Traitor
The masks of the White Fang served multiple purposes. The first was obvious: to avoid persecution. The second: to serve as a singular symbol to be recognized and feared by all humans. The third, however, was less known: it was meant to hide the expressions of their users. Whether they were weeping, afraid or furious, they would always look brave, confident, or at the very least, cold.
And yet, even through the slits in his own mask, Adam could tell that the soldiers in front of him were about to pass out. Pale faces, shaky legs, flapping their lips like fish instead of actually responding. He thought he taught them better. Adam took a step forward, snapping the leader of the four out of his thoughts.
"Don't look so surprised." They knew his name. That meant they were his men in particular: suspicious, considering he was the top of the food chain. This operation was already sounding far more important than Tukson let on.
The squad snapped to attention and saluted. Adam missed these days.
"M-Major Taurus, sir! We've been searching for you for months! Were you captured?"
A sharp wave of his hand dismissed their questions.
"It is none of your concern. Where is your commanding officer?" He needed answers: if the situation had gotten so far that the White Fang needed to make one of the most high-profile raids in Vale's history, either Torchwick and his gang was forming a counter-assault against the White Fang, or they had a plan that necessitated such a huge risk. The issue was that he didn't recall any plans of this magnitude.
The squad shuffled nervously.
"... Torchwick may be a little busy, s-sir."
Adam didn't move an inch. He'd misunderstood, clearly.
He took a deep breath, and then spoke again. "Our enemy's actions do not concern me at this moment. I am asking for your commanding officer." He spoke without room for disagreement.
The squad stepped away from Adam. He could feel his hand drift closer towards his blade.
It was the leader who cracked first.
"Major Taurus, sir... w-we'll call him!" The three underlings looked at the leader like he'd just signed their death warrant, but couldn't get the courage to call him out for it as he drew up his Scroll. It rang only once before someone picked up.
"Sir! We found the Major!" said the squad leader.
"Great, another problem solved right there!" Another voice came to life on the other end, heard clearly only because of his faunus hearing. Adam gripped Wilt's handle tighter: it was a voice he hadn't heard, before.
"Shall we bring him to you, sir?"
"Oooh, sorry pup, can't let you do that. We got some new orders from up top: the Major's gotta go."
The leader paled. Unbeknownst to the four, Adam had clicked open his blade. He did not want to believe that these soldiers had stepped on the White Fang's ideals so quickly, but he wanted to be sure.
Don't let them betray you, too! His hate called to him. Adam grimaced and pushed back his thoughts.
"T-Torchwick, but Lieuten—Captain Almond said to—"
"Hey, hey, hey! Remember whose pet you are, pal. Who are you gonna listen to? Your boss, or his boss?" He didn't give them the chance to respond: the call ended. Their death sentences signed in duplicate, the squad sat there in stunned silence.
"Why are you working for that scum?" Adam asked slowly and carefully. He wasn't in the right state of mind to have the organization he was with for ten years and led for three turn against every ideal and goal he and his leadership ever had. He wasn't even sure if that old fool Ghira would have gone so far as to work with human criminals.
They remained silent. Their hands started to drift to their own weapons.
Adam wasn't in the right state of mind for this betrayal.
"Don't be rash, Adam!" his heart pleaded with him, yet the voice it chose was different now, taking on not the one who abandoned him, but that of one who he'd abandoned: Ruby. Adam threw the voice out of his mind in an instant. No! They had left him!
He had nowhere to go, now! His team—no, those humans—had abandoned him. Blake had abandoned him. Now, even the White Fang, the organization he'd been in since he was naught but a boy, the organization that he helped turn from mere seeds of hatred in Vale into a tree that bore poisonous fruit, had not just abandoned him, but was raising arms against him as well.
Adam had never felt so alone.
"They aren't betraying you, Adam, none of them are!" His heart's words fell on deaf ears.
Were he calm, Adam would have known he could simply run and find Torchwick without having to resort to killing.
Were he calm, Adam would have noticed how reluctantly the four were raising their weapons.
