taken a blow. They were still, their lights of gold and red extinguished.

It was the woman who moved first. She straightened herself out, refacing Adam fully, and then her right arm rose back into view, the claws holding on to something. They relaxed and released what was in their grip.

Half of Wilt's broken blade fell and landed between them.

Adam stared down at it, shocked. "What!?" He glanced at what of Wilt he had in his hand and saw for himself the jagged end of where the length of steel had broken off.

Gold suddenly returned, hair relighting. The woman drew her arm back, the claws coming together in a single, pointed tip while power once again refilled the innards. Adam perceived the threat but too late, the remains of Wilt he brought up in an attempt to defend himself too slow as the arm came forward, thrusting like a spear with the tip hitting his chest, penetrating, and coming right out the other side.

A surprised gasp was all that Adam was able to get out, the left side of his chest filled with the woman's forearm. Her hand had come completely out his back, claws drenched in his blood. He dropped Wilt, the weapon reuniting with its other half on the floor, and somehow he managed to weakly grip the arm that impaled him, trying to pull it out.

The arm remained immobile as the woman watched, pitiless.

Gasps became wet gurgles, Adam choking on his own blood that dribbled from his lips to his chin. It must've came to him that fighting was pointless as he gave up trying to remove the arm and switched to a different tactic. Having maintained a grip on Blush, he began to raise it, trying to bring up the barrel despite how much his grip shook.

He was not trying to aim it at his killer. The barrel started drifting towards Blake.

"B-Bla," he tried to speak, gagged, and tried it again, his voice sickeningly wet. "Bl-…B-…"

All Blake showed him was a smile.

It would not be the last thing he would see. A jerk forced him to face forward as his strength gave out completely, now dropping Blush as he got an upfront view of those six eyes. They were burning brightly, the human pair so much so that the pupils disappeared, making them exactly the same as the inhuman pairs.

Adam suddenly began convulsing in agony and a sizzling reached Blake's ears. Red vapors drifted from that draconic arm, the blood that covered it evaporating, and it was to reveal how the molten gold inside looked as if it was bubbling and surging to escape.

Blake understood just where it was escaping to when she saw the first belch of fire from Adam. He was being immolated from the inside.

Fire and smoke spouted from his mouth, the same thing happening to his eyes as smoky and fiery tendrils escaped through slim spaces between his skin and the metal of his mask which were being fused together from the heat. His clothing and hair caught fire, flesh melting and boiling while the bones beneath burned, the sickening smell of cooking meat filling Blake's nose.

When the woman finally wrenched her arm free, her work finished, there was very little of the immolated remains of Adam Taurus that could be recognized save for the charred bull horns on the now hairless skull and the mask fused to his face. She dedicated a little time to inspect her handiwork…and then turned to Blake.

"I thank you for that," was the first thing that Blake said once she was done with her longer and more satisfied examination of Adam. Her smile remained, not as big, but present with contentment when she directed it to that fearsome mask.

The woman said nothing in reply, now crossing the room towards the cat faunus.

"I hope you leave me with a little gratification that it was because of me that made him so easy to kill," Blake continued, peace finally settling over her. "Not that I suspect that you'll give me any lenience. I can probably guess at who you are and you probably know who I am. I suspect that I'm as much a target as Adam was."

She stopped in front of Blake, her middle eyes back to resembling something human and currently focused on her.

"I won't resist," she promised. She closed her eyes and lowered her head as a sign of surrender. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. If you want, you can leave me here. I'm sure that I'll die soon enough without you needing to move a muscle."

Unknown to Blake, the eyes blinked and then moved down, seeming to only now notice the blood that was taking over the floor beneath Blake's feet.

"Do what you wish," Blake finished, feeling so very tired. "But you truly have my thanks; both for killing Adam and for freeing me from this cursed existence."

She then gave up. Her body went slack, her muscles relaxing as much as they could in this position. Her tired eyes expressed relief once she closed them and she felt it spread throughout the rest of her. A body that had been burdened with so much finally allowed to rest, the soul free to leave this battered vessel and find its own relief in another plane once the last breath was taken.

She was barely aware of what was going on, on the verge of giving in to oblivion as she was. Hands – one warm and human, another cold and savage – touched her. They found the tear in her clothing, a brief flicker of pain she barely felt as they found where she was stabbed. The claws touched it, initially cool, then growing warm, warmer, hotter-

Blake couldn't help it. She screamed. Red-hot pain enveloped her abdomen, brutally returning her to reality as she screamed and thrashed, the metal wiring tearing into her wrists, the stitches at her shoulder threatening to break as she thought that the woman was killing her. She wanted to make her suffer like Adam before there came her blissful release.

