Author's Note: Man, that took a while. That crazy work schedule I mentioned before? Ya, it's been a real pain in the butt lately. Even though I was working every day for my morning job, my night job was meant to give me four nights off this week. That number turned into one, lol.

Just a reminder: this fic was supposed to be one big oneshot before that work schedule and other things kind of got me frustrated to turn it into a multi-chap piece. Now, while it is a multi-chap piece, it is still gonna be a bit on the short side. I have three chapters planned but it's a tentative number and those chapters themselves are probably gonna be short. While it does give me opportunities to write more than what I planned on – 85% of this chapter wasn't supposed to exist -, things might still feel a bit rushed and that's because they probably are.

So, here we go!


As Yang predicted, the area around the break did swell up pretty good. Shortly after parting, Blake made her way to the residence of a gazelle faunus who happened to be living in the direction that was away from where Yang was meeting the rest of her team. The faunus wasn't an official member of the White Fang, instead someone who the group marked as a sympathizer and, thus, someone that an agent such as Blake could turn to for shelter if they found themselves stranded and needed to lay low.

The night's events finally caught up to her once she got to safety and the ice, while needed, did little to stave off the agony of not only her fractured clavicle but the various aches and pains of a body that had been battered around. She barely managed to send out a message to her comrades before shutting herself down on the supplied couch. A ride was waiting for her in the morning with the driver slipping the gazelle faunus a couple chips of Lien for her support while Blake, after stashing her mask and the tunic that had the group's emblem emblazoned on the back, occupied the passenger seat of the car.

The driver didn't take her directly to the hideout that was mainly used by White Fang's Vale cell, instead stopping a safe distance away and depositing Blake beneath the shadow of a railway line where the cat faunus took a slower but more discreet route to shake off any chance of pursuit. There were none, not that Blake expected any; compared to the more militaristic Atlas whose forces have become seasoned in the art of surveillance in response to White Fang's tactics, the officers of the VPD could barely be considered as a nuisance. As for the resident Huntsmen and Huntresses of Beacon, they concerned themselves more with the Grimm with an exception being the members of a certain first-year team.

Nevertheless, caution and discretion remained the White Fang's greatest asset with it being increasingly stressed upon as their operations grew in Vale. There was also the fact that Atlas was here in the form of several warships and hundreds of soldiers that had accompanied one General Ironwood and his own entourage of students from the kingdom's combat school in lieu of the Vytal Festival. It was the worst time to let something like a lowering of a guard in the company of dumb cops to blow the group's operations.

Blake got to the hideout without trouble. It was another warehouse, the dreary interior something that she was accustomed to. It was more than just coincidence that the White Fang happened to keep their activities centered around these structures as it was the circumstances that led them to do so. Compared to the other districts in Vale, the industrial district was the biggest and busiest one, making it the best place to hide and it worked with their hours of operation. Hide during the hustle and bustle of activity during the day with the district doing the most work to supply not only Vale and its citizens with goods but uphold the kingdom's part to the trade agreements it had with the other three kingdoms. Once the sun set and work ceased, the faunus agents went to work under the cover of darkness to strike their chosen targets before returning to their hideouts to store whatever spoils of their crimes.

As for the warehouses themselves, they were the most plain and easily-acquired places to use. Private ownership was a common thing so in order to get one just supply a name and the right amount of money. Even then Vale was a city and one of the centers of human civilization so it was constantly growing with buildings being condemned, dismantled, and then replaced with bigger, more efficient complexes so sometimes it was just all about locating such an abandoned place and setting up there.

And other than the shops in the commercial district, the most popular place to store Dust - what the White Fang was looking to acquire - is, you guessed it, warehouses.

Still, this particular one was larger than the others, possessing enough room to accommodate a couple Bullheads when activity had been at its highest. Once Blake returned, she immediately saw a proper physician to look at her injuries.

