Hiding amongst the cargo in one of the train cars, Blake readies herself to dismount. She had managed to remain hidden despite the best efforts of the train crew, but she could only stow away for so long. Employees of the Schnee Dust Company would likely conduct a more thorough search at the train station, so Blake leaps from the train car and onto the cold-hardened ground below – tucking and rolling with her aura up to brace for the impact. Rising to her feet, she dusts herself off before following the train tracks toward her destination.

A few moments afterward, several gunshots ring out in the direction of the city of Vale. Blake assumes that this must be a hunter or huntress attempting to clear the area of Grimm and continues to follow the train tracks through the forest. Then, suddenly, a girl's scream erupts from the same direction, and Blake abruptly comes to the conclusion that something is not right. That yell was an expression of terror and a cry for help rolled into one, an all-too-familiar call of raw desperation. She must do something.

The scream is followed by several more gunshots as Blake races through the forest to the scene of the commotion, spotting a girl dressed in black and red shooting a rifle at an Ursa in desperation as the beast charges. Blake sprints towards the pair, using her Semblance to produce a shadow clone which propels her forward just enough that she can wedge herself in between the girl and the Grimm. Gambol Shroud barely blocks the beast's claws before they can impale her, and the Ursa's weight bears down on Blake's blade – attempting to break her guard.

"Get out of here!" Blake shouts back at the girl, who pushes herself up from the ground before fleeing at an incredible pace. Blake turns her attention back to the fight, summoning another shadow clone to take her place as she sidesteps the Ursa, slicing at its torso then vaulting backward to assess her surroundings.

Blake stands in a clearing, a couple feet from a ledge of packed earth. To her other side is thick tree cover, which she elects to take shelter within, ducking behind a tree trunk a fraction of a second before it is felled by an incoming strike of claws. Blake steps up onto the sliced tree trunk, vaulting off of it, then running a few steps up a neighboring tree before powerfully launching herself into a backflip. At its highest point, she launches Gambol Shroud's ribboned blade, propelling its weighted end around the Ursa's neck with a gunshot.

The hooking mechanism clicks into place just before Blake lands behind the beast tightening the makeshift noose around its neck. Grimm don't breathe, but the force of her pulling the Ursa, who had until then been balancing on its hind legs, backward with all of her might staggers the beast. Unhooking Gambol Shroud with one final yank, Blake dashes forward, propelling herself to the other side of the Ursa with a shadow clone, hoping to slice deeply into its vulnerable underbelly.

As soon as her blade meets the beast's flesh, however, another gunshot rings out, and the Ursa begins to topple. Gambol Shroud digs into its torso for good measure, but the Grimm is already beginning to disintegrate into a black mist, leaving only its claws, some bony plating, and its skull.

Relaxing her stance, Blake takes a deep breath through her nose before walking over to retrieve the skull. Bending down, she scans the clearing for the source of the bullet. A bright red blur ducks behind a mound of melting snow, the pom-pom of their hat still visible at a distance. Blake sighs, then begins her approach.

"This is what you were after, right?" Blake asks once she is close enough to speak without shouting. She tosses the Ursa skull towards the other girl, who catches it in both hands.

"Don't do this again," Blake warns, deadpan.

"I won't. But hey – I'm alive, aren't I?" The other girl chuckles, before offering a nervous smile to Blake – like this is some sort of social event. Like she expects them to be friends now.

"You can't always count on somebody to save you. It was just dumb luck that you survived this time," Blake informs – a frigid, bitter edge to her voice. The words are harsh, but better to warn her now than have to read her obituary in the local paper later. She brushes past the other girl, leaving her standing there alone in the cold as she heads towards Vale.


After making her way within the city walls, Blake navigates towards Beacon Academy – her target destination. It is slightly over a day before the entrance ceremony, but fortunately, the dormitories are open early to students who inform the school of some need for housing between semesters.

Blake elects to stop at a convenience store just outside of campus for the necessities, then to the residential life desk for her room key. She fills out the form in silence, trusting that her identity, partially falsified, is ironclad. As Blake hands the form over to the employee, they give it a cursory glance, before retrieving her room key. They look as if they want to mention something, but Blake just snatches up her key with a scowl before striding off.

Faunus supposedly don't have a heightened sense of smell – at least according to all credible academic literature on the subject, but Blake considers herself an exception to the rule. And right now, she really needs a shower.

Finding her way to room 111, Blake turns the key in the lock, opening the door. She closes the door behind her with her foot, fishing in her plastic convenience store bag for her toiletries. Once they have been procured, it's off to banish the cocktail of unpleasant odors from the surface of her skin.