But Adam was far from calm. No, now, like a Grimm feasting on negativity, his anger fed upon his grief, swelling until he only saw red and until, instead of former comrades or obstacles to go around, all Adam saw was:
"Disgraces! All of you!" He tore Wilt from its sheath.
"ADAM!"
And then all was red.
It wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, Weiss admitted to herself as she stalked closer to the crime in progress, but a combination of stress, insecurity and the ever-so-human desire to just take out her anger out on something made battling a contingent of the White Fang sound like a wonderful idea. They were monsters, and if she didn't stop them, who knows who they would kill with that much Dust?
"What's taking so long! If you animals don't get those cables hooked up in the next minute, I'll take you back to the pet shop! Move it!" And that must be the leader of the operation: Roman Torchwick. Unmistakable with that white coat and black bowler hat of his. Strange how he didn't look like he had a weapon, Weiss thought as she peered around the corner of a shipping container at the eccentric crime lord waving his cane around at four White Fang soldiers who started marching off to their next target. The moon may have been out in full, but Weiss couldn't see anyone else. She could, however, hear approximately four more walking atop the containers.
Eight faunus and Torchwick. If Ruby could defeat him without any teachings, someone as well-trained and educated as her would be able to take down Torchwick with ease! Better yet, if she could get him to back down, the others would assuredly surrender themselves. It was just basic tactics, after all!
The perfect time to spring her plan was coming up: the crime boss had just drawn out a Scroll, looking faintly disgruntled at the news from the other side. Alas, if only he'd had his on speaker, then she would really have some good information.
"Oooh, sorry pup, can't let you do that. We got some new orders from up top: the Major's gotta go." He paused. Weiss spun her rapier's cylinder until it landed upon red.
"Hey, hey, hey! Remember whose pet you are now, pal. Who are you gonna listen to? Your boss, or his boss?" With a single flick of Myrtenaster, she fired a dart of flames and lunged forward so swiftly that the point of her blade met Torchwick's back just as the flames destroyed his Scroll.
"... Who the f—" He growled and tried to turn, but that plan was ended as soon as it began by the sharp point of Weiss' blade pushing harder against his aura.
"Don't move. Consider yourself under arrest." She tried to keep her voice as chilling as possible, which left her all the more annoyed when Torchwick chuckled.
Not even making an attempt to call his goons, he just glanced over his shoulder trying to get a good sight on his new target and let his cane hang on just a few fingers, putting on an affable, non-hostile appearance.
"And my warranty just ran out on that thing, too. So, what brings you around these parts, little Missy?"
Weiss scoffed. "I think that's a little obvious, don't you think? Tell your friends to put their weapons down and step out where I can see them, or we can do this the hard way." Myrtenaster pressed harder into Torchwick's back, putting some strain on his aura, but not much more. Unless Weiss wished it, of course, and she was certain Torchwick was a smart enough crime boss to figure that much out.
" 'Friends', funny. I like to think of them as more... employees." There was a hint of recognition in his eye. "And it looks like you do too, don't ya, Schnee?" Screams of panic echoed from afar, behind a large warehouse that blocked their view of the source.
Weiss smirked in spite of her growing frustration with Torchwick's attitude; she could use that.
"And that would be my backup. Clock's ticking, Mister Torchwick." She threw a look off towards the warehouse, hoping to get a look at the commotion to make better use of it. The bad news was that she had no such luck, but the good news was that the other grunts' attention was drawn off towards that direction. Perfect for her to grab Torchwick's coat and start leading him behind the shipping containers she spied him from.
Disgruntled, Torchwick snatched his cane up just beneath its hook and folded it under his arm.
"Alright, alright! You drive a hard bargain, Princess. Here's my counteroffer." By the time Weiss noticed the cane's tip flip open, it was too late. An explosion launched her back from Torchwick and sent her sprawling across the ground. Already, the shouts of alarm had begun: she'd have to fight all of them, now. Weiss didn't care.
