The problem with 'sides' is the inequality of power. One 'side' will always be superior to the other. One side gives orders; the other is forced to obey. Submit. Why? Simply because they are the 'other' side. If they were the same there would be no need for division, no need to make a distinction between them.

That's when all this started, isn't it? When they stopped being 'us' and started being 'them.'

His cage was a 20 by 20 area fenced in on three sides, with a drab brick wall on the fourth. The floor was made of concrete. It was an ugly flat gray color like something dead. There were 50 other Faunus stuffed in the cage with him. They were in such close quarters they were practically on top of each other. You couldn't tell a stranger's sweat from your own. There were three more 20 by 20 cages in the warehouse, all of them filled with Faunus and a few unfortunate humans.

Life in the warehouse had not been kind to the dog Faunus. In the month since he was imprisoned, he'd lost well over 20 pounds; partly due to the sickening muck the guards tried to feed him, which they took the liberty to label as 'food.' And partly due to stress. He got jumped twice; once by a Faunus and once by a guard. He hardly slept, afraid someone high up on the Atlas chain-of-command had ordered a hit on him. He was nervous, snappish, starving, and slowly losing his once brilliant mind. When the Atlesian Knights took him they said he was going to a state correctional facility. Instead, they'd drugged him, and when he woke up— well, this place was certainly not prison. It was a pit for soon to be slaves.

The smell was the worst part of it. It had a weight to it. It was crippling. The scents of Faunus and human urine, feces, vomit, and sweat all left to ripen in the heat for days at a time was not something easily endured by any Faunus, but especially not by a dog. Most days, he'd wrap the fragments of his shirt around his face, preferring to stomach the scent of his own stink instead. Nearing the month period without a shower or a lick of fresh air, however, he hardly smelled better than the filth around him.

…He'd fought hard for his cause, even going so far as to spy on Atlesian government officials. He'd stolen information, provided refugees with resources, and harbored wanted members of the White Fang. He'd risked life and limb for his people. In the end, he got caught. Unlike so many others, he didn't give up the people he worked with. He'd kept his mouth shut. Kept their secrets and plans from nefarious Atlas ears.

And now he was paying the ultimate price.

If he was lucky, he'd go to sleep one day and never wake up. If not, he was looking at a life of being bought and sold by human masters. He'd heard stories about the humans who bought Faunus. They were bad enough to make the toughest guy in the room squirm.

It was a fate worse than death, and the state of much of his current company confirmed it. Many of the Faunus in the 'pit,' as the traffickers called it, were previously owned slaves who were being sold again or traded. They'd done their time with their human masters, and it showed. Some of them were beaten black and blue. Others were emaciated. Some were diseased, and some probably had a few minutes left to live. What a wretched few minutes.

He and the rest of the prisoners were in limbo. Waiting on a group of very rich and powerful humans to come check out the 'stock' before they'd be shipped away to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what for however long it took their 'masters' to get their money's worth out of them.

One of the traffickers, a woman –Jade, or something like that- at the very least was compassionate enough to offer him water to wash out his bloody eye after he got jumped. She'd even answered a few of his questions. Mainly, how the traffickers could do the things they did to Faunus and sometimes even to their own kind.

"The thing about Faunus and people is unlike drugs you can be sold multiple times. Unlike weapons your use is indefinite. Sex and slaves sell. This is about money and power. You're not a person, you're a product."

She'd added, "I think that's a touch better than what the bulk of humanity sees you as. To them you have no value at all."

No value at all… Well that wasn't true, was it? He wouldn't be here if it were true.

…The abrupt cadence of gunshots, the high-pitched crack of automatic weapons made the dog Faunus jump, his thoughts scattered.

"Are those gunshots?" He cried out. He hooked his fingers through the chain-link fence and pressed his face in the small gap between them. He looked around, frantic, but found most everyone else asleep or otherwise preoccupied. "Guys, I heard gunshots."

"Nah. No way." A man, a boar Faunus, replied. He sounded calm and completely undisturbed. And tired. So incredibly tired.

