Red Moon Rising

by MasterofMasyaf9000

The beating of a butterfly's wings can lead to the whipping of a tornado. A world of bloody evolution is forever changed with the most minute of choices: What if Adam Taurus had never joined the White Fang?

7. Burning Bright

"And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin is pride that apes humility."

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Chapter 6: Burning Bright

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Sienna didn't think she had the words for how much she hated Solitas.

Intricate patterns of ice floated weightlessly downwards from the black clouds above, each flake swirling and dancing on an icy wind that carried it toward their group of weary travellers' as they trudged their way out of the gates of Mantle as dusk fell. She brought up the rear, keeping watch and performing a headcount as they marched. She muttered under her breath, struggling to focus her sight beyond the snowfall in front of her.

The forest was barren. The trees were thick and old, with roots that were twisted. She mused that might once have been filled with bird-song and animals that roamed. But now it was ages past its former glory. The seasons had clearly been harsh, stripping away most of the bark and outer layers of the trees. It was an inhospitable wasteland… but if the last few days had proved anything to her...it was safer than the city and its segregated districts.

By a long shot.

Even so, she could honestly say that being out here…. it had changed her. And not for the better. They'd encountered starvation, sleeplessness, frostbite, dehydration and death on a scale that she could never have been prepared for- and that was when they'd been lucky. When they were unlucky, men would die defenseless at the end of a slavering Grimm's fang or by falling down a snow hill in the shape of a dagger. There they would lie down in snow as cold as a barrow wight's soul, leaving her to wonder how any environment could hate life so much. The necrotic, gangrenous flesh of broken limbs would smell of sewers, pus and rot, and in the frozen continent's final irony, as they met their ends, the colours of their wounds would match the aurora borealis: blue, purple and green. And each time, she found herself looking from one to the other, the sky a marvel and the limb a horror slide, and the knowledge that they had nowhere near enough medical supplies to do anything for the wounded soul, it was all she could do to fight down her despair. And her rage.

Yes, Sienna Khan, in truth, had never once visited Solitas at any occasion in her life, and within the time she'd been there, could say without preamble or doubt, that she hadn't had cause to regret that decision one bit.

The long march came to an end eventually, and they stopped for the night, setting up camp at the edge of the forest, far enough to water for convenience but close enough from the lights of Mantle and Atlas to allow for some level of privacy from any roving Grimm. They had carefully selected their campsite, a flat clearing of mossy grass in a large patch of melted snow. Bedrolls and tents had been laid out and against all odds, they had managed to build a small fire. That much, at least, was a positive; given all the dangers they had faced, there was no need for another slow, lingering death to be one of them. Whiteouts unfortunately, she had found quickly, were commonplace out here. Days spent clumping along, feet crunching the snow like popcorn exploding, with the sky above them always a bright, crystalline-white. The wind rose around her, keening like a screech-owl and she caught a few faunus from her perch having to scramble to keep their shelter up. The sky belched out a rumbling sound, like the drums of doom; a final warning before the snow whipped across the desolate tundra with a vengeance, confining the fortunate few to their tents for the night, for an hour, a day, a week or any time of nature's choosing. Then it would just be a matter of finding somewhere to bury the frozen corpses.

Such was the nature of an Atlesian winter. The world around her was imprisoned in a glair-white silence. Nothing sounded, nothing stirred, nothing sang. Winter's hungry fangs had sunken themselves into this entire land. Its lacerating winds had stripped the last leaves from the trees, leaving them naked and brooding in a harsh world. They were wrapped in their surgical coats now, groaning under the weight of the snow. Occasionally, a great limb would creak, crack and collapse. It sounded like an explosion going through the forest. Other than that, an alien serenity garbed the forest. The silence of the dead.

Swallowing several curses on Belladonna's name, Sienna moved along her perch on the branch of the tree towards the trunk as the wind kicked up again. The surrounding branches, bare as they were, offered no protection from its assault, but the placebo effect was enough to keep her still for a time, at least until her senses returned. As she trained her gaze on the horizon, attempting to pierce the ivory veil of snowfall, a part of her wondered what it was she was even doing up here in the first place. It wasn't like it was the first time anyone had asked either, after the day she and the others had had. Maybe it was her punishment.

Maybe she was just a fool.

She, on the other hand, preferred to think of herself as a practical woman, and had decided to take first watch. a lifetime of justified paranoia driving her thoughts as she had climbed a tall tree to watch from the shadows.. All manner of monster could make their move while her party. recovered and licked their wounds, be they Grimm or...otherwise.

And she'd be damned if she'd let them do as they pleased with her brethren, delusional as some of them may be.

For now though, aside from the brown of the denuded trees, and the shadows on the ground, the only other dominant color in the distance was the white of snow that would occasionally whip up in the wind. She huddled under her cloak, momentarily regretting having forgone the roaring fire in the centre of the camp. She didn't have the aura to burn to chase away the cold, since someone had to think of the well-being of their group if they ended up being attacked in the open. The wheat from the campfire seemed to be sucked into the frigid air before ever reaching their frozen hands.

She watched from her perch as a group of their men gathered and added more wood to the floundering fire and poked it with long sticks in an attempt to coax it back into life. It seemed to die briefly, as if a little as if unsure of itself before orange flames celebrated with their wild flickering dance. It would have to last through the night. Someone would have to stay up and nurse it through the darkest hours.

He would have called her an idiot.

She could not help but smile, lips curving into a wistful circumstance as she recalled how they had met.

It felt like yesterday, the first time she'd first climbed the slopes of Mount Fang as a younger girl. The trees had swayed in the wind, blowing leaves into her path.

Just a few minutes of witnessing the redhead stumbling through his routine led Sienna to believe he would only ever amount to fodder. She shook her head as the boy was knocked to the ground by his instructor with ease. She sighed with a note of contempt; with skills like his, he'd never survive in the real world. It was cold, she knew, but the life she'd known had not raised her to mince words.

Right as she lifted her foot to resume her walk, something unexpected happened. She looked back to the scene before her in mild shock as the student got back up. He had obvious difficulty, and his heaving breaths were clear from where she was standing, but the boy still regained his balance and raised his wooden practice sword to fight on. This boy was beginning to catch Sienna's interest.

The amber-eyed girl inconspicuously watched the rest of the training session. The older redhead continued to deliver blow after blow throughout the spar, adorning her student's skin with bruises and cuts. Despite this harsh beating, he never yielded to his clear superior. He would continue to get up and challenge his foe.

His blade was turned and then he was slammed repeatedly with a flurry of staff strikes. They left him bruised and battered on the floor. The boy rolled away in time to avoid having his neck stepped on by his teacher, arising and slashing again. Again he failed, but at least he was able to evade a harsh counterattack. Yet she pressed the assault, and the boy was struck across the face and stomach in quick succession.

The young tiger faunus looked on from the treeline as he fell to one knee, looking up to see the woman flourishing her makeshift weapon with practiced ease. His expression was stoic. Sienna watched, watched him swallow a groan of pain as he got to his feet. His arms were shaking, his legs were barely supporting him. His sword was scarcely in his grip as he took a stance.

Without changing expressions, the older woman surged forward and knocked the blade from his hand. With a flurry of strikes against the boy, she slammed him, again and again, striking him from left to right. Finally, she brought around one leg in a roundhouse kick and sent the boy spinning clear across the clearing so hard that Sienna herself could feel it. The pain was numbed by the sheer shock, his vision was swimming as he hit the ground.

But to Sienna's amazement, he got up again.

His sword was near. He could almost reach it. Bending forward was clearly sheer agony, but he took up his blade and rose to his feet. Every inch of his body must have hurt with the agony of his teacher's assault. Yet, bleeding and broken as he was, he managed to take a guard stance.

'I… can still… fight."

And he did fight. Time after time he was knocked down, with moves that would have certainly forced Sienna to retreat, but by the gods, he fought, with the tenacity of a demon, and the spirit of a dragon. Finally, the woman smiled and raised a hand to call things to their halt, as he struggled to stay on his feet.

Sienna found herself traveling up Mount Fang on her walks more and more frequently, each instance stopping by the tree line to watch the boy of unbreakable determination.

He lost a great deal when he did spar, but he never showed any true frustration at the fact, or complained, as most would have. He would simply improve, and worked that much harder to surpass his previous limitations. Instead of lashing out, he worked harder, working on his stances for hours until his body bled and his bones cracked, and always moving to improve.

Her fascination with his unstoppable will, and indomitable spirit had grown steadily with each sighting, until one day, when she found him training alone, she had finally confronted him.

It had started a fight, of course. Even at that age, he had been the most guarded person she had ever known, and before she'd even been able to get a word out, he'd attacked her, swinging his practice sword with all the strength he could muster, catching her across the face and nearly breaking her nose.

Sienna, being as proud and stubborn as him, had immediately fought back, and within moments, the two were brawling. She hadn't had Cerberus then, so she'd had to rely solely on her own physical strength. But she found, as she tackled him to the ground, he had been no pushover in that department either. She didn't remember exactly how the fight went. What she did remember, was that by the time Evelyn had arrived to break them apart from their mess of tangled limbs, was that their clothes were torn, and they were both covered in scrapes; he was sporting several bite marks, and she was almost certain that he'd punched a tooth loose.

It made little sense to nearly anyone around them, but after that moment, when Evelyn's had suitably terrorized the two, both had their wounds seen to, and she and the boy were sitting out on the veranda in near silence, the two of them had set on the path of becoming fast friends.

It wasn't long after that that she had finally learned the boy's name.

That was how she first came to lay eyes on Adam Taurus.

He had a keen sense of humor out of battle, but he was also very stoic, usually seen not speaking very often. At least not to most people. Unlike most others on the island, he didn't make a habit of feigning affection, which won him few friends among their peer group, who thought him to be arrogant, but to Sienna, it marked him as one of the few genuine, dependable people in her life, and for that alone, she loved him.

As they grew up, they would most often meet for spars and training, and afterward, they would lie on the grassy slopes of the mountain or on the roof of the Taurus family home and talk of all manner of things, of the world, of dreams, of ambitions, and even of morality. They began to confide in each other. And there was something… in his words, in his eye, that she just didn't see in anyone else, as if he had seen things he would never be able to forget. It fascinated her.

Even so, there were also moments where his stoicism broke for her, the mystery he seemed to wield with the same dedication and determination with which he pursued strength through his training, pierced. She teased him often, and though he hid it well, the flushed cheeks that betrayed his humanity were always heartening to her.

But for all the qualities that endeared him to her, she wasn't totally blinded by her affection. There was...rage in him, deep and terrible, like nothing she'd ever seen, but it wasn't the typical anger that most knew of, or could understand. It was something far deadlier, and far more dangerous, something she likened in her head, to what it must feel like to stand in the eye of a storm. Perfectly calm and placid on the surface, but bottomless in its sheer depth. It was one that to his credit, he did his best to temper, a coldness and contempt that he seemed to hold for the presence of others, with rare exception, of which she had at first felt herself honored to count among them. At a combination of his mother's behest, and her own interest in his well-being, she had sought to allay it, to melt that shell and force it back to that dark corner of his spirit where it belonged. Or better yet, help him channel it towards those more deserving of bearing those impulses; she had lost count of the number of brutal encounters Adam had engaged in with his brother faunus over the time in which she had known him.

But when Evelyn was murdered, Sienna feared that coldness would swallow him whole. It was as if his entire personality, everything she had come to know had been devoured in the maw of apathy, devoid of life, of purpose. She'd offered him a place in the White Fang. It hadn't been the first time she'd done this; his prodigious skill in combat along with his ongoing rigorous training had shaped him into a warrior without equal. Physically conditioned to an absurd degree, his speed and acrobatic skills were beyond exceptional by any standard, and had more than marked him as worthy. Furthermore, Evelyn herself had been more than supportive of the idea in the past, always encouraging him to put his skills into the service of higher, more noble causes. Helping people. Protecting them. And what cause could have been more noble than using his hard-earned gifts in service to faunuskind? She knew in her heart that Belladonna's methods were leading their people to their death, and now more than ever, it was becoming clear that a sword was needed much more than his pathetic facsimile of a shield, that even Belladonna himself wasn't committing to.