Her collarbone really wasn't as bad as it could be, something that Blake figured but felt better at having confirmed. Surgery wasn't needed as there was nothing preventing it from healing on its own which would be accelerated when Blake focused her Aura on repairing the damage. The only downside was that she would need to focus solely on that and rest for the next couple of weeks if she wanted to be back in action as soon as possible. Even then, muscle weakness would still set in due to the continued immobilization and she would have to take care of that later.

She got the results of the heist last night. Some Dust was acquired but compared to the loss of three-quarters of the team that she accompanied, the paltry amount they made off with wasn't worth it. Their current situation had them really feeling it as they didn't have anywhere near the manpower that they used to have. Over the months, their numbers and their vast storage of Dust that they collected had all been mostly transferred to their base of operations outside of Vale to the southeast. The majority of the faunus who remained behind were those who preferred to act now against their human oppressors instead of waiting for whatever plan was being formed elsewhere.

Things were going to be quiet for a while. With that in mind, Blake went about her recovery and found herself becoming restless.

That was an unusual thing for her to feel. This was hardly the first time that she's needed extended time to recuperate and, even then, as an assassin she was used to lengthy periods of inaction until her services were called upon. Yet as she lay on a cot, motionless, the bone slowly mending back together, there came interruptions in her concentration which resulted in Blake shifting as much as she could, her gaze sweeping around the small room as if looking for something else to interest her.

As far as she could tell, it used to be a break room for employees to use during shifts before everything nonessential was tossed out and numerous cots were placed to provide sleeping arrangements for members of the White Fang. She was the only one present, her comrades taking on daytime assignments such as scouting for new targets. There was a table in the corner, crumb-covered dishes, pamphlets, and other such miscellaneous items littering the surface.

Blake rested her head back against the flat pillow, eyes staring up towards the ceiling. She closed them, took a deep breath, and focused her Aura at the injury. There came a tingling sensation that was only slightly uncomfortable as tissue began gathering within the fracture where it would toughen up and be reinforced with the fibers that would reconnect the bone. The tingling only lasted a minute after the initial surge, then began to ebb as her body got used to the boost.

It would be a slow process and Blake didn't need to devote her complete attention to it. She found herself opening her eyes again, blowing air out through her nose, and then she was getting up from the cot, grimacing as she moved a little too fast.

She approached the table, using her one good arm to sweep aside a couple of the pamphlets that broadcasted the latest promises that the White Fang offered to those who'd join them. Someone decided to make better use of one of them as a bookmark for the novel that Blake's fingers brushed upon. It had a smooth but rigid cover instead of a thin, papery one.

She had always preferred hardcover books when she was younger. Something about the added weightiness to it in contrast to paperback had a comforting feel that extended from the increased protection of the pages between them as if guarding the fantasies that were held within. She would never forget the feel of it.

But it had been some time since she last enjoyed one. Like a lot of other things in her life, books were something else that she no longer felt anything for. The written fantasies had ceased being comforting and inspiring when her own had expired.

Blake flipped the rectangular shape in order to read the title. Violet's Garden.

She remembered it being a classic and even had a copy in her collection before she...misplaced them. Strange to find one in the company of faunus radicals. She used her thumb to check the page that was currently marked and read what words she could. Whoever the previous reader was, they hadn't gotten very far and she could remember the scene that was playing out.

The cat faunus returned to the cot with the book remaining in her possession. It was a struggle with one arm but after propping up a leg and resting the novel against it, Blake was able to flip it open to the beginning where she began to read. It was just her acting on an impulse to cure her restlessness while she waited to make a full recovery and she doubted that she would get far before she decided to discard it and find another method. She ended finishing it long before her collarbone did.


There used to be a lot more activity during the peak of their operations. There would always be at least one Bullhead docked and ramps extended in order to be loaded with Dust, personnel, and other equipment that would then lift off, merge with Vale's daily air traffic, and then break off and head out to the southeast once a window was open. Even with the later inclusion of Atlas and its own nightly patrols - patrols which Ironwood had publicly stated did not exist - having become an added problem, their work slowed down but never ceased.