The dog Faunus held his breath a moment, straining to hear past the sound of his pounding heart.

"There! I heard it again! Those are definitely shots!"

A second Faunus in the cage, an insect of some sort, hissed at him and shot him a nasty glare. "Hey, pipe down, will ya?! You'll get us all in trouble, ya idiot!"

The dog shook his head. "I'm telling you—"

"Just shut the fuck up! We're trying to get some sleep!" Someone further down shouted. Several other voices murmured their agreement.

"Hey, kid," The boar motioned, "Just calm down, alright? Try to relax and get some sleep." He suggested. "You've been prattling on about assassins and spies for weeks now."

"Yeah," the insect snorted, "Ain't no one coming to save ya. You're dying in here like the rest of us miserable bastards." He said cruelly.

"Speak for yourself."

The dog remained where he was, hands pressed against the fence, sweat pouring from his face and soaking his back. He didn't say anything more. Not even as the sounds came closer and he knew with certainty those were gunshots. These other Faunus didn't have his keen sense of hearing and smell—he could hear the shots clearly and smell the acrid scent of gun-powder in the air.

He blew out a shaky breath, heart pounding in his throat and sweaty hands slipping. They were in danger. More than the usual. He could feel it in his bones. He had a 6th sense about these sort of things.

What a shame everyone around him refused to listen.

The full-scale assault started a little after mid-night.

Only the dog knew what fate awaited them, and after being so rudely disregarded before, he was not in a sharing mood. It wouldn't matter anyway. There was nothing they could do about what was going on out there.

They'd find out soon enough.

Something was off.

Winter sensed it.

It was in the White Fang soldiers' sour expressions and tense postures. They looked defeated. The fight hadn't even begun. It was in the uneasy silence of the night. And it was most certainly in the way Adam Taurus walked. Slowly and casually. Almost lazily. As if they were out on a stroll instead of about to infiltrate the headquarters of a notorious human and Faunus trafficking ring.

No one, not even the blasé Faunus, could be that calm given what was at stake.

Something was terribly wrong.

The group reached a distance of two miles from the target. Winter studied the warehouse.

As far as warehouses in Mistral went, this one was fairly average. If anything stood out about it, it was its location several miles out of the city and close to the forest so as to not be seen from the main roads. The place looked fairly empty. No one would be interested in checking out an abandoned warehouse out in the boonies. Certainly not Mistral's finest.

Winter knew better. It was the ideal location for a criminal organization to set up shop.

"Get into position," Adam ordered the White Fang, his voice a gruff whisper Winter had to strain to hear.

The group of White Fang assigned to the south side of the warehouse moved out. Winter watched them cover the two miles between the forest tree-line and the building stealthily and in virtually no time at all, sweeping across the distance like ghosts. She was impressed with the Faunus, and especially with White Fang. Always had been. They were extraordinary creatures and remarkable soldiers.

It was a shame their loyalties lay with a psychopath.

"Hold your positions. Wait for the signal." Adam instructed over the radio. To Winter, he grunted, "Come on."

Winter followed.

They traveled a distance of a mile before Adam suddenly picked up his radio and barked a sharp "Now!" into it.

The timing wasn't right! Winter eyes snapped to Adam. The Faunus stared straight ahead. Winter followed the direction of his stare, squinting to make something out of the darkness.

There. To the East of the building. Several large, dark objects were moving toward the warehouse. They were blacked out cars.

The two of them watched the vehicles grind to a halt at the warehouse. The doors were thrown open and out jumped a considerable number of goons.

Mere moments later, a barrage of gunshots.

Winter recognized the sound of Atlesian guns, their rhythmic, fully automatic rattle.

'Not good.'

She straightened out of her crouched position in the tall grass. No use hiding anymore.

"We can still salvage this, but we have to push forward now." She hollered over the noise.

"Negative."

"We have to get in there."

"Negative," Adam insisted. "Our goal is to ensure the information the journalist has does not make its way into the hands of the Atlesian government."

Adam spun around, swinging his katana in an arc. The goon attempting to attack him was decapitated. His lifeless body fell to its knees before tipping over on its front. Winter made a face at the corpse. How did they find them so fast?