Blake has come out of the shower and is quickly drying her cat ears with a towel, when a blonde haired girl suddenly barges into her room. The blonde's eyes widen, and she blurts:

"Shit, sorry!" before slamming the door closed.

Blake is stunned into silence, blinking a few times before the panic sets in. Oh gods. Her ears had been out. She takes a slow, deep breath to calm herself. It is the case that she cannot change the events which have already occurred, so why agonize over her mistakes? Perhaps the mission is still salvageable, if she plays her cards right going forward.

When Blake is decent, she lets the blonde back into the room.

"I assume that the suitcase I didn't notice tucked under the bed is yours?" Blake asks.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry about this. I didn't think that anyone else would be staying here until the start of the year," the blonde explains, absent-mindedly scratching the back of her head in sheepish embarrassment. "I'm Yang, by the way."

"Blake," Blake answers, not taking the hand outstretched conspicuously into her personal space.

"Nice to meet you, Blake," Yang replies with a smile. It seems genuine enough. Blake relaxes somewhat at the sight. This could work out, she thinks.

"Mhm. Hey, could I ask you a favor?" Blake ventures.

"Sure! Go ahead," Yang answers, expectant.

"Please, keep the fact that I'm a Faunus a secret," Blake requests. "The school already knows, it's just –"

"You don't want to draw extra attention to yourself. I understand," Yang reassures. "Your secret is safe with me."


That night, laying in bed, Blake organizes her thoughts. She begins by dissecting her interactions with Yang earlier in the day.

It seems like Yang is sympathetic to her situation. Many refuse to acknowledge the negative attention that being a Faunus often brings, but Yang has recognized that it is an ongoing issue. That, at least, bodes well for their future interactions. She has even vowed to keep Blake's secret, though only time will tell if Yang's word will be kept.

The only small issue with this course of action, assuming that Yang is trustworthy, is that Yang believes that the school faculty knows that Blake is a Faunus. It is mandated that this information be provided for school records, so exposure could result in Blake's suspension or even expulsion, even without anyone knowing that she is a member of the White Fang. Blake would have to monitor Yang's interactions with school faculty where she could – just to be safe.

Ideally, Blake would like to be placed in a team with Yang to make surveillance and further analysis of her character easier, but such things will likely be out of her control, given Blake's research regarding past team selection events. A few moments pass, and Blake catches herself wondering how this mission would have gone if Adam had accompanied her here. She hopes that the rest of the train heist went smoothly for Adam. Hopes that he is safe. Feels herself sinking into worry for a few moments before managing to reassure herself. Adam will be alright. Blake knows it. No matter the distance, they would always be there for each other – comrades in arms.


Adam arrives at the White Fang Regional Headquarters, having stopped briefly to dole out the funds procured from his most recent mission to a courier affiliated with the movement, who would covertly pass them on to the miners in Vacuo. Adam doubts that this pittance will make much of a difference, though. He has seen for himself the demeaning conditions and treatment made commonplace at Schnee Dust Company's facilities.

Adam and several other high-ranking agents of the White Fang have gathered in the meeting room. High Leader Sienna Khan stands at the head of the table, her hands folded behind her back in a dignified manner. Sienna takes a moment to clear her throat, looking over each of her most trusted underlings before opening her mouth to speak:

"Greetings, allies of the White Fang. I have called this meeting in order to impart some distressing news. The following clips may be disheartening, but I do not expect them to be shocking. That is, instead of poorly directed anger, I urge each of you to channel your righteous indignation into furthering our cause – hand in hand with the Fang," Sienna begins, before retrieving a Scroll from her robe and placing it in the center of the table. She then presses the play button.

What is projected out for all to hear are grainy recordings of politicians' voices, all cut together. Their words are not all said with the harsh vitriol of an inveterate bigot, but the message is clear. Faunus are not viewed as a part of humanity, but an intrusion upon it.

From Brann Slate, a politician who opposes many Faunus rights initiatives:

"As these movements progress, you have to adapt to them. You can start off just callin' 'em ferals and that's enough, but as that becomes less acceptable, you have to present a ticket whose language has been softened a bit. We are still, of course, runnin' on the same principles: these strays will never be a true part of civilized society, but good luck tryin' to get anyone to say it outright anywhere but behind closed doors."

Ironic.

Adam's teeth grit at the slur. The word 'ferals' has a long history in Remnant, originating with the common human misconception that Faunus, due to their animal characteristics, are prone to bouts of violent anger – that their very existence is a threat, and thus incompatible with a peaceful society.