But then things had changed.

Evelyn, her former mentor, had been killed, and Adam had gone missing since then, the family home had been abandoned. She'd thought he'd just needed time to grieve at first. Figure things out. Then, when she'd heard nothing from him in nearly a month, she'd resolved to drag him out of his self-imposed isolation personally, kicking and screaming if she had to. She couldn't let him retreat from the world more than he already had.

She'd found nothing.

The garden of wild roses that surrounded the home had become overgrown, and a forest of thorns now encircled it, one that she fought tooth and nail to to pass through as she approached, with no end of obscenities on her tongue to accompany her efforts.

Her purpose clear, she hadn't bothered with knocking, or giving him any warning before the door had splintered inwards under her heel. Not a living soul responded to her cries. The home, uninhabited, in ruins, collecting bacteria, bugs, cobwebs, dust, and lint.

He'd disappeared.

She'd even gone to see the Belladonna family about it; And none of them had told her a thing, even that spoiled brat of theirs that everyone spent entirely too much time indulging. The brat had even had the temerity to somehow look smug, as if seeing Sienna in distress somehow gave her some form of moral superiority.

She sighed, uncoiling the tightly wound whip, and letting her anger go with it.

It wasn't like her to worry about such petty things.

She had enough to worry about- Belladonna's incompetence; the trail of corpses it had left in their wake, the Atlesians, the fate of her people. Adam Taurus should have been a safe haven from thought and concern. He was her friend; at least she thought, and there should have been nothing more to think about. But, regretfully, there was. As of late, with tensions between her and the Belladonnas dying down briefly to a quiet mutual understanding of extenuating circumstances, she had more than ample time to consider him. Rather- she had ample time to ponder the way he'd always made her feel; cherished, strong, unbeatable, happy. She'd always known, of course, that he was important to her, but she hadn't recognized this specific yearning as anything but a need for a moment's peace, something she rarely got when he wasn't around.

But he was gone, vanishing into the wind without so much as a word to her or anyone.

Was he out there, somewhere in the desert wilderness? She knew he had a certain hatred for people, so she wouldn't expect him to have gone to one of the other settlements on the continent. He had some survival training; Evelyn had seen to that, she remembered, so it was possible.

Or had he gone beyond the island, into territory unknown?

The idea of him being out there alone…

It bothered her.

It wasn't a question of if he could take care of himself. It was a question of if he would.

Especially with the way he had looked the last time she had seen him.

That had been the funeral. Although calling it that was probably being a little too generous.

It wasn't a funeral, it was a social gathering. A disgusting display of sycophantry and platitudes. She felt like she was one of the only ones who really knew the deceased. Evelyn Taurus had always encouraged her visits to their home , and had been more than willing to play the role of mentor to her within the White Fang. And if Sienna, a woman who wasn't her flesh and blood could feel her loss so keenly, she could only imagine how her son must have felt. She remembered how she'd walked closer to the headstone, away from the chattering guests. It felt so quiet up on the hill, only the sound of the gently blowing wind reached her.

As expected, she found him there, away from the circus that their brethren had turned his mother's passing into.

She remembered the conversation they'd had there. And more importantly, she remembered what he'd said to her, in those moments where his fury against the world faded.

"There's no point to living a life with no tomorrow...I'm tired of it, Sienna....I'm tired of them all." The look in his eye was lifeless, like that of a corpse. He hadn't looked like he'd slept in days, and the resigned matter-of-fact way that he spoke did nothing to assuage her fears for him,

That was when she'd made the offer. There was nothing else she could say, nothing she could do, that would ease his pain except maybe to give him purpose beyond it. He believed in justice, she knew, and the idea of having the chance to keep others from suffering what he had would have been enough to drag him out of the dark, if only to keep him busy enough to not dwell on his losses.

At least, that was what she hoped.

But it seemed now, that hope was just another casualty of Belladonna's spectacular impotence, as was the one person in the world she could tell anything and everything to without having to think twice about it. So why had she felt so . . . out of step? Like he was leaving her behind? Thinking back on the last time she'd seen him, he'd suddenly seemed so much older, not just in years ,but in the things he knew and had experienced.

"Progress requires patience and cooperation." It was all Sienna could do not to burst out laughing. How could anyone be that willfully naive? Patience, she could at least agree with—nothing of worth was ever built in a day after all, but cooperation? That wasn't how any civil movement worked. They worked by being disruptive, economically and socially. By forcing those in power to take action, not by waiting at their leisure for them to make lukewarm political platitudes that did just about everything short of actually solving the problems at hand. They were by nature of definition, adversarial to the status quo, not actively enabling it!

For his ridiculous facsimile of "peace" to work, everyone had to play ball. And in real life, they simply didn't. At absolute best, most humans were apathetic to whatever ills that befell the Faunus, at worst?: Devoid entirely of anything resembling compassion or moral reason. Ghira's pacifism would always be a paper flag of mere ideals, and a safe haven for the irrational ostriches too broken to know any better, because the people in actual power, the Schnees, the humans would never be part of the critical mass pacifism needed to in order to make it a reality.

And why would they be? There was no incentive, no real reason that any of them would fight or alter the current order of things that directly benefited them, other than Belladonna's irrational belief that they would do it of their own free will, after nearly a hundred years of reaping the bounty of faunus suffering.

Perhaps that wasn't entirely fair on the humans, after all.

Yes, she could admit that humans were not wholly cruel. Most were simply ignorant of the reality of their situation. But what was rarely mentioned, was that most of them chose to be. Rather than stand for the principles they preached, they would cower and hide the moment the time came for anything beyond words. More to the point, what good were laws that were whimsically enforced?

They had money, they had power and they had influence. Who were the judges who looked over their crimes? Weren't they merely human too, who could and would inevitably be coerced or coaxed by money and power? Tomorrow, there would be a new Jacques Schnee, and another one after that. As long as they never addressed the root of the problem, then its weeds would always grow.

In this much, she and Adam had always agreed.

And Belladonna as always, refused to see what was right in front of his face.

She was so very tired of it all, in truth. She just couldn't give him the benefit of the doubt anymore, not after today—she was far too jaded. At this point, he should know better, should be tasked to defend his stance, at the very least, to his followers, according to the same standards of reasoning that any other position was held to. But she knew he couldn't, and his position of passivity—no, she couldn't even call it that—in the face of their kind's senseless suffering, didn't hold water either ethically or logically, and she was left with no choice but to assume malice on Belladonna's part. Willfully ignoring reality did not make him an idealist, and self- righteousness in the name of a just cause was not a virtue.

But then of course, even if the man was genuine, which she had good enough reason to call into doubt, he simply didn't want to know better. Didn't care to. Sienna snorted again, wrapping Cerberus around her palm again, and letting the chain links bite gently into her flesh to keep her muscles from going numb and herself focused.

As much as Belladonna tried to play the role of the all-knowing savior, the man was completely tone deaf; embarrassingly detached from the travails of the average faunus, probably the result of having spent all but the entirety of his political career on a tropical island in a mansion to lord over them all from on high.

She no longer had any illusions about that; she'd seen the truth in his bewildered deer-on-the-bus-bumper expression the first day their group had entered the mining pits near the slums of Mantle. It was all the tiger faunus had needed for immediate, irrefutable proof that he'd been occupying a hazy dreamscape of his own devising since the day he first became head of the state of Menagerie. So coddled and insulated from even the beginnings of even cursory scrutiny, that the possibility of a world outside his mansion didn't enter into even his darkest fantasy.

This was the man who acted as their elected leadership, banking his impressive diplomatic skills and history as a civil rights leader to maintain the position for nearly a decade without any substantial opposition. A dictator in all but name, and an ignorant one at that. She would almost respect the man, but for his ceaseless mewling for peace between species despite all the suffering they had witnessed together while building the White Fang.

The memory began to unravel clear in her head and she couldn't help the sneer, nor the rage that came with it. The skins of threadbare children, barely older than Belladonna's own darling brat, thick with dust and caked in the markings of blood, their frail and malnourished bodies barely able to keep themselves upright. "Bonded laborers", they were called, faunus children who were legally bound through impossible debt to the Schnee Dust Company due to their parents either being too poor to feed them, or too dead to fight for them. Slaves, in everything but name.

Adam had been one, once upon a time. Sienna, with her own eyes,had seen the brutal tapestry of lifelong scars that adorned his body, and it was little wonder why he detested Ghira so. Being outspoken was one thing but being so blase about your ignorance was quite another. It made her blood boil in her veins.

Sienna exhaled fiercely, feline ears flattening in contempt and snarling as warm vapor rose in coils in front of her face. Was it really any wonder why the man was a phallus-throttling failure of a leader? Even as the very movement he founded crumbled around him, loyal followers dropping like house flies left and right under the weight of his own hypocrisy, ego, and the myth of his own competence, the man was obsessed with being cast in bronze as the great faunus messiah, yet was completely ignorant to the suffering of the very fools who had fitted him for his crown. Nearly a quarter of a century the man had been in politics, and Sienna honestly couldn't think of a single campaign promise that he'd actually kept. She of all people understood that achieving a goal as great as theirs was no swift thing, as much as she wished otherwise, but even the simpler matters had apparently eluded him.

It wasn't commonly known in Kuo Kuana, at least not among the general populace, but most of the Menagerien continent had something of a food shortage. It was something that the humans, as the victors of the Great War, had neglected to mention about their "gift". As it happened, only part of the island could truly be considered tropical. The vast majority was a sandblasted wasteland, and the lack of water made it near impossible to grow anything, or maintain livestock throughout the other settlements. It was only really through Mistrilian imports that Menagerie was able to stay a nation at all, a fact that Mistral's cutthroat government took great pleasure in reminding them by raising the prices on vital supplies to squeeze blood from the islanders at every available opportunity. Of course, in order to afford them, the Belladonna administration had repeatedly raised taxes on its citizens, something that was about as popular with the electorate as a heart attack.

When Sienna had been inducted and learned this, she had set about trying to come up with solutions to this problem, a problem that Ghira had repeatedly run election campaigns on attempting to find ways to resolve this long ignored issue. She had even found a way to raise independent funds from the struggling settlements most in need of help, as the well-off faunus in the capital. Finally, she had settled on a remedy for at least one of the settlements— diverting some of the freshwater rivers from the mountain villages to a reservoir that would supply some of the worst affected areas. It wasn't a catch all solution, and it would certainly have been costly to do; but she knew the land. The area she had in mind had been a dust basin, a former lake that if filled again would most assuredly bring all manner of game with it, if not improve the national crop yield to boot. She'd done the calculations herself, and she'd even brought them to some of the White Fang treasurers; it would have been less than a quarter of their monthly payments to Mistral and would have cut their annual deficit in half at a bare minimum.

But when she had taken her plans to Ghira, outlined her proposal, and told him that she had already raised most of the funding for the necessary work, he'd smiled and asked her to leave it with him. And as if like clockwork, the money had mysteriously vanished into a sandstorm of paperwork and "expenses", and Ghira, his wife and his daughter had somehow taken extended leave to Vale.

Sienna had been apoplectic. It was no secret that at least half of the members of Belladonna's cabinet and maybe even the man himself, were either embezzling or misspending funds that they controlled, but stealing from the starving was a new low. Of course, she could prove nothing, and all she could do was vent at length to an understanding Adam, but the slight had never been forgotten.

Her thoughts trailed off, as her feline ears twitched snapping her back into alertness. had she heard that? It was then that she caught the scent. It was faint but obvious to her, as imprinted as it was on her brain and ingrained in every fiber of her being. Humans. She was sure of it.

Adrenaline flooded her system and she tensed stock still, instincts screaming at her in concert. The trouble with having a faunus' senses, was that sometimes, they were too strong. She could hear a footfall or a branch snap clear from nearly a mile away even on her worst day, but with so much background noise, it took that much more to place where it was it had come from. And with the way the snow fell, even she, with her night vision and keen sight, a trademark of her race, could only see so far.