Winter peered into the forest. Were there Atlesians there? If that was the case, it could only mean one thing; their mission was compromised. The traffickers found out they were coming. If so, there was a mole in the White Fang or in the Faunus Equality and Liberation Movement. Someone in a position of power or at least someone who was here now.

She looked at Adam, swallowing down the accusations burning the tip of her tongue. This was neither the place nor the time.

"How do you plan to accomplish your mission without the journalist? He's still inside."

"We terminate the compromise."

"The 'compromise' is the traffickers. How long do you think it will be before Atlas shows up?"

Winter sensed someone sneaking up on her. She ducked just as a bullet whizzed by her head. She threw herself onto her back, raised her pistol, and fired off three shots.

The first bullet caused the assailant to scream, the second dropped her to her knees. The third found its home between her eyes.

Winter frowned at the dead woman. She wore an Atlesian military uniform. Couldn't be more than 18 years old. What was Atlas thinking training teenagers as soldiers? Turning children into murderers. Again.

"Tell me this isn't a set-up!" She said forcefully.

Adam didn't answer, silently watching the chaos unfold.

The other Faunus units emerged from the tree-line and converged upon the humans from different directions. The immediate area around the warehouse was a war-zone. About a hundred Faunus and White Fang fired on some 50 humans. Smoke bombs were being launched into the air. Flash grenades went off sporadically, blinding both sides. Pepper-spray rounds were blowing up in Faunus' faces, incapacitating them. The Faunus may have numbers on their side, but the traffickers had military-grade weapons. Faunus were fast, just not as fast as bullets.

Winter never made the mistake of believing this was going to be an easy fight but this was unpredictably bad.

"We're moving forward. We're here to extract Zwei Rose and bust up this trafficking ring. Retreating is not an option."

A sharp, metallic chink paralyzed her.

She found herself staring at Adam as he towered over her, the blood-stained edge of his blade lightly kissing the skin of her throat. She blinked at the weapon, then glowered darkly at the Faunus. His beady eyes were cold and calculating, unblinking behind his ivory mask.

"Don't forget who is in charge here." She muttered, voice low and threatening. The blade bit into her skin as she spoke. She forced herself to take a slow, controlled breath despite her instinctive need to panic and flee the deadly weapon pressed against her throat.

"You won't hurt me,"

She truly believed that. She hated to admit it, but if Adam wanted her gone, she'd be gone. The same went for him—if she wanted him dead he would be 6 feet under by now. They were both that good.

One wrong move, though, and she'd be losing a lot more than her cool.

Adam's gaze shifted from her. His katana stubbornly remained. "Just watch."

"I can't exactly do that with your sword on my neck," she snarked.

"Sure you can."

Winter swallowed. She delicately turned her head, looking over her shoulder at the warehouse where Adam's attention was focused.

"Every civilization before ours was built on the blood and tribulations of the one before it. The foundation of our existence and success is not built on stone, it's built on the bones of the dead. Freedom isn't free, and these Faunus are willing to pay the price if it means their children and their children's children will no longer suffer. They're proud to die for their cause."

Winter felt suddenly sick.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Adam ignored her. He was doing that a lot tonight. 'Arrogant prick.'

The familiar, low buzz of an airship, along with a change in pressure in the atmosphere yanked her head skyward.

The plane drifted into view, its blurry shape gradually sharpening to hard lines, straight edges and solid color. She narrowed her eyes at the familiar logo of the White Fang on the underside.

"What is that airship doing here?" She bayed. "Adam! What the hell—"

The high-pitched whistle of falling objects was deafening. A heartbeat later, the ground shuddered beneath Winter's feet. Adam withdrew his sword just as Winter lost her balance and fell forward, narrowly avoiding impaling her. Winter used the momentum to dive headlong past him and roll onto her feet.

The blast shook the world. It was blinding, disorienting even behind closed lids; the boom- earsplitting. And then there was the heat from a wave of chemical fire. The screams came a heartbeat later. They rose above the din of the fire, above the random bursts of gunshots, and above the sound of Winter's pounding heart and ragged breathing.

