Disclaimer: RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth.
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Author's Notes: Really didn't get the response I expected from the last chapter... kind of disappointed, but I'll blame it on FanFiction being down on Saturday. Also, while the words may say "Any and all", please do not post spoilers in the reviews.
She sighed as she leaned against the wooden railing on the edge of the pier, shaking her head at the scene of destruction in the distance.
"Too big of a clue, Yang."
Blake had made her way down to the harbor after reading the news that morning in her hotel room. As she walked she had been approached several times by peddlers and miscreants trying to get her to buy cheap knockoffs of expensive gadgets. One odd person had tried to sell her a prosthetic leg, despite her obvious pair of perfectly capable limbs. A well dressed man had pestered her repeatedly about coming to visit his shop, but a business owner across the street had sent him scurrying by yelling "Get your kidneys somewhere else, asshole!" Atlas was full of eccentricities, it seemed.
When she had spotted the crashed freighter, she knew instantly that Yang had left this as a 'clue', albeit most likely unintentionally. Her partner would never knowingly cause so much pain and injury. She turned away from the rusting metal wreck, stalking along the pier while thinking of her next move. Surely someone in the harbor, or the nearby area, would have spotted a blonde girl with purple eyes. By Atlas standards, Yang was average height and build, but also outrageously beautiful with her shining hair and unusual eye color. Blake would check with the unemployed vagabonds that hung around the piers, asking if they saw someone exceptionally pretty to catcall in the last few days. Strolling through the businesses of the harbor, a frayed poster caught her eye. It had a nearly exact image of Yang, missing some of the finer details of her face and chest, but indicated to Blake that Yang would be memorable to just about anyone she asked.
"WILDFIRE"
Blake hated that word, that name. Yang was not crazy, she was sick, she needed help. She continued along, mood slightly fouled by the wanted poster, cloak fluttering in the light wind that poured from the ocean.
A crowd of boisterous young men was approaching from the other end of the docks, stopping every few feet and pulling the posters from the walls. Blake raised an eyebrow as she passed them, curious as to why they would so openly destroy government property, especially in a city as controlled as Atlas. She grabbed the arm of a boy who was straggling behind, pulling him back.
His expression was confused and upset as he turned to face her. "Hey, what the fuck lady..." He trailed off as he looked up into the dazzling eyes of the dark haired huntress. An older girl with the looks of supermodel had just grabbed his arm. She approached him, so she wanted something right? Maybe he had a chance... He quickly closed his gaping mouth, straightened his wrinkled shirt, and tried to assume an air of 'aloof bad-boy'. The boy's efforts amused Blake, and she smiled slightly, unintentionally reinforcing the boy's belief that he could score with this attractive faunus. All the other guys said faunus were crazy in bed. "Hey baby, what can I do for you?"
It took all of Blake's concentration to not burst into laughter. Composing herself, she asked her question quickly before she lost control. "Why are you taking down the posters?" She raised a hand to cover her mouth so her giggles wouldn't offend the young man.
Evidently, his 'game' was not what had interested the babe in black, so the boy dropped the act, now just wanting to catch up to his friends. "Oh. Didn't you hear? She's dead."
Blake's giggles caught in her throat and she wheezed, coughing and sputtering in the face of the teenager. "W-who? Wildfire? No one can kill Wildfire, right?" She hoped, begged the world that he was talking about someone else.
"Fuck yeah! Some new guy took her down last night! They say it was really violent. So they're paying us to take down all the posters." He was oblivious to the sudden stillness in her body, the blank look in her eyes. "So, uh... I'm gonna go. Call me." He winked at her and left, his shoes knocking against the wooden planks.
Shivers and electricity ran throughout her body. The sparkle in her eyes drained and faded, and she looked into the distance without focusing on anything. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed dryly. Her mouth tasted like dust. The warm day suddenly felt very chilly.
No.
