Noire

She wears darkness like some girls wear a little black dress.

Everything about their situation was a nuisance. Or rather, everything about his situation was. Despite her attempts at distancing herself from her family, Winter looked every bit the annoying socialite daughter of a corrupt businessman. She blended in well in the Atlas party, wearing an expensive chiffon gown and a sugary smile that made her look as plastic as the dolls Yang used to launch out of a slingshot.

Qrow, on the other hand, looked as miserable as he felt. The tuxedo he wore was expensive, but made him feel like a caged bird. The glass of expensive wine in his hand was nowhere near capable of getting him drunk enough to actually enjoy the party. He had been forced to leave his sword back at headquarters, and instead was armed with a measly handgun-dagger.

"Qrow? Are you even paying attention?" The general spoke harshly in his ear, and Qrow had to work to avoid wincing. He swirled the liquid in his glass and then moved as if he were about to take a sip.

"It's called passive observation, General." He mocked quietly. "If she knew I was actively looking for her, she may not show." He reminded the impatient man. The general sighed in his ear, but spoke no more. Qrow took a sip of the wine in his glass, making a face as he did so; he hated Atlas, and their stupid fancy alcohol.

He focused his eyes on the room, observing the room of party-goers passively. So far, there had been no sign of her. Or rather, he'd seen no sight of her. That girl changed disguises more often than a snake shed its skin. She was impossible to spot, and more often than not the only trace they found of her was the dead body of her last victim.

"Any sign of her?" Winter asked coldly, voice sounding mechanical coming from the earpiece. He turned towards the banquet table, pretending to select an array of horderves.

"None. How is the target?" He responded. There was a bit of silence over the communicator, until Winter came back on.

"Safe. Quite drunk at the moment." Qrow envied him.

"Stay close to him. She could appear at any moment." Qrow left the table of food, setting out into the crowds of people. He began checking body language of the others patrons, checking for small little quirks she couldn't hide; a defensive stance, The way she might have stood to hide any concealed weapons from showing, etc., Anything that could give her away. He downed the rest of his drink, and then stopped a waitress. He looked over the assortment of drinks on her tray and scowled.

"You got any hard alcohol?" He asked her. She frowned, and then gave a submissive bow of her head, covering her face with a fan of blonde. She trembled in fear, as if she was afraid he may harm her. 'Just another reason to hate Atlas', he thought grumpily.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He told her gruffly, picking up another glass of wine off of her tray. She scurried off quickly, perhaps hoping to get away while he was still feeling kind.

He continued his careful search of the crowd, his frustration growing when he still found nothing. The girl was tricky, that was for sure. No one knew who she was or where she came from, but she'd been discovered in Mistral about a year ago. An assassin with a pattern, and half of that pattern was never getting caught. The other half was taunting those trying to find her. After every assassination, you always found a red stone on or near the victim. At first, no one recognized the pattern. Slowly though, the pieces started to fall together.

She was nicknamed 'The crimson Killer.' A stupid title, Qrow thought, but fitting nonetheless. It became the only way anyone could identify who they were talking about. Even if someone managed to spot her, she always wore disguises. The good thing was, they had spotted her once, fleeing the scene of one of her victims. She'd had red hair at the time, and she wore glasses to cover her eyes, but they'd seen enough to know she was a young woman, probably not even considered an adult yet.

She was dangerous, but more importantly, she couldn't be found. That was the point of this stupid undercover mission. Intel had come in that someone had put a hit on an ambassador from Mistral that was staying in Atlas. A fat old man by the name of Coral Tawny who enjoyed throwing parties and drinking expensive wine. That was how Qrow had ended up in the godforsaken kingdom, on a mission with Winter Schnee. Apparently, she was an expert at covert operations.

Qrow thought the general just wanted to punish him.

With no sign of the Crimson killer anywhere, Qrow went to find Winter. Perhaps they needed to come up with a different strategy. As he did, he was bumped into by a small child. The child looked no older than seven with dark blue hair piled into pigtails on each side of her head. She stared up at Qrow with wide eyes.

