A/N: Writer's block can go suck a fat one. Who knew that spring break was enough to completely drain the drive to write out of me? Anyway, here's another chapter of Blood Trails. Sorry for the wait.


"Are the charges set?" the assassins' leader's voice hissed impatiently over the radio. He had to ask because he wasn't on the mission with the rest of them. Typical. He'd put so much time and planning into killing the Schnee, but he didn't have the balls to do it himself. Of course, Cotton would never voice his criticisms. He was quite partial to living, thank you very much.

"Aye," came the response of another agent. "Just waitin' on the bunny rabbit."

The hare-eared faunus scowled but continued his task of snaking his way through the ventilation ducts. His natural low light vision made him the obvious choice for the task of infiltrating the mansion, much to his chagrin. Contrary to what the spy movies depicted; vents weren't exactly the easiest to crawl silently through. As such, Cotton was none too pleased when his team had begun complaining that he was taking too long.

Finally, after nearly two whole hours of slugging in the metal tubes, he reached his destination, the generator room which provided power to the whole property. Peering through the vent grating, he determined that there was no one around to catch him. Not that he couldn't take care of them, he had just been instructed to minimize casualties to non-target individuals; and he'd be damned if he was going to risk upsetting the boss man.

Speak of the devil. Cotton was ripped from the confines of his own mind by the man in question addressing him directly. "Cotton? What's taking so long?"

"Believe it or not," he whispered into his earpiece. "I'm not Spruce Willis, and it's a little difficult to crawl through a vent without it sounding like there's a rave with tribal drums in here."

"I'm a tad deaf in this ear. You wanna repeat that?"

He groaned as he kicked the vent cover out. "In position," he switched off the mic. "Dick." With one final grunt, he clambered to his feet. He was only twenty-six, and yet, he thought, he was already getting too old for this kind of thing.

He didn't bother to turn the lights on - not wanting to risk drawing any unwanted attention - he could see just fine without them. Another quick scan of the room revealed his target: an unassuming metal box, about the size of a billiards table with a simple computer console in the center. It hummed with the consistent purr of electricity. After pressing a few buttons, the screen came to life, confirming that this was indeed the machine he was looking for: the one that provided power to the house - and security systems. Sure, they could do the hit without taking them down, it was merely a matter of convenience. No need to bring an army of robot soldiers down on them if it could be avoided.

Reaching around into his equipment pack, Cotton retrieved a small, walkie-talkie-looking device and placed it on the console. The magnets in the casing caused it to snap to the metal box with an echoed ka-chunk. He wasn't entirely wise to the science behind the gadget, such knowledge was beyond his paygrade, but he did know that it was meant to overload the generator, taking it offline for a few seconds. Such an occurrence would, hopefully, force the security alarms and mechs to reset. Cotton was unsure, however. Because, while it had been tested, it had never been used on anything this big.

"Here's hoping…" he whispered, taking a deep breath. "Alright everybody, hold on to your butts. Power is going down…" Pause for dramatic effect. "NOW!"

There was no electricity arc or flash of light like he'd anticipated. With the flip of a switch, the generator simply shut down for all of five seconds.

But it was long enough.

Off in the distance, even though a hundred feet of concrete, wood, and marble stood in between, Cotton heard the first breaching charge detonate.

"We're movin' in to take out Schnee," his teammate sounded way too excited about going up against a fully trained huntress, on her home turf no less. Tack on Xiao Long and the new kid, and they definitely had their hands full. "You'd better get on up here, bunny-boy. You don't wanna miss all the fun, do ya?"

With a heavy sigh, Cotton replied, "On the way…Again, dick." He made certain to take his finger off the 'Talk' button before uttering the latter half of his response.

As it was an expensive piece of hardware, he made sure to grab the disruptor as he turned to exit the room. The generator whirred back to life when it was removed from its surface. No matter, the power coming back on meant little in the grand scheme of things. In fact, it was a bit more convenient for the assassins, as not all were faunus and, as such, were unable to fight well in the dark. Another explosion sounded in the distance. So much for subtlety.

The door to the generator room slammed open and he began sprinting along the pre-planned route to the target's office. Weiss Schnee was many things; a shrewd businesswoman, one of the wealthiest people on the planet, but most importantly, she was a creature of habit. A fact which made planning her assassination all the simpler. Every morning, from seven until nine, she spent in her office, doing whatever it is she does for the S.D.C.

