Ok, so. There's a lot of worries I have over this fic, but I'm writing it. Whoopee! The author's note will have some notes. Just a note, the White Fang in this story will not be the White Fang in canon.
A red haired and bull horned boy walked into the streets of Mantle with nothing but jeans, a white shirt, a jacket, cloth covering half their face, and a katana with its blade stained red. The scabbard was smooth, traditional, well cleaned. The boy, barely an adult, could hardly say the same. Though their face kept stoic, the one eye that could be seen was shaking. In the space of a day, their entire life had changed. And after what felt like years wandering the Solitanian tundra, he was found face first in the snow, his red hair being a defining feature.
They thought the smell of blood coming off of him was because he was a survivor of a Grimm attack. The haunted look only sold it. Adam Taurus never corrected them. After bringing him here, they dropped him off. He couldn't really blame them. He was a random survivor, they might've thought he had relatives in Mantle. Regardless, he was now here. He had some money, scraps he managed to scrounge up in his hurry to leave. Money he took to a small establishment. It was a cheap fast food place, the type of stuff his mom and dad would never forgive him for eating. But it was cheap and lien was scarce for him.
He got stares. For one, the small nicks and scars on his face. For two, the piece of cloth he had wrapped around half of his head like an eyepatch. For three, his horns. They were staring. He hated the staring, this was a new feeling. They were humans as well. He couldn't tell where the staring was coming from, it wasn't everyone. Sure, a few may've given him odd looks, but they moved on with their days soon after. No, someone was keeping their gaze on him. He shook it off, starvation was of a greater concern. He hadn't had anything to eat in a while.
So, without much else to do, he ate the burger he had purchased.
The guards sometimes took pleasure in mocking him for eating beef. Adam never knew why it was such a big deal. Sure, he ate beef. But what does it matter? He had to live and they gave beef. He knew a few people at the camp that were against this sort of pseudo-spiritual-cannibalism, he was fairly sure it was a religious thing. Adam didn't personally subscribe to it, but he respected the resolve to keep that restriction. He knew a chicken Faunus who refused to eat the chicken noodle soup that they served for a week straight. It was apparently put on the table because of budgetary restriction, which Adam could believe. Didn't make it an easier pill to swallow though.
Grumbling, Adam once more put it off his mind. That life was behind him. He could live in peace, like his parents always dreamed. His debt was wiped clean, maybe a life in Mantle would be better than that in the camps. It'd certainly be less restrictive, he supposed.
Crumbling up the paper his burger came with, he walked out of the joint. The burger was fine. Greasy, simple, and overwhelmed in taste by the cheap ketchup he put on it. But it was still food and he was starving. He didn't have the privilege to complain, really. His body felt hollow as he walked, probably given how he didn't know where he wanted to go. What life could an ex-camp worker with no documentation whatsoever have?
A lost bull in the city,
without a purpose,
waiting to die like the rest.
His mind went back to old habits. Habits he got from his parents. God, they were always so happy whenever he wrote those. Now he was crying, the stoic facade leaking just a little as he took a breather. No need to be seen in public crying. He dipped into an alleyway and let the tears flow. They were gone. And now he was alone. His breathing calmed a bit, he could build a new life. He had to. His parents had worked their entire life trying to clear the debt they had been tricked into taking when they found out they were having a child. They always told him that they would be able to live somewhere nice. They always talked about having a farm in the countryside, somewhere peaceful. But an idyllic life in the city didn't sound too bad either.
His thoughts to the future were interrupted by a scoff.
"Ey, boys. Look, it's an animal! What you crying about? Did your mommy fall into a grinder?" Three people, blocking his exit to the alleyway. Males, on the young end. Adam could see marks, odd marks. Animal skulls, bows, tenderizers. Each had their own type. One of them had a pipe. "And look! He's got a weapon! I bet he can't cut shit with that, probably something he got from a museum. Bet it's rusty and dull! Just like him!" At this extremely bad insult, the man's cronies laughed along.
Adam stayed silent, but his fist clenched. There were lines one didn't cross. He could ignore the animal remarks. He could ignore the grinder remark. But he wouldn't ignore any slander on his blade. That just wouldn't do.
"Wilt and Blush are in fine condition." He was getting really annoyed. He was going to have to walk away soon. No point in getting into a fight immediately.