She looked over her shoulder. "Oh, fuck," she hissed, horrified. The nausea that had been building in her stomach overwhelmed her, acid in her throat.

The entire warehouse, what was left of it, was on fire. Faunus and humans alike were on fire. They were screaming, running and flailing, none of them with the presence of mind to stop, drop and roll, far too overwhelmed by panic and pain. More agonized howls came from inside the warehouse. There were at least 200 Faunus inside.

They were all going to die. If they weren't already dead.

Winter clenched her hand into a fist, pivoted on the ball of her foot and swung at Adam's head.

The nimble Faunus side-stepped her wild swing, at the same time there was so much power behind her hook the momentum threw her off balance. Without adjusting her stance, she stepped closer to Adam and threw another punch. This time she clipped his shoulder. He grunted, allowing the force of her blow to spin him around. At the end of the spin, he jumped up into the air and grabbed the back of her head all in one flowing motion. He brought his knee up.

Winter couldn't evade it or block it, her center of gravity still off. A whole galaxy exploded behind her eyes as his knee connected with her nose. Mind-numbing pain followed on the heels of a sickening crunch. Winter reeled, staggered by the vicious strike. She pawed at her face; blinked the tears out of her eyes; snorted and spit out the blood and snot pouring from her nose into her throat.

Finally, she fell hard on her ass with a garbled cry, stunned and blinded. She braced her arms in an X in front of her face to protect herself from another blow.

But Adam didn't strike again. He simply stood there, watching her- she could feel his eyes on her.

It seemed like forever before her eyes stopped watering enough for her to see. Barely. She staggered to her feet. Adam watched her every move like a hawk. Her ears buzzed. Her head felt far too heavy on her shoulders. Blood flowed freely from her nasal cavity into her mouth.

"Fucker," the word dribbled onto her chin.

He got her good. Too good. Unless it came down to fighting for her life, she was out of commission.

"It's time we left."

Winter ignored him and stumbled a few feet toward the warehouse. Adam made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat.

…The thing about light? No matter how small it is, it can be seen for miles. Winter stared, awed by the size of the fire. It lit up the night sky. It seemed as if heaven itself was burning. Even from a distance, the heat was oppressive. And the smoke- she felt it curling in her lungs, trying to rob her of precious oxygen.

"Do you hear that?" Winter stabbed a finger in the direction of the fire. "Your people are screaming. They're begging. They don't want to die, I don't care what you say. We can still save them."

"We did what we came here to do."

"Adam!"

He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Schnee, let's go."

He was infuriating! Winter launched herself at him. He wasn't able to contain a look of surprise when she danced around a snap kick aimed at her knee and grabbed the lapels of his black coat. She yanked him close, close enough to see the pores under his eyes oozing sweat.

'Even the most cold hearted bastard sweats in hell,' she thought.

"We're. Not. Leaving. Them."

…She wished he would say something or attack her. Anything. Anything to block out the tormented cries of the dying. Anything to distract her from the revolting smell of burning flesh carried on the gentle Mistral breeze.

His silence tormented her.

"You son of a bitch!" Winter roared, bloody spittle catching on her lip, and spattering Adam's face.

Adam was unfazed. He glimpsed at her hands then met her disparaging glare with a cool look of his own. Very slowly, he raised his hands, placed them over hers and pried her stiff fingers from his coat.

He took a step back and stared at her.

"It's time to go," He repeated. "Come with me or stay here and die. I don't care either way, human." Emphasis on the word human. Spoken with undiluted hate.

He walked away.

Winter watched him, distraught. How could he be so callous about his own people? She looked up at the sky.

This was not the way tonight was supposed to play out. When Salem told her of the opportunity to free Faunus and humans who had been enslaved by traffickers, she was delighted to jump at the chance. It had been so long since she went on a mission that actually did some good, for a change. The thought of saving lives instead of taking them had done wonders to lift her spirits, dampened by the savageries she saw committed each day. The fact that Zwei Rose, a man considered to be the free voice of the Faunus, was among the victims was just a bonus to her. Her goal was saving those prisoners, those average, everyday citizens who decided to do something extraordinary and stand up to their persecutors.