She felt a knocking at the side of the tree she had sequestered herself in and her ears pricked up, before her eyes narrowed, realizing just who it was that had disturbed her concentration.. The sound of soft steady wingbeats did nothing to assuage her annoyance.

'Speaking of phallus-throttling failures...'

"What do you want, Yuma? She snapped furiously. "I'm busy here."

She tried to chase the scent again, but it was gone, Blown away into the snow. The wind had changed direction, moving away from her and taking all traces with it. Adding insult to injury, as if to mock her, it picked up even faster as she tried to concentrate harder, leaving her nothing but an vexing, self important voice of a winged swine.

"... So anyways, Pretty Lady," She finally gave up, looking on with disdain to see him grinning at her. "Ghira wants to see you."

"Of course he does." She swore under her breath. "I wonder what exercise in masochism he had in mind now? Maybe sacrificing a virgin's heart to the gods for good luck?"

Yuma scowled. "You should be careful about how you talk about our high leader, Sienna."

"Why? Worried you'll make the list? Don't be. Last I checked, the brothers had standards, even if our 'high leader' doesn't." She paused, considering his words for an instant, before laughing coldly. "I gotta say, that's a good name though, Yuma." Sienna drawled, her voice oozing condescension "You'd have to be high to believe that gibbering idiot was leading anything at this point." She stopped, making a mock pause. " But I suppose that's about your speed."

She allowed herself the brief satisfaction of confusion, followed by anger blossoming across his face as she stood to her feet, balancing precariously on the branch, before falling backwards towards the ground.

She landed upright, skidding down a snow drift at the base of the trunk, before walking purposefully towards the fire, where the rest of her comrades who weren't licking their wounds in their tents were gathered around. She could see Ghira's, the big, extravagant looking one a ways off away from the others, smoke rising and curling from the top, and she could already feel her aggravation seeping in with each contact her boots made with the snow under her feet.

She looked out at her people.

Most of them had disappeared into their tents for the night by now, but some had chosen to stay at the fire in an attempt to warm themselves. It was after all, close to the middle of winter, and with the day they'd had, they had every reason to turn in and lick their wounds.

Belladonna would keep.

As she got closer, she began to make out some faces in the firelight that she recognized, at least, more than some of the others, and she couldn't restrain a smile. The Albain twins, and Rowan Banesaw. An odd group indeed, but, compared to her alternative, certainly a welcome one.

"...Hold still, little brother. These wounds aren't going to treat themselves."

Corsac Albain was attempting to apply some sort of remedy to his brother's face; he'd taken a glass bottle to the side of his face on their way out of Mantle, she remembered. It had splintered, leaving a raised purple bruise around his left eye to go with the cuts. Fortunately, the bottle shards hadn't sunk too deep, at least from where she was standing, and looking to his brother's side, her sharp eyes had already caught several bloody fragments that he had already removed.

Rowan of course was… being Rowan, quietly stoking the flames and ignoring the others.

She waited until Corsac set aside another roll of bandages, wiping sweat from his palms. His medical kit seemed woefully understocked; he'd been the only one out of the entire group with anything resembling medical training, and he'd spent most of the evening seeing to injuries of the others, as he had every other night. He deserved rest more than anyone; and Sienna felt the words in her mouth sour before they even left her lips.

"Corsac. When your brother's patched up, you think he'd be up to be on watch?" Sienna knew she was asking a lot, given the circumstances, but she had come to rely on them for the duration of their journey. They were rather soft-spoken individuals, but they were perceptive, more than most. They responded well under pressure, and Sienna knew that they'd need that, if they were going to survive the rest of the trip. Even so, she could see the frown under his cloak; he was ready to refuse, but Fennec answered for him. "I will."

Corsac opened his mouth, objection already on his tongue. "Wh-"

"Because it'll keep you from mother henning me all night, that's why!"

The smile that accompanied the younger faunus' growl made it clear that no ill will was meant by it, as did the sly smile from his twin. Sienna couldn't resist smiling to herself, if only a little. They were at least, in high spirits, which was more than could be said for the rest of the camp. And her for that matter.

"Make sure our perimeter stays secure. Last thing we need is more surprises."

Fennec winced as his brother's hand grew unsteady, spilling copious amounts of the high proof alcohol he was using to clean the latest of his injuries.

As he finished applying the bandages however, a girl with blue eyes and medium length blue hair poking out from a hood, appeared from one of the tents. Her skin was naturally pale, but the cold had seemingly engorged her already pronounced gray veins on her chest and arms. She wore the same white and navy blue uniform as the rest of the White Fang, though it hung looser from her frame, and in her hand, she was holding a book.

"Trifa." Sienna smiled at the young girl, despite her foul mood. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, trying not to chatter her teeth.

"You shouldn't be out here." Corsac chided, ever the concerned parent. "It's freezing."

"Have you been practicing your letters?" Fennec followed, gaining another nod from Trifa.

"I'm a lot better now. I've nearly finished the last book. Not like I can do anything with it." The teenager grumbled.

"And whose fault is that?!" Fennec hissed, suddenly, righteous fire burning in his eyes.

"Brother…" Corsac warned in turn, tightening his grip on his bandaged arm. His sibling, to little surprise, was undeterred.

"Until a few years ago, Atlesian faunus were only allowed to be educated up to the age of fourteen – and in faunus only schools at that, which don't have a quarter of the money or resources that human schools have! If it was down to humans, none of us would know how to spell our own names!"'

There was silence for a few moments, as the four faunus all stared into the fire. It crackled and spat before hissing, as if in outraged defiance of the snow around them . Its lambent light stole away the velvet-black shadows dancing on the ground. Flames of rainbow-orange licked hungrily at the cold air as they clambered higher and higher. Sienna had nothing to say. It wasn't as if Fennec was wrong, at least, not entirely. Many battles had been fought over it; though Belladonna, despite involving himself, had done typically little. Appeals had been made to the Atlesian council, legislation amendments had been hastily drafted, and thrown out at the same speed; but ultimately, it ended the same way that talking instead of taking action always did. There was even that business with Amitola, where her parents had tried to pass her off as human in order to get her into a private academy, and the way she'd been turned out of her scholarship, which of course the racists jumped on like a pack of rabid dogs. Sure, Sienna didn't like Amitola much, sniveling kiss-up that she was, but she couldn't help but empathize with her parents' intentions at least.

All they'd wanted in the end, was the same thing she wanted. To give those who would come after them a better life. And truthfully, in the face of that,what sacrifice could be too great? In the eyes of so noble a goal, what did the means matter?

It was a doubt she'd had for a long time, and one that had, ironically, been proven true by a human, of all people. To Sienna's personal amazement, it had been General Ironwood that had campaigned to finally repeal that legislation, by all accounts, demanding reform to the educational system, with a chilling ultimatum that either the council would take action, or he would. He had at first been laughed off, both by his fellow council members,his colleagues and by faunus alike, even by Sienna herself. Another half measure, another string of broken promises. The laughter stopped when he actually began integrating faunus students from Mantlean schools into Atlesian private academies. Sienna suspected that it had something to do with the fact that he did it at gunpoint.

The new students were escorted to and from campus via armed escort, and after several well placed rubber rounds into the human detractors who put themselves where they weren't wanted, most of the violent objections and harassment of the candidates from outside forces had ceased almost immediately. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but more than any human had done for Atlesian faunus in… forever now that she thought about it. More to the point, his methods had shown her a truth that she could no longer deny: that these people only acted when you made them act. Decades of protest, letters, and heated words, and at the end of it all, it had been only the threat of the barrel of a gun that had moved progress forward. Even so, she hadn't made it as far as she had without knowing how to read a room. She wasn't about to rob Fennec of his justified anger.

Corsac, ever the mediator however, attempted to cool his brother's ire. "Brother, this isn't the way to change things. Our High Leader is doing his best. . ."

'Fuck that and fuck him!'

Fennec's remaining patience began to slip, causing his brother to narrow his own eyes. 'Language, moron. There's a child present! And she doesn't need your vulgarity on top of everything else."

Trifa glared. "I'm not a child!"

" Corsac, get a grip!" Fennec said impatiently, ignoring her. "We've placed ourselves at the mercy of a cabal of lunatics, lead by an egotistical madman. Only he could have permitted our situation to have happened as it did. It sure wasn't easy: he started with a decent reputation, a secure position, some experienced men, a disorganized enemy, and repeated opportunities to save the situation. But with the touch of true genius, these last few years, he's swept aside each of these obstacles with unerring precision, and out of order wrought complete chaos. The bottom line is, Belladonna is barely living, just about breathing proof that trying to change the way it is by using peaceful methods doesn't work. We need to.."

"Fennec."

Sienna spoke one word, just loudly enough to be heard over the howling wind, but with such authority, that the bickering siblings halted their argument and immediately snapped into alertness.

"I know you're angry. Gods knows I am, and we have every right to be. But right now, it doesn't help anyone. We still have another few weeks out here in this hellhole, and we've lost enough family and friends to this… mad crusade. I don't need to tell you how that feels. But we can't let that be for nothing. It has to be worth something.-"

"I know, damn it" Fennec growled, before letting out a resigned sigh. "I know. Doesn't mean I'm opposed to giving him a black eye to match mine though." He nodded towards Ghira's tent with disdain.

Sienna smiled.

"You'd have to get in line. But if you do want to punch him, let me know. I'd kinda like to take a picture. For posterity, you know?"

Fennec grinned with vulpine mischief. "I bet you would."

Suspicion entered her tone. "What do you mean by that exactly?"

"Heard that Taurus kid broke Belladonna's nose a few months back. Busted it up good. You two were thick as thieves, no?" .

Her ears twitched and her eyes narrowed.

"Drop it."

"I'm just saying, I'd like to buy him a drink. Anyone who'd give a weasel like that the beating he deserves, is someone I'd gladly call brother."

"Hear, Hear." grunted Banesaw, who had thus far remained silent, tending the flames.

Sienna was quiet for a moment, as if pondering something. Finally, she rose to her feet, shaking the wrinkles and snowflakes from her cloak. "I'll be sure to pass the message along when I see him. For now though…I have a meeting with our esteemed high leader. Wants to see me about... something apparently." She shrugged.

Fennec scoffed. "Don't know how he can see anything when that water-swollen brain cavity has pushed the forehead fat so far over his eyes…" he grumbled under his breath, rather pointlessly, given that at least two of the people around the fire had eight, highly sensitive ears between them, and happened to be right next to him.

Banesaw chuffed, and even Sienna was forced to bite the inside of her lip to prevent her from following suit,an action not helped by Corsac's disapproving, yet exasperated frown at his brother's antics. Even so, she schooled her face into a professional blank stare, before turning on her heel and beginning to make her way toward Ghira's tent.

"Sienna…"

She stopped, turning her head to see Trifa, who had risen from her seat, and was trying to maneuver her way around the fire to reach her, drawing a curse from Fennec as she accidentally brought one of her boots across his shins.

"I wanted to say… I...Why do you think things are the way they are? If you don't mind me asking?"

The question took Sienna off guard, and she slowed, which let Trifa trudge through the snow to her side to look up at her expectantly.

The older faunus paused, as the teenager rubbed at her arm under the cloak, clearly self conscious to be under Sienna's piercing stare. It couldnt do much harm to share an opinion, could it? "Walk with me for a moment." the tiger faunus said finally, putting an arm around the young girl's shoulder to guide her steps through the deepening snow. They walked in silence for a few steps, before Sienna spoke, startling Trifa and nearly causing her to trip over an oversized root hidden in a snow drift.

"A…. friend explained to me once, that it was all about control." She started slowly, her memories flooding back to her first days in the White Fang, "That faunus were an easy way to create a convenient other. And humanity and faunus are about as different as different comes. So Atlas and the powers that be, seeing opportunity, used racial hatred as a means of unity and control." At Trifa's confusion, Sienna elaborated. "You pick a convenient boogeyman who is pure evil; it can be anyone—But, for the sake of argument, let's use faunus."