It didn't make sense, even though it made perfect sense. She heard the words, understood their individual meanings, but when put together the sentence was impossible.
No.
She was frozen, standing staring blankly into the distance as crowds of people walked around her, ignoring or bumping into her without a word of apology. Her mouth was struggling to decide if it wanted to hang open in shock or jam closed in fear. Her arms were shaking, fists clenching so hard her nails were cutting into the skin. Her legs wobbled and gave out, dropping her onto the hard wooden planks of the boardwalk.
That's not possible.
Her chest felt like it was tearing itself to pieces, her heart trying to explode while her stomach tried to sink and evaporate into nothingness. She was choking, unable to breathe. Tears gathered in her eyes, dripping slowly down her cheeks, but she couldn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything.
No. No. No.
She craned her head back and screamed, frightening the pedestrians nearest her, but she didn't care. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat felt like it was on fire and she didn't have a voice left to scream with. She sat there, splinters digging into her knees, and cried, salty tears drenching the neckline of her cloak. The crowds spread to avoid the crazy, yelling faunus sobbing in the middle of the boardwalk. Whispers and racist mutterings crept into her hearing, but she ignored them, clawing at her hair in despair.
Yang was dead.
Everything in her world was gone. The light of her heart had been extinguished. There was nothing left. She had failed to save her partner, her friend, the most important person in her life. How many times had Yang asked her to save her? How many times had she responded with 'I will save you, Yang.' She had failed. No matter what it takes, I'll save you. LIES! She was such a worthless person, a worthless huntress. A failure. A liar.
Yang was dead.
She might as well be dead too. Life was too painful now, too miserable. It was empty. It was broken. Her heart had dissolved in anguish and despair.
It was wrong. It was a cruel joke. It wasn't real.
Yang was dead.
Nothing mattered anymore.
She stood, achingly slow, and started walking down the harbor. How would she do it? She'd jump off a roof, a bridge. She'd wander into the forests, take some Grimm with her, try to leave the world a little better. She just wanted to see Yang again, and there was only one way to.
She wanted to die.
Yang was dead.
She stumbled into an alley and supported herself against a wall as she puked, speckles of vomit splashing onto her boots and pants. She had never felt so heavy and so empty at the same time. She didn't have the strength to keep standing anymore. She needed Yang, needed her love, her smile, her shining eyes, her strength, her determination. It was all gone! Yang was gone!
Yang was dead.
Ten thousand voices shouted inside her head, copies of her own that screamed and cried at her all the alternate decisions she could have made, millions of changes in the path of history that could have prevented Yang's death. Transcripts of possibilities recited themselves through her mind, repeating and merging and blending together in a mental cacophony of brainwaves. Even worse were the infinite, unending voices that sounded like Yang, unbidden memories flooding over her consciousness in waves of vivid emotions that only left her more numb than before. Cold nights warmed by a tight embrace. Bad moods ended by a light giggle and soft touch. Broken hearts healed by jokes and a shared bowl of ice cream. Day's brightened by golden hair and lilac irises. Life worth living because she was there. Gone.
Yang was dead.
Because someone had killed her.
Blake's eyes widened in realization. Someone had killed Yang. Some evil bastard had taken the sparkling girl's life. Intense fury boiled through Blake's body. Someone did this. Someone in Atlas. Someone she could find.
So this is what it's like. She thought as she resumed walking, determination stiffening her posture. This is what Pyromania is like. She couldn't think of anything except ripping the murderer into pieces. She wouldn't have been surprised if her eyes were glowing red. Rage bubbled and spread from the fractured pieces of her heart, seams of burning anger stitching the broken pieces together. She felt strong, the ferocious need for vengeance throwing power into her body. The anger was an unpleasant but powerful distraction from the deep despair of loss.
