|I was originally planning to use this as the teaser for just before starting Resolve up again, but wrote so much that I had to split it in two, making this viable for release early. The second half should be primed for late July, so enjoy the treat. - Aldiev|
Conciliation
Prior to meeting with Cinder, Obaz had been sitting in Ozpin's office, only he and the headmaster present. After giving the gist of his intent upon leaving Beacon, Ozpin had grown darker in expression. The ramifications of what he was proposing were high.
Obaz shifted forward in his seat. "I understand why you cannot lend me aid directly, and I do not expect you to. The multinational tournament is a good cover, but the Atlesian military would not have formed up this strongly without expecting something big, like a new war; the White Fang are more organized, more heavily equipped, and using tactics far from common for them, so their involvement in a grander scheme is obvious –even largely as pawns. Your position in this struggle is too delicate to be supporting me, from the shadows or no. I just need you to turn a blind eye; you've done so well enough in Hank's case –a rogue student, living hardly a handful of miles from the school? You could have taken him in any time you wanted."
"You're right that I can't directly help you right now without provoking a much worse situation... but after Mountain Glenn, hiding anything that you do would be impossible. My actions are being scrutinized; this would be painfully suspicious. Hank is a different story –by now he may as well be forgotten other than by a select few." Pyrrha and Helena were probably the few he was talking about, their teammates by extension. "If you take up the antagonist role like this, Beacon will turn on you, until Omeghis is exposed."
Ozpin's hands were folded. Obaz grimaced. "This opportunity is the best chance we have of destroying them without jeopardizing Vale. I cannot contain the situation without their help... So if my relationship with this school must be sacrificed, then it will simply be the first of many to make. Any deals I strike or activities I help them with will be moot once they've served their purpose; otherwise, I will not be acting as any kind of informant for you, which is why I haven't told you by what means I make this possible. The partnership will be hazardous enough as is." As much as he wanted to tell Ozpin –let alone team RWBY –that the guest students from Haven were directly involved with the White Fang, they would be suspicious of him in the first place; it wouldn't take much to find out he'd ratted on them before he went to cut this agreement, and that would be putting himself at unneeded risk. There were no objections from the Headmaster –they had determined what time they may or may not have to nip the disaster that was Omeghis Corp. in the bud, and that time was probably little. "If I cannot have your help directly, then I have another way."
"What did you have in mind?" Ozpin asked. His eyes said that he already had an idea of what this request might be.
Obaz stood from his chair, walking to the Headmaster's desk and placing a white gem on it. The crystal was the GPD normally kept in his scroll; the one that had essentially saved his life on the Osem Mountain Range. "Make it teams RWBY, JNPR, and my own, when –and if –possible. I know the second and third years to some extent, but I am most well acquainted with those three teams. Despite their talents, they are the optimal matches."
"I can try, but I have no guarantees. You know RWBY has their own agenda, one I'd prefer they seek to fulfill. Even over yours..." Obaz frowned, but there were no objections again. It went to show just how little recourse either of them had. "... I want to support you in this fight, Obaz. I wanted you to meet Ironwood about your limbs... if the Atrophy gets any worse, come back. Failure is leagues better than death." Feeling the need to substantiate the point, he finished with; "While you may not be privy to outward support, you can count on this place to be your haven. You are welcome here."
"I know." Whether or not he cared about anything Ozpin just expressed concern over was a question they let hang.
"... I'm sorry." Ozpin muttered.
"You need not apologize... Just be sure my efforts are not in vain." Obaz made to leave the room and meet Emerald outside, parting with his hat along the way. Ozpin walked a thin line, as he always did.
Now, having been blindfolded until he could meet whoever the black-haired woman could get him an audience with, he had little to do but reminisce on this conversation he'd had with the headmaster. Something about his complacency at the time unnerved him; it was as if Ozpin was letting Obaz do all the talking, but was refraining from speaking his mind about key points –it was obvious at the time that Ozpin had wanted to refuse the idea, hold him back. It still bothered Obaz thinking on it now... His dead silence and unshakeable calm must have seemed unusual for a boy with his wrists cuffed and a bag over his head, headed to an unknown destination. He hadn't heard anything from Mercury, Emerald or their superior since getting stuffed into the back of a car, but if he had to guess, they had gone back to Beacon and continued whatever they had been there for in the first place.
While he thought about the morning's encounter, he was also keeping track of the number of turns they made, as well as stops and rough travel distance based on the sound of the engine. They had gone a fair ways from the school, close to leaving the city of Vale itself based on the direction they'd prominently gone in. There had been twelve left and seven right turns, obviously to throw him off, and they had stopped moving in wait of a traffic light or stop sign fifteen times as well. The sixteenth came along, and he heard the driver exit to get his door. His uniform would have stood out, so Obaz had taken his combat gear without the leather holstery or weapons; coming armed would have been unreasonably hazardous, but he wasn't entirely defenseless, either.