She wasn't letting the White Fang harm her company again!
Ruby leaped up from her chair at a cafe fast enough for it to tumble over. Something just occurred to her!
"Wait just a minute! Weiss ran away again, didn't she?!"
Yang looked up at her and chugged down the rest of her soda. "Well, yeah. I told you that an hour ago."
"Sure, but I didn't believe you! We have to find her!" Ruby waved her hands about, starting to panic.
Yang, having come to terms with the fact that they'd have to search for Weiss twice ages ago, nonchalantly flipped out her Scroll and passed it over.
"She said she was going west, so I already searched up every ritzy hotel nearby for where she might be staying. If Weiss is going to find a hideout, she'd find one with style."
"Perfect!" Ruby snatched up the Scroll. "Let's split up! We'll cover more ground that way!" She'd already ran off in a burst of rose petals before Yang could even respond... or tell Ruby that she'd taken her Scroll.
Yang sighed and just stared out the window. She never made note of the faint, black smoke just barely creeping over the rooftops.
Weiss coughed and rolled up to her feet just in time for a trio of shots to detonate right where she'd just been lying. Of course the cane was a weapon! That was such a rookie mistake, and one she suffered dearly for: Weiss was certain that direct hit blew away a third of her Aura.
Torchwick chuckled to himself and spun his cane in his hand. "You know, Princess, I thought this might draw some attention, but I never knew the SDC would send their own after us! I feel honored!" He punctuated himself by flipping his cane up and firing once more, but Weiss dived behind the shipping containers she once hid behind. She was too nimble to be caught by that trick twice!
This situation was not adequate, but she could work with it. Torchwick might have been advancing on her, but the White Fang were focusing on the shipping containers she was using as cover, not the warehouses behind her. Trying to take out Torchwick after taking a hit like that to her aura and from a position he knew she was hiding behind? She didn't want to try her luck.
Underlings first, then. She ran alongside the containers to make distance, but those underlings were quick to come to her instead: three sword-wielding grunts jumped out from atop the steel crates to surround her. A rookie mistake on their parts: there was nothing they could do to threaten her at this speed. It was pointless to even try to stop her. Weiss pumped her aura into her legs and launched herself rapier-first into the first one. He didn't even have time to respond before Myrtenaster shattered his aura and dug into his uniform.
Fortunately for him, Weiss was no killer and instead used all that momentum to spin on her heels and throw the soldier into another, sending them both to the ground hard enough to knock them both out. Dropping into an defensive stance, Weiss smirked and tauntingly waved the third one forward. He took the bait and rushed forward to engage her, but swordplay was her field: each wild swing was deflected and repaid with a light jab of her rapier. When one swing finally telegraphed itself too much, Weiss twirled Myrtenaster, flung the grunt's blade away and knocked him aside with a single thrust.
She became distinctly aware of two things, now: another squad of White Fang members creeping atop and between the containers around her, and the strange absence of Torchwick. Unfortunately, whereas she had her momentum in the first bout to instantly nullify the White Fang's attempt to surround her, Weiss had no such luck, now.
Not that she needed it.
A spin of Myrtenaster's chamber brought her yellow Dust into play, and a glowing glyph in the shape of a rapidly ticking clock spread around her feet.
Weiss inhaled, and the world slowed to a crawl: the soft crashing of waves against the docks now became an ever-present roar and hiss, colors diluted, and her perception became unmatched by any student of her year, if not any huntress-in-training at all. Time dilation. It wasn't complete and she needed plenty of focus to maintain it, but it would have to do. She turned to get a better look at her surroundings.
A swordsman was cutting off her way forward, another coming between the containers was making sure she couldn't duck to the side, and one was creeping up behind her. Brass bullets were slowly but surely making their way towards her from a rifleman atop a veritable tower of shipping containers ahead, but the second was mid-jump behind her to the warehouse roof. Vulnerable.