"Then,you put that other at the absolute bottom of a social hierarchy. Anyone can victimize and brutalize them if they want, and you're not allowed to come to their defense. You don't need a reason, just an excuse. Cite historical war crimes, make some conspiracy theory about systemic corruption, or have some scientists come up with theories that prove faunus subhuman, lesser as a people. Or just slander anyone who dares to suggest they have some basic worth. The goal is constant, irrational hatred. You don't hate them for a reason; you find a reason to hate them. Follow me?"

"Yes," said Trifa quietly, finding this more interesting, and equal parts confusing, than she'd like to admit.

"Once you have your boogeymen all lined up, you put all the poor people who aren't them above them. Then you put the middle class who aren't poor above them, and so on and so forth. You then isolate, modify, or destroy all concepts of higher morality or spirituality which could possibly object to your platform and policy."

What do you mean by that? Trifa asked, tentatively, her eyes clouded.

"Ok, I'll give you an example. Did you know that there are actually more active religions in Remnant than the Church of Two Brothers?" At Trifa's embarassed shake of the head, Sienna continued, now with vigor." Of course you don't. Since Atlas, and, in turn the rest of the Kingdoms, by extension, have gone out of their way to suppress and demonize said "pagan" teachings for "harmful rhetoric and dangerous ideas." Which, I promise, has nothing to do with the fact that of all of said religions, The Church of Two Brothers is the only one that states in its scriptures that Faunus are children of the Dark Brother and thus inherently evil and destructive, or supporting the notion that "Faunus should take penace for their evil nature by serving their human masters." A hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

The look of outrage and revulsion that briefly flashed across Trifa's features spoke for itself.

"Don't worry, I had the same look on my face when I found out. The elder faunus commented with faux non-chalance. "But most importantly, you have to rig the school systems to enforce those ideas as an integral part of your culture. And you remove anything and all forms of dissent, by just about any means necessary. Propaganda works best, but when that fails, there's always prison, repression of speech, or just the threat of having them ostracized on the same level of that first group I mentioned."

"Once you're done, you distract people from how horrible things are with bread and circuses—free handouts of money or lavish parties. Most of which are probably more expensive than actually improving their lives. Then you declare your kingdom to be better than all others and then manipulate that national pride to focus any able body you can find into the military. There they die in droves, and the few that survive and thrive get paraded around to further extol the virtues of the system. That basically means that anyone with even the slightest sliver of tenuous power who might want to change, can't, or more accurately, wont, because they'll never be enough of them to combat public opinion."

"The end result, what we have now, is a society of nihilistic hedonists. One with no faith, no morality, and no cause, save their own self-satisfaction. They don't think for themselves, because they can't. They've spent the last few decades being actively conditioned to do the exact opposite, and they're not going to question how they treat their faunus, so long as Atlas keeps them fed and secure. The witless sheep are never going to defy their shepherds on their own." Sienna sighed, releasing the pressure valve on yet another rising tide of wrath. "That's not the kind of willful ignorance you can campaign away by waving a few placards around, even for the ones that are smart enough not to buy the propaganda. And the only way you can still reach a people so far beyond reason and morality, is by attacking them where it hurts. Their purse."

With those final words, they had at last reached Ghira's tent. The older faunus looked down at her charge. "That's how I figure it anyway." She shrugged. " Don't know if that helps any."

"That's…. morbid."

"That it is. But you did ask me what I think. Sorry it's not sunshine and rainbows."

"No, No that's not what I- I mean, I'm grateful, I guess? I… It makes sense, to me, is what I ...you've given me a lot to think about and-"

Sienna cut her off, removing her arm from the girl's shoulder to pat her on the head.

"It's alright. I get it. It's a lot to take in. I'm not offended. How about you head off and get some sleep, and we'll talk more about it once you've had a chance to turn things over yourself?"

At the girl's grateful nod and smile, the elder faunus returned the gesture, watching as the girl turned and made her way back to the fire. As she did, Sienna felt the smile slip from her face into a cold frown, as she remembered what it was that lay before her, and the aggravation that was yet to come.

Taking one final deep breath, she exhaled. watching as the mist curled into vapor before she closed her eyes, lifted the tent flap, and stepped inside.

---

She could always recognize a headache moments before it burst into life at the back of her skull. It would start with a simple pinch at the bridge of her nose. In short order, it would be followed by a high pitched whistling in her feline ears. And before she could even blink, it would evolve into a fully fledged marching band, beating an intolerable rhythm through her brain.

And staring at Ghira Belladonna, the stale stink of stone sweet liquor in the air, and the woman sitting across from him, it was already a full scale concerto. The woman in question wasn't one she recognised. She had tanned skin and violet eyes, mostly unremarkable features save a few. Her light-blond hair was loose. She had a beauty mark under her right eye, and another one on the left side under her mouth. Sienna sniffed the air again, her face darkening as her nose revealed something horrifying.

This woman was a human.

It had been her scent she had caught hours earlier from her post, and before she could even register that, or the resulting outrage, a second, underlying scent made itself known. One that sent her eyes into the hard stare of her namesake, curdled her nose, and made her gag, once the implications hit her.

Truthfully, she didn't even need her nose. Her sharp eyes picked up on more subtle factors. Like the failure to maintain enough space between their bodies, the familiar manner in which they touched each other; they told their own tale.

Cheap perfume choked the air; no doubt to cover it, a jasmine-and-gingerbread fragrance, but a floral fragrance did little to nothing to disguise the loamy must of sex that hung off the two of them, and even less to mask their disheveled clothing. The human's scarlet high-necked shirt was buttoned up wrong, for one, though, and Ghira, allergic as he ever was to wearing shirts, was sweating profusely; something that simply wouldn't have been possible with the snowstorm outside.

She experienced another wave of revulsion, and could only hope that it wasn't visible on her face. She couldn't tell whether her anger was a result of the frankly noxious idea of bedding a human, the idea that Belladonna was betraying his wife of nearly two decades in principle, or the overarching fact that instead of seeing to his people, or even at least feigning concern for the dead, or the injured, his first thought was to crack open liquor and smuggle his human mistress into their camp.

The moment she met his eyes, she resolutely decided it was all of the above.

"High Leader." Sienna hid her contempt from her voice well, but her eyes were feral of gaze, and implacable in their hatred of him.

"Ah, Sienna," said Ghira, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "I was wondering what kept you. I planned on you being here earlier."

'Oh, I'm so sorry! I couldn't have imagined that making sure the people we brought to this frozen sphincter of a kingdom were accounted for was less important than your caligulan whims! My mistake.' She sneered sarcastically in her head before pausing. 'Wow.' That had sounded scarily like what Adam would have said if he were here, only, aloud. That sudden minor realization, on top of everything else she had dealt with over the course of the last few hours; the shock and sheer absurdity of the entire situation was enough to keep a somewhat deadpan expression on her face for a few moments, one which Belladonna foolishly mistook for contrition.

"Problem?" Ghira asked.

"Why would there be a problem?" Sienna gestured as the shock wore off. "All of this is just… perfect."

"Don't start."

"Don't start what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You always do this." He masked a scowl with his usual plastic smile.

"If you insist." Sienna changed the subject. "You know, I had hoped that we might see more of a result today." her tone was even, conversational, but he could already sense the storm brewing.

"You need look at the bigger picture here, Sienna." Ghira replied, "Nothing worth fighting for was ever won without sacrifice, Things need to change. Just because you're so short sighted doesn't mean the rest of us are so inept."

"Our plans apparently change all the time when you're involved.." mused Sienna, anger finally beginning to creep into her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have any conception of what you've done?! You've lost or injured scores of our best people, needlessly sacrificing life after life on the altar of your own vanity, several of whom happened to be my friends. They've been beaten, mutilated and spat on day after day, and you refuse to allow them to even arm themselves, denying them protection from hostile and Grimm alike. And then, rather than see to the injured, or provide any level of reassurance that you haven't gone out of your pebble-sized mind, here you are, drinking and arranging clandestine meetings with whores?! Let me guess; Another publicity stunt? And you have to ask me what I mean by that?" This is exactly the kind of ego driven narcissism that killed Evelyn! That's what the hell I mean! Or did you want me to go back further than the last month?"

Ghira didn't even have the wherewithal to look ashamed. Instead his eyes narrowed.

"Why does everyone keep blaming me for their failings?! People die. Just because I'm their leader doesn't mean I have some inherent fault..." he swallowed, "...?"

"There it is." Sienna said, coldly, without pity." What happens when this great hero when he's under duress. He displaces blame, makes excuses, convinces the gullible to fall on their swords to save his legacy, does a great many things in fact, except take responsibility!"

"... In that, you are right."

Sienna cocked her head, clearly not expecting the assent. Her eyes studied Ghira carefully, but the man appeared to be distracted, musing with an odd expression on his face before finally replying. "Though if her son were made of stronger moral fiber, and hadn't just run off into the wilds at the first sign of trouble, he'd be here now to replace her. But that's not what I asked you here to talk about."

Renewed fury vibrated through her being , and inwardly, she was seething, but she had endured too much to allow her tenuous self control to slip now. "Spare me, old man, and get to the point already." she shot back, what little quietness in her voice seeming to have disappeared.

Belladonna seemed to repossess himself, clearing his throat as if to do away with the terse silence, and leaned to one side to one side or better reveal

"This is Robyn Hill. She's something of a local hero around these parts."

"Definitely not a whore by the way."

It was then that the tiger faunus remembered the presence of the third person in the tent, who looked surprisingly comfortable given the amount of tension that hung in the air. Restraining the impulse to exact bodily harm on Belladonna, Sienna turned her body, curiosity replacing her irateness. Hill… she was sure she had heard that name before. It was like a needle in the back of her mind, and she struggled to grasp at it as she examined the blonde, who was proffering her hand to shake.

The woman turned her head slowly in Sienna's direction. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then hesitated.

Sienna met her stare head on, and Hill retracted her hand.

"I'm sure I've heard stories about you somewhere."

"Stories?"

Sienna didn't miss how Hill was suddenly rapt with attention, eyes darting between the two faunus almost nervously.

"Yes."

"Are they good or bad stories? Be honest now. We're making progress here."

Sienna said nothing, watching as the human grew shiftier and meeting her eyes with a cold stare.

"Perhaps… not the most pleasant kind. But I am sure they are exaggerated," Ghira interjected quickly, forcing a smile as he glanced timidly across at her before glaring at Sienna pointedly.

"Oh, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Robyn suggested. "You'd be amazed what a girl like me is capable of in a place like this."

A deadly silence followed.

"As I was saying, you were right about us needing protection." He said the words as though they were poison, and while Sienna felt it wrong to feel satisfaction from any of this, his discomfort in admitting wrongdoing on his part was at least some recompense, if precious little. Which was why he ruined it with his next words. "But I still think that us carrying weapons demeans the core of our message."

Sienna's strained smile quickly vanished. She opened her mouth to object, but Ghira held his hand up.

"So I've decided to compromise. I've hired Robyn here and her group for the duration of our time here, to help protect us at our protests . They're well liked by the people of Mantle, and their support would mean a lot in terms of getting more humans in Mantle to accept faunus.

