Yang was angry.

The entire world had been seeped in blood. Molten metal pulsed in her veins. The searing heat tormenting her, promising wondrous release if she just embraced it. Stopped fighting it. Let it flow through her, into her. Into her fists that slammed into the fanged maw of a Beowolf. Into her crimson eyes that had seen so much she would never be able to forget.

Embracing her anger would have made things simpler. She wouldn't have to think about what was happening around her. The people who were suffering because she wasn't strong enough to save them. Think about all those she'd abandoned.

Think about Ruby walking away, into the middle of all this, without her big sister there to protect her. Even now she could be dead, or she could be dying, crying out in pain, and Yang was nowhere near. Completely unable to save her. They might never even be able to recover her body.

But Ruby had wanted to go. To be the hero from her bedtime stories. The bedtime stories Yang had read her. And she'd let her. Watched her sister disappear around the corner, perhaps for the last time.

It would have been so much easier to give in to her anger, to lose control, to scream with rage, to become the inferno. To throw herself at the Knights, at the Grimm without concern for her well-being. But doing that would have meant failing everyone around her.

Uncontrolled anger had no place in a warzone, and so Yang gritted her teeth in a desperate attempt not to lose mastery of her rage. To not surrender as she normally would. And she was fighting all the better because of it.

Knights fell before a carefully orchestrated plan rather than in the midst of a brawl. Yang engaged them from the front, before Blake ghosted into their rear, cutting and slicing before vanishing, providing the perfect distraction of Yang to get in close. Where she liked it.

As much as she was trying not to give into her anger, when composite armour cracked beneath her blows. When metal skulls were blown open by a spray of buckshot. It provided a welcome release to the pressure inside of her, just as it always had. That part of her hadn't changed. She would always revel in violence. All Yang had to do now was to make sure she was fighting for the right reasons.

This was certainly the right reason. Whatever the fuck was going on, someone had to oppose it, and that person was her. Every Knight she felled was one who wouldn't fire on a helpless civilian. Every Grimm she killed was one who wouldn't descend upon a fleeing family.

Fighting may have felt good, but it was nothing compared to the emotions that had risen inside of her when she and Blake opened a door and found a family cowering behind it. To see their expressions change from terror to relief and hope at the sight of the huntresses.

But they were only one pair in the capital city of Vale. They hadn't lost anyone, but others weren't so successful. Every time they entered a new street they found more corpses, some older, some fresh, interlaced with their defenders that had fallen in a desperate attempt to save them.

The constant drain of turning a corner and finding a new bloody monument to the hopelessness of their situation was taking its toll on everyone in the city, but it was hitting Blake especially hard. Normally to those who knew her well, Blake's eyes contained a subtle hint of a smile that was just waiting to break free. Now she wore a haunted visage.

Yang had never asked her partner for the details of what her previous life had been like. In truth it was more than she wanted to know. To her all that mattered was the here and now. Yang knew her partner was a good person, even if Blake didn't think she was.

Both of them had thrown themselves into their mission to save as many as possible, heedless of the cost. Both had sustained wounds. In both their bodies, overworked muscles cried out as they were forced to contract and expand to well past their limits, fibres tearing before being refreshed.

Yang knew that what she was asking of her body was unfair. That it would only be a time before it simply had no more to give, but she dared her body to give up. As she pummelled a four hit combo into the ribcage of a scrawny Beowolf and felt bones shatter beneath her fists, she knew with certainty that it wouldn't. Not yet.

It was too important that she keep fighting. While escorting a group of almost three dozen civilians they'd encountered another smaller group shepherded by two battle-scarred Paladins.

Together with the largest group they had recovered so far they'd made good progress on their journey. They'd been lucky enough that they had not encountered any Knights ̶ ̶ in fact their continued absence was starting to concern Yang ̶ ̶ but they'd been more than replaced by the Grimm that now rampaged through the city.

Initially they had only encountered the odd Ursa and this was where the two Paladins came into their own. The mechs were specifically designed to fight the larger creatures of Grimm and their high calibre weapons tore through black bodies, even as the reports caused the civilians to cover their ears in pain. With the Paladins providing long range cover the two huntresses hadn't even had to get dirty but, as Yang knew it would, just as they were nearing the residential district nearest to Beacon, their luck ran out.

Howls were met by screams as two score Beowolves came barrelling towards their group, the pack followed by the skittering form of a Deathstalker. It took only a second for the four protectors to know that they were in trouble, they had thrust their charges down the road, roared at them to run before they turned to confront the Grimm.

It was good fortune that the attack had happened just as they had finished crossing a plaza. In the middle of it they would have been overwhelmed instantly, but the street off it was narrow and, with the hulking presence of the Paladins, the four defenders had effectively formed a chokepoint to absorb the Grimm charge.

As the carcass of the Beowolf tumbled to floor before her, Yang couldn't help but remember the promise she had made Weiss swear, that if things looked hopeless she would get Ruby out of there, even if it meant abandoning people. This situation looked hopeless, but a single glance at the road behind her, at the group of slow moving civilians she would be sentencing to death, was all it took to know she was a hypocrite. But she was not a coward, and she surged forward into the reach of the Beowolf that had been stupid enough to choose her as its next meal.

