A/N: Adam gets a lot of flack for turning his obsession on Blake after season 3 when he was only mentioned as a mentor figure in season 2, but I think if someone gave everything they had for a movement and the person they trusted the most flat out abandoned them, there'd be bitterness, and a huge want for revenge. There could have been a good reason for him to have wanted her dead almost in an obsessive way without turning him into the abusive ex-boyfriend. If he's as spiteful as Blake makes him out to be, it would make sense that he'd want to make an example out of her for leaving the White Fang.
Sorry, I don't know why I'm so fixated on Adam right now. On with the story. As always, feel free to comment on writing style, tone, and pacing. I'm trying to refine my craft. Thanks for reading.
"Morning time, recruit!" The door to the cell swung open, admitting a gorilla faunus who seized Weiss by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "Adam says you're to be fed and given a uniform before we leave."
Weiss hadn't slept the entire night, and was already awake, prepared for the jostling as she was pulled from the cell and pulled across the camp toward Adam's tent. Her hair was falling out and she was still muddied and sweaty from the evening before, drawing the gaze of several masked faunus as they went about their morning duties. She could tell they were breaking camp, though Adam's tent was still erected and full of furniture when she was brought inside.
"Sit." The gorilla ordered, pointing to a carpet covering the grass. Weiss sat on her knees, folding her hands in her lap. She was too tired to be defiant and with no weapon and no aura, she would have to be smart about planning her escape.
A curtain was brushed aside and Adam entered, sitting on the same carpet across from her.
"Sleep well?" he asked, just to be antagonistic.
"No." she said quietly.
A woman entered. She was wearing a White Fang mask but had no animalistic features visible outside her clothes. She carried a tray of food with her, setting it between Adam and Weiss.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Ah, ah," he chided. "Yes, sir. The faunus had to address any human, superior or equal as 'sir'."
Weiss stared at him blankly before finally responding. "Yes, sir. I am hungry."
"Here," he removed food from the tray. Bacon and biscuits and gravy, milk and juice, all set on his side of the carpet. The oatmeal and a cup of water however was placed in front of her. "Common SDC breakfast if you were just a common miner. Eat up."
Weiss straightened up to eat, taking small bites and making no noises, even managing to keep her pinky's off the bowl as she held it.
"I didn't think it was possible to eat oatmeal with that level of sophistication." He commented as he ate.
"Just because I'm a prisoner doesn't mean I'm an animal." The last word caught in her throat. She hastily dropped her eyes and took a drink from her cup. Adam seemed to find no offense in the comment as he continued to eat in silence. She was done a short time before him, but he didn't speak again until all his food was finished and the dishes stacked on the tray.
"How old are you?" Adam asked.
"Eighteen." It took a moment for her to correct herself. "Eighteen, sir."
"Good." Adam seemed pleased with this answer. "Jacques Schnee began enforcing that child laborers could only be made to work eight hours a day. Since you're an adult, you can work up to twelve. But first, we need to handle all the preliminary requirements before you can start working. Namely, a uniform." He stood, striding to the front of the tent and flipping cloth door open, summoning Ilia inside. "See if you can find a woman's SDC uniform that's clean for someone her size."
She nodded before leaving.
"Several of our brothers and sisters have joined our ranks by being rescued directly from the mining operations. Once they make it to us, they are able to cast their old lives aside."
"And you keep the uniforms?" Weiss inquired.
"And the collars," he added, "The uniforms we keep in case we need to infiltrate. The collars we keep to restrain prisoners like you."
Ilia returned shortly with a folded dress and stockings in one hand and a pair of boots in the other. "That's the only pair of boots we have remotely in her size." She said as she handed them to Adam in the doorway.
"We weren't always given clothes that fit. She can learn that the hard way," Adam responded. When Ilia left, he turned to Weiss, dropping the clothes and boots beside her as he walked past. "Get these on. We still have to have you inspected before we can put you on a transport."
Weiss was given minimal privacy, the curtain she changed behind not even fully concealing her. It was a simple white uniform, made from a material that was designed to resist stains and water. While the fabric was not outright uncomfortable, it was hardly satin. Fastening around the neck and hugging tightly at the waist, the dress was backless, blending into a pencil skirt that stopped at the top of her knee.
The stockings came next. The mud she had waded through the night before had dried. She rubbed off what she could in the grass before putting on the matching white boots that extended to just below her knee. They were sturdy boots, scuffed from previous use but with plenty of ankle support; the kind of boots that would be for someone standing on their feet all day.
When she came from behind the curtain, Adam had been replaced by middle aged woman with leathery bat wings. She wore no mask, her eyes darting to Weiss as she stepped forward, her dingy nightgown in her hand.
"Everything seems to fit well, but I have to inspect you. Make sure you're not carrying any weapons or stole goods." She snatched the nightgown out of her hands. "Arms out." She ordered.