The warehouse may as well be deserted now. Whereas once there would be dozens of White Fang soldiers either loading such airships or taking stock of their growing inventory which consisted of numerous storage crates packed nearly to the roof, it had been practically emptied out. The last appearance of a Bullhead was days ago and the pilot probably hadn't even felt the weight of what measly cargo was brought into its hold.

The only soldiers that Blake saw were the pair that gave her a wave and an inquiry of when she would finally 'kill that dirty Huntress'. She ignored them as she usually did, leaping up and grabbing the edge of a hanging catwalk before hoisting herself up to rework the muscles that had been weakened.

Her rivalry with Yang was a story that had grown in popularity overtime and was the highlight of the many faunus who had chosen to remain in Vale, seeing it as another battle in their war that would prove the inferiority of humanity when Blake would finally bring a definitive end to it. Despite such a thing having yet to be done with their battles still continuing months after their first, no faunus in the White Fang would ever suspect anything more than just two strong combatants who would be forced to break off from killing each other when authorities or some other circumstances forced one or the other to retreat. Them happening to keep meeting each other over and over again? That was just further evidence of how much they hated each other and many had taken to the belief that Blake was staying in Vale in order to finally kill her golden-haired nemesis with her own hands. Why else would one of their more elite members lower herself to joining in on their heists if not for the chance of crossing paths with a human that she's sworn to kill?

There was even a pool going on. Yang had laughed when Blake mentioned the odds she was getting and to put her down for twenty, swearing that she was good for it.

Blake was surprised when she registered the smile on her face that the memory influenced after hopping from the head of a powersuit once used to lift heavy materials but has been left inactive. She almost missed grasping the rail of the next catwalk.

Having come out here to work out the stiffness and to retrain her body, Blake found that she was accomplishing that and more. Overcoming the lingering debilities didn't explain the extra swing that she added before pulling herself up or the amount of extra force she added in the effort to hold herself upside down over the rail with the limb she was restrengthening, legs splitting to better center herself. A quick bend and push granted her the opportunity to perform an additional twirl before ending in a crouch in the center of the walkway.

Her long recovery could explain this energy as something that had been gathered and contained for too long and needing an outlet. However, she couldn't remember any other time she had felt like this. A return to duty just meant business going on as usual and her sense of duty had withered a long time ago, leaving her no incentive to perform it with any enthusiasm.

Upon straightening and examining her arm, there was only one thing on her mind. Blake stretched the limb as far as it could go, the fingers at the end clenching and unclenching with the imagination of Gambol Shroud's hilt filling the palm. When she rolled her shoulder and bent her arm, it was with the idea of having it slashing with her sword again. Each experimentation carried with it the lure of when she would meet Yang in combat once more.

Instead of going on with her exercise, Blake sat on the catwalk, letting her legs hang over the edge. Along with the decrease in work, there was a decrease in noise, the atmosphere spacious and silent. Her feline ears twitched when one was made but it was slight with her hearing and the empty interior of the warehouse giving it the echo that made it just audible enough. She leaned forward, hands gripping the rail so that she could stare down at her feet and the floor far below them.

The peace accentuated this sense of freedom. With the White Fang having moved everything elsewhere and Blake left with the bare minimum of its influence, she was free to just sit and relax, contemplating her own aims within the tranquility.

She wasn't sure what to do with it. Right now the war may as well have been put on pause. No orders, no targets, no objectives, or anything like that. Such directions were all that she really had and the usual response when bereft of them was to wait and keep waiting until she was supplied with them again. She never felt the urge to try and do anything else. Not like when she picked up that book and not like now.

She just felt like she should do something. When she tried to think of what that would be, the only thing that she came up with was 'not here'. She just wanted to go...out. There was no specific destination in mind but she figured that she could perhaps be settled with a walk through Vale. Go out without her mask and uniform, explore without any ulterior motives. It was something she never really did before but it somehow felt right to her.