Weiss crouched low to the ground and exhaled. With a mighty leap and an elegant twirl, she summoned a glyph behind the grunt and slammed him against it with her blade. She pressed herself against her platform and turned to find puffs of concrete and smoke rising from her last position, just as she wanted.
Inhale.
The grunts were so slow that they hadn't even realized what happened: their eyes were glued to where the bullets were cracking against the floor. Such a horrid din in slowed time, Weiss thought to herself.
Between the turning blades of her glyph, Weiss swore she saw Torchwick bringing in even more support from the White Fang towards her: at least four more grunts. Damn! She'd miscounted!
Weiss turned her platform to aim her for the tower of steel. Exhale. She flipped off of the glyph, sending herself flying through the air until she collided feet-first with the remaining rifleman and sent him careening down to the ground.
Inhale.
This was the last time she could pull this off without more dust and glyphs. The four newcomers had just turned around the corner, now. That turned this from a now three-on-one to a seven-on-one, and a fearsome eight if Torchwick decided to jump in. The swordsmen had just figured out what was happening too, for their masks were slowly turning to face her in this dulled world. A single, loud clang broke her from her thoughts. Then another. Then enough to sound like rainfall even in slowed time. Countless bursts of light were springing to life across the stack of containers in front of her. Weiss' eyes nervously darted around to find the source.
Her shocked gasp wasted her final burst of time manipulation.
Three Bullhead VTOLs were racing out from the sea, miniguns raining down death all across the metal boxes.
Weiss flung herself between the two towers of containers in a decidedly unladylike manner, summoning a glyph to break her fall. The roar of guns and bullets impacting metal and concrete both was deafening, and Weiss used this to her advantage: the swordsman formerly blocking her path out to open ground hadn't heard her land. His comrades didn't hear him get taken down with a swift stab to the back, either.
This wasn't how this was supposed to go! She was supposed to be winning, by now, she was supposed to be stopping the White Fang! What she needed was a plan... and just then, Weiss noticed the powdered Dust beginning to blow out of the countless holes left in their containers by the Bullheads circling just above her. With so much Dust in the air and on the ground, if a single spark got to all of them, the resulting reaction could clear out the whole area for her! To say her plan was dangerous, however, was an understatement.
Myrtenaster's cylinder was turned back to red just as a spotlight shined down on where Weiss hid between the masses of metal.
But you didn't become the dorm's poker champion by not taking risks!
It was a bloodbath.
Adam was nothing more than a blur as he ran for the next squad of four trying to escape to the south. The pillar of rising smoke they were running towards escaped his mind entirely as he fired Wilt handle-first into the back of a grunt's head. By the time the other three had turned around, Adam was there with blade in hand. He whipped one hand out into a pair of slashes that instantly felled two more, and drew Blush with his other to finish off the last before the blood even stained the ground.
To his surprise, however, the final grunt was quick enough to raise his blade and block it, but at the cost of his weapon shattering in his grip. Adam graced this one with his gaze as he sheathed Wilt.
"S-so the rumors were true... you are a traitor, Major Taurus!" He rolled under Adam's next swing, coming up with his felled friend's blade barely in time to block a vicious strike from above. With all his might, he threw Adam back and thrust his blade forward, yet met nothing but air. Adam was gone. Running not on training but on instinct, he threw his blade away and dived forward just as a wave of crimson swiped out from behind where his head once was. Flipping over onto his back, his hand frantically reached for something, anything, as Adam prowled towards him.
He gripped his final comrade's pistol and desperately fired at Adam. Each bullet was met by a blood-red blur and the sound of clashing metal. Adam was untouched. He hadn't even seen Adam move. With a roar of defiance, the White Fang grunt raised the pistol a last time.
Just to stare in disbelief as a flicker of red swept by, and it collapsed in halves by the time he'd pulled the trigger. Adam yanked him up by his uniform.
"Where. Is. Torchwick," he growled.