The day started out perfectly, too. The sun was shining. A nice breeze was blowing. The temperature was perfect—not too hot, not too cold. Ideal for a rescue mission. Winter didn't believe in omens. She wasn't superstitious like that, but if she had, then she would have taken the gorgeous weather and slow start as a good sign.

She'd spoken to Weiss the night before. Her sister was coming around, finally seeing this war for what it really was—a way for powerful, deluded men to keep making money. Soon, Weiss would be at her side. They wouldn't have to sneak around to see each other anymore. She'd yearned for her sister's company for so long. Things were finally starting to fall in place.

Winter flinched.

No one ever expects for things to go this horribly wrong. A situation can change so quickly. She'd gone over all the logistics, went over any and every possible worst-case scenario. She'd forgotten life's greatest lesson. Never fool yourself into thinking you're in control. You can only do so much, strategize so much. Prepare so much.

The rest of it?, It kind of just happens.

Winter grit her teeth at the roar of a fleet of airships rising over the clamor of the battle. The Atlesian cavalry was coming. Just in time to spray the surviving members of the White Fang with bullets. Not in time to save any of the Faunus trapped in the warehouse.

Winter resigned herself to the Faunus' fate. She realized there was nothing she alone could do for those poor souls trapped in the fire, and even if she called for help it would come too late.

Time to take her leave.

The ground shook beneath her feet- the aftershocks of smaller explosions inside the warehouse as the flames reached machinery, weapons. Chemicals. The traffickers' cars parked nearby. The heat of the fire licked at her back. She could feel her skin blistering beneath her jacket.

"What was the damn point?" She asked herself, tearing through the grass, arms pumping madly at her sides.

Behind her, screamed orders were followed by slamming doors and squealing tires. The remaining humans were making their escape. The roar of their cars' engines steadily faded into the night. The fucking traffickers, what was left of them, were getting away. There was nothing could be done to stop them.

Why? Why was it evil people fared better than good people? Why did those criminals get to live while people like Zwei Rose, people like her brother Whitley, were brutally murdered?

Winter was beginning to fear she'd never hear an answer could soothe her anguished soul.

She caught up with Adam a dozen yards out. He spared her a quick glance before sprinting away. Winter coughed, the short amount of time breathing in the smoke was enough to irritate her lungs. She was also winded from the run and having to breathe through her mouth. Her heart rate was jacked up from all the adrenaline and anger. Winter feared she might implode.

She tore off after Adam again.

As they moved further from the incident, the dying Faunus' bleating faded, lost to the distance, and to the roar of the blazing inferno. Overwhelmed by the deafening warble of propellers of Atlas airships. Soon the dying cries of over 300 Faunus (including the hundred or so White Fang and rebels who volunteered for the mission) and some thirty humans (the others escaped) were nothing more than a haunting memory, echoing boundlessly in Winter's mind.

Their airship was waiting for them in a clearing 8 miles out, where they'd been dropped off. Adam walked inside and headed to the cockpit, presumably to deliver orders. Winter dropped into the nearest seat, leaned over her lap, and covered her face with shaking hands.

…How many people died tonight? How many more would die before this thing was over? Winter wasn't sure she could endure much more of this.

She cursed silently under her breath as she leaned back and studied the blood on her hands.

She was jostled as the airship lifted off the ground. She grimaced, the sudden jolt aggravating her broken nose. 'I'm going to break his whole damn face,' she thought darkly, tenderly probing it. Tears sprung to her eyes. 'And not just for the nose.'

"I was under the impression you were an excellent soldier. I may have been mistaken."

Adam was sitting in a seat in the row across from her. She didn't even hear him come back. He was infuriatingly light on his feet. Like a cat. Winter hated cats. They were arrogant assholes, and far too sneaky and shady.

"I was under the impression you weren't the rabid animal everyone said you are. We're both disappointed."