It'll be over! she managed to assure herself. I'll die, I'll die, and it'll be over!

It was over sooner than she expected. And she did not die. She hung from her restraints, gasping for breath, her stomach burning, so alive and awake.

The claws seized the length of wiring at her wrists, pulling and then tearing them apart. She felt the pleasurable reprieve upon their removal, her circulation returning to normal and assisting in keeping her awake. Enough for her to make the prediction of how she would fall and hit the floor – and be stumped when that didn't happen.

An arm had circled around her back to catch her and ease her to the floor. The claw rejoined, taking her behind her head, but even that handled her…tenderly. Blake wasn't sure why she thought that in particular but it came with how she was laid down, the woman careful to not bang her head against the wood, fingers and claws holding her gently to the point where another absurd word – caressing – came to mind.

But she braced herself for when the torture would continue. Waited for when her soon-to-be killer would devour her in flame or tear out her throat. Nothing of the sort happened.

As much as she didn't want to, Blake opened her eyes and found that dragon skull hovering above her. She was in the woman's arms, her not making a move to harm her, and Blake found herself unable to do anything but stare at her while the inferno at her stomach settled into a hot ache.

Something possessed her to actually speak, her quietly whispering, "Why?"

The claw had removed itself from her head once she settled, coming to her front while the hand rested at her back to keep her partially raised. It was touching her stomach, palm lying flat while the metal tip of a claw grazed down a certain section. Blake's thoughts were split, wondering if the woman was checking the wound to make sure that there was no more bleeding or if she was about to rip open another one to repeat the process.

It was actually neither. The claw was touching a different wound. A different scar.

That dragon head bowed, all eyes disappearing from Blake's view. A voice resonated within with a muffled but feminine quality. It was also familiar.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

Since the appearance of the woman, a subconscious part of Blake was taking in details that tickled at her memory. The eyes, the hair, the fire, red and gold. Each one feeling somehow familiar to her in some way. But it was only that voice that brought them to the forefront and linked them all together.

And when presented with the picture they completed, all Blake felt was horror. No.

The clawed hand rose from her stomach, reaching and seizing that skull mask.

No, no, no. Please don't let it be…

The woman pulled off her mask.

When she saw that face, Blake's eyes went wide, her lips parting when she gasped. The amount of blood that drained from her face shocked her, her unable to believe that she had that much left and wishing that she hadn't. Her fingers of her one hand shook, only settling when they were clasped over her open mouth.

But the name she breathed was audible. "Yang."

She still had her hair – as yellow and bright as Blake remembered it. However, most of it had been shorn off. What had once been a waterfall of lively curls had been done away, reduced to the strands that barely hung past her ears. Her eyes remained red with no trace of the purples even with the battle now over.

Her face was unmarred. There was no scarring and no disfigurement whatsoever. Yet she seemed paler, what had once been peach-colored skin having become colder. Everything about her was colder. The red eyes, once so full of passion, had become tamed. Tempered. Deadened. There was little of the vibrant life or passion in them, similar to how the cutting of her hair had reduced the voluminous locks.

"Yang," Blake repeated, just as quietly and despairingly. She removed her palm from her mouth and reached up to Yang's face. She did so hesitantly, pausing at each inch of progress until her nails were brushing against the skin of her cheek.

Yang brought her the rest of the way, clawed fingers taking Blake's petite ones. Once her hand touched Yang's cheek, Blake felt for herself how the skin felt so negligibly different to the metal hand.

So cold.

Yang tilted her head into Blake's touch, her eyes closed as she basked in it. It didn't do anything from deterring the faunus into remembering what kind of person Yang used to be. Fun-loving, caring, warm – everything that had drawn Blake out from the shadows that the world had plunged her into with the trust in Yang's kindness. To have turned into this…

Tears welled up in Blake's eyes. She had dreaded this chance that they would meet again despite her attempts to never let this happen. Breaking away from RWBY had not only been to protect them and leave her free to eliminate the White Fang, but it was also meant as a gift to both parties. She would take her revenge, be free to do whatever she needed and even wanted to obtain it, and then pass on once it was done. Let her die with the satisfaction of completing her self-appointed mission and with the relief that all the pain and misery would go with her. RWBY would have one less threat to their lives, and they would never again have to worry of the trouble that a cursed faunus would bring to ruin them.

Why? She asked, droplets sliding down her cheeks. Why now, after all this time? When I had been so close… And why her? Why the one who I had hurt the most?