"Who's there?" the voice of the butler echoed as Cotton rounded a corner. Without losing any momentum, the faunus leaped up and ran along the wall, passing over the confused servant entirely.

"Schnee needs better help," Cotton thought with a smirk as he returned to the ground. "Guy didn't even try to stop me."

He continued his dash through the halls until he finally reached the corridor where his destination was located. Now it was just a matter of remembering which of the many doors was the correct one. Of course, he didn't have to wonder long. At the other end of the hallway, two figures came bursting out of nowhere. They were too far away for him to see their faces, but the impractically long blonde hair and the blood red cape told him that it was most likely Yang Xiao Long and the cyclops.

The dynamic duo began running towards him at full speed. He was shrouded in darkness, so it was improbable that they'd seen him. More likely, they were headed to the same place he was.

Not good.

They had prepared to deal with these two, but huntsmen were more dangerous in numbers. There wasn't any time to warn his team. Cotton once again resumed his gait, this time with the intent of stopping or, at the very least, delaying Schnee's reinforcements until she was dealt with.

He met them in front of the office door, the sounds of fierce combat already emanating from inside. Brown eyes narrowed as they flicked between lilac and silver. None of them dared move, for fear of provoking the inevitable confrontation. The whole scene was straight out of an old cowboy movie; Cotton half expected a tumbleweed to come rolling out of nowhere.

"Enabler Jr. Then you keep him busy, I've got to help Weiss," Yang muttered to her partner, due to his enhanced hearing, Cotton was able to pick it up. Although, he suspected he was meant to.

Enabler Jr.? Some form of combo attack, most likely. She was planning to slip by him and let her younger half distract him. Cotton smirked, and the red-cloaked swordsman did the same; he wasn't about to get cocky, but he felt confident that he could probably handle the boy. Leaving him behind would normally have been a decent tactic if a bit obvious. But Cotton had killed many a young hunter who'd had the same idea, this shouldn't be any different.


Jasper subtly tensed and readied himself to launch into combat, his fingers finding their familiar homes around Blutrache's hilt. As he did, the black-hooded killer kept his gaze trained on his eye. Yang's hushed order wasn't anything the average person would understand, as it was a technique that they had developed together in secret. Naming the combos was easier than calling out exactly what to do every single time they used them; it also kept their opponents guessing as to what they were about to do.

Jasper tried to get a feel for the man he was about to be fighting for dear life based on his appearance. Whoever was gunning for Weiss, they certainly knew what their favorite color was: black. The faunus was garbed in a black jacket, pants, gloves, and boots. His face, while partially obscured by his hood, sported a long, terrible scar that ran from his left brow to the right side of his chin. To top it all off, white rabbit ears protruded out of the hood from little, custom holes. Jasper had a feeling that was she in a better mood, Yang would have commented, saying they were cute. Overall, only one thing could be said for certain; he was dangerous.

Only once did Jasper break the silent staring match to glance at Yang, only to find that she was stood in his rather substantial blind-spot. Damn his eye - or lack thereof -, he would just have to try and predict where she would be. Which shouldn't be too terribly difficult, as they'd practiced and perfected this move for years.

The assassin must have noticed his agitation, for he tensed as well, bending his knees and positioning his hands so that he could draw whatever weapons he was carrying. Frustratingly, his dress made it impossible to tell what those were, or how many he had on him.

The three of them stood there for what seemed like an eternity. The stillness before battle stoking an almost unbearable mix of nervousness and anticipation within Jasper. There was also a hint of confusion. Yang never held back this long – or at all – before charging into a fight. Did she actually consider this guy to be a threat? No, that wasn't it. If it were, she wouldn't be simply leaving Jasper at his mercy. More likely, she was trying to instill a sense of unease in him; to psych him out.

If that was her intent, it didn't appear to be working. The faunus held his ground and showed no sign of intimidation. A fact which only made Jasper all the more wary of his soon to be duel partner.

Yang, probably noticing her fear tactic proved ineffective, finally decided to break the standoff. With a speedy tap on the shoulder, she signaled to Jasper it was time to act, and the two sprinted toward the assassin.

Their paths diverged slightly midway through the charge, with Jasper swinging to the right and Yang hanging left. Their opponent, however, did not move. Instead, he steadied himself and prepared to dodge an attack from both sides at the last second. He didn't even look at either of them, maintaining a fifty-yard stare straight ahead. Jasper had heard of such a move; where faunus with improved hearing would often rely on their ears over eyes in combat. Indeed, the snowy appendages were twitching and flitting every-which-way.