Maybe she would run into Yang. The human had been intruding on her thoughts more and more and not in a way that related to their usual tussles. Much like during their last rendezvous, the faunus was entertaining possibilities of what it would be like for the two to stumble upon each other in an ordinary setting rather than one that would lead to hostility. One that didn't involve Blake's comrades-in-arms or Yang's team. Where the talking and jibes came before the fighting instead of the other way around. Would fighting really be necessary? Maybe it was a good time to find out with this impromptu cease fire.

Blake sat there for a minute longer, debating about it with her fingers occasionally flexing over the railing. When they tightened it was with the intention for Blake to slide off the walkway and make the high but quick journey to the floor.

She was interrupted when a loud klaxon broke through the silence of the warehouse, reverberating throughout the building and causing her ears to reflexively flatten in an effort to dampen the noise. Blake recognized the sound as an alert that went off to inform personnel of the impending arrival of an incoming vessel and shortly after it began the large doors off to the side began to slide open.

Was this scheduled? Blake wondered. She hadn't heard anything about it.

In response to this turn of events, Blake kept her position on the catwalk and brought herself to her feet instead. The doors had only just finished sliding and locking in place before the bulky fuselage of a Bullhead lowered into sight and began hovering straight into the hangar with the use of its tilting jet engines. The doors began closing behind it once it was clear.

The arrival brought some life back to the building as not only did the pair of uniformed faunus that Blake saw earlier begin to move frantically but they were joined by a few others. It wasn't looking like this was a scheduled arrival and she spotting one person in particular arriving on the scene soon confirmed it.

"Will someone so kindly turn that off!?" Roman Torchwick shouted over the ongoing alert, following it up with an over exaggerated "Thank you!" when it was silenced.

Blake quietly watched the criminal and began following him from up high, her curiosity piqued, with both their paths leading them straight to the landing Bullhead. The pilot presented the side of the airship towards the approaching criminal before killing the engines, the hatch lifting open soon after. The silencing of the klaxon and engines let Blake hear the irritated grumblings of the criminal.

"Get the kids out of the house, expecting a nice and pleasant evening, and now I get this," Roman muttered. Once he was close enough to the Bullhead he raised his voice. "Not that I don't like surprises - actually, no; I really hate them. I have a strict limit of one per lifetime and that was used up quite a while ago. So with that said, I hope you or whoever it is that sent you has a really good explanation for this little...oh..."

A figure had stepped out of the airship during the man's rant and it petered out when he saw them. With her position overhead, Blake couldn't see the arrival due to the Bullhead's wing concealing them. Knowing that it'd be pointless to change position, Blake stayed where she was and waited for the individual to step out and reveal themselves.

"There's an exception for everything," Roman spoke, no longer sounding confident. Actually, he sounded nervous. For as long as she's seen the criminal here, there's only been one person who could intimidate him and, other than Blake, there were quite a few stories surrounding the woman in the red dress - particularly her recent disappearance.

This wasn't her. As soon as she cleared the wing, Blake quietly leaned over to get a better look, eyes squinting. What she saw made them widen considerably.

The hair. Long, curly. It fell down her back, swaying behind her in a very familiar way as she approached Roman. The criminal was tapping the end of his cane against the floor nervously and became frighteningly still when she reached him.

Blake couldn't see her face until she turned her head towards him, presenting a side profile that was more than enough for the faunus. Other than the hair having lost some of its shine, there were slight creases and wrinkles at the skin of her weathered face.

Those were signs of age that had been absent in the photo that Yang carried on her scroll.

Catching something at her peripheral, the woman turned her head and looked up to where Blake was standing but the faunus had already vanished.


It had been during one of their nights when Blake discovered that Yang wasn't as invincible as she may seem. Although their meetings could always be considered as chance, this night it was particularly so as the human had been in the middle of a joyride on her motorcycle while Blake had been scoping out the latest security measures and patrol patterns that the VPD began implementing throughout the commercial district.