Sienna was almost stunned into silence. It was actually a good idea, in concept. Mantle, as she understood it, was a direct consequence of the very problems with Atlas that she had so passionately detailed to Trifa. The humans of Mantle, on average, were poor, driven under the foot of Atlas in both a figurative and literal sense, seeing as they provided both the raw materials that Atlesian industry like the SDC sold and the kingdom itself taxed, like Dust, and because of a combination of both the factories and mines themselves, and the excess emissions from the floating city above, the city of Mantle was perpetually covered in a thick unyielding noose of smog that choked everyone unfortunate to live under it with equal disregard. However, unlike in Vacuo, who's resident humans and faunus had largely banded together to defend themselves from both the local warlords and the spectacularly corrupt Huntsmen establishment there, the humans of Mantle, typically too braindead to think for themselves, placed their ills squarely on the shoulders of the faunus who lived with them, buying wholesale into the Atlesian myth that their humanity made them innate superior, never mind that they were little better than serfs segregated living districts of the city did little to alleviate those tensions, and Sienna was willing to admit that having someone who could move through those places,which Belladonna had so wisely decided to set up shop for the demonstrations, without harassment, and who were sympathetic to their cause, would certainly have its benefits. On the other hand…. She thought, looking over at Hill who had a sickeningly saccharine smile on her face, there was every chance that it wasn't such a good idea for ironically, the same reason.

What exactly was it that made Hill so popular with people who so despised their kind? For all Sienna knew, and it was hardly unlikely, the woman could very well be a human supremacist. Crops of them had sprung up over the course of history, but recently, there had been one in particular that had distinguished themselves. They called themselves the "Bloodhounds"; a militant hate group that had made themselves popular in Mistral primarily, but had a significant following in Solitas, and Sienna had seen their sigil sprayed over several walls and structures in Mantle. They had been fortunate not to cross paths with them on their travels, but the rumors of the mutilated corpses they left in their wake had spread far and wide. She wondered if this Hill woman was a member. It certainly would explain her supposed popularity with the humans of Mantle and her nervousness when pressed. And more importantly, what was she getting in return? One look at the blonde's face told Sienna that the woman reeked of ulterior motives. Motives that she doubted had anything to do with bedding married men. Maybe it was her mistrust of Belladonna's incompetence, maybe it was the way Hill had presented herself, but she didn't trust the human as far as she could throw her.

The dark skinned faunus cleared her throat.

"Why not appeal to the military for aid? Try to get an audience with General Ironwood?" It had to make more sense than appealing to the aid of an obvious con artist.

Ghira opened his mouth to answer, but the blonde was quick to interrupt him.

Meeting with Ironwood is an opportunity if we want fame and money," said Robyn. "I'm sure we could use this meeting to get ourselves a stunning and brave career. No doubt, get praised and be a hit sensation for a few moments." She cast a judgmental glance at Sienna, before continuing."But if our goal is to help people, selling out to Atlas will destroy everything we have worked for."

Sienna barely bit back a snarl. The blonde's voice was dripping with condescension, a feeling that was compounded by the words she used. We? As if this shameless grifter had any place in their struggle? As if she had lost anything, or had anything to lose? Did Sienna trust Ironwood? No, but his actions had suggested she could trust his intentions, and she could at least imagine what he stood to gain from giving them aid. Which was more than what she could say for this smug look on her face was the final straw, and it took every inch of her considerable self control, not to rip her throat out.

"As far as I can tell, neither of you have ever even met the man," said Sienna. "What would we possibly have to lose from making a legitimate appeal?"

"I may not have met Ironwood,Sienna, but I understand him," said Ghira. "I've seen how he presents himself to the public, and I've seen how he manages his Kingdom. He makes grand speeches of righteousness and understanding, while providing little of substance in turn. Even as his soldiers wreck private property for fun on their off time. His administration clearly rubs shoulders with oppression and injustice instead of addressing it. The man is either complacent or complicit, and that's not something the White Fang needs."

"The irony of you of all people, criticizing self righteousness and ignorance is frankly, mind bending , given that he's probably done more for our cause than you ever have." Her inner Adam remarked with that trademark sense of sarcasm and genuine disbelief that was native only to him. If she wasn't so incensed she might have smiled. Instead she merely raised an eyebrow, preparing to bring up how foolish the thought was. But before she could, the human interjected herself yet again.

"And for all his claims of humanitarianism, how many Faunus are actually in high office? Robyn replied, with faux concern. Hell, look at Mantle. Either the man is malevolent or willfully ignorant of all that goes on in his domain. If the former would be unwise to ever be in his presence, save when all is finished. And if the latter, any help he might give us would be tainted by those he works with. He's completely untrustworthy as an ally. Being in his presence would only give his handlers the chance to take our measure."

"And what would you prefer Hill? Hiring some tokenized paper pusher that happens to be a Faunus so it can look like they're doing their part? I might not trust most humans worth a damn, but what the hell happened to choosing leaders for who they are instead of what they are?" It took everything she had not to look at Ghira as she spoke, but it seemed he possessed just enough self awareness to work outrage double meaning behind her statement.

"Do you have something to say, Sienna?" Ghira growled dangerously.

"I damn well do. And another thing. Our?" Sienna growled, temper flaring. "Do you seriously think that a bunch of two-bit con artists have any business—"

"Sienna. Enough." Ghira snapped. "I will not be questioned by you. I have told you how it will be, and I expect you to do as you're told."

Sienna bristled,

She could try to explain to them in small words why this whole travesty was a terrible idea that was going to end terribly for everyone involved, but she knew from the look on his face, that it would fall on deaf ears. In that instant, Ghira Belladonna seemed as evil and villainous a bastard as ever she'd met, and what little faith she had left in him crumbled, like sandstone in the wind.

The sun was rising somewhere behind a featureless grey blanket of low clouds by the time Sienna left. It was going to be yet another dreary day, with no sign of anything to break the monotony. Sienna's mind stumbled across Ghira's words. Struggled to put their puzzle together, even though a part of her didn't want to. Didn't want to understand.

Breathing hard through her nose, she marched out to the snowfall, thankfully diminished since she'd entered. Insufferable man! She took several moments to control herself before her anger slowed, icing over with the frost and snow around her. Her hair whipped against her face, and soon she became numb as her thoughts rallied out of her mind and sped along with her. As she neared her own tent, she noticed Trifa was still sitting at the fire, eyes closed; her head lolling to one side. Her Scroll was playing on her lap.

"Oh! Sienna! You're back!

Trifa shifted her weight uncomfortably. She could tell by Sienna's dry laugh and mirthless eyes that something was bothering her.

The tiger faunus took a deep breath. "I'll be fine. Shouldn't you be in bed?" She admonished as she came over.

If Trifa was honest with herself, she was tired. Her eyelids were drooping, Corsac and Rowan had turned in long ago, and Fennec was due to return any moment now. But her pride refused to allow her to do so, for admitting weakness to others left her with a sour state of mind. Though she'd also be lying to herself if she said she didn't have ulterior motives.

"You were listening, weren't you?"

It wasn't a question.

The girl smiled bashfully, putting some of her hair behind her ear. "Only a little bit."

"How much did you hear?"

"Only the yelling parts." The girl replied, grimacing. "And something about Belladonna hiring mercenaries to protect us? What was that about anyway? It's not like we would have even needed protection if he'd just let us bring our own weapons."

Sienna made to open her mouth, but closed it just as quickly. It was a good point, and one that she almost wished she'd made back in the tent, before reason caught up with her; the imbecile probably wouldn't have listened.

She shuffled slightly close to Trifa, and the spider faunus, surprised by the sudden movement, moved away, and caught the wire to her earphone on her knee, ripping it free and plummeting the Scroll into a puddle of melted snow.

"This Council has rarely faced an issue of greater social significance for our country and our children. We are discussing a subject which is heavily charged with emotion, in which there is nothing easier than to fan the flames of suspicion and resentment or of fear. That is not the responsibility, I suggest, of our fellows today. We—"

Shooting a quick web almost reflexively, Trifa caught the falling device andquickly hit something on the screen of her Scroll, halting the rousing speech in its tracks. "Shit! Sorry, I didn't realize how loud that was. I'll turn it down a little."

Despite the storm of emotions in her head, Sienna found herself smiling again. The girl's earnestness and clumsiness was honestly quite endearing. "What are you listening to?" She asked curiously. Trifa toyed with her earphones.

"I was thinking about what you were saying earlier about … philosophy, on stuff."

Sienna was embarrassed to admit, but it took her a few seconds to remember what it was the girl was talking about. When she did, she leaned forward slowly, curiosity filling her amber eyes. "And…?"

"I decided to look up some of the stuff Fennec mentioned earlier about schools and so I asked Corsac, and he found one of the Atlesian Council sessions online. This general guy seems…. Different, I guess. Compared to what you said Atlesians were like."

"Looks that way." Sienna said noncommittally, her focus seemingly elsewhere. "You mind if I borrow your Scroll for a minute? I'll sneak it back to you a little later."

Trifa nodded, followed by a yawn that sent a cloud of warm vapor into the dawn air. "Sure. I'm gonna get some shut eye while I can. The twins are probably gonna be pissed I stayed out all night anyway."

"I won't tell if you don't."

Trifa smiled gratefully.

Sienna watched her leave, and crawl into her tent, before returning her attention to the Scroll. Plugging the earphones into her human ears, she started up the video again, realizing with a start that she recognised the voice.

It was Ironwood.

"—We are called upon to lead the country and our fellow men and women away from a prospect of strife and enmity and towards a society in which we shall live in freedom and in peace with each other, no matter our race."

"This is a time for responsibility, for leadership and, if I may dare to use the word, for nobility. My starting point is that a society is most healthy and most free from tension when it is based on the simple principle that every citizen within its boundaries shares equally in the same freedoms, the same responsibilities, the same opportunities and the same benefits."

"None of us can shrink from the challenge of racialism. It is, as sad as it is to say, a live force in this Kingdom, but I believe that it is not as deeply rooted as it once was, and this Bill puts to the test what our response is to be. Legislation, of course, cannot stand alone. Over the past few months I have frequently maintained that it needs to be supported by effective social policies, but, on the other hand, social policies by themselves will not be sufficient without legislation."

"—Councilman Ironwood is being naive and doesn't realize that the rate of change in our society needs to be slow and steady . . ."

'Any slower .and we'd be going backwards,' Ironwood interjected fiercely, the scornful disdain on his lips evident even to her.

The woman didn't look too pleased at that either, though it made Sienna smile, if only slightly.

'We call ourselves civilized, yet faunus have more rights in other Kingdoms than they do here,' Ironwood continued.

'And in plenty of other countries they have a lot less,' the councilwoman snapped back, visible agitated by the General's calm, and controlled rebuttals.

'Even if that weren't patently untrue, would that make the way we treat them right?'

'If our ruling party politics don't gel with Mr Ironwood's beliefs, then maybe he should do the honourable thing and resign his seat on the Council,' she said silkily.

'No chance!' came the immediate reply. 'Too many people in this government live in the past. It's my duty to drag them into the present or none of us – faunus or human – will have a decent future.'

Before the first speaker could rebut, the Scroll lost power, flicking out at the snap of a finger, the screen of the council chambers now replaced with a flashing empty battery symbol.

The floating city of Atlas shone high in the dawn, like a lighthouse for the oceans of the world. Hovering above the continent below, it stood as a testament to the tenacity and arrogance of man, their sheer audacity to defy nature itself. While it held a beauty all its own, the city below suffered from light pollution.

Ideas began to bloom in Sienna's mind, and she found herself grinning, slightly.

Perhaps there was a way forward after all.

---

Over the coming weeks, the feeling that Hill was more than what she claimed was something she just couldn't shake.

Robyn had introduced her gang; the "Happy Huntresses" to the group proper. They seemed friendly enough, but the first thing that Sienna had noticed, was that for all Hill's criticisms of tokenism, there were no faunus members in her own organization. That was but the first of many reasons not to trust a word of her intentions, but even then, there was a part of Sienna that chalked up that fact to other reasons; the number of faunus that actually made it to the Academy at all, thanks to the literacy rates.

She dismissed it.

Even though the public Hill may sell herself as pristine, another woman, she was sure, dwelled just below the surface. She'd done her due diligence in the meantime, scouring over every article and report she could. Her keen eye for detail, her need to know as much as she could about anything she stepped into; it was how she'd been able to tell Belladonna that timing a large protest now was a bad idea before they'd left. But if there was anything there to make any admission of Hill's guilt, she couldn't find it.