From Anton Lockley, a politician who broadly supports Faunus rights, at least on paper:

"They've got spirit, that's for sure. Pity I can't do anything for those strays. My hands are tied; they just don't make up enough of the voter base here for me to risk losing another election on their behalf. Faunus are on their own."

The term 'strays' is not much better than 'ferals', in Adam's mind. Often used as a catch-all, informal name for Faunus – especially those of lower economic classes, it suggests that they are unwanted. That they are a parasitic mass adhered to the bottommost segments of society – a festering tumor that must be excised. Hearing it used by Lockley so casually is salt in a wound Adam thought he had stitched closed long ago.

On and on the recording goes, spanning the entire spectrum of prejudicial sentiment. This was evidence of what Adam had always known: that the institutions of Remnant not only are indifferent to the plight of Faunus, but actively work to worsen their lives. They are rotten to the core, and must be torn down – rebuilt from scratch with Faunus liberation as the highest priority.

Adam's thoughts race. Surely, High Leader Sienna has shown them this recording for a reason. Perhaps she too has seen the current conditions for the dismal, untenable brutality that they undoubtedly are. Perhaps she too doubts the efficacy of their current protest methods. Adam holds on to hope as he readies his query.

"High leader, what are we to do in retaliation?" Adam asks, probing for some indication that the White Fang will be mounting a real, widespread offensive.

"We stay the course – keep pressing, like we always do."

"But leader –"

"No."

Adam's heart sinks, the optimism quickly bleeding into anger and frustration. He balls his hands into tight fists, speaking through gritted teeth. He has already stood up from his chair.

"Fine. If impotent, performative gestures towards the cause are all that we can muster, then the White Fang can look for support elsewhere. I'm done lying down and taking it, and I'm sure others will feel the same."

"So be it."

With one last resentful glance in the direction of Sienna Khan, Adam turns away from the table, swiftly walking out of the meeting room and into the corridor outside. He does not look back.


Adam enters the seedy bar, his guard up as he scans the interior for that ridiculous white suit. This was where Torchwick and Cinder had arranged for them to meet, ostensibly to talk about future business with the White Fang, but it could still be a set-up. He spots the pair against a wall near the back right corner of the room – neither of them sitting. Torchwick nurses a glass of brandy, which he downs upon noticing their guest.

"Ah! Just who we wanted to see," Torckwick greets with enthusiasm. "Would you like a drink, or should we get straight down to business?"

"I don't drink," Adam responds, without a hint of emotion despite his slight annoyance with Torchwick's overly friendly attitude.

"Very well, then. To the back it is. We'll have more privacy there," Torchwick states, gesturing for Adam to follow as he begins ambling towards a wooden doorway near the bar. Torchwick allows CInder to enter the room first with a flourish of his hand, before stepping in himself. Adam hesitates outside, and a moment later, Torchwick's muffled voice can be heard through the door:

"Are ya coming or not?"

Adam sighs and turns the doorknob, entering the back rooms of the bar. A small seating room greets Adam. Torchwick has already made himself comfortable in one of the worn armchairs – his feet propped up on the coffee table and cane hung from his left wrist. Cinder stands behind him with her arms crossed – an unreadable expression adorning her face. It's… unsettling, in a word.

Once Adam has approached, settling himself in the armchair opposite the pair, he begins to state his proposal:

"Myself and a few of our less… spineless comrades have broken off from the White Fang. We don't believe that the organization as it exists currently serves our interests adequately."

"I'm listening…"

"We would like to enter into a mutually beneficial agreement. We need firepower. The kind that cannot be traced by most means. Therefore, no weapon identification numbers can be present. Moreover, the bullets must be standard issue and all of similar caliber. Dust would be appreciated, but is less urgently needed. I know that you and your connections have been amassing that, at the very least. I need not ask what you are doing with it. As long as it is out of Schnee hands, our goals align. Although, if it is just going to sit in some warehouse somewhere, I urge you both to hand it off to us, where it can be put to use. The days of silently enduring the abuse we receive at the hands of society are over. We will – we must – take action."

A smile creeps onto Cinder's face – almost smug. Her eyes seem to glow a faint orange, like the embers of a dying flame in the dim light. Stepping forward, she speaks, her voice nearly a purr:

"Adam, if what you are telling us is true, I believe we have much, much more to talk about."


Hello, everyone! Sorry for the delay, and thank you for reading my fic. As always, I'd love to hear what you all thought if you have the time.

I recently got a Tumblr as well, so come and yell at me over there, if you want. oblivionessfics.