They ended up in a park of all things; one of the few areas in Vale that protected and encouraged nature to thrive in order to give city-dwellers a taste of the beauty of the natural world that was beyond the protection of their walls and other barriers that kept the Grimm out. In the case of Blake and Yang, it became a site of what would be their most intense battle.

There would never be another one like it.

The moon hung over the two fighters, sprinkling the dark sky with its scattered debris which was fitting considering their surroundings as the portion of the park that they stood in had been set ablaze. Located where the flames seemed to be the tallest and brightest was Yang, standing as an indomitable warrior forged from fire and gold. In contrast, Blake was more like the monster that such warriors did battle with as the smoke of the conflagration blew downwind, partially shrouding and warping her form to give her more fearsome characteristics. The Grimm mask had never seemed so monstrous, overshadowing her human mouth and chin with dark fangs and bright lenses that glinted menacingly. With ears drawn back and Gambol Shroud extended, she was less like a cat and more like a beast with claws bared.

And just like any beast, Blake struck first, black and gold meeting together as sword and sheath impacted against the protective gauntlets. With Ember Celica held over her head to keep Gambol Shroud from descending fully, the only thing Yang could do was glare up at Blake, her red but soul-filled eyes locking with cold and empty amber glass. The faunus's clenched jaw betrayed how much power she was devoting to the struggle yet Yang remained unshakeable.

It was the Huntress who broke the engagement, pushing forward to drive Blake back with the agent unable to do anything but retreat. The blonde immediately pressed with a flurry of punches and they were ones that Blake's dual weapons worked to divert, blades smacking against the armored forearms while head and body twisted so that the knuckles would miss their intended target with the following flares streaking all across the landscape.

A quick use of her Semblance had Blake appearing at her opponent's side, putting some of the momentum behind a roundhouse kick. Yang had become well accustomed to the faunus's capacity to reposition and attack in such a manner by this point, not only bringing an arm up to block the attack but immediately turning and using the other to do the same to the faunus's sword when Blake was suddenly at her opposite side.

Over the clashing of metal and deafening reports of gunfire, Blake barely picked up on the sound of sirens; currently far into the distance but that would change soon. They always ran the risk of someone stumbling upon them during their encounters but since activating her Semblance and setting a small acre of the park alight – a little property damage had never seemed to be that big of a concern for Yang -, a time limit had been added and the White Fang agent could practically feel the minutes dwindling down to the seconds. They were lucky enough that a Huntsman or Huntress hadn't been drawn in, those warriors usually more concerned with Grimm but one wouldn't ignore this if they were around.

It was breathtaking and Blake didn't just mean that for when Yang landed two quick but powerful jabs that knocked her away. Dropping low, she leaned heavily against her sword and sheath, her weapons having been stabbed into the ground to prevent her from collapsing fully. The burning of nearby shrubbery made the air hot and oppressive with each gasp of air a struggle. The sirens continued to draw closer, threatening to end their match earlier than Blake desired.

But this couldn't end, especially not yet. Although strong, those latest blows lacked the full firepower of Ember Celica. When Blake forced her head to rise, it was to see Yang already fetching a couple rolls of ammunition.

Blake claimed one more breath and it was one that was short and clearly inadequate but she demanded her body to keep going. Gambol Shroud responded to her will with less resistance, her sword transforming and the faunus hurled it towards Yang, the now bent blade tearing through one of the rolls of ammo and sending destroyed shells raining onto the grass. When Blake pulled on the ribbon, the built-in pistol discharged another round with deft handwork directing the weapon to the other roll in Yang's hand.

Blake needed every advantage that she could get in order to triumph. With one hand holding the end of her ribbon, the second at the middle, Blake pressed home with this one as Gambol Shroud spun all around her and repeatedly lashed out at Yang. To her immense satisfaction, Yang began retreating, her gauntlets barely able to catch each lightning-quick delivery. One arrived too late and too low and Yang's head jerked to the side at Gambol Shroud cracking against her cheek.