Shoved from the back once standing, he could only hear one set of footsteps besides his own; The one guiding him with no enthusiasm was whoever had been their caterer to the meeting place, most likely. He counted the strides made, doors in need of opening, and turns required to navigate the building they entered until he was forced into a seat by his shoulders.
The bag came off, and the single overhang light illuminating the pitch-black room he was in had been entirely expected. He still squinted as he tried to adjust, seeing the nondescript wood square between he and the fellow in the seat across from him. A well-toned physique accompanied a slightly modified White Fang uniform. The mask covering his entire face was a less common Grimm mockery than those mass-handed to random Faunus, and black hair cut short showed at the top of his head. He looked like the kind of horror movie antagonist to swing a chainsaw with wild abandon, chasing after teenage girls while shouting no comprehensible words.
"So? What is it?" The man said impatiently, a deep baritone bouncing off the small confines to sound like he was everywhere at once.
Obaz frowned, keeping his reputation for poor first impressions alive. "Is this the best she could do, or am I not being taken seriously?"
There was a sigh from the bigger man. "You're treading on thin ice as it is, human. Watch your tongue, and state your business..."
"Harmony Kenrich... Dolcé Threadbare... Brick Cross. I can name more of these missing members of yours if need be, and I can tell you that they are alive... for now. Given I have your cooperation, you will have mine." Reading his face was impossible of course, but his body language said that the names hit home. Obaz continued; "I can tell that you are not nearly as influential a member of the White Fang as some others likely present to listen and make decisions. You should have a gun at my head right now, or armed guards overseeing this exchange, and seeing as you have yet to actually question me you are here to test my true intent. In summary, an expendable scapegoat to see if I am here to make any sort of attempt on your lives."
As he said this, he set the cuffs once restraining his hands on the table, rubbing the bruises they left. "If I had had the means to, I could have killed you already. I did not... and revealing this to you only worsens my predicament, were I here for that purpose. So please, quit screwing around and get someone who matters in here –otherwise, I will not speak, and your kinsmen will remain lost."
He was receiving a glowering stare, but as the Faunus stood to make some kind of retort he was drawn to the sound of a door opening behind him, where a redhead moved around the present member of their group. "I heard it all. You can go." There was a pause, where the frustration could be seen in the subordinate's clenching of fists before taking his leave. Clad in black and red wear much more formal than the standard outfit, the true negotiator took the emptied seat before Obaz, his own mask only covering the upper half of his face. Horns stood from behind the mask leading upward and back a little, and the sword he held at his side was sheathed in what looked like a triggered mechanism of its own. The grip he had was eased, but something felt ominous about it, like watching a cobra poised to strike.
Obaz began; "Thank you for making that quick. I have time, but I prefer not to waste any."
"How wise of you." The Negotiator responded, in a tone that could have been actual praise or sarcasm. "You interfered with some of our members on Lensis street, just over a month ago. Trying to make amends?"
He was talking about the White Fang he'd fought on the highway approach, chasing after RWBY and a runaway Paladin manned by Torchwick. Obaz quickly snapped out a retort; "Unrelated incident. My intervention was on behalf of people relevant to my interests; as of now, the White Fang is relevant to my interests, but during that time you were not."
The Negotiator moved on, possibly because it was such an impersonal and ill-favored answer that he was pressed to believe it. "How many of our missing members do you know about, and what are your terms for giving us their location?"
Obaz' gaze flickered to the table for a moment. "Of those you've lost without any confirmation of death, one-hundred and seventy are accounted for, though not all of that number may actually be alive. They are taken before being officially processed for generalized imprisonment, into Omeghis Corp.'s own custody and disappearing as a result; I've compiled a copy of all related data from their main server for your ascertainment, on a disc confiscated before I was driven here. The one who took me for the ride can verify."
"Omeghis... hm." The Negotiator seemed to have his own thoughts on that subject, but he didn't seem disbelieving. "You've told me what you needed to and I already have the data. This hasn't earned you anything, seeing as I don't need you anymore."
"Wrong." Obaz countered. "The disc itself will explain why you need me. Besides that, my terms are even more favorable to you."
"I'm listening."