A split second before reaching him, Yang reared back to throw a punch, which naturally forced him to either evade or attempt to counter the brutal brawler. How confusing it must have been for him when the blow completely missed - no, ignored him. How much more so when the arm turned out to no longer be attached to its owner?

And was shooting through the air like a rocket.

Jasper sorely wished he could have seen the guy's face. However, he was unable to as he grabbed the flying extremity and held on while it jerked him up toward the ceiling.

Blutrache shrieked as it was ripped from its sheath. The crimson blade cutting through the air on its way over Jasper's shoulder. Letting go of the bionic hand, his assent rapidly morphed into a downward slash at the faunus's head. As expected, his attention shifted away from Yang as he redirected the aerial assault with a dagger at the last possible moment. Jasper fell forward, rolling into a crouch with his sword pointed at his foe.

The distraction allowed Yang to catch and reattach her arm. With a quick nod and a wink, as though to say, "good luck," she burst through the office door and out of sight to aid Weiss against the other assassins.

The two of them now alone in the hallway, Jasper and the assassin began pacing in a wide circle. Whilst their eyes remained locked, subtle changes in their stance and body language hinted at the on-going struggle to outmaneuver each other before their fight could truly begin. When one would twitch his hand, the other would bend his knees, expecting a blade to come whistling through the air.

Jasper flinched and pulled Blutrache close as the faunus raised a hand to the side of his head. "Cotton here," he said. Ah, so he was radioing his companions. Some huntsmen would have taken the man's momentary distraction as a chance to land a free hit, however, Jasper thought better of it and took it as an opportunity to gain information about their quarry. Whatever little bit he could glean, that is. "Yeah, I'm dealing with one of our other problems. Shouldn't take too long."

"Cotton, is it? Why don't we save us both a lot of time and you go ahead and tell me who's on the other end of that call, hmm?" Jasper suggested with incredibly exaggerated confidence.

The bunny-eared murderer chuckled. "Kid, you are way out of your depth here," he boasted, drawing yet another knife from inside his coat, this one a bit longer than the other. "I got a better idea; you just roll over and die, so my boss doesn't get pissed at me for wasting time with you."

"Your boss sounds like a harda-" Jasper was interrupted when Cotton sprang forward, stabbing at his face. Bringing up his blade, he was only just able to block the dagger before losing his other eye.

"You talk too much."

While it was difficult to intercept, Jasper was prepared for the lightning fast follow-up attack; coming in the form of the second knife being jabbed toward his stomach. In one fluid motion, he caught the blade on Valorschutz, deflecting it and drove his fist up into Cotton's chin. The sudden blow caused the man to recoil sharply, forcing them apart once more, the distance between them compounded as they both took several steps back.

Jasper shifted his hand, adjusting his grip on Blutrache's hilt to a more comfortable position. For a moment, he considered activating the weapon's mecha-shift and using the second blade. However, the thought was discouraged when he recalled one of Yang's first lessons; "Never show off all your tricks at the start of the fight. A smart huntsman always has an ace in the hole." He didn't get any more time to ponder on the matter, as Cotton charged him again, this time aiming to slash at him from both sides at once.

His speed was nothing short of dizzying. The way he shot from his spot ten feet away to right up in Jasper's face would have been impressive back at Beacon. Although, it lost some of its charm when it was being used in an attempt to slit his throat. Between dodging and blocking the onslaught of pointy things and constantly making sure not to back into a corner, Jasper had no time to get a hit in edgewise. Every now and again, he would wince as he felt the sting of his aura shielding his skin from an errant strike that made it past his admittedly poor defense. The natural barrier did indeed protect his body from harm, but that didn't mean the pain wasn't there.

His situation was getting poorer by the second. While each individual pin-prick did little on its own, death by a thousand cuts was still death nonetheless. Jasper needed to break his opponent's rhythm and start fighting back or else the battle for Schnee hallway would be over before too long.

In a desperate attempt to interrupt the flurry of daggers, he thrust Blutrache forward, the ruby edge barely glancing off Cotton's cheek thanks to his aura, tearing his hood off. The faunus responded with a rapid stab to his right shoulder, the blow producing the same result. Ignoring the sharp pain, Jasper spun to the left and caught Cotton in the temple with his elbow without missing a beat, stunning and throwing him off balance. Which, in turn, created an opening for two follow-up slashes across his chest.