"Are you Qrow Branwen?" She asked, voice high and sweet. He stared down at her in confusion, but nodded nonetheless. She smiled brightly, holding out a small manila envelope. He took the envelope from her hand, and the girl giggled, running off right after. He looked the envelope over cautiously, but found nothing strange about it. Unable to deny his curiosity, he opened up the envelope.

Inside was a salmon colored letter, with the faint scent of pomegranate and spiced apples. He knew that scent anywhere, and it disturbed him that he would receive it here. Warily, he opened the letter up to read it.

Ravens are vicious

And crows are cold,

But starlings are abandoned,

And left all alone.

Say goodbye to Coral

His time has run short

You should really check the alcohol

It's poisoned, for a start.

The mere sight of those words made Qrow want to run after Winter, but there was more written below. He couldn't pull away. "Winter, get Coral out of here, quick. The wine is poisoned." He muttered under his breath, loud enough for Winter to hear him.

You don't have time for me, Qrow.

Find Autumn.

She's in danger.

He crumpled the note, shoving the paper into his pocket. "Qrow, come quickly!" Winter's voice spoke quickly over the earpiece. Qrow forced himself out of his thoughts, rushing through the party. He found Winter and a group of Atlas personnel leaning over Coral. Pushing his way through the personnel, he came face to face with the Crimson Killer's handiwork.

The man laid on his back, foam spilling out of his mouth. Blood dribbled from his eyes and nostrils, and the veins in his eyes had gone a dark purple-black color. Whatever she had poisoned him with, it was strong. His eyes were glassy and stared straight ahead, but Qrow knew; he was a goner the second he'd touched his lips to that glass.

"How'd you know?" Winter asked, looking at him from the side. She stared at him with steely eyes; she was all soldier now. Nothing of the fake socialite showed on her face at all.

"I got a letter." He answered, studying the body a moment longer and then looking over at Winter. Winter's eyes narrowed.

"A letter? You saw her?" She demanded. He shook his head and stood, moving to leave the scene. This was Atlas' problem now. Winter followed however, trailing behind him.

"No, I got the letter from a kid. I would suggest finding the kid, ask her who gave the letter to her." He searched the crowd with a keen gaze. He ignored the party-goers, instead searching the staff. He should've realized she wouldn't attend as a guest, not when she knew he and the others would be here.

"Qrow, slow down! Where are you going?" She asked. Qrow glanced back at her, and then shook his head.

"There's no way she could've poisoned that glass without posing as a staff member." He stormed through the doors leading to the kitchen. All staff in the kitchen froze, staring at him and Winter as though they had three heads. He surveyed the group, but found no females at all.

"Are there any women on the staff?" Qrow demanded. Several of the cooks looked to each other. Finally, what he presumed to be the head cook moved forward, shaking his head.

"The lady of the house is a jealous woman. She doesn't allow female staff members." Qrow cursed under his breath.

"Are there any doors back here? Windows someone could escape through?" There was Atlas personnel at every other exit for the guests. They were to check identity of everyone who tried to leave, so she couldn't have gotten out that way. The head cook pointed towards the back, where a short hallway was.

"Yes, there is a back door where staff exit the building, but it's locked until the end of the night." Qrow ran, racing down the hallway until he arrived at the door. It was thrown open, the cool Atlas air flowing in. A few feet outside of the door was a discarded blonde wig, with another envelope on top. He ran out, searching the area, but she was nowhere to be found. He picked up the envelope, and opened it up to find the same kind of letter, except with different words.

Tick Tock, Qrow.

Fall needs you.

-Jasper

Qrow sighed. "Dammit, Jasper. Where are you?" Winter ran out after him, pausing beside him. She picked up the blonde wig, and gave a growl of annoyance.

"I should've known." She hissed. Qrow stood, turning to glance at Winter.

"She's long gone." He sighed. Now he really needed a drink. Winter looked him over, eyes landing on the note in his hand, and then on the crumpled piece of paper sticking out of his pocket.

"She left you notes?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. Qrow nodded. "Let me see them. I'll take them to be scanned, perhaps she left fingerprints." She noted. Qrow huffed a humorless laugh.

"Trust me, the only thing you'll discover about her from these notes is that she sucks at poetry."