Yang stood in the centre of the road, the two Paladins either side of her. The Beowolves themselves weren't really a problem. They were unable to penetrate the armour of the Paladins, and though packs could pull down even the most competent hunters, with her allies covering her flanks only one or two could approach her at the time.

The main problem was stopping them squirming through their lines and falling on the group fleeing for their lives. That was the reason that Blake stood a dozen feet behind Yang. She was the last line of defence.

The strategy was working, although the sheer numbers of their attackers kept forcing them to take a step back, just to find that extra bit of room to swing in the melee. The younger Beowolves had been the easy ones who had just rushed in. The older ones were smarter. They darted in and out, trying to disrupt their formation.

The Deathstalker flitted back and forth just beyond the pack, waiting for an opening. Whenever it made to move forward one of the Paladins would fire upon it, a barrage of rockets or a large calibre round that stressed its armoured plates, causing white ichor to trickle out from beneath them, but it was by no means out of the fight.

As futile as it had looked as they had first sighted the pack, the four of them had managed to hold, and any Beowolves rushing their line had to first clamber over the corpses of their pack mates. With no immediate threats, Yang risked a glance behind her. The civilians, though running as fast as they could, would still be outpaced to Beacon by a sprinting Beowolf.

That thought made her look for her partner. Fear shot through her, overriding even the raging torrent of her anger, as she failed to spot Blake. The road behind her was clear apart from the body of the odd Beowolf that had slipped through, and her partner's body definitely wasn't in sight. The panic fading as more logical thoughts gained precedence.

A hint of movement in the periphery of her vision caused her eyes to flick towards the side of the four storey building on the corner of the T-junction they were just about to cross. The ribbon of Blake's weapon trailed to the floor from where it had been lodged onto the roof and Blake ran up the side of the building as easily as most would have run along the ground.

Trusting Blake, Yang turned back to the fight. Already they'd been pushed back too far. If they retreated any further into the junction, the Grimm would be able to get around their line, and run down the civilians.

All three of them had come to that conclusion and stood resolutely but the weight of numbers proved too much. Yang could only find room to fight by taking a step backwards, then another. If she didn't, she would die.

The ground trembled beneath Yang's feet and thrusting back the Beowolf assailing her with a roundhouse, she glanced down the perpendicular road. A grin spread to her lips. Four more Paladins pounded towards her, sprinting to come to their aid. Feeling the vibrations of the approaching behemoths, the Beowolves had backed off, crowding round the Deathstalker, ears twitching. The entire pack looked ready to bolt and, making sure not to her eyes from them, Yang opened a large enough gap in their line to allow their reinforcements to charge the Grimm.

A body slammed into her. Yang hit the ground hard, a weight on top of her. Instinctively, even as she falling back, she'd twisted her hips, so upon contact with the road her assailant was thrown from her with an explosive grunt.

Lying on her back, Yang had a good view of a gunmetal foot sweeping through the air where she'd been a heartbeat before, and an even better view as it reversed its course and tried to stomp on her. The asphalt surface cracked as tonnes of weight came crashing down.

Not having a clue to what was happening, but certain that being on the ground surrounded by half a dozen mechs was a bad idea, Yang continued to roll, before using her momentum to spring to her feet. Ahead of her was carnage. The two battle-scarred Paladins were under attack by three of the unblemished ones. The punches being dished out by the mechs made hers seem like a child's. Worn and blackened armour was rent open beneath huge fists, the Paladins themselves being driven to the ground under a flurry of blows.

Yang ̶ ̶ as she had so many times today ̶ ̶ saw one of her comrades go down. The cockpit crumpled inwards even as the twenty tonne mech was thrown ten feet through the air, crashing through a wall. When the new Paladin had turned its shoulder in the motion of throwing, the reasoning to their attack was forced down her throat. Emblazoned on the armour was a blood red skull and claw mark symbol. One that almost everybody around the world would recognise instantly. The symbol of the White Fang.

"Yang, we've got to go!" Blake appeared at her side, frantic. She too had seen the markings.

The other mech was doing little better. It was still fighting, but it had to duck and weave, walking back up the street that they had retreated down. With all the Paladins bunched on one side of the street, the Beowolves that had been backing away from the mechanised brawl, gave howls of triumph and surged through the gap with bounding leaps.

Rather than pick a fight with the huntresses that had proven such stiff opposition so far, they instead gave them a wide berth and tore after the civilians. Yang managed to catch one with a fleeting blow that shattered its femur, even as Blake used her Semblance to appear just ahead of another and rip a wound down its side.

Still, at least a dozen made it past them. They set off to chase down their prey. Yang didn't even bother to check if Blake was beside her as she raced off in pursuit. She knew she would be.