The grunt shakily pointed off to a vast set of shipping containers near a warehouse. Bullheads were already getting closer, too: no doubt to help him escape. Adam flung the disgrace aside like the trash he was and raced across the docks to his target. Two last soldiers attempted to get in his way, but Adam didn't even break his stride, instead grabbing the first and spinning into a high jump before throwing him down at the second and peppering them with slashes of crimson from the air.
He kept Wilt drawn in preparation as he landed, ready to block machine gun fire coming down from Torchwick's vehicles, but to his surprise, they weren't aiming at him at all. Adam came to a stop not too far away from the SDC's towers of shipping containers just as the aircraft began to circle around like vultures. The sounds of gunfire and swords clashing rose from beyond them. But if they weren't shooting at him, who else was here?
Adam decided that question may go forever unanswered when he had to shield his eyes from the chromatic eruption of Dust and fire stretching to the heavens above.
Well, Weiss, you win some, you lose some.
Groaning and laying against the warm steel of a container, Weiss slowly awoke to the sounds of the apocalypse. Entire crates of Dust thrown into the sky crashed into the ground with varying(but usually devastating) effect, a destroyed Bullhead buried itself between what remained of the gap she'd leaped out from with a deafening grind of metal against metal, and a second had already crash-landed between the containers and the warehouse to block the only path further up. Flames crackled and licked at any Dust it could find, spread erratically across the ruins her plan had left behind.
And the smell. Paint no doubt mixed with all kinds of hazardous materials, ash, sweat, rust, crystallized Dust and fuel all burning mixed together to form a potentially toxic but definitely pungent scent that fully launched Weiss back into consciousness as if someone shoved her face into a pile of smelling salts. If she weren't so sure of how wonderful a person she was on the inside, she might've thought she'd died and gone right to the deepest pits of the underworld. Her attempts to push herself up to her feet only ended up with her collapsing back onto her rump.
"At least I'm not wounded," Weiss thought as she felt around herself for any signs of more than dirt and grime. Her aura had held up, but it was on its last legs. Were she back at Beacon, being this low would've had her lose a match on the spot.
In retrospect, she'd put too much of her aura into her strike. It was a simple plan: if she sent a strong enough blast into the crates, it'd cause a chain reaction that'd set off at least one container. Those White Fang were no Huntsmen-in-training, let alone actual Huntsmen: any soldier with their aura not at maximum capacity would've been struck down by that alone, including those Bullheads which had none at all. Unfortunately, she underestimated just how much damage that degenerate criminal had dealt to her.
"My, my, Princess, whatever will Papa think of this?" And speaking of degenerate criminals, of course Torchwick would escape the blast. The closest thing to damage he had was that his hat was missing. He was at full strength, and she was decidedly not. Weiss gritted her teeth and tried to look defiant, but things were looking grim: the combination of shattered crates, destroyed Bullheads and the warehouse left her in a ring of debris with only one path out.
And Roman was standing right in front of it.
Reality was beginning to set in.
"If I hadn't already grabbed the good stuff, I'd be pretty ticked off! Well, I am, but even more so! That little trick of yours cost me my good hat. It was a present, you know, back from when I was in Junior's gang."
Weiss wanted to cry in pure rage while Torchwick took his sweet time languidly strolling closer, spinning his cane in one hand with the other in his pocket. All of this just to end up shot by some criminal scum off in a dirty dockyard, somewhere? No! She gripped Myrtenaster hard enough for the handle to cut into her hand. Low aura or not, she was going to make that rat work for this.
"You know, Princess, usually I don't kill kids your age, but..." He whistled and brought his cane through the air, following an imaginary news headline. "Schnee heiress and Beacon student killed by White Fang in Vale! Police nowhere to be found! I've got friends who'll really love to hear that so, sorry, Princess. Today just wasn't your day." Torchwick sighed with false sadness, flicked up the sights of his cane, and aimed down at her.
Just a little longer, Weiss thought! She just needed a little more time to recover! For once, all she wanted from someone was for them to keep talking!
"Don't I... get any last words?" For a moment, Weiss thought she saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.
He shrugged.
"You just did."
He pulled the trigger.