When he pulled the weapon back, Jasper noted the fact that there were a few smears of crimson spattered across the edge. The sudden blow to his head must have caused Cotton's aura to focus primarily on the impact zone in order to keep him from being knocked unconscious. As such, the rest of his body was temporarily unguarded, allowing for the cuts to actually take effect.

"Argh!" he hissed, dropping a knife and clutching his left hand to the crisscrossed wound. "Dammit." Much to Jasper's surprise, the faunus took a knee, coughing exaggeratedly as he did. It had to be some kind of trick, someone like him wouldn't have gone down with a single strike. A person's aura strengthened with age and experience, and Cotton had to be a good eight years older than him, at least.

Cautiously, Jasper advanced up to the kneeling assassin, raising his katana so that it tickled his throat. He kept his eye firmly locked on Cotton's as he seemed to relax, apparently conceding the fight. Maybe he really was weaker than anticipated; the weakling among his peers and the threats earlier had been nothing more than hot air?

"You gonna spill your guts now?" Jasper interrogated, all humor drained from his voice. "Or do I have to do it for you?"

Cotton snorted, an evil smirk tugging at his lips. "That's funny, d'ya get that from a Spruce Willis movie?" A small click sounded from below. "'Cause that's where I got this one." Jasper glanced down just in time to see a ring pulled free from a metal cylinder.

And for the world to disappear into nothing but white light and deafening silence.


If there were words to accurately sum up the pain that Cotton felt in his ears when the flashbang exploded, they were unknown to him. Sound and light-based weapons were always risky for faunus to use, on account of their low-light vision and enhanced hearing if they had certain animal traits. The visual damage he sustained was minimal, as he had recently purchased a set of special contact lenses on the black market. Made for Atlas soldiers, they were supposed to negate the effects of flashbangs. Thank god they worked for the most part.

His opponent didn't appear to be as lucky, though. Frantically flailing his sword every which way, he was as blind as a bat, clutching his free hand to his face. If he was yelling or had screamed at the sudden loss of spatial awareness, it was unclear due to the great pain and ringing in both their ears. Ignoring the excruciating agony in his head, Cotton waited for the blade to be out of the way. He got his chance when the kid made an outward swing, leaving himself open to be tackled to the ground. In order to prevent any further retaliatory slashes, he positioned himself atop the young man with one knee on each of his arms, holding them in place. The position was one that could easily be mistaken for something very different than a life or death duel. And Cotton had a feeling that if his team ever saw him and the kid like this, he'd never hear the end of it. As uncomfortable as it was, however, it was worth it to keep that stupid sword from slicing him to ribbons.

Not a moment too soon either, as the caped swordsman's eye began to open, indicating that the grenade was wearing off. His already erratic struggling only increased in tempo and desperation when he saw that Cotton held his dagger up, preparing to plunge it into his neck. Aura could stop a lot, but from such a close range, it would do little more than slow the kill and prolong the victim's suffering.

Cotton grunted with annoyance as he felt a knee drive into his backside, pushing him forward slightly and causing the blade to veer off course and stick into the hardwood floor not an inch from its target. The shift in his weight, unfortunately, gave the kid an opportunity to free his left arm and grapple with Cotton for control of the knife. At least his katana with still safely lodged underneath his leg, thank god for small mercies.

The effects of the flashbang finally started to fade away from both their ears - mostly, there was still the frustratingly irritating ringing. Sounds began to come in a bit clearer; the two men's sharp breaths hissing through gritted teeth, the constant thud of the boy's boots against the floor as he struggled to find some source of leverage, even the muffled racket of the fierce four-on-two battle happening on the other side of the wall.

Assuming his opponent could hear him, Cotton seethed, "Just...die already. I'm trying to make this as...painless as possible."

He could hear him. "I'm not."

Cotton didn't have time to question what he meant by that before something ripped into the back of his left knee. Immediately, he lost all composure and fell forward, his entire body giving out as the hidden second blade of that freaking sword severed muscles and ligaments. His pained yell hadn't even escaped his lips when the dagger they'd been fighting over was wrenched from his grasp and plunged into his shoulder.

How quickly the tables had turned. One moment he was poised for victory, the next his foe was rolling out of beneath him and pinning him face-down to the floor. The silver-eyed man had abandoned his precious sword in favor of a much more effective weapon: Cotton's hypersensitive ears.