The screech of the Deathstalker hounded them down the street. The last friendly Paladin had been forced into its range. Yang didn't even need to glance back to know what had happened. She was sure that somewhere she regretted the loss of their comrades, but at the moment the anger that had been burning so close to the surface all day, had been stoked by the realisation of who was behind everything that had happened.

The fucking White Fang. Not content with all the murders they had already committed when the train had struck Vale, they'd had caused all this. That it wasn't just a computer glitch, or some other horrible accident almost made her lose control. But instead she poured her molten rage into her tired muscles, fuelling them as she sprinted hot on the heels of the Beowolves.

The group of civilians were out of sight round a corner but, though they would catch up with them only seconds after the Beowolves, Yang knew what they would find. A sight that was far too common in the streets of Vale. Blood pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sounds as she pushed herself even harder, even though her body cried out it was at its limit.

Blake beside her glanced over her shoulder before increasing her speed, and motioned for Yang to do the same. The lone Paladin that been staring them down had taken their retreat as the signal to give chase. Paladins took a long time to get up to speed although when they did, they could really shift. It was barrelledtowards their backs. With the asphalt next to her feet splintering from a round, Yang found that what she'd thought was her limit, was in fact not, and somehow she managed to match Blake's pace.

If her sister and Weiss were there, and they hadn't spent almost an entire day running from one skirmish to another, a single Paladin would have been difficult but manageable threat. They'd proved that against Torchwick. But in their current state it was likely beyond them.

Once again she couldn't help but think of the promise she had forced Weiss to make. It had been selfish more than anything. Just get Ruby back to her no matter what tolls it would have taken on either of them. How many nightmares they had about the people they'd abandoned. As long as Ruby was safe it didn't matter. Now Yang saw the truth of the impossible situation that she'd put Weiss in. Her friend would be torn between her promise, and her duty to the people around her.

This situation was just as impossible. Though the Paladin was closing on them, they could dart into one of the side streets, leap over walls, run through well-tended gardens, and lose the mech. But that would mean abandoning the civilians in front of them to both the Grimm and the White Fang. It was just something that neither of them was prepared to do.

The road through the residential district curved sharply to the right, their sight hidden by thick neatly trimmed bushes. Rounding the corner Yang expected torn and scattered bodies, and that was exactly what she saw.

What she didn't expect was for those bodies to be covered in dark fur, or for them to be so close. The Grimm had been slaughtered almost immediately after rounding the corner, and Yang tripped over them. Stumbling forward with arms waving to try and keep upright, she had a brief glimpse of one in white whose mere presence drew the eye, surrounded by a number of black figures, many of who were down on one knee. One of the figures smoothly extended a cylinder before propping it on their shoulder, a gaping opening pointed towards her.

The figures were gesturing and shouting something. With blood pounding in her ears, Yang was entirely unable to make out a single word. Though their arm movements made it look like they wanted her to ̶ ̶

For the second time in minutes, Blake slammed into her. Running at a full sprint Yang wasn't able to cushion her fall, and stars sprang into life as her head rebounded from the unyielding surface of the road. Her clothes tore as she slid to a stop with Blake's body positioned protectively over hers. Something flashing overhead superimposed itself on the points of light in her vision, before a thermal bloom and a wave of overpressure pounding against her eardrums added delicious new ingredients to the cocktail of pain.

Blake got the worst of it. The Faunus quivered as her sensitive ears were subjected to the abrupt pressure change, even as her back was scorched. All Yang wanted to do was to hold her partner and make it all better, but despite her head injury she was cognisant that they were in a combat situation, and lying immobile on the floor was probably the worst thing she could do.

Gently she rolled Blake off of her, before attempting to sit up. A wave of dizziness hit her half way. A figure in tight fitting black tactical gear pushed her back down to the ground, before shouldering a glowing rifle.

Her attempts to rise foiled, she turned her head until she was able to see back down the way they had run. Almost exactly in the middle of the remains of the pack of Beowolves, the Paladin that had been chasing them lay on its side.

Its right leg had been blown away along with most of its bottom half, the cavernous hole still smoking. Miraculously the cockpit was still intact, though the Paladin itself was motionless either disabled, or the pilot was incapable of manning the controls.

With coordination that spoke of countless hours training together, the black-clad figures advanced on the wreckage. As well as being covered in numerous bandoliers and carrying other strange pieces of equipment, all the soldiers wore full faced helmets with reflective screens covering their features.

They were a stark contrast to all the Atlesian troops they had fought beside today. They wore white armour, better camouflage for their snowy homeland sure, but white was also a noble colour. They were meant to uphold traditions, and with their exposed mouths they were at least approachable.

These soldiers weren't. They wore the midnight colours of the Grimm, and with their full helmets they looked almost inhuman. Obviously, they weren't meant to come into contact with the civilian populace all that often, or maybe at all, judging by their complete lack of distinguishing marks.

As well as their appearance they were separated from their contemporaries by the weapons they carried. They all looked distinctly different. The soldier nearest the Paladin took the rifle from their shoulder and it smoothly transformed into a two handed axe. A single powerful blow was all it took to shear through the mechanism keeping the cockpit closed. As the covering fell with a crash to the ground, it revealed a Faunus hanging limp in her harness. She didn't look in the best of shape, with blood trickling out of both of her nostrils, contrasting starkly against her pale skin. She was younger than Yang would have thought, barely older than herself.