"And look! The animal's friends have names! Alright boys, show this burger-to-be what happens to animals in this part of town!" One of the man's cronies with a pipe nodded with a sadistic smile before coming forward. Their stance was poor, the swing was overextended. But before Adam could react in any way, something fell in the darkness. A wide silhouette appeared behind Adam, kicking up some dust and trash when they landed. The attacker stopped immediately as the figure stood up, revealing large bat wings.
"I." Their voice was unnecessarily gravely. "AM BATMAN!" They spread their wings out wide, almost reaching both walls of the alleyway. At the mention of the name, the two lesser goons began quivering in their boots and bolted. The third, the one who was doing the most trash talk, seemed a bit cowed at the sudden appearance of the most unoriginally named vigilante ever. Adam sighed, maybe he should've been left in the tundra. Oh well, it was better than having to deal with these guys by himself.
"O-oh, yea? So what? What you gonna do?"
"What I always do. Give a warning first. If you cause anymore trouble, I can't promise I'll stay peaceful." The very poorly creatively impaired individual was wearing a mask. A ski mask. And a black turtleneck sweater. Adam sighed, those assholes were even more pathetic than he thought if they were cowed by this guy. Still, he appreciated the effort taken. The man scoffed.
"I'm not afraid of you! You aren't even armed!" The man, unwisely, decided that pulling a gun was a good move. And so, they did. They pulled out a fucking SDC standard 9mm pistol and aimed it at the bat man. But, given they were a civilian who was very clearly scared of the masked man, their hand shook and the bullet instead went towards Adam.
The bat person, not knowing that Adam already had his aura unlocked in the camps, coated the man with their wings, allowing the bullet to hit their extra apendages with the shimmer of grey light. The bullet flattened and the man with a gun, who saw the fury in the bat person's eyes, dropped it and began to run. The bat person let out a sigh as that happened and let go of Adam.
"Thanks." If worse came to worse, Adam could've defended himself. By the looks of it, none of them had aura or training. He had aura and just a bit of it. So it wasn't like it was a fair fight or he needed help. But it wasn't like he was in a position to deny help.
"No problem!" The weird bat man then coughed because of their stupidly gritty voice. "Oh god, how do I do that all night!? Ugh, nevermind. So, we should probably get running." The man's voice was now clear, that of someone in their 20s.
"Why?"
"Cause a gun just went off and if a cop sees a Faunus near the scene, they're going to the slammer. Grab the gun, by the way." Adam shrugged, nothing else to do. He pocketed the pistol and began running through the alleyways with the weird bat man. After a few minutes of running, the weird man lead him to a run down two room apartment, one with a bed, posters, a laptop on a desk, an old TV, a sink, a stove, a bathroom, and not much else. Adam probably should've been worried about that fact, but he wasn't exactly unarmed and he didn't exactly have much else to do. Once the weird bat man knew they were safe, he took off his ski mask, revealing a dark orange goatee, spiky hair, and a perpetual grin. "Oh yea, I'm Yuma, by the way. Just your friendly neighborhood Batman!" Yuma chuckled as Adam gave him a deadpan stare. "Not much for laughs, are ya?"
"I'm sorry, bat man?"
"Batman. One word." Adam's eye squinted, wordlessly pondering if there was a difference. "Anyways, you're not the first to think it's dumb. Trifa never gets off my case about it. Regardless, sorry for getting ya involved in that. Could I have the gun?"
"Why?"
"Eh, it's useful for us." Adam raised an eyebrow. "What? You don't know who I work for?"
"No."
"Jeez, ya new in town or something?" Adam nodded. "Ah, sorry then. Well, I'm part of the White Fang, ring any bells?" Adam shook his head. Outside news was rare in the camps. Scroll usage was at a premium and there were much more important things than keeping up with the news. Things like calling relatives and checking finances were much more important. "Well, we're just some guys who came together and started pooling food and dust and stuff. You know how cold the buildings can be sometimes? Yea, we're trying to stop that. Anyways, we also do some policing stuff, get gangs to not fuck stuff up, dealing with supremacists, and also making sure the cops don't get any ideas. You know how they can be."
"If they're anything like the guards in the camp, then yes, I do."
"Shit, you a chattel boy?" Adam snarled at the title. "Woah! Woah! Calm down, dude. I'm sorry, yea. I've only heard horror stories about the shit that goes down there. But, well, you're in Mantle. It's only about 1% better here."
"I doubt that."
"Yea, most do. Anyways, the gun?"