The faunus's eye went wide when he felt calloused hands grip the appendages. Fear and hatred flooded his mind as they were squeezed and crushed, bringing back memories of a horrid childhood. The pain was enough to bring him, a seasoned and cold-hearted assassin, to tears.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," his good-as-owner hissed, making good on his threat by clenching his fist a bit harder. "You are going to answer every question I ask, or I will rip these things off. Capiche?"

Cotton couldn't nod for fear of putting any more strain on his ears, so he settled for a terrified, "Uh-huh."

"Good." The venom that oozed from the voice contained a hint of something else. Just the slightest twinge. It dawned on Cotton that his captor was enjoying this about as much as he was. Deep down, he was probably a good person, but current circumstances proved that he wasn't afraid to commit the moral taboo of torture to get what he wanted. A fact which shed light on yet another possibility; that he had a personal stake in being here. That protecting Schnee was more than just a job for him. "Who were you talking to on the radio earlier?"

Cotton gulped. His mouth was dry and his breathing was rapid and labored. "M-my team," he stammered, praying to whatever gods would listen that his answer was satisfactory.

"Why are you trying to kill Weiss?" It was.

"It's just a jo-AHHAAHHH!" Crippling pain shot through his head and down to his toes. Unfortunately, that answer wasn't.

"What kind of job?" His breath was hot on Cotton's neck as he growled. "Are you being paid, or is it personal?"

Tears flowed down his face and pooled near his right eye, forcing him to close it. "We get paid...the team. I don't know where the contracts come from. Only the boss knows. But with the way he's obsessing over this, I'd say he has some kind of grudge against Schnee, Xiao Long, and Belladonna."

The mere mention of the other names caused the torturer to pause, loosening his grip ever so slightly. However, the hesitation lasted for barely a second, then it was back to the business at hand.

"Who is it? Who is your boss and why is he after them?"

"I don't know." He really didn't. The man leading their little band was shrouded in mystery. No real name, no past, personal ties to speak of. He was a ghost. Although, Cotton got the sense the response wasn't enough. "I don't know his name, just that he goes by 'Courier.'"

"Is he here?"

"No. He's not even in Atlas."

"Where is he?" Was it worth the risk? If he gave Courier up to save his own skin, assuming he'd survive this, who's to say that the man wouldn't find out and come for him?

"I-," he was cut off by a sudden tug. The boy had graduated from simply crushing the life out of his tender ears to slowly pulling on and crushing them.

"Where. Is. He?" The malicious emphasis placed on each word made it abundantly clear that the answer to this question, in particular, would seal his fate. One way, or another.

Screw it. Right now, he was more afraid of this teenager than he was of Courier; the man who had killed Jaune and Ruby Arc, two of Remnant's strongest hunters. "H-he's on his way to Menagerie. He may even be there already. We have a safehouse there. He doesn't tell us anything about what he's doing. Info's on a 'need to know' basis, and all we need to know is that we're supposed to head there when we finish with Schnee."

They sat in silence for several moments, making Cotton think that his enemy had run out of questions. Or maybe he was just pondering the things he'd learned. He considered attempting to escape, make a run for it. He couldn't go back to his team, not after he'd talked. He would just have to his own way out of Atlas. His shoulders tensed, not only drawing the kid's attention but also sending spears of electrifying pain through his chest and arm from the knife that was still lodged in him.

Then there was the matter of his leg. The crimson blade had made it through his aura and sliced through the tendons in the back of his knee. Wouldn't be walking, let alone running, anytime soon - if ever. Any and all plans of flight were abandoned. The only thing he could do was hope his captor saw fit to keep him alive.

A sudden squeeze to his ears - harder than all the others, told him of another question before it was even asked. "Six years ago, you people attacked a family of three living out in the woods on Patch. Do you remember?" His voice was calm, too calm, dangerous calm. For him to be inquiring about such a specific event, there was definitely some personal tie he had to it. Maybe he knew the family that lived there?

"N-no. We did a lot of hits like that, but none on Patch, at least not while I've been on the team. What about it?"

"Let me clear a few things up," there was a hint of anger rising in his tone. "My name is Jasper Arc, and the attack I'm talking about killed my parents."

Cotton's eyes went wide. So there was another reason he was here. Revenge, plain and simple. It shouldn't have been so surprising, they had killed a lot of peoples' parents over the years all across Remnant. What shocked him was the fact that the Arcs only had one child, and he supposedly died along with them. Took a bullet to the head, if he remembered correctly. For someone who was most likely that same kid to not only be here now but to remember everything...