Maybe…maybe it wasn't so bad after all. The one she hurt most. Yes, that was right.

"Kill me."

Yang's eyes sprung open, surprise flickering across them as she regarded Blake.

"You deserve it," Blake pleaded, a tiny, sad smile cracking into existence on her wet face. "You're like this because of me. If only you never met me, none of this would've happened to you. You could've remained whole. I wouldn't have caused you or Ruby or Weiss or anyone else so much pain. I'm cursed; a true black cat who brings disaster to whoever I cross the path of. I hadn't learned that lesson in the Fang because I was so selfish in wanting a life I could call my own, never knowing that my nine lives would be taken from those around me."

She rested against Yang's arm that supported her. "I won't go through anyone else's anymore. I've done what I wanted; there's nothing left for me. All that's left is the life that you deserve to take back." She sniffed, her last words broken. "I just want all this to be over so, please, just take it."

Yang stared down at her, her features giving away nothing as they hardened, what little warmth in them smothered beneath her stern look. But she did let go of Blake's hand, letting it return to her side, and the faunus's hopes rose.

"I accept," was her frigid response.

Blake's smile stretched with gratitude. "Thank you."

The claws became directed at her and Blake got an idea of what Adam must've felt – or whoever else had the misfortune of Yang coming across them for a fight and ending up on the receiving end of them. Thinking of her former mentor and what Yang had done to him, regret again washed over Blake. All that Yang had become thanks to her…

Yes, it really was better this way.

Blake had again closed her eyes so all she had was the feeling of the metal's imitation of scales brushing against her throat to wonder what her former partner would do. Cut her throat or crush her neck? From what she witnessed, that frightful limb could easily do either. They paused, Yang probably indecisive about which, but then they moved in, partially encircling Blake's throat.

Blake held her breath, waiting, as they glided up high. Too high to administer any kind of effective method of execution. Blake was beginning to wonder what Yang was doing until they grabbed her face, painful pinpricks occurring along her cheeks, and then her head was roughly brought up so that Yang could kiss her.

Despite that, Blake thought Yang would still go through with it. A clever and merciful ruse to distract Blake long enough from the killing stroke. She was proven wrong when the kiss went on, the hand Yang had against her back bringing her close, fingers desperately grasping her, and a strange warmth overtook her, the origins she wasn't sure was due to Yang or her or something that required them both.

They eventually separated and the quickened breaths that Blake took confirmed that she was alive when she had all expectations for otherwise. She gazed up at Yang, the human having released her, and saw that a shade of color had come back to her, her own breathing having increased but nothing like Blake's who was all but breathless.

"W-what?" was all Blake could stutter.

Yang pressed her forehead against Blake's as she breathed, "I accept. Your life as mine."

Blake was too taken aback, all thought temporarily paralyzed. She shook her head, mouth moving, but needed time for the jumbled mess that came out. "I…no. That…Yang, you- that's not what I meant."

"I don't care," she retorted. "I won't let you say no."

Fear coiled within Blake at the possessive tone. "Yang, please…"

"I'm fine with what I am."

You're fine? At the corner of Blake vision, she saw the scales of that claw, resting near her collarbone. At the other corner, the severed hair that was now worn like a mantle at Yang's shoulder. Aloud, she asked again, "You're fine?"

"I'm stronger now," Yang spoke. Much like how color had returned to her face, a bit of life sparked within her otherwise duller red eyes. "With this power, I was able to find you and rescue you. This is what I wanted." The tips of her claws stroked along Blake's cheek. "All I wanted was to save you."

Revenge and death was what she had become accustomed to. If Yang had come here to appease a longing for revenge by killing her, she would've been fine with that. But this…this was unbearable. "Yang," she pleaded, a fresh wave of tears gathering, "don't do this to me, please."

She wanted nothing more than to leave this all behind her and she had been so close to doing so. Just a minute ago she had been at the edge of death, had been welcoming it, and now there was this: that seductive lure that beckoned her away from that drop. That sweetness that was causing her to hurt because of the deception she knew it to be.

"I won't let you run," Yang swore. "Not again. Even if you do, I'll find you. Even in death, I'll find you again."

"Yang…" Her voice was all but a croak, Blake struggling against the snare that caught her and was pulling her back. The desperation that Yang voiced for her to remain and the need to have Blake with her again. I'll cause her ruin. Another will come to hurt her just to hurt me. I can't let this…happen…

Yet it already did, the consequences all too plain, but all of which Yang had said was fine as long as she was able to save her. Blake wished to die and be free, while also sparing Yang. But it was seeing and hearing Yang now that Blake realized that dying would not help Yang. If she died, what little warmth that she could see in Yang would be snuffed out. What had been done to her was the cause of Blake, but it was Blake who made it all bearable for her.