A drunk wandered around the corner, barely able to keep his balance while chugging from an open beer. Miraculously, he was able to discern that the wavy black form in his blurred vision was a woman, and a damn attractive one. He grinned his most appealing smile, and lurched over to the sexy lady. "Hey baby, wanna -hic- have a good time with me? I know a -hic- great place by the beach, heh heh." He chuckled, knowing he was irresistible.
Blake's stone-faced, cold expression was uninterpretable by the intoxicated man, who did not think too hard about why she was approaching him with her fists clenched. She punched him in the face, nearly knocking him over, and causing him to spill beer all over his pants. She spun around and smashed a leg into his sizable gut, throwing him against a wooden wall. She drew her blades and stalked over to the cowering man, regarding him coldheartedly with expressionless amber eyes. "If you do not want to die a wasted mess of useless flesh, you will answer my questions." She growled at the blubbering man, a snarl twisting her mouth.
"S-s-sure, yeah! W-w-what d-do you wanna know?" The man shrunk away from the black steel blade that was pointing at his throat, as sober as was possible after being slammed into a wall.
The cloaked woman crouched down and extended her arm, pressing the point of her sword lightly against the drunk's jugular. "Who killed Wildfire?"
"I-I don't... don't know!"
"Who does?" her voice was a whisper that promised pain and death.
"Someone in the Market will! Yeah, definitely!" Sweat and tears combined on the man's face.
"Which market?"
"THE Market. There's only one. It's north of here, all the smugglers and gangs know about it. Y-you can ask them!"
"I'm asking you. Are you saying there's nothing left you can tell me?" Blood dripped down his neck as Blake pushed the point a little harder into his neck.
The man turned his face away, too scared to look at the frenzied amber eyes any longer. "I'll tell you anything you want to know!"
"Where can I get some red Dust?"
"Here! You can t-take mine!" The man quickly reached into his pockets and pulled out a crystal the size of Blake's thumb. It wasn't a large sample by Vale measurements, but Blake knew that in Atlas this tiny crystal could run for hundreds of lien. She snatched it out of his hands and stood, sheathing her blades as she stomped away, leaving the drunk gasping in relief.
The risks with red Dust were high, something she knew very well. But she'd need the increased aggression and power if she was going to combat the depression she could feel settling back into her mind. Her heart was twisting and warping as screaming rage and weeping sorrow coiled and mixed with one another.
Buzzing and chirping from her pocket prompted her to remove her scroll, the noise signaling that someone was calling her. She opened the device and was surprised to see Jaune's name and face appear in the center of the screen, directly over the options of 'answer-' or 'refuse call'. She didn't want to deal with it right now. She didn't want to see anyone but Yang, didn't want to hear anything but Yang's melodic voice calling her name. Her finger swiped across to 'refuse call', and she started to place the scroll back into her pocket.
"Blake, I know you're listening." Jaune's voice froze her arm, and she paused in her vindictive march to listen to his message. "I just heard the news, and I'm very sorry. I can only imagine what you're feeling right now, but I want you to know that your friends are there for you. If you want or need to talk, I'm here. I can meet you anywhere in the city if you want. Please call me back or text me or something, let me know how I can help. The world has lost one of it's shining sparks, it is a tragedy for all of Remnant, but I know that it's especially hard for you. That said, do not seek the murderer. Yang was enraged when the police lost sight of her, we believe that she was still... sick... when she was killed. Someone very powerful is in Atlas, and I won't let the world lose two of the best people ever so close together. Do not seek the murd-" Blake stopped listening, tuning out the blond's voice. She had to find the killer, the one who stole the life of Yang, and they needed to pay. No one would stop her from getting revenge; not Jaune, not the murderer.
Then she remembered that she was not the only one that had been looking for Yang. Her shoulders dropped and a single tear dropped from her eye at the thought of having to tell Weiss that... that Yang was dead. She pulled the scroll from her pocket and typed the message she wished she'd never have had to write.
Pressing send, she returned the scroll to it's compartment and raised the hood of her cloak, stalking off into the deep, expansive ghettos of western Atlas.
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