The boss needed better aim - that shot had left his brain remarkably intact.

"What do you know about that night?" Jasper held his cool and collected facade, but just barely. As Cotton glanced up, he saw nothing but pain and rage behind the boy's silver eye.

"Not a lot," he cautiously admitted. "It was before I joined up. Supposedly the first real job that Courier didn't do solo."

"Why did he want us dead in the first place?"

"I don't know. Like I said, he doesn't talk about himself. All I can say is that the kid - you, I guess - weren't a target. You were supposed to survive the attack."

Jasper's gaze hardened. "Why?"

"Courier's got some kind of vendetta against the old members of Team RWBY," Cotton explained through shallow, rapid breaths. The pain in his head wasn't subsiding, despite all his best efforts to block it out. "He wants them in the ground, but their families need to be kept alive. Some kind of sick torture, I don't know."

The muffled noises of combat from the other side of the wall were lessening. Either Weiss and Yang were dead, or they had succeeded in driving the others off. Jasper seemed to notice it too, as he unexpectedly let go of one of Cotton's ears in favor of retrieving his damnable weapon. The smaller, hidden blade that had helped put them in this situation retracted back into the hilt, shifting the sword back into its - still very deadly - original form.

Cotton cried out in equal parts surprise and distress as he was yanked up to his knees solely by the one ear still in Jasper's grip. "T-that's all I know, I swear on my mother's grave," he pleaded, fearful that the boy was preparing to cut his throat.

"I very much doubt that," came his curt response. The sentence was punctuated all the more by the sudden, sharp blow to Cotton's temple and the even more sudden loss of consciousness.


The hurricane of emotions tearing through Jasper's head was almost unbearable. Rage, grief, shock, and disbelief, to name a few, flooded his thoughts. He had just done the unthinkable: he had resorted to torturing an unarmed prisoner for information. It went against everything that he was taught by his parents, Yang, even Beacon - the place where they trained children to be killers - would have seen him locked away for even considering the perverse act. Yang had told him that before all was said and done that they might have to take a few lives. But there was a marked difference between striking someone down in self-defense and inflicting suffering as a means to an end.

Jasper's eye drifted over the lifeless-looking body of Cotton. The wounds on his chest and leg soaking his clothing and the floor around him in blood. His face was mangled into an expression of unconscious agony. Jasper wanted to puke. He did that to another person. Treated him just like - no, worse than - an animal. Not even the Grimm were shown this kind of torment. Yang would be sick. Hell, he felt sick. The screams that had come out of the faunus's mouth as he threatened to rip his ears off still echoed in his mind, filling his thoughts.

In his hand, Blutrache quivered, threatening to jump out of his grasp. Nearly invisible against the red metal, warm, freshly-spilled blood dripped from the blade onto his fist.

"What is wrong with me?" he asked the empty air around him, voice shaky and weak.

"Nothing," came the incredibly unexpected response.

There was no one around. That much was for sure after the fastest three-hundred-sixty-degree spin Jasper had ever done. The only people in the hallway were him and Cotton. "Who's there?"

"End him," the voice was thundering yet silent...and coming from inside his head. "He's outlived his usefulness. Kill him."

An urge swelled up within him, the voice's words compelling him to tighten his grip on his weapon. It would be so easy. Just one simple thrust and the scum would be snuffed out. No one would fault Jasper, he could easily pass the deed off as an unfortunate turn of events in the heat of combat. And it would even the numbers a bit more, cutting down on the other killers' forces. There were no downsides...

Before Jasper even realized he had moved, Blutrache's tip was tracing a path down Cotton's chin to his throat.

"It would be easy..." the sinister voice repeated. "He's one of them they all need to die. You want this."

He wanted to scream but he had no control over himself. He tried to throw his sword away but whatever trance had come over him wouldn't allow it. Jasper watched helplessly from inside his own mind as he raised his arm up high, preparing to dramatically stab it into the defenseless faunus. The world around him slowly melted away until he and his prey were all that remained.

Time seemed to stop. The power and sense of superiority he felt from literally controlling this man's life was exhilarating. The rush he got as the blade fell was almost euphoric. It was better than any drug or drink. Pure bloodlust.

"This is how it should be," his inner puppet-master might have been smiling at the scene had it been real.

How quickly that smile would have faded when Jasper was thrown to the ground, tackled by some previously unseen force.