My life as hers.

The look in Yang's eyes, the way she breathed, the subtle recoloring of her skin – traces of her former humanity that had been nowhere at all when she killed Adam. Nearly quenched but as she touched Blake, breathed in her scent, spoke her name, it was like she was being granted renewed life.

Could the reverse be true? How Blake quivered beneath Yang's touched, ears burning at hearing her name, and how each part of Yang – human or not – touched and warmed her…was that, in turn, her own humanity being rekindled?

Yang leaned down, lips brushing against Blake's, and the faunus was done for. Sobbing, she desperately gripped onto her savior. "Yang," she whimpered, touching her lips to Yang's again. "Yang!"

It was enough for Yang who immediately seized Blake and drew her tight, hands grasping as blindly and carelessly as Blake's in an effort to bring her as close as possible, their kiss violent but passionate, and Blake crying throughout, muttering Yang's name during each moment in between when she needed breath. Not with despair or fear, but with overwhelming relief that came from one who had their foot hovering right over the abyss before being tugged back to safety.

"Yang, Yang, Yang," she kept weeping until, after another rejuvenating kiss, she whispered, "My love."

Yang walked out through the front door of the cabin which was now burning – a fire which had started in the room that she retrieved Blake from before quickly spreading until the entire structure was enveloped. Ignoring the blistering heat at her back, the human descended down the short flight of steps, being careful with her cargo.

Within her arms laid Blake, the faunus sleeping comfortably with her head resting against her rescuer.

Once the mud and grass of Mistral's swamp was beneath her feet, Yang paused to admire Blake, taking a long look at her sleeping face. For a brief instant, the red of her eyes briefly faltered, a lighter shade reminiscent of what they used to be breaking through, but it could easily be blamed at the crackling firelight at her back. A second later and the red returned, unfaltering, and both her human and clawed arm tightened protectively against Blake.

Off in the distance, Raven watched the silhouette that was her daughter, her own eyes infallible as she stated, "I can't say I agree with this, Yang."

Whether she knew that she was being watched or not, Yang continued into the depths of the swamp with Raven tracking her.

"This is what had held so many others back," Raven continued. "It is why I knew your father could not follow me, why Summer perished despite all her power, and it is something that Qrow cannot bring himself to do completely. I taught you this, showed you the truth and unlocked your potential, but still you cannot commit."

She tilted her head and shifted her gaze to better get a look at the body that Yang carried. "What is it that draws you to that creature? I've asked myself this and thought her to be a failure that you wished to rectify. Maybe you saw the situation between you and her as similar to our own when I left you. Whether one or both, I had expected you to forget about her but you've stubbornly, foolishly held on to her."

She laid her hand on the hilt of her sword. "My opinion has not changed: it would've been better if you had been just a little too late to save her. In fact…" She slid out her sword an inch, just enough to reveal a sliver of the Dust blade that caught the distant firelight. "Maybe I should be the one to rid you of her."

She remained standing there, debating on that particular issue, and in that time Yang had went as far as the light could go, finally disappearing into the darkness of the swamp. With a short sigh, Raven turned her back to where she had gone. "But that would prove to be more detrimental than helpful, wouldn't it? At this point, I've put enough effort into you that I would not wish to risk wasting it. You deserve this chance I suppose. Besides, it would be a mistake on my part to arrogantly believe that I know the absolute path to what will be required. Few things have led to so many debacles than those who reject even the slightest change to their status quo.

"And, I'll admit, there might be some worth to be found in that girl. I'd dare say that she may very well fit with the likes of us. At the very least, your attachment to her was what allowed you to survive under my teachings when it should've killed you." Raven slid out her sword fully before moving, walking in the opposite direction of where Yang disappeared to.

"Who knows, Yang, you may very well have found something that I was never able to have."

A quick swipe of her sword and the air split open in front of Raven to form a fluctuating portal of red and black. Returning her blade to its place at her side, Raven was about to enter but stopped a step short of it. There came a thoughtful tilt of her head followed by an amused chuckle. "You may not believe me, but there is something that I do wish for you. People would call it parental but I simply view it as common sense."

Raven took that final step, disappearing into the portal, but just before it closed behind her, her final words flowed out from it. "Every parent should wish their child to become better than them."