Cold water splashed down on her from an equally cold metal bucket. Violently ripped from her comatose stupor, she opened her eyes only to be greeted by a dimly lit concrete room, looking up at a handful of men that had surrounded her. The young woman felt as though she were floating on a cloud. Her fingers tingled and her head was so fuzzy that she found it hard to formulate a proper thought. The ability to feel began to drift back, but only slowly. Fighting through the strange feeling, the woman attempted to put her hands on her head and rub her temples, an old habit she'd developed at some point.

It was at that time she had become aware of the heavy, metal handcuffs that kept her tied to something most likely a pole in the middle of the room. Her heart rate picked up and her vision cleared slightly. Upon glancing around her location, she saw that she was in some sort of interrogation area with three older men, each one looking at her in disgust and contempt. She took a breath as she tried to move, and the man closest to her shook his head.

"This whore doesn't get it, huh boys?" he asked, sarcastically mocking the teenage girl. His voice was deep and menacing, clearly a person who had trained in the art of interrogating others. A second passed after the insult and the only sound that could be heard was the water dripping from her hair and clothes. The adult who had insulted her tensed, and before the prisoner could even make a move, he jutted his foot out with a speed that hammered into her gut, tore the air from her lungs, and brought her back into reality immediately.

"That's it," the man taunted, "WAKE UP. Or would you rather take a foot in your neck?"

She still coughed. What else could you really do? As her coughs started to die down, she felt the same foot suddenly slam down on her exposed leg, making her cry out in pain.

"Or maybe right here? Come on, bitch. Cooperate." the man demanded, taking his foot off of her leg. Defiantly, the freezing and angered teenager looked up into his eyes, fully alert and awake now. She didn't talk back or lash out, not yet anyway. The Man took that as a sign of defeat and nodded at the man on his left who had previously dumped the water on their prisoner. His colleague dropped the bucket and instead moved behind their captive, reaching down and removing the tightly held cuffs from her wrists. Walking over to a nearby desk, the Man who had enacted the physical torment on her began to list a series of crimes, "Vandalising public property, obstruction of justice, assault...homicide too."

"Don't forget treason." the third man said, almost gleefully as though they were enjoying the torment they were inflicting upon the younger woman. The leading Man nodded as he approached the prisoner with a clipboard in hand. He squatted down in front of her and held it out towards her.

"Sign there. It's a confession for all crimes under your name," he commanded, reaching into his jacket for a classic fountain-style pen using his left hand. As the supposed criminal reached forward to take the clipboard, she felt the man tense up again. Next thing she knew, his left hand had shot against her exposed neck, pushing her into the pole behind her with enough force to make it elicit a small clanging sound. That would definitely leave a bruise, she thought to herself. When she opened her eyes, the man was leaning uncomfortably close to her face. His breath was horrific and his eyes gleamed with malice.

"Don't expect to get out of this place, whore," he told her with malevolence, "We are going to make you understand just how worthless your false crusade truly was. After all, one has to take all the responsibility for their actions. Now sign it."

He pushed the pen and clipboard into her hands and backed off slightly. She looked down at the paper and held the pen in hand, looking back on it and thinking of where to find. Slowly, the raven-haired teenager dragged her pen across the paper, writing in her own personal way,

'Cinder Fall.'

O.O.O.O

Outside the room and down the hall a pair of heels clicked across the bland gray tile floors. She wore a professional attire and carrying a briefcase in one hand. Her hair, similar to the girl in the interrogation room, was an intense black. Hers was swept to the side, over one shoulder, exposing a pair of feline ears high above her head. Her piercing yellow eyes scanned the two men who were outside the door of her selected target, and she stopped in front of them.

"Let me in. I have questions with my suspect," the woman requested, waiting for them to comply. The man on the left of the door straightened his back and looked back at her.

"Prosecutor Belladonna. This case isn't in your jurisdiction anymore I'm afraid, we're going to have to ask you to leave," he dismissively said, trying to get her to seemingly walk away. More confused than upset, Belladonna shook her head.

"That's impossible. I was put in charge of this case by The Director himself," she forcefully attempted to explain but she could tell she wouldn't get anywhere with them. The two Door-Guards eyes trailed behind the Prosecutor. She turned around to see an older man, likely a detective based on his stoic demeanor, approach her and stop at a respectable distance away from her.

"Are you Prosecutor Blake Belladonna?" the detective questioned in an almost equally dismissive way. Blake nodded at the man, answering him without giving too much away. The detective held out his hand, revealing a smartphone of the latest model, likely recently purchased. On the screen read a phone call with an "Unknown" caller. The young Prosecutor took the phone and held it to her ear, answering with a professional, "Hello?"