There were two quiet shots as the soldier with the glowing rifle put a pair of rounds into the girl's head, before tapping their partner on the shoulder. Their squad disappeared around the corner of the road.

In a way this was more shocking to Yang as any of the horrific deaths she had seen so far today. The Knights were machines. They did things as efficiently as possible, even if their objective was killing civilians. The ferocity of the Grimm attacks also made sense. It was just what they did, everyone knew that. They were hungry and people were food.

This was different. This was murder, cold and horrible and entirely without emotion. The soldier had not even spared their helpless victim a second glance. They'd taken the shots as casually as Yang might on a training target. It was stupid to be feeling remorse for the death of a terrorist, and yet she was glad she did. The respect to the sanctity of life was something she didn't want to lose.

These soldiers, hunters, clearly had, but they were incredibly effective. In a matter of moments they'd dealt with a pack of Beowolves and a Paladin. All the while making sure that no civilians were caught in the crossfire. The ease at which they had accomplished something that would have at least taken the entirety of RWBY a significant time to achieve was scary.

With her head clearing, thanks once again to her Aura that had been so overworked today, she remembered the fleeting image of what she had seen before Blake had tackled her. The figure in white. So familiar, and yet not.

With a proper look there was no mistaking her, Winter Schnee. Though Winter looked different. For the first time that Yang had seen, Winter's appearance was less than perfect. Her normally sparkling white attire was soiled with grime and crimson, strands of alabaster hair had fallen from the tight bun atop her head, and her hands were bloody.

Of course, even with those imperfections, she still belonged to a different race than the sorry figures she was tending to. Knelt of the road surface ̶ ̶ heedless of what it did to the expensive material of her skirt ̶ she was dressing the wound of a man sitting next to her with his face screwed up in pain, obviously trying not to cry out in front of her. Winter smiled at him, talking to take his mind off the process.

Wait, Winter was helping. It was something that Yang would never have expected from their interactions. Without realising it she had come to despise Winter, and yet here Winter was, putting other's needs above her own safety. Not being the selfish bitch Yang had come to expect.

The exhausted civilians had collapsed to the ground in amongst a much larger group of at least several hundred people. More soldiers moved through them. These ones, though still in full body armour, carried identical weaponry ̶ ̶ of a design that was entirely foreign to Yang ̶ ̶ and provided first aid to the ones who needed it.

Erashan stood next to his charge. Winter's presence took care of the question of who the soldiers answered to. However, it was puzzling why the Schnees who were so proud of their emblem and always wore white, had soldiers dressed in midnight black, bereft of any markings?

Blake helped Yang up. All Blake's clothes were singed from where she had selflessly covered Yang with her body, though surrounded by Schnee troops, thankfully her bow was intact. Blake had also come to the realisation of who was in charge here and the two of them ̶ ̶ perhaps reluctantly ̶ ̶ walked up to Winter.

Winter and Erashan both glanced round as they approached, although Winter finished applying the bandage and spoke soothingly to the man before rising. With the look Winter gave them, it took Yang a heartbeat to realise that she was standing in about the last place she wanted to be. Winter's expression mirrored the blizzards that forced the people of her homeland to shelter inside for days on end.

"Where's Weiss!" Winter advanced on them. She didn't really tower over Yang, but in her anger it seemed like she did.

Underneath her furious gaze, Yang lost all her ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Where is my sister!" Winter's question was accompanied by sharp crack and a blooming pain spread through Yang's cheek.

Blake pushed her way between them, looking to protect her partner from further assault. "We split up."

"You split up in the middle of a warzone! Are you idiots? Why do you think you're trained in groups of four? It's because you're stronger that way, and yet you split up. Morons!" She turned to her bodyguard. "Erashan, find her."

It was an order that was borne of desperation. Through the cracks in her icy persona, it was obvious to everyone she was frantic. When the bodyguard spoke, it was in a calm, logical voice. One that would best appeal to Winter's reason.

"Winter, we don't know where she is. There aren't enough functioning cell towers left in the city to triangulate her position. I could send a squad into the city, but their chances of stumbling across her are almost nil. With the White Fang, the Knights, and the Grimm I'm not prepared to sacrifice our troops chasing after a phantom. Unless you two know where she went?" Blake shook her head. "Winter, if you would just evacuate then I could try and find her."

Winter looked around at her troops, despondently trying to come up with a solution to her problem. Weighing up ordering them into Vale against the lives of the perhaps four hundred civilians they were protecting.

Yang had absorbed everything that had happened silently. The initial slap hurt, it had been thrown with the full weight of Winter's body behind it, but she had felt no need to hit Winter back as she would have loved to do a week ago. Instead, for the first time since they had met, she felt she shared something with the frosty Schnee.