Blake had been waiting for a moment like this. Whenever she used her Semblance, Yang always seemed so strong, so powerful. Although she had once thought that perseverance and time would reward her with an opening such as this, she could hardly believe that it arrived. At the same time though, she had to curse at it being this fight that was in danger of being interrupted before she could capitalize on it.

The faunus sent Gambol Shroud directly into Yang's exposed middle, doubling her over. Another shot from her weapon not only returned it to her but carried it into another swing that Yang was able to twist away from but not without stumbling.

She had her. She had her. It reverberated repeatedly within her consciousness, the thought keeping her going through the smoke that tainted the air she breathed, the heat that her body sweltered in, the muscles that fought and protested against each exertion that further strained them. It kept her going, Gambol Shroud twisting all around her with each recoil sending it into a blur of dizzying motion that her hands nonetheless managed to control and direct into constant slashes at the blonde brawler.

The sirens had to be in human hearing range by now. The coiled feeling of anticipation grew tighter within Blake's stomach, encouraging another attack that struck at Yang's leg.

She had her. She had her.

Gambol Shroud returned to her hand, blade flipping back up. She regained her sheath and a shadow clone came in existence to boost her right towards Yang. Her opponent raised her arms to defend and Blake transferred all the power she could muster into her sheath, an underhand slash that beat against Ember Celica and lifted it just enough to create an opening.

She. Had. Her!

Blake stabbed forward with her sword, the blade slipping beneath the golden plates with the tip seeking for a direct shot at Yang's Aura.

It wasn't there. Even when lost in her assault, Blake noted in that split second when her weapon crossed where the barrier should be that it wasn't. She was much too late to act on it for as soon as she registered it, Gambol Shroud had already pierced through the leather of Yang's jacket before doing the same to her body.

Blake was face-to-face with Yang when the human's arms dropped away, revealing her mouth and eyes - both wide with shock and pain. The fire had died out in her hair but with her face so close to Blake's and her staring into the faunus's Grimm mask, Blake could see how the one in her eyes began to do the same as red reverted to lilac. Then something else began to be extinguished, those bright purples dulling as Yang sunk to her knees.

Gambol Shroud slipped from Blake's limp grip, the human taking the sword with her as she dropped. Blake could only watch, frozen where she stood. Excitement and a sense of victory had swiftly been replaced with horror, the agent's mouth similarly hanging open.

Her sword remained embedded in Yang, right beneath her breast. Blood was already spilling out of the wound, wetting and painting her jacket with its color. Something was wrong. When she saw it, Blake believed it was a trick of the night but it was when the human's blood was trickling down the peach-colored skin of her stomach that Blake saw the undisputable proof.

Black. The blood wasn't red; it was black. Black as Gambol Shroud which droplets now dripped from.

Yang was looking up at her and Blake realized with dread at what the human must be seeing: the cold, expressionless mask that hid how her own pair of ambers were just as huge with the shock and regret of what she had done. A need to show Yang that this wasn't on purpose, that this wasn't a betrayal as it may look like, Blake's hands went to her mask to pull it off.

Something stopped her. Amongst the ash and cinders, something else began showering the faunus. They fluttered within the wind, red like the blood that Yang should be bleeding but wasn't.

They were rose petals.

Blake detected a presence behind her. She slowly turned, hands dropping away, and found the hooded form of a reaper - scythe and all. Those rose petals seemed to be produced from the long cape of the same color, the fabric flapping around the diminutive form of this red and black specter.

It didn't come to claim Yang. Instead, when this reaper brandished its scythe and came speeding forward, more of the petals being left in its wake, it went straight for Blake.


The air still carried the stench of cigars despite how Roman had yet to return to the room in the last few hours. In fact, he wouldn't be returning at all. Shortly after the appearance of their unexpected guest, the man had taken the same Bullhead out from their hideout but not without issuing some last minute orders to the remaining White Fang members.

He had left with her.