It didn't help that she'd barely even known how to start. She had no support system in Atlas or Mantle, no one who'd be willing to talk to her, whereas Hill had an entire gang of former Atlas Academy dropouts and disgruntled locals,all with a seemingly fanatical loyalty to her. She'd even grown desperate enough to try asking them,but that had hardly panned out. Hill's people had spanned either from bright eyed little girls to believe to know better, or grizzled thugs who would clam up the moment Sienna brought up her name.

Furthermore her efforts were often compounded by Belladonna himself, who, incidentally, had approached her to ask, or rather coerce her into keeping his affair secret. Even to her admittedly disinterested eyes, his marriage with Kali had been having trouble for a while; an oft discussed topic behind closed doors among the populace of Menagerie. Sienna herself had noticed the coldness between them at times, during White Fang meetings, a stark contrast to their usual fare. But truthfully, even Sienna hadn't expected what he'd done. From anyone looking in, they would have seemed to have had the "perfect marriage." But as the saying went, looks could be deceiving.

Maybe they were going through some form of midlife crisis? In any case, as disgusted as she was, she'd dismissed the thought entirely; namely because she ultimately had bigger problems than the sanctity of someone else's marriage, but also because at the end of the day, she had no desire to keep Belladonna's secrets. It was past time the man paid some form of consequence for his own actions.

With that issue quickly cast aside, her work steadily returned to the business of Hill and her agenda, but Sienna felt that she was being led in circles, quickly exhausting what few avenues of information she had.

One morning however, Sienna had returned to her tent, to find a lengthways-folded message and a crudely drawn map of Mantle tied around an arrow, the head of which was firmly impaled in her bedroll.

"Come here to get the answers you want. Whitehand.'

She looked around of course; tried to catch a scent that might lead her to whoever had left it behind, but had found nothing. That in itself was equally dangerous; that they knew enough to cover or outright remove their scent meant that they knew who they were dealing with, and that they were trained. It wasn't something most thought to do.

It was an obvious invitation—and one she planned to accept.

Sneaking into the city at dusk was as easy as scaling the wall and hopping over the side. Getting into Valeureux, she suspected, would be much harder.

Her best bet, she realized with resignation, was to take to the rooftops; though that was no picnic. Many of the buildings in Lower Mantle were ruined, left abandoned and left to rot. The structures seemed to spread infinitely, all arches and half-ruined columns and deep shadows as the sun sank low into the sky. Sienna reigned herself in, looking around and studying the roughly drawn sketch. Howls could be heard in the distance.

Quickly and carefully, with the grace of her namesake, she made her way through the night. Memories swam slowly through her mind as her body found a sense of independence from it; of warmer nights, and racing across the rooftops of Kuo Kuana.

But those days, she knew, were long gone.

From above,the streets of Lower Mantle somehow looked worse than they did from below.

More beggars lined the road; men and women, shoeless and patched, shuffling deeper into the city. There were people on the pavements but they didn't seem to be going anywhere, just drifting along like sleepwalkers. Nobody looked at her as they followed a single road, four lanes wide. This was a boulevard in the centre of the city. It was absolutely straight and seemed to go nowhere, with blank, uninteresting buildings on either side. The scenery changed as she moved, made up of row after row of almost identical apartment blocks like match boxes.

Continuing on her way, soon, she could only see a chicken wire fence and a dilapidated wooden kiosk trying to pass as a sentry box in front of a red and white barrier. A man appeared, dressed in dark blue with a loose, flapping overcoat and, showing underneath it, a tunic. Several other men, similarly dressed, milled around, each carrying what looked to be rifles. Atlesian soldiers. If she could get past them, she'd be home free. But if she tried, the powerful floodlights on either side of the box would surely spot her. Two cars – a coupe and a sedan – sat opposite the gate. Barricades were elevated, no doubt, to keep people from climbing over them to reach the area behind them, and the fence. The sharp, shiny, silver barbed-wire gave a clear message that entry to the street was forbidden for outsiders.

She stayed on a perch, assessing the structure. Such a small guardhouse likely only had a half dozen people, maximum, so a small distraction was all that was needed.

But what?

It wasn't as though she had a designated "distraction" button in her belt. And it was far too cold to consider a strip tease. Firecrackers might have worked, but she didn't carry those around as a matter of course. She thought about it for a moment.

Or maybe she did.

She reached into the pouch on her belt, digging around for what she wanted. Seconds later, her hand emerged, clutching a cloudy, opaque crystal size of her fingernail. Fire Dust. It wasn't much, and nowhere near the high grade stuff, but it would do what it needed to do just fine. She hoped. The clearer the crystal, the purer the Dust, even she knew that, and that didn't bode well in itself. But before she could talk herself out of it, she was already taking Cerberus's tip and carefully chipping at the crystal, carefully creating a crack and widening it. She worked quickly, but calmly, shutting out everything around her. Low grade it might be, but if she lost concentration for even a second, it would have disastrous consequences.

When her task was complete, she smiled, examining her work. Yes. It would certainly do.

Choosing her target carefully, she closed her fist, channelling her Aura and pitched. The now unstable crystal sparked as it flew through the air, flashing a bright scarlet. The trajectory was perfect. It bounced once, off the top of a nearby lamppost in a spray of sparks, again from the edge of the tarmac, before skittering under the rear end of one of the cars opposite the gate.

For a single instant, there was silence.

Before the explosion rent the air like the crack of a thunderbolt.

She waited, as the troopers ran out to inspect the flaming blown out shell of the coupe, biding her time, then dashed across , clearing the floodlights in an impressive leap using the billowing black smoke as cover. Having cleared the security checkpoint, Sienna was left to pad through the shadows, until she reached another, less guarded barrier.

Less than a minute later, she was over the top, dropping to the ground and jogging across a snow covered access road.

The wet desolate streets of Upper Mantle rested in silence as the starry black sky wept frozen tears over it. The melted water in the potholes simmered in the glow of the bright yellow street lamps. Above one of a dozen faded crosswalks, a traffic light changed colours rapidly blinking in and out of existence as if at random. Others were out and about as well, so it was necessary for her to bend over awkwardly, and pretend to retie a bootlace.

The sun was down, but the air was still cool, and the city was still in the process of slumbering. Monolithic towers. Each corner throbbing with activity. Fumes of cigars and cigarettes filled the air in a rush to blend in with the fumes of vehicles. Neon lights and advertisement boards that were brighter than even the aurora. Blaring music everywhere.

Deafening honks added their own contributions to the disjointed chorus, each laced with the frustration and simmering road rage of drivers still in traffic. Everything around her seemed desperate to strip her of her focus. She retraced her steps from earlier in the week, except that this time she went uphill when the street split, rather than follow it down as they had before. The small mercy was that, unlike the protests, the meeting place was, according to the map, not too far from the gateway she'd just crossed. An easy escape route, if she played it right. The soft night air, the spill of light from the old-fashioned street lamps, and the buttery glow that emanated from the surrounding windows combined with the acrid tang of fuel with the evening smog, to create a surreal sense of foreboding.

Finally, taking to the rooftops again, Sienna arrived at her destination, at least an hour earlier than the agreed on time. confident in her invisibility, still looked to the surrounding streets, weary of bumping into a cop, or worse, a trooper, in the packed streets or alerting a sharp eyed civilian from below. With the city already tense from the presence of her brethren, she didn't even want to blink wrong at anyone she didn't have to. She decided to reconnoiter the location the arrow had given her before just barging in; the logic being that it was the smart play, and it would give whoever sent her the message less time to prepare; as Trifa had put it, the most obvious trap in the history of traps.

There was nothing really to be done but watch the people around her, individuals whose existences focused around factory shifts, leaky roofs and demanding children; all of them variables to be exploited or circumvented. Unpredictable elements that whoever had sent her that message could use, to block a shot, spring a trap or use as cover in a pinch.

But there was one final matter to consider.

She was a faunus. In a segregated district of Mantle.

Just the act of being caught was likely to get her arrested, and gods only knew what else. She had to find a way to disguise her ears and her stripes somehow…

The problem was turned over in her head a dozen or so times until a solution, quite literally, presented itself in front of her.

She dropped into the nearby alley, boots crunching loudly on top of the snow.

Her 'salvation' came in the form of a shadow, sitting against the end of the alley, gloved hands raised and mumbling something about being a veteran. The part that confused her the most however, was what he was doing in the well off part of Mantle. How had he made it past the checkpoints? As Sienna drew closer, she saw why; hidden in the snow, was a glint of silver—a pair of crutches. While one of his legs looked healthy, the other was a rounded off stump: it had been amputated above the knee, she realized in an uncharacteristic flash of pity.

Regardless, the man definitely looked like he'd been through a lot and he was clearly Atlesian. People like that always had two things: Pride, and the promise that they'd throw it all away for the right price.

She took a few halting steps and stopped when she stood across from him, arms crossed, "Soldier, huh? What's your story?" The weathered man looked up at her, one eyebrow raised, but definitely less disgusted than she would have thought.

"The fuck do you care?"

"I admit. I'm more curious what it'll take for you to part with that jacket of yours."

"Tch...Protecting these ungrateful fucks from the damn Grimm, though nowadays no one fucking remembers that, do they?" He rolled his eyes, "We all fought for our countrymen, but now the only thing anyone does nowadays is bitch about how we don't do enough."

She doubted he was lying: He had just the right amount of bitterness and regret to make her believe him. She'd seen it in Lower Mantle a few enough times over the last few weeks; drunkards who ranted about the war on the Grimm, about how the military had bled them dry, had cost them everything and how even after all the blood they spilled, they had nothing to show for it except sleepless nights under the cold winter skies.

But that wasn't why she was here.

"Right...now, about that jacket?"

"Great, another one..." He closed his eyes and sat up straighter, hands balling into weak fists, "What now?" He laughed bitterly before it quickly devolved into strangled coughs, "This is a career, is it? Robbing a bum and taking the clothes off his back? What next, trying to steal a puppy from a little girl and hold it ransom?"

"You look beat and I'm not gonna bleed you for your clothes. I need to get somewhere, but I can't go in there looking like this. What'll it take for you to give me that jacket?" Because despite everything, it looked like something someone who wasn't homeless would wear.

His lips pressed into a thin line and he raised his middle finger at her, "Suck my nuts, bitch. This thing's one of the few I managed to keep when they tossed me out on the curb. Ain't nothing gonna make me part with this."

"You sure about that?"

Sighing, Sienna rummaged through her back pocket and removed a handful of lien. She saw his eyes widen at the sight, hands shaking and looking for all the world like he was going to pounce.

She grabbed a few cards- she didn't bother counting, it was enough - and offered it to him. "Change your tune, yet? You could probably at least have a warm night with some drinks and good company, and all I want is your jacket and hat. Interested?"

"F-Fine..." He took the stack of cards from her hand and stuffed it into his trousers greedily. Sienna watched silently as the old man took off the jacket and beanie, handing it to her with no small amount of reluctance. Despite his haggard appearance, the two things seemed relatively cared for, at least as much as she could expect considering the man had clearly been living out on the streets for a while.

But more importantly, it would get her inside.

She waved the man away and ducked behind a dumpster before changing into her new outfit. Jamming her ears under the beanie, she tried to ignore the scent that still clung to the clothing, wincing slightly. It wouldn't be permanent at any rate, which was something of a cold comfort, pardon the pun, as she re-emerged back into the street. She only hoped that the service jacket wouldn't stand out too much.

She realised, as she entered, the building, a restaurant, was built on the side of the hill, so it was much bigger than it seemed, with much of it on levels below the entrance and reception. She found herself in a long arched room with tables spilling out onto another long terrace. It was lit by hundreds of tiny candles in glass chandeliers. The place was crowded. Waiters were hurrying from table to table and the room was filled with the clatter of knives against plates and the low murmur of conversation

Having been scrutinized by the maître d', and clearly been found wanting, it wasn't long before Sienna managed to pick an odd woman out of the crowd and saunter over to her linen-covered table located right next to the kitchen. Which, ironically enough, was the sort of spot she would have chosen, so she could escape out the back should the necessity arise.