An older and clearly exasperated voice answered the phone, sighing as he answered. As soon as Blake heard that tone she knew that she was speaking directly to her superior. Director Watts, a bitingly smart and sarcastic man who had many years of experience in the criminal field. She groaned internally, knowing that she was about to get chewed out.

"I thought I told you not to get too curious. I'm sure you've heard the saying about curiosity," Blake's eyes narrowed at the casual insult.

"I know, sir. Regardless, I still have questions to clear with the suspect. I don't understand why you're keeping me away when you're the one who put me in charge of this case!" Blake pleaded, pacing back and forth slightly from the nervous energy. Watts let out another exasperated breath on the other end of the line. Would it truly be so terrible to let the woman talk to one of the most "dangerous criminals" in recent history?

"I don't know what you're trying to carry out with this...you have the clearance to speak with her but I don't know what you're still trying to piece together," he responded, quickly hanging up after his last word. His behavior was truly unbecoming of her boss, but the Prosecutor had learned to take the torment over her years of working in a government field. Blake handed the phone back to the Detective and adjusted back into a professional stance, which she must have slipped out of over the course of the conversation.

The others seemed quite clearly annoyed at the prospect of waiting here several more hours. The Detective placed the phone back into his pocket and turned back to Belladonna, telling her, "We appreciate the contribution to this case but please try to keep it brief. After all, we don't know if it's safe to even speak with her one on one," he declared, mentioning slowly, "For your own safety, of course, Belladonna-san," the Detective then turned to the two door-guards and motioned for them to go into the room, "Get the suspect ready for interrogation,"

After a minute of waiting outside the room, the guard who had greeted her opened the door and gestured for her to come in. Dreading what they might have done to her suspect, Blake moved forward cautiously. Entering the room, she took one moment to size up the captive. A table had been pulled out into the center of the room of which her suspect now sat behind. A teenage girl had to have been eighteen years of age. She was shivering slightly from the cold of the room and was clearly soaked in water. She wore a standard Academy Uniform that was now scuffed up and dirty from the conditions of the room. Her heavy black hair draped across her back in a knotted mess. She took note that Cinder Fall did not bother to look up from the table. Blake glanced towards one of the nearby buckets and then pole in the center of the room and realized they had likely interrogated her physically.

"Those bastards..." she muttered as she took a seat, instinctively crossing her legs immediately and setting her briefcase to her left on the table, "Miss Fall. Can you hear me? It would seem you went through a lot."

Fortunately, her suspect wasn't too broken and incapable of responding. She looked up and gave the prosecutor an almost sarcastic smile.

"How observant of you, miss Prosecutor," Cinder replied, her voice being deep and her tone bearing the heavy smearing of unbecoming sarcasm, "Here to get more information to level against me in court?"

Blake shook her head.

"This is not about whether or not this will be used against you in a court of law. I only want to know how you did it," the Faunus replied, gingerly reaching out and opening the briefcase she had brought. Taking out a large brown packet from the briefcase, she then placed it on the cold metal table in front of her. Clearing her throat, she spoke again, "Despite all signs pointing towards you, the Prosecutors Office cannot deduce how you committed your crimes. Even in my wildest dreams I never thought it would be you..."

The smile never wavered from the teenager's face as she smiled even wider.

"Of course you couldn't. That's the point of committing a crime after all," She said humorously, "not getting caught."

"But you did," Blake replied without missing a beat in the most deadpan of ways, "you got careless and now you have nowhere to go. No friends, no back-up, just me and my questions."

That silenced Cinder, for now of course. Blake returned to her folder, slipping out a variety of papers and placing them neatly in front of her before continuing.

"Tell me everything from the beginning. Your accomplices, your place of operations, and how your group came to exist. Think carefully."

Cinder leaned back in her chair, laying her head over the back and closing her eyes for just a moment. When she reopened them, the overhead ceiling light flickered for just a moment. In the space between the light, she could almost feel an otherworldly presence slip into the room with the two. The overhead light transitioned into a deep but bright blue that shone down on the convicted criminal. Upon a quick glance, she could tell that the phenomenon above was just something occurring in her reality. Then she heard a voice, definitely feminine but deep and almost jovial resonate from a space beyond.

"You're imprisoned, my dear child. Tethered to a ship bound on a course to despair..."

"But if my voice can still reach you, there is most definitely a route to safety..."

"All you have to do is chart it yourself. The key lies in the bonds and friends you've made along the way, my dear. Choose carefully..."

Cinder Fall sat up and began to utter her tale of vigilantism and rebellion.