"Could I have some money?"
"... Dude, first of all, does it look like I run a bank?" Yuma pointed around the apartment. The bed was dirty and half torn apart, with blankets that looked more like repurposed curtains. He only had two dishes a bowl and a plate. His 'metalware' was a pot and ladel. His fridge had nothing. The paint on his walls was chipping. "Second of all, if you want money, you don't have to sell me a gun for it. Like, seriously. Go to the food bank we run on Millson Street, they're the place to go for people who need help setting up home." Adam raised an eyebrow.
"I'm still keeping it." It would be a good idea to. Sure, he loved Wilt and Blush, but it was still just a katana. With aura, it could definitely be very deadly, but it still lacked range. Yuma, recognizing a lost cause, put his hands up in a resigned manner.
"Got it man, you do you. It's not like I need the weapon. Anyways, sorry for causing you the trouble. Have a good day- uh, what's your name?"
"Adam, Adam Taurus."
"Ah, gotcha! Alright Adam, maybe we'll see each other later. For now though? BATMAN AWAY!" Yuma chuckled before walking out of his apartment. Adam, now with a solid lead on what to do, shrugged and walked to where he'd probably find the food bank on Millson Street.
A few hours later, he'd find it. It was in the 'Zoo Slums,' as it was apparently called. Adam sighed, exasperated by the name, but bore with it. Menagerie was named after the same principle. Adam saw it as a spit in the face, but he could understand those who tired of the fighting and sought to create their own state. Back to the food bank, he walked onto a bustling street to see the building packed. It was a repurposed food court, the original sign being painted over with 'bank' over court. Adam walked in and promptly received no attention.
Funny, he found it comforting.
He walked into a line and listened into the banal chatter. Most were just eating their meals in silence, but some groups were having jovial chatter. It wasn't exactly uncommon. Beer was provided freely in the camps as a way of boosting morale. Some men were getting into an argument before the person at the counter barked at them, eye twitching. When it came for him to receive his hot meal, he was talking to that same person. She had grey hair and marks running down her body, probably her Faunus trait. Adam didn't pay too much attention, they'd seen weirder things.
"Tomato soup, chicken soup, pea soup, mashed potatoes with some gravy, and rice. Take your pick." She seemed a bit gruff and terse, but Adam didn't mind. Behind the apron she wore there were clothes, cheap clothes. Worn clothes. She was in a situation like him, and was in charity. It was a virtue Adam couldn't help but admire. Even old Bit, who was in a frankly comical amount of debt in the camps, offered food and whatever luxuries he was given to the children. The only reason he didn't have any of his own in his entire life of being in the camp was because 'I cannot in good conscious curse another to bear my burden.' While Adam was thinking, the lady got a bit impatient. "Well? If you don't pick, I'll be handing you some random slop I got from the sewers."
"Oh, sorry." Adam really shouldn't be wasting her time. There was an entire line behind him that were probably hungrier and definitely getting impatient as well. It wasn't even that long, but Adam felt bad regardless. "Uh, rice with some chicken soup, please." The girl raised an eyebrow but shrugged. Not her place to question. She barked the order back and Adam was quickly handed a bowl with some freshly cooked rice and chicken soup. Adam took it and a spoon and moved over to a table without anyone sitting at it. He checked his side, made sure Wilt and Blush were still there, and took to his meal with a spoon.
In the time since meeting that weirdo and walking here, it had taken hours. That was why he was having a meal. Housing and resources were probably given at the less populated stand in the food court. A few people were there, one of them signing a contract and another looking at some papers. It also helped that there was a large sign saying 'Essential Aid' over the thing. Another repurposed shop was labelled 'documentation.' The purposes went on and on. From therapy, to even a small donation center. To Adam, it was a reminder of one of the few good parts of the camps: The community. Adam and his family had been moved a lot, but no matter what, the other workers welcomed them with open arms.
Some old dog faunus was playing a game of yahtzee with a younger bird faunus while laughing as the dice landed on some unfortunate numbers. Some poor faunus youths were having an arm wrestling tournament in the corner, with an untouched bag of candy in the trash as the grand prize. Adam chuckled. During break times, they'd play rock paper scissors a lot in the camp. The kids, who were exempt from most work, made up plenty of obscene rules as the game got boring.