Adam didn't flinch.

"I did what I had to do to make sure the mission wasn't a complete failure."

"If you knew the mission was compromised, why did we even go through with it? We could have left it for another day. We could have saved those Faunus."

"We couldn't leave it for another day. Those traffickers were there to move them whether we showed up or not… I don't owe you any explanations, but I didn't know the mission was compromised until I saw the cars. The strike was a contingency plan. Nothing more."

"Nothing more? You killed almost 300 of your own people. Do you feel nothing?"

He muttered something under his breath. Winter didn't quite catch it. "What?" She snapped.

"When you get in a fight you want to go about it in the smartest way possible. You want to be efficient. You strike hard. You strike smart. You hit your opponent where it will do the most damage. You find a weakness to exploit, or you create a weakness to exploit. And then you hit them. Again and again. Bruise them. Break them. Make them bleed."

Adam continued,

"Sometimes your opponent will be… difficult. Like those Atlesian soldiers. Even my White Fang. What's the one certain way to bring someone indestructible to their knees? You take away who or what they love the most."

Winter bit her lip. Her hands were shaking again. This time from the amount of self-control it took to hold herself back. It was taxing. How would it feel to punch right through Adam's skull, she wondered.

"This game is best played by hurting your opponent as much as possible. You wear them down then take them out. The next time you encounter an opponent, don't be afraid to bring them to their knees."

Winter scoffed.

"You didn't hurt your opponent tonight. You hurt your own people. All you accomplished here was to disrupt and demoralize Faunus-kind. And that wasn't a fight. That was a cheap shot. You're a coward."

It was unsettling to see something other than a scowl or tight-lipped frown on his face. Adam looked… smug. Winter narrowed her eyes at him.

"If I was human, you'd say I was a tactical genius." He accused.

"Let me tell you something genius; when this war is over, you're the one I'm bringing down to your knees."

Adam pointed at his nose, provoking her. "You're certainly welcomed to try."

The taunting curl of his lip made Winter see red. But she didn't rise to the bait. He wasn't dealing with some hot-headed juvenile he could goad into a fight, he was dealing with a deadly operative. One who earned a reputation as formidable as Atlas' Grimm. One who didn't lack reasons to want to put him in the ground.

He seemed to finally remember those facts. The arrogant look melted right off, replaced with the severe expression he was known for.

"I didn't come here to kill my people but they're dead now. All I can do is make sure their deaths weren't in vain. I will make sure Faunus-kind hears about this. They will know the truth."

All the pieces of the puzzle finally fell in place. Winter laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. She guessed a long time ago where Adam was heading with this, but having him confirm it-

"Fuck. You really are a coward… You're going to blame the deaths of those Faunus on the humans."

Adam smoothly stood up. His hand fell on the hilt of his sword. The warning in the gesture was clear—don't even think about interfering.

"Humans locked them in that warehouse, not me. Yes, I am going to blame the humans for their deaths. Because it is their fault."

"They may have loaded the gun, but you pulled the trigger, Adam."

"Semantics, Winter."

Winter's shoulders fell. Someone once told her the smartest thing she could do was not waste her breath or effort arguing with a person who determined not to change their minds. Not arguing with Adam on this point, however, felt like defeat. The things he was doing didn't just affect him, they affected the whole world. What was she supposed to do? Let him keep slaughtering innocent people? Let him drag everyone down to hell with him?

"So you're going to tell the world your version of the truth."

"It is the truth. These deaths- they will inspire the Faunus to fight." He looked at her with a knowing expression, as if he could read her mind and wanted her to know it.

Winter scoffed. She didn't understand Adam. She didn't understand her father. She didn't understand this fight. No matter how many justifications, no matter how hard or often they all tried to rationalize it, nothing could justify all this bullshit.

"An eye for an eye and soon the whole world is blind."

"Just as well. It's very difficult for the blind to kill each other."

"You're going to bring down the whole of Atlas on the Faunus people. Innocent people. Kids. Babies. They're going to die."

"No, you can thank your father's Grimm for their deaths."