In a quiet voice Yang addressed her, moving out from behind Blake. "It's ok to be scared Winter." Winter looked like she was about to rebut the statement before Yang spoke again. "Weiss is with my sister. I'm scared too, but I trust Ruby and Weiss. They're both fantastic huntresses. If we managed to cope, they will as well. All we can to do is have faith."

A shudder ran along the length of Winter's body and her perfect features twisted into a grimace. She took in a deep breath before speaking softly. "Erashan, get them up. Let's get them to Beacon."

While he moved off speaking into a concealed microphone, Yang stepped up beside Winter and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was perhaps too forward, but it was just the way that Yang normally comforted people. For a few heartbeats at least, Winter didn't shrug it off.

The civilians around them climbed lethargically to their feet under the instructions of the soldiers. More black clad troops began to appear from all around them. Two more arrived escorting a team of four students that Yang recognised as fourth years from Haven, five Atlesian troops, and around a score more dishevelled civilians.

Knowing that everyone would be looking at her, Winter on the surface at least had regained her composure. The de facto heir of the SDC stood tall. A beacon of serenity and strength in midst of these troubling times.

Sensing that the apathy the two had held for each other before today had perhaps drained away, Yang spoke to her. "Why are you still here? To be honest I would have though you would have run at the first opportunity you had."

Winter turned on her, the cold fires in her eyes reignited. "I am a Schnee. I was born into a position of wealth and power, and I have a responsibility and duty to those who were not. And nothing is going to make me forget it, especially not those vermin."

She gestured angrily to the corpse that was still hanging from its harness. "I did not run from the Knights or the Grimm, and I will not cower while those animals win. Yes, I could have been hours away by now, but I will not abandon Vale to the White Fang. Not while I can still fight them."

"I didn't know you could fight." The strength of character Winter was showing was surprising and, more than that, the selfless sense of character. It was so different from everything she'd seen from Winter up to this moment.

"I can defend myself certainly, but I do not fight with a sword. That is something Weiss never seemed to be able to grasp. You cannot change the world with a rapier, but you can with a pen. I can do far more directing the relief effort than I could while fighting myself."

Erashan had re-joined them while Winter was speaking and a number of black clad troops were moving through the civilians to reinforce the rear. "Do you two have any counts for the numbers of White Fang behind us? We've managed to spot at least a dozen Paladins on the borders of the industrial district."

Yang had been far too busy trying not to get squashed underfoot to pay much attention to her surroundings, but of course Blake had been the more observant of the duo.

"I saw at least twenty Paladins through the streets and more were coming out of the warehouses. That's as well as perhaps a hundred regular White Fang, and probably three times as many Knights. Though that was only in the small area I could see. Their true numbers are likely to be significantly higher."

Erashan spoke into his microphone again and more soldiers peeled from their flanks to guard their rear. "So, they're responsible for everything then. Winter, this area is too dangerous. We need to move before they build up the courage to engage our rear-guard. I suggest you two come with us, you both look exhausted."

Yang nodded at that. The temporary lull where she had been safe under the protection of others had caused her adrenal glands which had been working overtime for the entire day to slow down their production. Without the masking effects of adrenaline, all her ignored strains and aches came crashing down. A rest sounded nice, but she was still a huntress. So as they all started walking, she led Blake to protect the flanks.

The narrow streets were too constricting for their large group so they ended up ̶ ̶ like most of the protectors ̶ ̶ moving through quiet adjacent streets, forming a wide cordon around the civilians in the centre. It was almost peaceful. There hadn't been any Knights deployed in the residential district, and there was a distinct lack of the bodies that they had gotten so used to seeing.

Walking with her back to downtown Vale, Yang could almost pretend like it was just a nice afternoon. That she was out for a walk with her friend. That nothing horrific had occurred today. It would have been pleasant, but the occasional howl or explosion put lie to her fantasies. Nothing would be able to change what had happened. She would take a quick break before heading back out.

In the middle of the deserted street, Blake pulled her to a stop, resolution on her face.

"Yang, I've got to go back."

"What?"

"I've got to go back to Vale."

"What, Why?"

"Yang I saw Adam," Blake's voice was strained. "He's the one who's running everything. He's the one who's caused all of this, caused all these deaths. I've got to sort this."

Despite the appearance of Blake's old partner, Yang wasn't going to allow Blake to shoulder the consequences of his actions as her own.

"Blake he did this, not you. You have nothing to sort!" Without realising it the volume of her voice had risen and her shout echoed around the deserted street. Yang clamped a hand over her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was attract more Grimm, but she was determined to snap Blake out of whatever was foolish ideas she had.

"I was one of the only people he listened to. Most of the time, I was the only one who kept him in check. But then I just couldn't face it anymore, and within two years he has done all this. If I was by his side, I could have talked him out of it. I can still talk him out of it." Blake's voice broke at the end.

Yang grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "This isn't your fault. You can't possibly believe that. Let's say you go back and you don't get killed while trying to get close to him. What are you going to say to him? He's quite clearly insane."

"I don't know, but I've got to try something." Blake was hung up on the idea, just like how she'd been hung up on Torchwick.

