This will be a long-form story, and I'm excited to write for my new favorite rarepair! Also, I'm officially dubbing this ship "Hunting Cat." If you have time, tell me what you think - it's always appreciated.
"We now go to Lisa Lavender, reporting from the entrance of the Beacon Academy quarantine zone."
"Thank you Cyril. Two months since what is now being referred to as 'The Fall of Beacon,' the Hunters Association together with the Atlas Military has finally declared a lower state of alert in Vale. Beacon Academy has been successfully quarantined for 47 days without incident, but will continue to be maintained as a high-risk area due to the high density of Grimm activity. Recent searches for survivors and victims haven't yielded results, and the Atlas Military has declared that all survivors have been successfully evacuated from the school grounds."
"In other news, the Vale Police Department has reported increased White Fang activity-" The radio buzzed as Blake turned the power knob with a grimace. Her hand lingered on the box before she turned away with a heavy sigh. She glanced at her scroll, which read 10:50 pm.
"It's time," she said aloud to no one in particular, getting up from her seat. She crossed her meager living space to a small desk on which Gambol Shroud and neatly arranged rows of recently filled magazines were laid. I've been trailing the White Fang for a while now. I'm getting close to finding him. Her narrowing eyes punctuated the thought. Soon. Blake allowed her mind to wander as she began filling the fifth and final magazine, methodically timing the click of the cartridges to the loud tick of the second hand on the wall clock. Fifteen seconds and cartridges later, she quickly slid the magazine into Gambol Shroud and cocked it, sheathing the extended katana in the cleaver section.
As she made her final preparations, Blake went over her plan one final time. The kid I interrogated last week said three White Fang operatives are meeting in an office building on the northern edge of the Industrial District. I'll approach from the west and enter the building from the second floor. After making sure the area is clear, I'll head to the third floor and immediately take two of them out, leaving one conscious for questioning. If they don't know where he is, I can at least get information about another meeting location, or one of the White Fang's hideouts.
She paused at this thought, thinking of her eventual meeting with Adam, and from there, their previous one at Beacon. With effort, she squashed the feeling of fear rising in her stomach. "This time. . . that was the last time I'll run away," she assured herself, as if saying the words aloud would make them more true. I'll never run again.
Blake made the mistake of letting her mind wander to Yang. She must feel so angry, so abandoned. First her mother leaves her, and then I leave-.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself, gripping Gambol Shroud tightly. Not now. It's time to focus. Blake roughly shoved open the door to her apartment; the door opened to reveal a view of the Industrial District that left much to be desired. Single room apartments had been too expensive in the Vale's Residential District, and most of the White Fang's activity took place in the Industrial District anyway. Another of the few benefits was the owner of her shoddy apartment block. He wasn't the kind to ask questions of his tenants, as long as they paid rent on time.
She descended the iron staircase quietly, her slight heels notably absent of sound. There weren't many people awake at this time and Vale certainly didn't have a curfew, but she preferred to stay under the radar just the same. She walked north with purpose, moving in such a way that she remained mostly in the shadow cast by streetlamps. Had there been many people on the street, they wouldn't have realized her seemingly regular strides served to move her from one shadowy patch to another.
The route took her past a small group that stood huddled around a fire in an oil drum surrounded by various pieces of trash. One of them, a Faunus with small horns, looked her way, but she was otherwise ignored by the group. She continued past a street that led to rows upon rows of warehouses before emerging near the bridge that connected the northern and southern sections of the Industrial District. The bridge served as transportation for cargo laden trucks but had a walking path underneath, which Blake crossed in a short minute.
As she got steadily closer to the building in which her targets were, she began paying more attention to her surroundings, wary of being seen. While she hadn't necessarily done anything illegal yet, she would no doubt be noticed by police and placed under suspicion if she were seen sneaking about at night with a huntress-grade weapon. Blake removed her white jacket and quickly turned it inside-out, slipping it back on to reveal a dark-purple inside. She had actually gotten the reversible jacket idea from Nora during their second semester at Beacon. The hammer-wielding girl had excitedly commented something to the effect of it being useful for thieves, no doubt referencing one of her crazy dreams. Ren had sighed in exasperation, but Blake, somewhat amused, had made a mental note. Nora would be so excited that I've actually made use of her random idea.
The target building was nondescript, a six story office building made out of brown bricks broken only by large windows. It stood as one of the many buildings on the Vale skyline, nearly incapable of drawing suspicion. In fact, the only thing that made this building special when compared to others was its use tonight by Blake's three targets.
One of its sides faced an alley, which Blake made for, after checking from across the street to ensure it was empty of witnesses. Blake darted across the street, nothing more than a black blur. Drawing the pistol portion of Gambol Shroud, she skidded to a halt in the middle of the alley for a mere second before throwing the pistol upward toward the second story of the office building, the blade penetrating into the brick and holding fast. She held completely still for a moment, making sure nobody was coming to investigate the source of the noise before she started climbing.
The window she pulled herself to was barred, but the metal was old and malleable; a swift slice with Gambol Shroud cut through the bars easily. Blake bent them up and out of her way, preventing them from clanging to the ground with a loud clang. She unlatched the window, and slowly raised it, then entered the building. Infiltration successful.
The office building was dark on the inside, but this proved to be no issue to Blake whose golden eyes pierced the shadows, rendering the large room visible. She scanned the room quickly at first, and then slowly, taking in as many details as she could, looking for people. For an office room it was incredibly cluttered, desks arranged in neat rows but strewn haphazardly with papers, empty cups, and writing utensils. Once she was confident she was alone, she crept along the wall, darting through a doorway into a long hallway. Blake knelt with a hand on the ground, listening for voices or the faint vibration of footsteps. Hearing neither, she moved to the end of the hallway where she located the stairwell, and once again listened for the telltale echo of footsteps against the concrete stairs. She smiled to herself. Nobody unaccounted for is here. This is going better than I had hoped.