Someone sat across from him. A new face. Adam looked over with his one eye to see a woman. Short black hair, light orange feline ears, dark skin, and a red dot on her forehead. She wore an expensive looking coat. Taking in all of that, Adam could only assume she was the boss of the place, given how she could afford to wear such a fine looking piece of clothing. Her hands were callused and through her sleeve Adam could see stripes. Probably a spiritual thing, he reckoned.
"Hello." Her voice was pleasant enough. She offered him no polite smile or a scowl, just a neutral face. "I'm sorry for intruding, I make it a habit to memorize the names of everyone who come here. When I saw a newcomer, I became a bit curious."
"Adam Taurus." He managed to get it out after pausing his consumption of his soup-rice. Again, he had his parents to thank for learning about that heavenly combination.
"Hello Adam. I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Sienna Khan, manager of the Millson Street White Fang food bank." Adam let loose a sigh.
"And why are you talking to me?" Sienna seemed indifferent to the casual annoyance.
"For no reason. I simply saw a new face and wished to speak with them." Adam raised an eyebrow. She was in a position of power. What was her sales pitch? "I'm being honest. I find that politicians often feel themselves isolated from their constituents. It's by necessity, I suppose, but I do not wish to be a politician. If I did, I'd take the path of the Lion and walk proud into the council chamber before promptly doing nothing for our people." She let loose a darkly amused chuckle. "No, no. In my off time here, I simply wish to talk to those who come here. I might've talked to Kiln about his wife, but I saw someone new."
... Adam still wasn't convinced. The guard 'just wanted to talk.' The overseer 'just wanted to talk.' It always started like that. And even if she was a Faunus, distrust for authority ran deep.
"I can see you are wary. And, I suppose that is fair." Sienna shrugged. "I simply wish to make some polite conversation. I find that meals taste better when enjoyed with good company."
"And you're good company?" Adam asked as he put another spoonful of his fairly good lunch in his mouth.
"My, such a piercing stab! How will I ever cope?" She rolled her eyes. "Have you seen Shrine Park?"
"Hmm?"
"I'll take that as a no. It was established during the Great War, when the Faunus were moved into 'Zoo Slums.' Despite that ugly bit of history, it's a lovely place. You can find pictures and statues of the Furfather, the Scaleforger, the Ten Winged Bird, the Thousands Horns, and many others."
"Again, why tell me this?"
"You're from the camps, aren't you?" Adam clammed up, spoon dropping into the bowl. "I can tell. It's the cloth. It's not a wound, you'd have bandage then. And it's not a normal scar, most wouldn't feel the need to obsessively make sure the cloth is tight enough." Adam shrunk a bit, was he really that obvious? "The only reason why you'd want to hide it is if it's a mark of shame. And I know better than most what that feels like." She tipped her tiger ears over to reveal some scarring, cuts that were made. "I just felt like letting you know of an area you might want to go to."
"I'm not an Animist." He didn't believe in Anima, the universally accepted Faunus God. What creator of theirs would allow them to suffer a fate like this?
"And I'm not a priest." She leaned back once more and saw the time. "Before I leave, could I have your name?"
"Adam." She waited on. "Taurus." She nodded.
"Well then, Adam, I suppose this shall be the conclusion of our meeting. I can tell you are troubled and I do sincerely wish you find peace. I bid you farewell." Sienna got up and walked away, allowing Adam to finish what was left of his meal in peace. He was still skeptical of her. But he wasn't given some shady offer or threatened or anything.
Regardless of any of that, he had to set himself up. And that meant documentation, housing, and a job.
Adam, for once, started out very optimistic. He was given an apartment and documentation. Sure, it was pretty shit. It was small, he one room only, he needed to go to a communal bathroom to relieve himself, and had to pay to use a public bath if he wanted to clean himself, but it was still his own place! And his rent was covered for a while and his neighbors hadn't shown their faces yet. He was given some money, which allowed him to buy a futon and a coffee table for his apartment. That was really all he needed. Oh, and a whetstone for Wilt and Blush. He had to keep that thing sharp. And on him.
That optimism was promptly ground to dust over the next week.
"Back again? What was it you said last time, you'll get a job that pays good enough so you won't have to deal with me?" Sienna Khan sat smugly across from Adam, who had his hands cupped and his face embracing them. Every single god damned evening, after he came from another litany of failed job interviews he came to the food court and ate his dinner while Sienna, for some reason, talked to him. He was turned away from practically every single god damned decent job he could find. Janitor? No experience. Fast food worker? Bad appearance. Bartender? 'Sanitary concerns.' And even he wasn't desperate enough to go to the mines or factories. There was a reason he left the camps.