Weiss complied, holding her arms out at her sides as the woman patted her down. "You have any illnesses you could spread to the rest of the camp. Typhoid? Consumption? Lice?"
"No." Weiss replied, receiving a back handed slap before being able to correct herself. "No, ma'am."
Adam re-entered the tent just in time to see the heiress bent over in pain, nursing her eye with both hands. He seemed pleased to see her dressed like an employee for her father's company, smiling to himself. "It suits you," was all he said. If she didn't know any better, she'd have sworn he said it as a genuine compliment.
"Her hair is too long," the woman commented. "And this," she said, tapping the crown in her hair, "is a deadly weapon waiting to happen."
"Take it out. Cut it as short as you need." He ordered.
There were no sobs, but a few tears did trickle down Weiss' face as some twenty inches were cut off her ponytail. She'd spent years growing it down past her waist, and now, when pulled up the way she normally styled it, the ponytail did not even touch her bare shoulder blades.
"I think she's just about ready." The woman said when she had finished, wiping the loose strands of hair from her back.
"Almost." Adam countered. There's one more thing." He put his hand on the small of Weiss' back to usher her out of the tent and into the grassy courtyard that was expanding due to the tents being broken down. He led Weiss to the large fire kept at the middle of the camp.
"See this?" he asked, drawing her attention to a small set of stocks that trapped the head and forced its captive onto all fours. "You've probably never seen these, though they're still used at most of the mining facilities your father owns. They have many uses, but one of them was to hold us steady while we were punished. Displayed to the rest of the camp." He then extended his hand for Ilia to join him. "Why don't we introduce Miss Schnee to the accommodations the rest of us are all too familiar with."
Until this point, Weiss had felt no imminent threat to her, but now she felt it in the pit of her stomach as panic began to wash over her. She resisted when Ilia reached for her, shoving her aside and attempting to run, only to have Adam catch her by her ponytail and yank her back so hard it pulled her off balance. Seizing her by the back of the neck, he shoved her down, locking her neck into the stocks, her bare back exposed to the small group of faunus who had gathered around to see the commotion. She flailed and struggled, begging to be release and promising to comply until a noise silenced her.
She'd heard it before. The distinct humming followed by the snap of electricity arcing. She couldn't turn her head to see, but could only assume it was some sort of livestock prod. It suddenly made sense why the uniform was backless.
"No, please!" were the only words she got out before she felt her muscles simultaneously flex as the pain spread through her back.
Adam watched as she screamed in anguish, letting the wielder of the cattle prod zap her exposed back four more times before waving him away. He knelt, tilting her chin up to face him as her body convulsed and twitched. "You say your father was generous in providing us work, but he treated us like livestock, to be herded, to be controlled. He even wanted to ensure his livestock was never confused for someone else's." He glanced to the side, reaching for an iron rod resting in the fire. He removed it; the end glowing red with heat as he held it close enough to her face for her to feel the heat radiating from the brand. "Some of the more modern mining facilities use tattoos, but as a Schnee, I think you deserve the full experience." He handed the iron off to one of his men. "If she fights, I'll put it on her face."
It wasn't painful at first, it was just heat right at the small of her back, but after a split moment, the pain became unbearable, and then she felt none at all as her body went into shock. She gasped for breath, gagging at the smell of her own singing flesh, praying silently for it all to be over as Adam held her face in his hands, reveling in the pain he was causing.
By this time, the majority of the camp had gathered around out of curiosity.
Some cheered and clapped, some yelling vulgar obscenities at the sight of a young girl on her knees. Dozens of faceless faunus looked on as Adam released her head from the stocks.
"Put salve on it, don't let it get infected," he ordered the middle aged woman. "When you're done, bring her to the transport." He took an opportunity to address the crowd that had gathered. "She is a prisoner. Cargo. Property. Neither to be humanized or abused and no one is to speak about her presence at headquarters until I present her to our High Leader."
As a single unit, the men and women of the white fang nodded and bowed. Adam had done something to inspire loyalty in this many people, be it his charisma or his intimidation.
Weiss was helped to her feet by the same gorilla who had collected her in the morning. As shock overtook her, she wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness as she was laid on a table in the open and the burn dressed. Something cool was applied to her back to help with the pain and the brand was covered with a bandage. She vaguely heard the comments about her around the table.
"The Schnee heir? I thought she was a huntress."
"She is. I'm surprised something like this almost knocked her out."
"Not with that aura collar on."
"It'll take three weeks to heal without an aura."
"Does Sienna Khan know? I thought this was an assassination mission."
"Shhhh! Adam said not to talk about it."
"That's the most we can do for her now. Give her a few minutes for the shock to wear off. She should be fine to travel by the time the transports get here."