All of a sudden he was back in control, his surroundings were clear, and the voice was gone. He looked up at his attacker, ready to strike if need be, only to find that it was Yang, thank god. With her and Weiss's fight done with, she must have come out into the hallway to see him looming over the helpless Cotton with his blade poised to execute him. It was only reasonable to assume she'd felt that a live prisoner was more useful than a dead opponent. That, or she simply refused to let her nephew cross that line and get any more blood on his hands than there already was.

Whatever the case Jasper was thankful she'd been there to stop him.

"Jasper!" her tone was thick with shock and worry. "Don't! He's down for the count already."

He didn't say anything in reply. What could he say to make what he'd almost done seem any better? It was exactly what it looked like; he had been about to willingly commit cold-blooded murder.

Jasper glanced over to Cotton, who was still out cold but now being looked over by Weiss. The woman had singe marks on her clothing and a nasty gash across her stomach, but other than that, she appeared fine. Then they hadn't been too late, and his efforts in stopping the other assassins from getting reinforced by the faunus compatriot hadn't been in vain. Yang, too, looked no worse for wear. Her workout outfit was drenched in sweat but no hint of blood was visible.

Through a mix of relief and the adrenaline wearing off, Jasper's entire body relaxed. But not in a good, satisfying way. All the anger that had fueled him during the fight vanished and gave way to a surge of regret and self-loathing. His fingers finally unclenched from Blutrache and the bloodied blade clinked to the floor. His breaths became long and shaky, and a foul taste reached his mouth.

As Yang loosened her hold on him and helped him sit up, the dam on his emotions broke and tears welled in his eye. With one hand holding him upright Yang used the other to gently pull him into a supportive hug.

"It's okay, kid," she comforted, pressing his head against her shoulder. "It's over."

"I...I almost..." Jasper shuddered. "I was about to ki-"

"But you didn't," her interruption was sharp yet soft, as though she was scolding the actions of a child. Which, in a way, she was. "So don't even think about that right now. You're alive and unhurt, that's all that matters."

He wanted to argue, to tell her that it did matter, but for some reason, he couldn't find the energy in himself to do so. Any drive to speak, move, or even think was sapped out and all he could do was simply remain still and silent while Yang did her best to console him. She didn't speak, for what else could she tell him? Following his example, she was content to keep quiet. Weiss, on the other hand, left them alone for a few minutes, disappearing into her no-doubt demolished office.

Jasper might as well have dissolved into Yang's embrace. The warmth of her skin, the surprisingly steady beat of her heart, and the gentle rocking back and forth as she held him soothed his shot nerves and brought some semblance of tranquillity and comfort back to him. The subtle movements and small actions reminded him of his mother, and the similar way she would calm him as a child. Come to think of it, it wasn't the first time Yang had used such a method. For the first few months of his living with her, Jasper would often be plagued by nightmares and would awake, crying and sweating enough to drown in his bed. It didn't matter how late it was, she would be there to wrap him in her strong arms and would hold him until he drifted off.

The fond memories set his mind at ease and helped take his focus off his recent abhorrent actions. It seemed as though sunlight incarnate struck again and at the very least gave him the strength to return the loving hug - albeit, weakly. A small sign for Yang to see that she was helping him. It seemed to be enough for her, however, as she released a long breath she'd apparently been holding.

Weiss returned promptly, holding a scroll in one hand and a suspicious pair of handcuffs in the other. With a quick wave of her hand, she beckoned Yang to come over.

Nodding to her teammate, the blonde gently slid Jasper across to floor and leaned him up against the wall. He didn't fight it or complain about her leaving, all the same, she touched his shoulder briefly before standing up. "Be right back, kiddo. I gotta check up on the Ice Queen."

He hummed quietly and let his head fall back against the wall. Yang and Weiss talked in quick, hushed tones, perhaps so that Cotton couldn't hear, had he been he listening in, and merely faking being unconscious. However, he doubted it. Amid the sharp whispers, Jasper was able to pick out a few phrases that Weiss uttered a bit too loudly. "Winter...this reprobate," she not-so-gently nudged the sleeping faunus's side with her foot. Carefully glancing over at Jasper, still sat limply against the wall, she continued. "...professional...talk to Jasper..."