"No you don't Blake."

"I do and I will." She pulled herself from Yang's grasp and turned away, looking back towards the smoke plumes rising up from the city. When she spoke her voice was firmer, harder and much, much colder. "I will try and talk to him, and if he won't listen to me, I'll be close enough to kill him."

"What?" This was a side of Blake that Yang had never seen before. All emotion had drained from her voice, and she spoke of ending his life tonelessly. It frightened Yang.

"I will kill him, and the power structure within the White Fang will fracture. He's in charge because they are all terrified of him. If he's dead all the lieutenants will vie for leadership. They will slaughter each other instead of us."

It was said so logically that Yang couldn't help but feel herself swept up in the argument, before she remembered who she was speaking with. This was her partner Blake. The quiet book worm with the intriguing smile, not a ruthless assassin. They'd both killed before that was true, but that was also in the heat of combat and, though she regretted it was necessary, it was entirely different to what Blake was proposing.

"Blake that's not you. You couldn't kill someone like that. Come on let's go. You don't need to do anything." Yang placed her hand on her friend's shoulder.

The next words were quiet, though they echoed in Yang's mind. "It is me though. I've never told you what I did before, well that's it. I stole things, I scouted targets, and I killed people. I was good at it."

Blake might have been expecting many things to happen when she confessed to one of her darkest secrets. She might have expected Yang to recoil from her. She might have expected retribution. But was she couldn't have expected was for Yang to gather her partner in her arms.

"That's not you anymore Blake. You're a different person now. A better person." Whilst Yang was shocked, she could only think about the Blake she knew. The kind, compassionate Blake. Not this killer from the past. "You've left all that behind." They'd all done things they weren't proud of and, even if Blake's were more serious, it didn't change the person she knew.

Blake hugged her back, nuzzling her face into golden locks. "I haven't though. I keep thinking I have, but it keeps catching up with me. Perhaps if I do this, I can finally atone at least partially for what I've done."

"Ok." Yang conceded she wouldn't be able to talk Blake around. "How are we going to do this?"

Blake pulled back and stared deep into her eyes. "Yang, we're not going to do anything. I'm going to do it. Alone."

The fires in Yang's veins burst back into life. "I am not letting you do this by yourself!"

"Yang, you're exhausted. You're swaying on the spot. Your Aura is almost depleted, and you still have a handprint on your face from when Winter slapped you, even that managed to get through. You need rest before you do anything else. Please just go back to Beacon and wait for me." Blake looked at her imploringly.

"You've been fighting just as long as I have. If I'm too tired so are you."

"Yang, you've been protecting me all day. You've been the one in the thick of the fighting, taking most of the hits. I'm fine, plus I can move quieter and faster by myself. Please, I'll never be able to live with myself if I don't at least attempt this."

"Ruby used those exact words too. You may never be able to live with yourself, but I'm the one who would have to live with losing you if you don't come back." Tears started in the corner of her eyes, but she was determined not to cry.

"I have to try this. I'm sorry. I'm being so selfish, but I have to do this. I owe it to everyone left alive in the city. Please go back to Beacon, it'll be easier knowing you're safe." Blake voice caught in her throat.

It was happening again, but just like before Yang knew she had lost. Blake's mind was made up. And what's more she knew Blake was right about her condition, even standing was difficult. Slowly, with wet eyes, she nodded.

"Thank you." Blake pressed her forehead against her partner's. "It should take a couple of hours at most. I'll see you again." The promise was hollow and they both knew it.

Blake turned on her heel, checked her weapons, and set off at a jog. And for the second time that day, Yang watched one of the two most important people in her life head towards danger without her there to protect them. Like last time Yang bowed her head in a silent plea, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

Two became one.

And Yang was alone.


Blake didn't look back.

She couldn't. Not when she could clearly picture exactly how Yang would look. Staring unseeingly down at the ground, trying not to cry. Earlier at least Yang had had someone by her side to comfort her, now there was no one.

If Blake looked back, it would have given her the excuse. The one she so desperately wanted. It would be so easy to turn back, run to Yang, promise she wouldn't leave her. The perfect excuse to give into her fear.

The fear that she could taste. That was palpable in the air around her. That reached inside and clawed at her stomach. Whatever brave face she had put on for her partner, she was not wearing it now. The idea of what she was going to do terrified her. Adam terrified her.

There had always been something different about the bull Faunus. Some indefinable quality that caused others to walk carefully in his presence even when he was a child. They might not have known why they gave the scrawny kid a wide berth, but Blake did.

Adam was dangerous.

When her parents had died, together they'd spiralled into the darkness. Together they found some form of comfort, and together they'd perverted her parents peaceful White Fang into the organisation it was now.

Adam taught her how to fight. How to use her Aura, her Semblance. In a few short months ̶ ̶ courtesy of his brutal training methods ̶ ̶ she'd reached a level that normally took years to achieve at a combat school, and she made use of it.