"Whitehand?"

The eyes that rose to meet hers were blue, and filled with intelligence. Still, having been gifted with a straight nose, high cheekbones and sensual lips, her face would have been considered beautiful were it not for a certain hardness that was present there. A metallic compound bow was folded, dangling from the back of her chair. Though extremely difficult to maintain, it would have been easy to nock and likely fired with tremendous force. On the table next to her meal, lay a rolled up newspaper, and a small pistol.

"And you are?" From the coy response, it was easy to tell it wasn't a question worth answering.

"Didn't you know? I was invited." Sienna replied with dry wit, reaching under her cloak and handing over the selfsame arrow that she had found in her bedroll.

"Ah, of course." The other woman responded. "Please, have a seat. You passed the test by the way. Should you care for some dinner?"

"I'm not trading clichés with you," Sienna retorted as she found her way into the empty chair opposite. She would rather she wasn't here at all. "What do you want? And what was that about a test?"

"More's the pity. We have a wealth of intrigue in our lives, but not nearly enough humor." The woman's smile was sharp. Her entire demeanor for that matter was sharp and perfectly put together.

"The circus might be accepting applications." It didn't help that Sienna was naturally inclined to give nothing but sarcastic replies. She huffed. "Look. Can we dispense with the niceties and get on to whatever threats, bribes, and/or acts of torture you have planned for the evening?"

The woman's smile deepened into a smirk. "Why? Do you have somewhere to be? Some pressing rendezvous you must be present for? Besides, I rather like the salmon here myself. Even if the table is terrible."

Indeed, it was a terrible table, since the heavily laden waiters had a tendency to brush it as they came and went, not to mention all the noise that emanated from the kitchen itself. wever, Sienna could hear snatches of conversation every once in a while, some of which would have been quite entertaining, which did a lot to alleviate the stress of her meeting. The two of them made small talk for a while until a waiter came to refresh the Mantlean's cup.

'I'm looking for information about Robyn Hill." Sienna stated, "and I imagine you're quite knowledgeable about her."

"I know what most people know." The other woman said conversationally. Hill is Mantle's Hometown Hero. Dedicating her life to fighting the injustices if the ruling cl-"

"I think you're being far too modest about the extent of your knowledge." Sienna remarked dryly. "Please. Accept this small gift, which, if you invest it right, might make your retirement much more pleasant."

The dark brown envelope was thick with what lien had remained, which Sienna had, without shame, pilfered from Ghira himself, and without drawing attention, Whitehand was quick to drop her newspaper over it. "Us revolutionaries and 'heroes' tend to be underpaid." She observed offhandedly. So yes. Your gift is quite welcome. And yes… all that glitters, is not gold."

"Fascinating." Sienna murmured with interest. "Do tell."

And tell she did, once the waiter had departed, and what had followed was an interesting tale indeed. A story of a woman, known only as Sparrow, who was the ringleader of a gang who were involved in millions of lien worth of vehicle theft and other priceless items from some of the world's wealthiest individuals. The group, by all accounts, had had no consideration for their many victims, making a habit of brutalising those brave enough to stand in their way, as they targeted high-value vehicles and product, and everything they could get their claws on, and worked in a sophisticated manner to try and avoid being caught.

They had but a simple code; steal from everyone. Rich, poor, and everyone in between.

"The success of her Feathered Flock, drew attentions from her local competitors, and it really wasn't long before some very unpleasant individuals began to call on her. All sorts really. The Spider Clan in Mistral, Roman Torchwick in Vale. Even several prominent Vacuo warlords threw their chips in, threatening to hijack or destroy her hauls unless she shared the profits with them. To her credit, she managed at least, to stay independent at least for a short while. But it wasn't to last."

"What happened?"

"People began to die." She confided gravely. "Trusted people, people at the very top of her organization, and it wasn't long before the pressure came on Sparrow herself. Not just from her enemies, but from the law too."

Sienna, immersed in the story now, aand high on the thrill of vindication, leaned forward. "So what happened next?"

"What do you think? She ran. Somewhere far away, somewhere where her enemies couldn't reach her, or at least far enough that they wouldn't bother pursuing her. Even took a new name. But you probably guessed that. We know she was active in the interim, but there's no record of her activities, and it was only recently that we were able to identify her." Whitehand said slowly, her eyes scanning up and down the room.

"Wait a minute. Back up. How do you know this stuff?" the faunus inquired.

The other woman smiled.

"Ah. I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you. As it happens, between my involvement with Hill…. I also work for the Atlesian Directorate of External Security."

Sienna went ramrod straight. Mortal fear swallowed her every sense, and she found herself unable to flee the situation, just absorbing it in its entirety. The A.E.S were the boogeymen of Atlas. The hidden hand, a long finger that reached it beyond the border of Solitas and did the work that the military wouldn't.

Suddenly, the reason Sienna had been brought here screamed into view. They didn't so much hunt criminals so much as "gather info" and analyze it in order to maintain the peace. They kept an eye on foreign agents, gangs….and political groups. And here she was, not only having unwittingly attracted their attention, but staring one down at the opposite end of the table. Despite her best attempts to disguise her abject horror, it must have shown, because the woman on the other end of the tables simply laughed.

"Relax. You're not under arrest. But there are… conditions."

She made an almost lazy gesture, and her people, Sienna realized, all of whom were dressed as fellow patrons sat down, putting away weapons.

It was a charade. The woman had been playing with her like a cat plays with a mouse and she had all of her people in on it. This was why she was so confident. Sienna wondered if the gun had even been loaded with something other than a blank. Whatever the case, Whitehand had been in complete control of the situation.

Since she was still alive at the moment, the agent likely wanted something from her. Information or assistance. An offer or an attack, perhaps one followed by the other when she refused. But what could she do? The whole reason for coming here was to obtain the former, information, and the latter, she wasn't sure she could even offer without further compromising her fellow faunus to the A.E.S' whims.

"So here's how it's going to go. Just getting here, you've proven quite capable, and that, is something we can use. You scratch our back with this little problem we have. And we'll do something for you."

Sienna was tempted to say no. It would have been the sensible thing to do, at any rate, because as the adage went, it was better the devil you knew than the one you didn't. Instead she said nothing, weighing her options for a moment. An action, that didn't go unnoticed.

"That's a pity," Whitehand said. Her tone of voice hadn't changed, but there was a heavy, dead quality to the words. And there was something different about her. Throughout the meal she had been polite—not friendly but at least human. In an instant that had disappeared. And then, she revealed her true colors.

"Of course, you have committed several crimes tonight. Last I checked, trespassing in a human only residential area without due cause, 'shall be punished by imprisonment not exceeding twelve months, or by fine, not exceeding seven hundred lien.' Somehow, I doubt you have that money to toss willingly, what with how your people are struggling for basic supplies as is, so it'll probably be the jail sentence."

"There's also the 'bribing of a public official' charges to consider, which would be another six months." She rattled the legislation off with a textbook professionalism, with an almost conversational lilt, as though they were discussing the decor. "Have you seen Mantlean jails? They're not exactly vacation homes, you know."

"The only reason I'm here at all is because of the note with your name on it. Sienna remarked. And I doubt you'd be so willing to report on a bribe, considering you were the one who received it."

"True, I suppose, but then, anyone could have written that note. And besides you certainly can't prove I took the bribe. It would be your word, against a dozen AES agents, and that certainly wouldnt go well."

"I'll take my chances."

"Would you?" She laughed. "Brave of you. Foolish, but brave."

On the other hand...Just so you know, I'm largely free to see that things on a more minor scale are done my way, and don't have to tolerate any disagreement. Those few people in a position to countermand my orders only care about results, and in that regard, I have never left them less than pleased. I don't intend to start now."

"So if I agreed to do what you asked ...?"

"Then we can avoid all this unpleasantness, and move on. Help us and we'll help you," she replied evenly .

"Fine", Sienna conceded, hating the fact that she'd been outwitted.

"Wonderful. We can get started at once then."

"Start at once." Sienna spoke the three words without liking the sound of them. Whitehand was waiting for her answer. She sighed. "All right. It doesn't look like I've got very much choice. But I want to know what your stake is in all this. And what am I getting out of this?"

"I was positive I just explained that part, but fine. I'll break it down to the essentials."

"Bottom line is, you're not the only one who doesn't trust Hill. On top of her sordid past, that is. You wouldnt know this, not being local, but theres been a spate of rampant crime; thefts mostly, that has been terrorizing the city for months. Coincidentally, driving the good people around here into the arms of a certain group of vigilante Huntresses. A group that Hill happens to be in charge of." she stated, brushing off imagined dirt from her clothes. "As such, her ranks have swollen dramatically in a very short space of time. Naturally, certain individuals are….concerned."

"Quite convenient," Sienna said, with great irony.

"Exactly!" Whitehand remarked, pleased. "Given her established MO, I believe that she's planning something with your organization; something bloody at that, but proof remains scarce. Now as for the second part… I could ask you what you wanted, but that shouting match you had with her the other night gave me some suggestions. How about I get you that meeting with the General? "

The implications of the question were not lost on the tiger faunus, who's eyes widened, before narrowing into slits with a deadly gleam.

"Exactly how long have you been spying on our camp?!"

The agent smiled. "Classified, of course. But sifting through those recordings of her and your boss fucking was..." The agent reached into her coat. "Oh! Before we go any further, as a sign of good faith."

The faunus thought she was reaching for a weapon for the briefest of moments, but as it turned out, she ultimately produced a Scroll, dialling a number and bringing it to her ear.

Listening to one-sided communication quickly made Sienna antsy. Past a brusque and altogether too-sparse presentation of her case, it was all 'yes', 'no', and 'I understand' – platitudes that told her little. Her name came up a few times, which could have meant a lot of things. At last, Whitehand gave a final 'Understood' and clicked the Scroll off. She drew in a deep breath and awaited her verdict.

"The brass is… not opposed to your proposal," she began. Not time to start celebrating yet, then – there was a catch in here. "However, there are caveats attached."

Of course there were.

Sienna raised an eyebrow, not bothering to disguise her disdain for Whitehand's theatrics.

"Actually, I was going to ask you if you'd be willing to turn in Belladonna if the time came for it. The brass has its eyes set on, but they don't want to leave anyone behind. No structure that Hill can use for support afterwards that we can't reach. Make no mistake, we have no interest in talks. If she escapes, Belladonna himself would need to stand trial for the crimes of his associate. As it stands, my superiors would likely have him assassinated, not least for the fact that he's a prolific faunus agitator." The agent looked up to Sienna's ears, hidden carefully beneath her hat. "No offence. Far less complicated that way."

"That won't create a lasting result for you," Sienna warned. Even if she did agree to those terms, she couldn't guarantee that all of her people would take it lying down – and that was assuming the Fang didn't just fall apart in his absence. They were already struggling as it was, and as much as they'd be better off with him and his sky splitting incompetence gone, Sienna had no intention of risking a martyr given how ridiculous his PR was. Even more than that though… he was still a Brother, despite his litany of shortcomings. Part of Sienna just didn't feel right with having him killed in Atlas' name.

Fortunately, Whitehand agreed.

"No, it will not, which is why you should hope it doesn't come to that." The agent sighed. " Your argument has merit, but again, my bosses are not so easily convinced. Even if we can't prove the case against Belladonna, speaking frankly, we don't really need to. Sometimes the AES deals with its enemies in a simpler and more direct way. I'm sure you understand that the Atlesian Government cannot afford to look weak at this juncture. Backing down from this conflict implies we couldn't easily win it, which is a dangerous message to broadcast. It makes our enemies… bold. Therefore, if we want to sell this idea, we're going to require a show of strength elsewhere. As for what that might mean for you though..."

The agent drew out her words, seemingly delighting in her captive audience, before turning serious again.

"She has a vast network of followers, loyal only to her, and she is not shy about sending them out into the populace to impose her will. As of right now, I have a list of certain persons of interest, and I'm wondering if you can have them all dealt with."