"Huh. You're not a revolutionary. You're just another selfish, bloodthirsty bastard who doesn't care who gets hurt or killed in the process of getting what he wants."

"That is an accurate description of your father."

"You're a devil just like my father. The only difference between you is you have actual horns."

Adam walked away, leaving her to stew in her thoughts.

It was an excruciating flight home.

When they arrived at Salem's mansion, Winter blew past her guards and made a beeline for her chambers. Salem was a creature of habit. Winter knew sure as the sky was blue Salem would be up driving herself mad worrying about her.

...Someone was standing in front of Salem's door. Winter instantly recognized the thin, tall frame. A growl vibrated in her throat. 'Another obstacle. Great.'

"If it isn't Salem's favorite plaything. We missed you, darling. Oh, what happened to your nose? How many humans did you kill—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Winter roared at Salem's insane little pet, a galling hit-man named Tyrian.

For once he kept his big mouth shut. His expression did all the talking, all bulging eyes and snarling lips. He looked like a rabid dog on a chain dying to break free and tear her up.

Winter shoved him out of the way. He was too stunned by her uncharacteristic behavior to do anything other than stumble aside.

Salem was sitting in front of her mirror, brushing out her ridiculously long white and black hair.

She didn't flinch as her bedchamber doors suddenly burst open, or react to Winter's cursing as she stormed inside and kicked the doors shut behind her. Salem simply looked at the Silver-haired soldier's fuming reflection with a hint of sympathy showing in her red eyes.

"Zwei?" She asked.

A quick flicker of movement followed by the shattering of her vanity mirror was her answer. Salem scowled at the pieces of glass laying on the make-up desk and around her bare feet. Winter's pistol lay close by. Salem brows furrowed at it.

"This isn't like you, Winter. Losing your temper."

The silent implication was that she heard her scream at Tyrian.

"What do you know?" Winter's voice was flat, void of emotion. Salem knew from experience that's when the woman was most dangerous. A lecture would be pointless. Winter wasn't in a listening mood.

She sighed.

"What happened?"

"They're all dead. All the Faunus I was supposed to rescue; they're all dead now."

Salem carefully got up and tip-toed her way around the glass. She grimaced as tiny shards she couldn't escape embedded themselves in her toes. She finally cleared the mess and went to Winter's side. She had her back pressed to the doors. Her shoulders were tense. Scratch that. Her entire body was painfully stiff, and her breathing was ragged as it burst through her flaring nostrils.

Salem couldn't help but marvel at the furious heat in the woman's usually cold stare. An aggravated Winter Schnee was quite a sight to behold.

She placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Winter."

"Sure."

"Hey," Salem raised her voice and injected just enough steel in it to be commanding. "Look at me," She said, tipping Winter's chin back with two fingers. "I know you. I know what you're thinking, but it's not your job to save everyone."

"Adam certainly made sure of that. I told you he was bad news. I should have done this alone."

Salem was at a loss for words. Nothing she said would comfort her subordinate. Despite her claims to the contrary, Salem knew Winter Schnee far too well.

Winter's stormy gray eyes strayed. "I let 300 Faunus die tonight. How can I ever live with that?"

"Winter—"

"I need time away, Salem. I need to clear my head. And I need to see my sister."

Salem stepped back, her hand falling limply to the side. 'You knew this was coming. Winter isn't like you. She doesn't belong here.'

"Of course. Take as much time as you need. I'm sure Weiss will appreciate you making time to visit her."

"I can't believe this. The Faunus are killing just as many of their people as the humans. I can't tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys anymore."

"Good. That means you're growing up."

"How can you say that?"

Salem looked amused. Winter bristled at the sardonic lilt of her lips.

"The world isn't black and white. We're all monsters sometimes. Some of us just accept it more easily than others. The reason we're all monsters is we all do fucked up shit at some point. We all hurt somebody eventually. Even you. Even me. Adam. Your father. Your sister, Whi—"

"-I'll kill you if you say my brother's name. I mean it."