But she hadn't fallen to the level Adam had. Where she might incapacitate, he would kill. Where she might show mercy, he wouldn't. Even the other members of the White Fang were not immune. If someone failed, Wilt would flash out and make them bleed or die. It didn't seem to matter to Adam.

In a cruel world full of monsters, the terrorists were terrified of their leader. Blake was the only member of the White Fang who felt safe around him. Blake was the centre of Adams' world, she knew he would never harm her. No matter what she did.

By remaining at his side she at least somewhat managed to rein him in. She alone could speak out against his more foolhardy plans. The ones where there would be excessive civilian casualties. The ones like he had carried out today.

Blake wasn't sure if she would have managed to persuade him to abort it. If the White Fang was truly behind what had happened today, the scale of the operation was orders of magnitude above anything they'd managed before. Even her counsel might not have been enough to turn him aside from it.

But she could still try.

So despite how terrified everyone was of him. How terrified she was of him, now that her betrayal had presumably stripped whatever protection she had from him away, she jogged towards where she had seen him.

Leaving him had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Now she knew it had obviously been the right decision, but at the time she was running from everything she had known, from the last link to her family, and it had been hard. Oh so hard.

To try and forget what she had done. To try and forgive herself, even though she would never be able to. What she was doing today might help. If she could save an entire city, surely it might at least add the slightest spot of white to her blackened soul.

Since leaving the White Fang, for her, killing had always been the last resort. Even against her former comrades she'd tried to disarm or not cut too deep. Even when she had Torchwick on the ground, she'd held herself back. Killing an unarmed man just wasn't the person that she wanted to be anymore.

Torchwick was undoubtedly involved in everything that had happened. Killing him might have in some way prevented it. To save herself, her soul, she'd forsaken Vale. But no more. In the shadows of the alleyways on the outskirts of the industrial district, Blake's jaw set. With the smell of acrid smoke filling her nostrils, the truth the Adam had drilled into her came to the forefront of her mind.

For a greater good it was sometimes necessary to kill. Sometimes necessary to sully yourself so others wouldn't have to. However much she tried to hide, that was the person who she really was.

The air felt good on her ears as they were released from the confines of the bow that hid her from herself. Every sound was vital. With practiced ease, Gambol Shroud was thrown upwards, the ribbon looping around a chimney and she scaled the building. The high ground was always an advantage. Most would have found the angled tiles difficult to traverse, but her gait was smooth and silent. Blake set off in search of her prey.

The initial cordon of White Fang was easy enough to penetrate. Far too easy. The fresh troops jumped at every shadow, every howl. They failed to notice the crouched figure whose Shadow flashed over their heads. Blake knew she could have fallen on them and killed them all. Most would be down before they even understood what was happening, but they weren't even close to a threat.

Past the initial perimeter stealth became even more paramount. Even if the White Fang inside weren't as attentive to intruders, their sheer numbers meant Blake had to move more slowly. The White Fang had been recruiting heavily. There were hundreds of Faunus in Grimm masks, all armed, some waiting, others laughing; scores of military Paladins decorated with red skulls; and thousands of Knights, all standing immobile in perfect ranks.

Under Adam the White Fang had turned from a peaceful protest group, to a terrorist organisation, to an army. An army that would more than likely be a match for whatever forces had made it safely to Beacon. But Adam was the glue that held it all together.

While crouched on the corrugated metal warehouse roof, hidden in between ventilation stacks, her gaze ran over the assembled masses with practiced efficiency, attempting to discern the patterns in the crowd. With any organisation, there were lines of communication. Even in the age of wireless transmission, there were still physical runners. Runners who betrayed where their commanders were. They were easy to spot; they dashed through the otherwise passive ranks.

Blake checked her weapons again. The constant toil of a day spent fighting had taken its toll. Gambol Shroud was a mess, the blade chipped and scarred, the slide covered in blood and oil. Removing the magazine she worked the mechanism, cleaning it on her already ruined clothes. The clip itself was completely devoid of ammunition ̶ ̶ long since expended in the numerous battles ̶ ̶ and only a single round which she caught remained. The Dust cartridge Weiss had made for her wasn't in much of a better state.

Each of the individual compartments only had traces of multi-coloured Dust at the bottoms. Though she'd called her locker into the city and emptied it of its contents, she'd used almost all of the prepared fine Dust granules that it had contained. Loose in her pockets she carried Dust crystals, ones that hadn't been prepared properly, but they should still theoretically work, even if they wouldn't be as efficient.

The reason why she carefully ground down Dust from its natural crystals was all to do with surface area. As small particles the relative surface area was greatly increased, which meant that the inherent power it contained could be released more quickly. It was safer as well. If a crystal shattered, the potential energy released by its fracture could be enough to start a chain reaction which would consume the entire thing.

Still in the event that she would have to fight Adam, it was worth the risk. He had taught her almost everything she knew. Wilt had met the very first swing of Gambol Shroud, his eyes had watched as she tripped and stumbled after using her Semblance for the very first time. Every technique that felt so natural to her had come directly from him.