Obaz shrugged. "There would be no reason to turn me down when what I want is to assist in your rescue operation; you now have rhyme and reason to infiltrate the Corporation I am at odds with, and in doing so give me ease of access alongside you. Once there, we can go our separate ways, deal with our own problems. My methods will make the struggle smoother than it would be if you staged the raid yourself... The enemy of my enemy may be my friend, but they do not know my enemy quite as well as I. Having a friend loses any value if they fail to help the situation... the only part that you may be less than pleased about is the timing. I would need you to wait until opportunity strikes, and this only diminishes the number of possible subjects for recovery. In my defense on this point, I say better to save fewer, than none at all."
"Their numbers are dwindling?" The Negotiator repeated. "What are they doing to them? Torture, slavery?"
"Torture is one way to put it. I can prove they are there, but have no hard evidence as to what they are suffering through. I have been given an idea, but I doubt you would believe it."
"Try me."
Obaz didn't hesitate in the slightest before saying; "No."
The Negotiator leaned forward some, his hand holding the blade at his side tensing up. "You're hardly in a position to be making refusals."
"I will not tell you what I do not know as fact. Even if I am inclined to believe it, on the off chance the information is false, that puts us at odds. You have my goodwill, and my offer –so work with me, or kill me." Obaz' resolute stare matched that of the masked man, which was impressive when that disadvantage were still in play.
They had an unfair staring contest for a moment. "So who exactly are you, bearing a grudge that you would go this far to fulfill?"
"A victim. A long-standing victim stripped of basic rights and freedoms... does that sound familiar to you?" His red-headed friend seemed unfazed at such a weak attempt at relating to their kind. "My identity is in question even to me, as odd as that sounds. Perhaps I will tell you more when this partnership has a future."
The Negotiator rapped his fingers on the table, taking the cue to return to the topic at hand. "This proposal is awfully one-sided. You're asking for a great deal of trust..."
"The feeling is mutual. You could cross me and ruin my plans well before I could yours, and frankly, I do not have the resources to back me if you decide to turn coat. You must know where I am coming to you from, but of those who would lend support, Beacon as a whole –including any young affiliates –will not help me. As soon as they find out I have tried to conspire with you in any way, that disassociation will only deepen... I can count my allies on my hands once that option is exempt, so I am working with what I have –and what I have is very specific, as you can tell."
The following silence was uncomfortable. The Faunus before him seemed to be staring through Obaz' soul, despite the hidden eyes; perhaps this is what his analytic gaze did to people from time to time, behind his own covered vision?
"You talk too much." The individual finally said. "Are you willing to show me any sincerity through your actions? Put yourself to use, and you might find we're more compliant."
"I do not sympathize with your cause to the point that I would kill for you, Faunus or Human, even if that may put me in your good graces. That said, anything else you would have me do is fair game... I should advise you just in case, but technical work is where I most excel."
"I'd guessed." The Negotiator scoffed. "Can you perform maintenance and upkeep on robotic weaponry?"
"Atlesian Paladins, I believe? I am mildly familiar with the frames. It would take me some time to fully analyze the structure, but no less than a day." His conversational partner showed no signs of that surprising him. The battle of information was still more or less a stalemate between one teen and all of the White Fang, so he still considered himself in the lead.
All but ignoring the accurate guess, the Negotiator continued. "We may rope you in for a task like that, but for now, you're just another able body. You can fight without killing, I'm sure."
"That I can. I would like one of your masks upon the occasion, though; as I said before, open knowledge of our alliance would put me in a bad way, in more ways than I have even mentioned. It may be inevitable, but I would delay that for as long as I can." A smirk of amusement graced the Negotiator's lips momentarily, one hidden with practiced ease –a trait in common between them.
He had been broadcasting over an earpiece, or Obaz had been right about the spectators unknown, because the burly man from minutes before came back in holding a mask. It was set on the table in front of Obaz, and he glanced it over quickly; it bore the difference to the Negotiator's in covering the whole face, but this was modeled to look like that of a Taijitu or other serpentine breed of Grimm, unlike any other commonly seen ones.
"That mask will show our members that you're working alongside us, but the design is for those we don't think we should trust." The Negotiator spoke without looking at him now. "It literally tells those who see it that you'll prove to either be useful, or a snake-in-the-grass. Even that much is impressive for a human to earn... so consider this a token of my expectations. We'll hold off from making a move on Omeghis for now, but if you try my patience, you will regret it."
"Understood... I will not disappoint." Obaz ran a hand through his hair much the way Khiver's style looked in order to don the mask, testing the visibility. It wasn't great, but he doubted any slight modifications would be noticed. The Negotiator stared at him blankly, noting every little movement he made.
The Negotiator watched as Obaz set down a slip with his contact information written on it, merely a number. "So... what exactly should I –should we –call you, if your 'identity is in question'?"
"... Carson should be fine. Yourself?"
"Adam will do."