"Shut. Up. Sienna." Adam forced the words from his mouth. His frustration was mounting. Sure, he never went hungry, he was eternally thankful for the existence of the Millson Street food bank for that. Well, minus the part where Sienna just strikes up conversation with him. At first, he suspected something bad. Now, he was almost definitely sure she was just trying to annoy him.
"My, finally calling me by my first name?" And she loved to get on his nerves.
"No Adam, do not gut the lady." He muttered to himself, unaware she could hear him.
"Oh, I wouldn't be too confident. I'm actually a huntress, you know." He raised an eyebrow, wasn't she from Menagerie? "Just because Menagerie doesn't have a huntsman academy doesn't mean we don't deal with the Grimm. I've had many years of active duty in Menagerie before I focused on something larger than Grimm. So before threatening me, I'd suggest having the skills to back your threats up." Sienna offered the most infuriating smile as Adam could only bristle. After a moment, he managed to calm himself, realizing that people were noticing him. He was being unfair to her.
"I apologize. It's just that the frustration is getting to me." A week. A week of going to various places, asking for a job, and being told no a variety of, sometimes legit, and sometimes very thinly veiled racist reasons.
"On that, I can sympathize." She sighed and looked Adam in the eye in such a way that made him uncomfortable. He squirmed under he gaze before she tilted her head and leaned forward. "Hmmm, do you know what I see when I look into your eyes?" Sienna's voice was more contemplative.
"What?" He kind of wasn't in the mood for this lady's weird psychoanalysis.
"I see wasted potential lacking in direction." Scratch that, he really wasn't in the mood for Sienna's psychoanalysis. "You don't carry purpose when you walk, Adam. Yes, you carry yourself with a straight back, but I don't think you have a reaosn to. You're going through the expected motions. You have no higher purpose to follow."
"And what would you suggest?" Honestly, listening to her ramble on couldn't be any worse than failing to get a job.
"The better question is, what do you want, Adam?" That was a good question, what did he want? He was just taking care of his base needs of shelter and food. He hadn't had a direction for a while now. "I know you carry a sword, Adam. For what reason would you draw it? What brings out your ambition?" Adam thought for a moment. He saw too things when he looked to the side in thought. He saw children, happily playing with each other despite the worries of the world. And in his covered eye, he could see himself, weeping as he felt the immense pain and shame that coursed through him after receiving his brand.
He felt the sudden desire to stand up. He felt something stirring in him.
"To protect our people, to act as a shield. I want this place to no longer be a necessity. I want us Faunus to gather here not because the whims of man said we must, lest we starve, but because we chose to have our meals together, to bond as a community." Sienna smiled.
"That is a very ambitious vision, you know. Not one I think we might see in our lifetime, but we can always work towards it. Well, Adam, would you like to become a member of the White Fang?"
...
"Aren't you a charity?" Sienna paused for a moment before sighing.
"Legally, no. Functionally, yes, we are, actually. That doesn't mean you won't receive pay. On top of that, we'll offer you free rent on your apartment and free meals whenever you're doing work in the kitchens. The job will entail various things, whatever we need, really. One day you might be out in the frontier protecting a Faunus village from Grimm, the next you'll be acting as a cook here." Sienna was being rather upfront about the whole thing. And honestly, Adam thought it was a good offer. Free rent, decent enough pay, and fulfilling work? That was something Adam could get behind. And he was getting rather rusty with Wilt. His paranoia still lingered, but it was overwhelmed with desire.
Desire to prevent what happened to his parents from happening to anyone else. Desire to make sure nobody starved. Desire to stick it to the society that let him be branded like cattle. It all came down to desire in the end, he supposed.
"Fine, you have a deal."
So, first of all. This will be ignoring canon. Second of all, I don't like how the White Fang is written in canon. Actually, scratch that, I just kind of don't appreciate how Faunus racism is really explored in canon. I could go onto a five thousand word rant about why I don't like the way they're written and the implications the way they're written has, but honestly I'd rather not. Just like, watch youtube or something. In any works I do write in the future, I'd hopefully probably avoid using them as 'easy bake bad guys.' Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy. For any wondering about how this fic will effect my update schedules, my hopes is that updates will alternate between the two.