Salem met the wild gleam in the assassin's eyes head-on. Oh, she knew Winter meant it. The girl wasn't one to make idle threats.

"People will do the most twisted things. Especially if they think it is what is right."

Winter shuddered. For a very frightening moment, she could only hear the sound of her own panic as it rose in her chest. It sounded like her heart pounding out of control, and like a loud ringing in her ears. She swallowed, licking her lips in a vain attempt to get some moisture going in her suddenly bone-dry mouth. She understood now.

"You ordered the airstrike, not Adam."

"Adam is not a bad man. He wants to end this war. Same as me. Same as you."

"I'm nothing like you! Did you ever intend to save those Faunus?"

Salem sighed. There was a sad, somber look in her tired eyes. "If I never see you again, I'll understand."

Winter felt raw. As if all her skin had been scrapped off. She felt betrayed in the worst imaginable way.

"You're a hypocrite like everyone else."

"That's the one thing I can't accuse you of. You're too virtuous. Your kind are a rare breed. "

"Your kind are not." she shot back. "You're just like Jacques."

Salem flinched. Winter didn't hold her father in very high regards. For her to compare her to him… She goes for the throat, that girl.

"You're an excellent soldier, Winter. I have no doubt whatever you do will be for the good of human and Faunus kind. I know you'll disagree with me, but if there's anyone who can clean up this mess and make us all the better for it, it will be people like you. Hopeful. Idealistic."

Winter shoved herself off the doors. She closed her eyes and willed her voice not to tremble and her expression not to betray her. She was not easily broken. But today…

"I'm leaving, Salem. I'm not coming back."

Salem dropped her gaze to the floor. "As you wish," she said around the knot in her throat.

She flinched as Winter blew out of her chambers as violently as she'd come in. 'Gone without so much as a second glance or a goodbye.' The immediate urge to go after the young woman was almost too much to bear.

But she couldn't.

"It's for the best. The work that needs to be done to right our wrongs sometimes requires your very soul. Winter wasn't willing to give hers up."

"I wouldn't ask it of her," Salem muttered, staring longingly out the door. "She was bleeding. Someone hit her…"

"That expression on your face is frightening." He cleared his throat. "Salem," Said in a way so as to grab her attention, intended to distract her from her no doubt murderous thoughts.

She exchanged a look with the man standing on the veranda. The moon's pale light gave him an ethereal glow as if he'd walked out of a dream.

'Or a nightmare.'

"This is almost over."

Salem shook her head. "What would our people think if they saw us together?" She wondered.

A chuckle. It was warm, much like the man himself.

Unfortunately, his warmth did little to ease the bitter cold deep inside of her.

"I'd wager they would just about lose their minds."

"Why? Because our kind hate each other? Because we're enemies? Why?"

"I—" He struggled to find the right words, and the right way to say them. Eventually, he sighed. "Yes."

"Because some fools decades ago decided so, and everyone just goes along with it. But you and I personally—do we have any reason to be enemies other than 'that's the way it's been?'"

He tsked. "No. We do not. And neither do those children."

"You and I keep messing up and those children are the ones left to deal with it. We give them war as an inheritance and hate and cruelty as their legacy. We keep creating problems and expect them to fix it. We become angry when they can't. How is that fair?"

"It isn't."

Silence.

Then,

"You did good letting go of Schnee. We need her hands to be as clean as possible when this is all over. She'll be a good leader."

Salem allowed herself a brief, self-indulgent smile at his indirect compliment. "She'll be a great leader… I just hope she and the others will forgive me."

Ozpin sighed. He walked to Salem and slipped his arm around her tiny waist. He pulled her into his side just as she began to lean into him.

"Maybe they won't. But what we're doing for them will be worth it. I promise you that."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Ozpin thought for a moment. His thin lips pressed into a microscopic frown, forcing the lines carved around his mouth to feature prominently.

"Not in the least." He decided.

An: *Le Gasp!* Who has questions? Ask and ye shall recieve ;)

Also, shout out to those of you who have taken the time to review. That was very kind of you, and it's very motivational. I appreciate it! I hope to respond to your individual reviews soon.