"You want me to kill for you?"

Whitehand smiled. "Heavens no. We want you to spy for us. Getting listening devices near Hill was easy enough. But she and her smarter lieutenants are, shall we say.., adept, in obfuscating their communications, which made gathering hard intelligence a real pain. Until of course, she started getting intimate with your boss."

"Stop. Calling him. My boss." The faunus growled, feeling her temper rising again.

Whitehand ignored her.

"A simple enough task, I should think. And one which you were already attempting to do without our help. So. Do we have an accord?"

It was as she'd already said.

She hardly had a choice.

As it turned out, the meeting with Ironwood at short notice was anything but simple.

It took the better part of three whole weeks, with various back and forths with various intermediaries and middle men, and frankly, Sienna was surprised she'd managed it at all, especially since she'd had to do it in secret. Thankfully Ghira at least paid little attention to her absences, which she was grateful for; she didn't have the energy to talk up his ego, and dealing with Hill and her acolytes left a sour taste in her mouth, even more so with the full story. It was a big part of why she had been so uneasy, when Hill had eventually offered Ghira and what of the White Fang party residence in one of their safe houses in Mantle. There was resistance of course; some refused, and some were willing to at least consider the proposal, at least out of good will for the food and supplies, likely stolen, that Hill had procured for them.

The plus was, that it gave her more reasons to contact Whitehand in person, and in that time, Sienna, if a little reluctantly, held to her end of the bargain.; giving her, and by extension, the AES, the coming and goings of suspicious individuals, namely of Robyn's group, or identify them, no doubt for later operations.

That too, had been difficult, not least because it required the woman to pull a complete about face with the very people she had so openly despised. She and Hill didn't trust each other, but the tiger faunus found herself passable at deception, mingling often with Robyn's underlings in the guise of "touching base" and trying to sense if anything was off. It wasn't until after the first few evenings that Sienna finally found another weak link she didn't trust and such, a few of her brethren, particularly Trifa, started to notice her odd behaviour , and when Sienna was cool and careful with certain people.

That had forced her to be more careful, lest she drag people she actually cared for into the quagmire she'd created for herself. How many agents were there, mingling around their shared camps and meeting places? On top of that, with her new duties of planning protest routes, providing general intelligence of where the next protest might flow, she almost didn't have time to worry about what could go wrong.

Once she had a list, she was again sitting with Whitehand for dinner, in a different restaurant.

"How do you know?" She asked, shocked when Sienna mentioned which of the Huntresses was most likely to be worth looking at further

Sienna stared coldly. "I see things a little differently than most."

The hardest part, she found, was the waiting. She wished she could negotiate with the higher-ups directly. She'd obviously heard of General Ironwood before – he had a reputation of being less hawkish than some of his compatriots, which gave her a measure of hope. But using a questionably interested middleman to speak with him left her anxious. Not that anxiety did her any good in the shirt or long term, but she loathed having things removed from her control.

Finally, though, Whitehand came through, and the tiger faunus, much to her surprise, found herself in Atlas itself, in the very halls of government. It wasn't long before she overheard someone give voice to the very question she'd been entertaining from the moment she'd set foot there.

"What is she doing here?" One of the soldiers on guard asked in the far corner of the atrium.

"Hold your tongue, Corporal, before you lose it," the sergeant growled, though the man was just as curious as his subordinate as to why she had been brought here. He had disapproved of Sienna from the moment he had set eyes on her. Of course, he hadn't said as much, he was too professional. But he showed it with his eyes. What staved him off was no doubt, her companion. The unexpected presence of the agent could only mean one thing: trouble.

Above his pay grade.

But Sienna barely noticed; Her mind was elsewhere.

The truth was, she had slowly come to accept , was that Fennec was right.

The problem of the White Fang was, and had always been, Ghira. No one could wield that kind of power with impunity without becoming complacent at best, or corrupt at worst. He had no idea how it had overtaken him, how his ego had done nothing but feed the cumulative evils done to their people. He was an egotistical snob, who preached of peace and non-violence where the violence couldn't reach him, but the second that it could, he was more than willing to align himself with elements like Robyn.

Respect, loyalty, orderly conduct – those weren't things you could simply ensure by tossing the same basic platitudes around and hoping for basic 'human' decencyy. Beliefs, convictions, grudges, greed, ambition, prejudice, all kinds of irrational things that didn't fit into his ordered little boxes. You could manipulate how others acted, predict how they would act, but you could rarely ever be certain. One-to-one, when you knew the person you were dealing with, it was a minor risk at worst. But assuming an entire population would neatly conform to your expectations was just begging for a knife in the back.

He'd even had a wake-up call— the murders of Evelyn and and the countless others, when the humans of Mistral had proved respect couldn't be bought with kingly gifts. But instead of learning, he'd just thrown more variables into the equation when he tried again – a better offer, stronger ties, an implied debt. Ghira seemed fundamentally incapable of understanding how people worked, and as long as she didn't give him a reason to doubt it, he'd assume she was loyal to him simply because "she should be".

Maybe it was time she exploited that, "for the greater good."

After this, she owed herself a drink; something to take the edge off her mental exhaustion. She'd owe herself several drinks if she could get away with it, but there was just too much to do to waste the day slumped over a bar.

The Grand Palace, Sienna read somewhere, was the first, and oldest of seven palaces built on the former Kingdom of Mantle, but once the capital transferred to the floating city of Atlas, it, and its six siblings have been transferred over, having been rebuilt brick by brick on the floating city.

Several palaces had once existed for the Old Senate and other offices, though the first Atlesian Council had been quick to claim this one as their own. And when they stepped inside into the entrance hall, it wasn't hard to see why.

Everything was perfect, the antique furniture, ornaments and paintings placed exactly so. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen and even the sunlight streaming in through the windows seemed almost artificial, as if it was only there to bring out the best in everything it touched. The relief at being indoors and out of sight lasted for a grand total of maybe five seconds before she noticed the soldier at the reception desk. And then the one walking out of a room. And the one over to the side. And the two snipers on the balcony. Well, fuck. Couldn't expect anything less.

The entryway to the staircase was blocked by an oak table. Behind it, Sienna could see the ornate flight of stairs that lead up to the second floor, along with the door to what looked like the entrance to what looked like an old fashioned sitting room.

She knew that the soldiers were just doing their job, keeping tabs on the outsider in their midst. But having so many eyes on her was agitating, and it took a considerable amount of effort not to reach for Cerberus.

"Good morning, ma'am." A man with hard eyes spoke. "Are you armed?"

"Yes, I am." She replied. "I'm carrying a compound bow, a razor and a garrote.

If the soldier was at all surprised, he showed no sign of it.

"And your associate?"

Wordlessly, Sienna gripped her weapon tightly and raised Cerberus from her waist, letting the chain links jingle in front of her.

"Thank you." The trooper said matter-of-factly. "Please remove all of your weapons and place them on the table. Once that process is complete, I'm going to search you. Failing that, you're welcome to leave the facility. The choice is up to you."

"We have no objection to being searched," Whitehand said, as the two women placed their weapons on the table.

The second trooper sitting behind the desk withdrew a sheet of paper from the folder, and held it up for a side by side comparison.

"Could I have your identity code please?

"GXY-626." The External Security agent rattled off with a bored drawl. The code was seemingly correct, because the first trooper slid the note back into the folder, saluted, and allowed them to pass.

The stairs led to a short corridor on the first floor with a single door at the end. One camera had watched the two on their way up. A second followed as Whitehand stepped onto a strange metal platform in front of the door and looked into a glass panel set in the wall. Behind the glass, there was a biometric scanner that took an instant image of the unique pattern of blood vessels on the retina behind herl eye and matched them against a computer at the reception desk below. If an enemy agent had tried to gain access to the room, they would have triggered a eight-hundred-volt electric charge through the metal floor plate, immobilising her instantly. But she was no enemy. The door slid open, and they went in.

Sienna sighed internally for the sixteenth time as she entered the general's office. She'd really wished she wouldn't have to come here. Its absence had been a pleasant thing.

But things had changed, in a bloody, awful kind of way, and here she was.

She had to play this carefully. By all accounts, the General was a man of his word, which certainly boded well, if she could get him to help. However one only needed to look at Belladonna to see the power of good PR at work. From personal experience, competency tended to have a negative correlation with authority as you moved up the hierarchy.

The man had clearly made the best of the location, though Sienna could still spot the mechanical sterility of the rest of the structure under the sterwood-framed pictures and regional maps. As for the man himself, she guessed she was looking at him. He cut an imposing figure; well dressed, clean shaven in a white overcoat, and a red necktie sat at a pristine desk, a broad forehead magnified by his receding hairline. Dark blue eyes inspected her with tightly controlled anger, simmering in his features. His gaze lingered with what might have been curiosity or distaste or perhaps a little of both.

"Sienna Khan, unless I'm greatly mistaken. He said coldly. "I've been expecting your arrival for some time now." So her request hadn't gone unnoticed beneath the usual mounds of paperwork. Fantastic. "I'm General Ironwood. On behalf of the Atlesian Military, I greet you. It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

"Likewise," she responded calmly.

She could tell he was turning over a dozen possibilities in his mind, considering and eliminating each one in a matter of seconds. Finally, the General's lips thinned, but he displayed no other reaction.

A white haired girl in a beret, maybe slightly younger than Sienna herself, stood at his side, glaring and seething with fury at another girl with copper hair in similar attire. A Schnee , Sienna realized, noticing her attire for the first time. long-sleeved shirt with gray pocket-vest jacket. These were accompanied by a pair of immaculate white dress gloves and a dark-gray tie. The sabre on her waist was also something that didn't go unnoticed.

By her dress, Sienna could only assume that she was an Atlas Military cadet, or a graduate. She couldn't tell if Ironwood had meant to insult her with the girl's presence, or if it was genuinely a matter of ensuring she had come in good faith. Time would tell.

Before Sienna could analyze further, the girl with copper hair spoke.

"Might I suggest that Ms Schnee take part in solo recreational reproduction exercises? Studies show they've been proven to relieve stress."

"What are you talking about?" The Schnee remarked, a face that resembled pumice matching her shrill incredulous tone.

"Apologies. I believe the correct colloquial term is; Why don't you go fu-"

"Penny."

Despite herself, Sienna nearly laughed, and to her surprise, it wasn't just nerves. There was something about the near deadpan intonation of the ginger girl's words that seemed hilariously incongruous to her. It was so lifeless, and yet, there was also something so decidedly flippant about the way she reacted to what was supposed to be a dressing down.

Ironwood pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long suffering sigh that Sienna was only too familiar with of late. More than that, it humanised him, almost as much as those council videos did. The sense of power and almost, menace he had commanded seemed to rush away, leaving the vision of a man burdened by responsibility. It cemented, more than anything, that she had made the right choice.

"Cadet Schnee. You're dismissed. And I had better not see you in this office again for assaulting another cadet. You graduate in a week, and if you don't shape up, I will have you on punishment detail from now until the end of time. Am I clear? "

The Schnee's scowl could have frozen the air itself. "Yes, Sir." She turned on her heel, and briskly marched out of the room, nearly bumping Sienna's shoulder as she passed and leaving the man behind his desk.

"And you, Mar- Penny. He amended hastily, clearly reminding himself of Sienna's presence."Report to Doctor Polendina for a check up. We'll see if he can prescribe anything about these… behavioural difficulties. After that, report back here for reassignment."

Penny stared blankly at the general, and for a brief second, he could have sworn he saw a lightning storm of emotions cross her eyes; abhorrence, annoyance, anger, ending in the same dead eyed stare that he had grown used to since her inception. But now, it seemed…. different. Instead of lifelessness, it reminded him much more of a shark's smile. It was without doubt, concerning. But before he could process what he'd seen, she too, had saluted, turned on her heel, and made her exit.

He cleared his throat, regained his composure and finally turned his attention to the last two people in the room.

"So." Ironwood leaned forward, steepling his fingers. What can I do for you?"