Blake leaned back in the padded chair, one of the several luxuries that the criminal had pilfered for himself when he had taken over - fittingly enough - an office to manage and lead his faunus underlings. An ashtray was positioned at a corner of the desk, a fair amount of stubs having been gathered within it to the point of overflowing. At the other corner was the white mask that was meant to imitate a feline, the gold lenses directed towards the faunus.

Right in the center of the lacquered wood was a scroll. Stored within its hard drive was not just one picture but several, all of them taken with precision and care to get clear, distinguishable images of the subject while making sure that the photographer wouldn't get caught in the act.

Blake had chosen this spot for the peace of seclusion. Outside of this little office, her comrades have been spurned into renewed action. They were packing up. Messages - whether through technological means or otherwise - were being sent out, calling all White Fang agents throughout Vale to return to base. Those in the warehouse were taking stock of equipment and inventory, deciding on what they can bring with and what they can leave behind. Any databases were being purged of all sensitive information.

Torchwick had informed them all that one last flight of Bullheads would be arriving late at night, intending for a stealthy but speedy evacuation. Take what was only necessary, leave any heavy equipment or whatever may slow them down behind. Dust, for once, was optional. It was not about ordnance anymore - they were going to have plenty of that where they were going -, but the personnel needed to use it.

It seemed that the war that had been on hold was about to resume with some added escalation. Their destination was the southeast, a location that had been repeatedly mentioned as where the White Fang and its members will truly be allowed to conduct the fight that they've always wanted. The specifics had never been disclosed and even Blake didn't know what was being planned at the ruins of Mountain Glenn. The most of what she had been told was a cryptic statement from Adam, that being that the site of Vale's greatest failure shall become the stepping stone to the kingdom's ultimate downfall.

That wasn't what was on Blake's mind though and it wasn't why she had come here. What she was actually contemplating was pretty trivial in comparison but it plagued her all the same.

The scroll seemed like such an insignificant thing. Convenience being one of the hallmarks of technology, it was thin and light – more so than any book. Yet the few bytes that Blake had chosen to donate to her endeavor had given it a heaviness that exceeded the thickest of tomes. As did the knowledge that burdened her conscience.

This could destroy her.

Blake knew what she had. Knew what it could do. Even if she didn't know the specifics, she had seen how Yang had looked at the woman in the photo and knew that she was at least important to her. She was someone who gave her hope and purpose.

But she couldn't have been expecting this.

Yang's words came back to haunt her about how she said that she should be glad that the faunus didn't know the woman considering what it could potentially mean if she did. How dreadfully true. If Blake was right, the girl would undergo exactly what she had once been forced to go through: when the dream that you always desired to become real did so with the cruelest twist of betrayal.

If she was told about it.

The sound of metal sliding against metal announced the appearance of Gambol Shroud. Once it cleared the sheath, Blake flipped the blade in hand so that the tip was pointing down. She slowly lowered it until it tapped against the thin screen.

She could easily delete the pictures but it was something more than just the White Fang's policy that stressed basic but thorough methods of destruction that made this one more appealing. Stab into the scroll, slice it into tiny pieces, leave nothing that someone could recover and restore the data from.

It was the easy answer. It was a coward's answer.

While the White Fang may be at risk now that another benefactor had been unveiled and caught on scroll, Blake supplementing her argument with the welfare of her group was a wasted effort. The only one who was involved, the only one who Blake was concerned about, was Yang.

Destroy it, came the instinctive answer again. You know what will come from this.

Memories of the human girl flashed through Blake's mind. How she'd always be grinning arrogantly, ready and raring to go to take anything that the faunus would throw at her. She always seemed so strong and confident, devoid of any worries.

But she wasn't invincible. Blake had nearly killed her once when one of their fights had gotten out of hand and now she had something that could potentially do a better job than her sword. It could bring her down and never allow her to get up again.