One by one, everyone except the gorilla faunus wandered back to their jobs at hand. Shock wore off after a while, maybe two hours, she couldn't really judge time well. Ilia reappeared with a loaf of bread and something to drink which she gave to her guard. "We'll eat better once we cross back into Anima." Ilia said. "She give you any trouble?"
The gorilla snorted. "She hasn't even moved."
"We're ready to load up. Hovercraft is here. Adam says she gets 'SDC' seating."
"Will do." He nodded as Ilia disappeared.
"Alright, you've had plenty of time to recover. Time to go." He said, lifting Weiss off the table and setting him on her feet. She subconsciously gripped his arm to steady herself. He didn't slow down for her, forcing her to cling to him to keep up until they came to the caravan of hovercraft no doubt stolen from the Atlas military. Weiss wondered if it was from robberies she'd investigated in Vale just a year before. White Fang of all shapes and sizes were loading into the first three transports.
"Not you," he said as Weiss began steering herself toward the cab of the transport."Faunus had to ride with the cargo." he said pointing to the back, sliding the side door open to let her on. Weiss noticed the straps hanging from the ceiling in the back, no doubt for the SDC employees to hand on to when in motion. No seats. "Be grateful," the gorilla said, "When I was your age, they still put us in cages to move us."
Ilia was already in the back, securing the luggage.
"In case you're thinking of a way to escape, a guard will be posted back here in shifts. Give us any trouble," she brandished her weapon, a tapering whip-like device that crackled with electricity, "and I'll electrocute you again." Ilia grabbed one of the overhead straps as the hovercraft heated up and pulled forward.
Weiss held herself upright, taking care not to stand too close to any of the cargo. Her back still burned and any slight movement renewed the pain afresh. There was nothing tall enough to sit on comfortably, and the bay was not air conditioned.
In her youth, all three of the Schnee children had been taught basic self-defense techniques, but also had undergone hostage survival techniques in the event of them being kidnapped. The first rule was always to comply as much as possible. Agree with one's captors and offer them exactly what to hear if you want to make it home alive. The second rule was to build up a rapport with one's captors. Bond with them, humanize yourself, and disarm their mistrust.
"What's your name?" Weiss asked.
Ilia didn't respond.
"Please?" Weiss pled, "I'm going to get into trouble if I can't keep up here. The faster I learn names, the less I get beat."
"Ilia Amolita, but it would be Miss Ilia to you."
Weiss cocked her head in surprise. "I know that name. Blake has mentioned you before."
"No, she didn't!" Ilia shouted. Her skin flushing deep red in anger as her chameleon skin couldn't keep her emotions concealed.
"Yes, she did," Weiss countered, not caring to add any of the titles of respect she was expected to use. "Blake said that you were dangerous because you were so thin and small, but fast. Everyone underestimates you and you use it to your advantage."
The confliction in Ilia's eyes was obvious. "Blake is a traitor," she finally said, folding her arms defensively. "She abandoned us."
"I know…" Weiss hesitated, "I know that probably must have been a painful blow to you. But she spoke of you fondly. She was on my team at Beacon along with a set of sisters. I hope you know, she didn't mean to leave you alone. She just had to leave the White Fang. It was something she couldn't believe in anymore."
"Yeah, well. It wasn't the first time someone left me all alone," she said bitterly.
"Your parents." Weiss remembered. "I'm sorry."
"You don't get to be sorry." Ilia snarled. "I spent seven years of my life on the streets as an orphan in Atlas fending for myself after my mom and dad died. Blake convinced me to join the White Fang, and she was the first person that made me feel like it was possible to have a family again. And then she just left."
The huntress had to wait until a wave of pain passed over her before she spoke again. "I know you won't believe me, but I know what it's like to be lonely. I know what it's like to wonder if anyone, even the people you look in the eye and work alongside every day truly love you or if they're only nice to you because it serves their purpose. But I got lucky, I have an older sister who visits sometimes, and I went to Beacon and made friends. But after Beacon fell, I wasn't allowed to talk to my friends anymore, and Blake…I don't even know where she is. She just ran."
"She's good at that." Ilia said coldly.
A pound on the door separating the cabin and the cargo hold before the gorilla faunus entered. "Boss says it's my shift."
Ilia stood, not caring to bid Weiss goodbye as she stepped into the cabin, locking the door behind her.
Adam, meanwhile was comfortably seated in the front, kept cool by the air conditioning unit. Ilia took the seat next to him, mulling over the conversation she'd had with the SDC heiress.
"You obviously don't think this is a good idea," Adam said.
"I think Sienna is going to say you didn't complete the mission." Ilia turned to face him, concern creasing her face. "Adam, humans aren't allowed to see the headquarters, and for good reason. She has family and connections. What if they look for her? What if you're leading the Atlas military right to our door?"
"I think you should let me handle it." Adam said, looking forward.
She didn't want to say it out loud, but that was exactly what Ilia was afraid of.