The office building's third story was much like the second. Blake emerged into a hallway and lowered herself, moving into a crouched position near the wall. Reaching up, she untied the ribbon that adorned her head, allowing her feline ears freedom. She flexed them, swiveled them, and breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt good to have them free. As she moved deeper into the interior, she turned her head near every doorway, straining to hear even the slightest sound of voices. Like all the rooms, the stretch of hallway was devoid of noise and Blake began to worry that the grunt she had interrogated last week had gotten his information wrong somehow, or outright lied.
Ahead, the hallway ended in a corner that extended to the left. Blake turned the corner but once again, the hallway was empty. I must've gotten it wrong. But that member said that this was one of the meeting points. . . Did he lie to me? No, he couldn't have, he was scared out of his wits. But, what if it was just an act? Is it possible. . .
Her train of thought was viciously derailed as she heard the sound of shattering glass and a startled yell from a room at the very end of the hall. She flinched in surprise, and then sprinted toward the doorway, coming to a crouch just behind the wood.
"Fuck fuck fuck! Sniper!" a man inside yelled, "Get down! Get down!" Blake heard two thumps as the room's occupants presumably dove to the floor.
"Where is it coming from?" screamed another voice, this time a female.
"I dunno, but h-" shattering glass accompanied the man's voice which cut off midway into a strangled choke.
"Slate!"
This is my only lead, Blake frantically thought to herself as the room beyond the door went dead quiet. I've gotta get that girl out of there before my only chance at finding him is killed! She burst through the door, quickly taking in her surroundings. The room was a conference room, the table in the center covered in a blood splatter from a man that lay limply on top of it. A Faunus lay choking on the ground, a large hole blown through his neck. He convulsed, dark red corrupting the pale carpet. The girl lay prone on the ground.
Another round flew through the window and whizzed between Blake's feline ears, smashing into the wall right above her head. She dove to the side, another bullet ricocheting off the metal table. Silence. A fifth shot followed, smashing into the female White Fang member's ribcage. Her held breath was forcibly exhaled, the visceral sound of spit blood spattering over the carpet palpable. "Shit!" Blake yelled aloud, getting to one knee and quickly grabbing the seizing girl. The rounds seemed to be powerful enough to have torn through their aura, but Blake counted on the fact that her huntress training would be strong enough to protect her from at least two shots. She looped her arms under the girls and hoisted her, backpedaling to the doorway. As she pulled the girl out of the room, two shots rang out. Blake felt the impacts and cursed. I accidentally used the girl I needed alive as a human shield. God dammit.
The sniper fire ceased and silence returned once the two were in the hallway, out of sight from any windows. "No no no no no," Blake said, collapsing under the girl, then swiftly rising to a knee to examine her. Her hands ran over the body, searching for something, anything that could be helpful. She paused over the girl's chest, then scrambled to reach into her jacket pocket, pulling out a cracked but unbroken scroll. "Not in vain, not in vain," she breathed to herself, quickly clicking the scroll on and off to make sure it worked. "Thank god." Were it not for the girl lying dead on the ground, Blake would've smiled.
She sprinted down the hallway, rounded the corner and made a dash for the stairwell. I gotta get out of here. Down the stairs, moving with unnatural silence. Please have the information I need. Please.
Keeping the sniper in mind, Blake moved to create distance between herself and the building before heading south, flitting from shadow to shadow. The shooter had either lost track of her, completed their mission, or lost interest; no more gunshots pierced the night. After turning her jacket back to its white side to hide the bloodstains, she took a winding path just to make sure she wasn't being followed, causing her return trip to take nearly twice as long as the trip there. She reached the staircase to her apartment block as the first early hues of sunrise painted the sky.
Inside, in a sudden fit of exhaustion she closed the door and slumped against it, sliding into a seated position, her head beginning to ache from staying up for such a long time. She would need a nap. She pulled the only sign of her success, the cracked scroll, out of her pocket. "Let's see what we've got here."
The scroll blinked to life and Blake's eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath marked her surprise. The White Fang girl had apparently been in the middle of taking down notes in a notepad, and had left the app open. Clearly visible, without even password protection, were the locations of two White Fang rendezvous spots. The first meeting would be held in a warehouse in the Industrial District. Seeing the attached date and time prompted Blake to check the calendar on her own scroll. It would take place three days from now. The second meeting would take place in the Upper Class District, in ten days.
Blake couldn't believe her luck. I probably wouldn't have gotten this much information if I had just listened in. This puts me one step closer to finding Adam. And then. . . Blake stemmed the inevitably poisonous tide of thoughts before it began and started removing her gear, placing Gambol Shroud on the table and removing her bloody jacket. She carefully folded it so it wouldn't drip, then draped it over a hanger. The blood would be washed out when she woke up, but now, it was time to shower.
Blake pondered the identity of the sniper as hot water ran over her back. Could they have a grudge against the White Fang? That would make sense. Many people were hurt and killed during the attack on Beacon, easily providing hundreds of people with motives. The infamy of the White Fang also draws a lot of hate, meaning the sniper wouldn't have to be a victim of Beacon. . . They must've thought I was part of the White Fang. I did have my ears out. That explains why they shot at me. Blake's thoughts continued like this for some time, before she realized she had stopped washing herself and was wasting water by standing idly under the shower head. She turned the water off and began to towel herself dry. I have no way of knowing who they are. I'd better be careful though, otherwise I'll become a target.
Ceasing her ruminations, she lay down on her floor mattress, which did surprisingly well to negate the hardness of the floor. I can think about it tomorrow. I need some sleep.