Then the answer should be to destroy the scroll. Never let this secret come anywhere near Yang. Even if this was something that the blonde wanted, she couldn't possibly predict that this would be what she would find. People who pursued such things rarely did. Blake didn't. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

Then, what? Say she did destroy all evidence of this, would that magically be the end of it? She was still out there and she clearly had some kind of part to play with what was being planned for the kingdom. Yang could still end up crossing paths with her, possibly in the middle of a battle that had her life hinging on the outcome.

Blake explored the other option: tell Yang. Meet with her, show her the pictures, and what may happen will happen. It will happen in a setting that Blake will choose, where Yang would be free to react however she may wish, and then come to terms with it. At least in that way her life will not be in danger and it will be Blake who would be the one to have her find out.

Gambol Shroud rose an inch, the tip wavering over the scroll.

That scenario brought up another question that was almost troubling Blake as much as the other: why did she care?

Why did all this even matter to her? Why did feel the urge to take her scroll and record these images? She shouldn't be so conflicted by this but she was. Yang was a human, she was a faunus. Officially, they were enemies who were supposed to fight and kill one another. Tonight, Blake was to get on an airship and be delivered to where the rest of her comrades were gathered. Then the war would begin and the next time they crossed each other, their fight really would be one to the death.

Or Blake may never see her again. Either one of them or both of them could die in the opening stages, never to meet again depending on one's belief of an afterlife. Whichever may happen, whatever ties that bound them would be severed which included any concerns that they shouldn't be having in the first place.

But could I really look her in the eye if I hid this from her and did see her again?

They've fought each other. They've done so numerous times. They've never killed each other but what kind of relationship was that when they'd beat one another until one of them couldn't go on only to meet again and repeat the process?

It didn't mean anything. It was just a distraction for the both of them and one that they were willing to indulge in even if it meant sneaking away from their respective sides to do so. Blake was just using this to pass the time for when the actual war would begin. Yang, she now saw, was only doing this until the day came where she would find what she was looking for.

Blake slid Gambol Shroud back into its sheath and she rose from the chair.

Fine. If that was what Yang wanted, then Blake would give it to her. It would be a final parting gift to remove any misunderstandings that may've come between them. If there was one thing that they both hated, it was for either of them to be inhibited in any way for their next battle.

Blake snatched the scroll from the table with one hand, her mask in the other. Once she had them she made her way to the door, shoving and having it swinging out to slam into the wall. As she passed it, she paused and did a double-take at the glass paneling that formed the top half. Beneath the half stricken name of whoever used this office last, right on the glass, was Blake's reflection. The dirty surface blurred it and for just a moment the cat ears that were on top of the faunus's head had looked less like ears and more like a bow.

Blake stood where she was until the door made a squeaky return to its proper resting place. Once it did so, Blake resumed walking, throwing on the mask and hood to not only hide her ears but that look of uncertainty that she had also seen on the glass.


Author's Note: Yep, you can probably guess the origins of my idea, that being where Yang reveals to Blake about her parentage. With me having written Black Fang not too long ago – and swearing that I wouldn't add more to it -, I ended up getting the idea of what a White Fang Blake would do if she came across information about Yang's mother and her possibly on the side of the bad guys.

To be fair, I kind of doubt this exact scenario happening. In fact, as I mentioned before, most of this chapter wasn't supposed to happen which included this mystery woman's appearance. However, while I'm not a doom and gloomer, I do hold an opinion of a 65% chance of when Yang does learn about her mother, it won't be good news. Already I feel like I'm seeing hints of what may come, specifically from the recent episodes. We all know that Qrow is on the case concerning the baddies but, a few episodes ago, we had Taiyang sending the team Zwei because he was going to be leaving Patch for a few days. Him having to go somewhere just as the plans of the baddies are coming to fruition and him and Qrow having been on the same team along with Summer and Yang's mom…just seems suspicious to me.

But suspicions that have a good chance of being disproven could make good ideas and I'll let you guys decide if this is a good one or not despite its rushy nature. While you do that, I'm going to be waiting for the next episode for RWBY to be released in less than two hours because, unlike some of the plebeians out there, I am a sponsor! Muwahahahahaha!