Adam knew her. Knew how she would fight. If they fought like they'd sparred, she would lose. The single slim advantage she had over him the ability to infuse her Shadows with Dust. An ability she hoped he wouldn't be expecting. It would have to be enough. Fingers which shook with the slightest hint of trepidation pushed the smallest crystals into their respective chambers.

The larger ones which wouldn't fit were thrust haphazardly back into her pocket. Despite the dire situation she found herself in, Blake smiled. If Weiss saw her treating Dust crystals this way, the heiress would flay her alive.

With that brief happy thought fresh in her mind, she inserted the now filled cartridge back into Gambol Shroud, chambered her single remaining round, and set off in pursuit of the messengers. Moving from rooftop to rooftop the quality of the White Fang troops changed. Where the ones on the outer edge were nervous and skinny, these were larger, more relaxed, and even though they still wore masks, Blake recognised some of them. They were her old comrades. Members of the White Fang elite.

An explosion from close by buffeted against her. From the streets all around came shouts of alarm. Lounging figures leapt up, drawing their weapons. More explosions followed, not gunfire, but an unsteady beat which was tantalisingly familiar.

With all the attention drawn to the sounds of battle, traversing the rooftops was easier. No one was looking at the sky. She was still deep within the White Fang held territory. There shouldn't be a fight here unless they were fighting amongst themselves, but that didn't make sense either. Adam wouldn't allow it. A pained cry rose over all the other requests for information.

The elite of the White Fang congregated around the mouth of a darkened alley. Blake dropped to her stomach before peeking over the edge of the rooftop down into it. It was filled with rubble. A hole had been blasted in one of the walls, but that wasn't what drew her eye. At the end of alley, shrouded in shadows that would have been almost impenetrable to a human, was a shock of brown and red hair. Beyond Adam, backed against a dead end, with flaming mace held outwards, was Cardin.

Creeping closer to the standoff her ears picked up their words.

"Stay back I'm warning you." It was a display of bravado ruined by how Cardin's voice shook.

The leader of CRDL was in a sorry state, his left hand hung limp to his side, blood trickling though the gap in his armour from a puncture wound in his shoulder. His weapon was unsteady in his weaker hand, and that side of his body was drenched in scarlet.

"I don't think so." Adam's voice was almost entirely as she remembered. It danced with the hint of a threat. "What's that you were carrying?" His boot drove into a shape on the ground.

"Don't touch him!" Cardin leapt forward swinging wildly, advancing until he stood over the immobile form of Sky Lark. The source of the blood on his shoulder became apparent; he hadn't wanted to abandon his teammate's body to the Grimm.

"So brave, but I can taste your fear." In the darkened alley, his words were sibilant.

"I'm not scared of you animals." The insult gave Cardin the strength to stand straighter despite his futile position.

Adam's mouth twitched. Cardin didn't know what he had done. A childhood of being tormented by that word had given it a special meaning to him.

"Animals? Do you know what animals do when they are backed into a corner?" Adam hissed.

Cardin was just about to retort when Wilt flashed from its sheath. It was a red blur in the air before it sheared through flesh and bone, and in a smooth practiced motion, its journey was reversed until it was sheathed. It had happened so quickly Blake almost missed it.

So did Cardin, his mace had clattered to the floor, hand still around the hilt before a pained scream rent the air. Blood spurted from the severed wrist as he staggered back.

Adam followed him. "Animals!" Wilt rose again from its sheath, cutting an indiscernible pattern into the air before returning to its home. Cardin's breastplate clattered to the floor, it proving small protection against the ferociously sharp blade. Blood seeped from a number of shallow cuts on Cardin's chest, soling his brown shirt.

Cardin had stopped screaming, and now mewled unintelligibly, a pitiful sound that scratched at Blake's ears. With one arm immobile courtesy of a puncture wound and the other still trickling blood, he was helpless. Adam stalked closer, mouth still twitching.

It was one of things that ensured no one dared challenge his leadership. In hushed whispers others spoke of acts of barbarity that shocked even hardened terrorists. The boy who had once tortured animals, had found a new outlet for his pain.

Before today Blake wasn't sure how much they were exaggerated, her presence had normally been enough to hold him to a better moral code. The one time she has seen him lose control like this, a hand on his arm and quiet words had been enough to calm him. But that was in another time, when she hadn't betrayed him.

Still despite it being Cardin ̶ ̶ a bigoted racist who she despised ̶ ̶ Blake knew she couldn't just watch. Watch her old everything sate his sadistic desires. Despite how unlikely she would ever be to leave the alley if she revealed herself.

The words that Professor Ozpin had spoken to her in their debriefing came back to her. As a huntress your first task is to defend the people who cannot defend themselves. At the moment, whatever she thought of him, Cardin was unable to defend himself, and Sky had died defending others.

To decide who to defend based on her own personal feelings of them was wrong. It would mean she didn't care to do what was right, only what was convenient for herself. That was selfishness of the highest order. It wasn't who she wanted to be. Or who the world deserved her to be.

With that thought in her heart, Blake took a deep breath and dropped down into the alley.