Yang's response to the last few bits of conversation was rather negative and abrupt, violently shaking her head and muttering something along the lines of, "I'll talk to him." Weiss, clearly not wishing to get into an argument over it, shrugged and raised her hands in a way that conveyed her concession on the matter. With a curt nod, Yang accepted the victory and gestured to Cotton. "I have a feeling I know what the cuffs are for," she said, the private chapter of their talk apparently over with. "But I'm a little curious as to why you own them in the first place, and why they were in your office?"

Jasper hadn't thought possible, but Weiss actually blushed at the inquiry - only for a split second, and she made certain to turn and kneel down to latch the metal rings on the assassin to hide it, but it was there. "I simply like to be prepared. That is all," the white-haired huntress stated with paper-thin confidence.

Seeing straight through the obvious lie, Yang deadpanned, "Uh-huh...So is it you or Neptune that's the big spoon in that instance?"

"Th-that is neither your business nor your concern," the embarrassed woman flustered, crossing her arms and huffing like a little girl. "Uncouth, nosy, she-pig."

Yang tutted and let out a small chuckle. "Name-calling is childish and petty...billboard."

The hypocrisy in her rebuttal was not lost on either of them. "And retaliation doubly so."

The two women's jabs at each other allowed some small amount of levity to return and break up the dire tension that had been smothering the three of them. What must have been a coping mechanism for them was merely entertaining to him. Seeing two old friends jokingly go at each other like this...it brought with it a weak smile, tugging at Jasper's lips. And, while it didn't make him feel any better about what he'd done, it at least helped to take his mind off it ever so briefly.

After enjoying the spectacle of what was essentially a middle-aged - although, he would never be caught dead referring to either of them as "middle-aged" - cat-fight for a few more minutes, he finally managed to muster up the strength to stand up. His legs were shaking as though he'd never used them before, and he nearly lost his balance on the way up, but he eventually made it, which felt like an accomplishment in and of itself. Yang and Weiss's backs were turned to him, so they both comically flinched at once when he staggered up behind them.

The reactions made him snort with amusement. "Sorry," he chuckled. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I don't know about you two," Yang declared, twisting her head side to side to remove a kink from her neck. "But between an entire morning of training and getting ambushed by cold-blooded assassins, I've worked up an appetite and enough sweat to drown half of Vacuo. I think the forecast calls for a high chance of hot showers and waffles in the near future."

Up until then, Jasper had thought that only Yang Xiao Long could have such casual thoughts regarding life or death combat and what to do afterward. However, Weiss's reply made him rethink that idea. "For once we are in agreement," opening up her scroll once again, she tapped a few icons and began a call on speaker.

"He-hello?" Garnet sounded absolutely terrified. No doubt she'd heard the explosions and take cover somewhere.

"Yes, Garnet, would you please prepare a rather substantial breakfast for the guests and me?"

"Uh-um...Of course, Miss Schnee. But if you don't mind me asking, is everything alright?" the young faunus's fear was hinted with confusion at Weiss's suspiciously normal demeanor.

"Not to worry, it's been taken care of and the authorities are on their way. But for now, we are all famished, so if you would be quick about breakfast?"

Garnet's hesitation to reply made it abundantly clear she was still somewhat skeptical, but she agreed nonetheless. "Right...Um...Just give me a few minutes and come down when you're ready."

Weiss nodded with a smile that was far too calm for the whole debacle that occurred not three minutes prior. "Thank you."

With little else being said between the three of them, she and Yang began walking in the direction of the house's main dining hall. Along the way, Yang made certain to grab Cotton and heft him onto her shoulder by his belt. She and her white-haired comrade jesting back and forth like nothing had happened.

The dramatic turnaround that the whole scene had taken left Jasper stunned. He realized that the profession changed a person, but were all huntsmen and huntresses so crazy? It made him question whether he was going to end up like that and if he was already started to head down that path to mental instability. Just what was that voice in his head, and how did it take control of him?

And would it do so again, if given the chance?


A/N: So Jasper's feelin' a little Psychosocial! Sorry, been listening to a lot of Slipknot lately. Anywho, so we got our first real fight scene, hope you liked it, however short it was.

A few more hints dropped about our mysterious adversary, can any of you guess who he is? Seriously, I'm actually curious as to how many people can figure it out. If you know anything about the story the character is based upon, his name should be a pretty decent clue.

Originally I intended to have the whole thing from Jasper's POV, but I decided that there would be a bit more weight added to Cotton's situation and character if I wrote from his perspective. Also, when I first started writing this chapter, I was planning on having him commit suicide to avoid talking, but feel like this works a lot better.