A/N: When I very first had the inspiration for this story, this chapter was one of the first ideas that came to my head. Odd that it took 3 years to finally get Adam and Weiss to a point where they'd be attending a fancy ball together, but I couldn't be more thrilled with how it came about and how it turned out.
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading these chapters as much as I enjoy writing them. As always, thank you for your kind words and engagement in the comments. There is nothing more exciting as a writer than to see that your audience not only appreciates what you create, but also that they're so engaged that they're willing to talk about plot points and character development. It's super encouraging and I thank you for it.
The majority of Atlesean TV and media in general had suffered since the Fall of Beacon.
The loss of the CCTV tower removed all foreign broadcasts
The increased grimm attacks and closed borders impacted most network's filming schedules and outright killed reality/daytime television.
Lack of imports and restrictions on supplies meant less advertisers paying for ad spots causing the networks already unable to produce new content to hemorrhage even more lien.
Ironwood's restrictions on "seditious talk" and "misinformation" killed talk shows and any program not favorable to the actions of the council and the Atlesean Military were either fined or censored into submission. All that was left were limited channels for only 3 times of programming:
Propaganda coming straight from the military, usually veiled as PSAs
News reporting pre-approved local and international points of interest.
Political ads.
If the general had his way, the political ads wouldn't have been aired either, but even he realized that silencing candidates for political office would be viewed unfavorably by the rest of the council.
None of that could keep the press from covering the SDC Autumnal Gala. Despite this year's gala being a blatant campaign tactic by Jacques Schnee, there was little Ironwood could do to stop either the gala itself or the media coverage as the company employed a significant percentage of civilian workforce in Atlas and Mantle, to say nothing of the high dollar investors in both Mantle and Solitas. It was a matter of public interest and would appear as being either biased against a political candidate, or worse, racist against the number one employer of faunus nationwide.
Reporters and film crews were given travel permits with military transports to Argus. The general did flex his power by only allowing legacy and mainstream media stations to exit the country and report on the event live, leaving the independent journalists and bloggers out in the cold. Even Lisa Lavender, who had been hailed as the heroine of journalism for actively going on site to report on the state of Vale and Beacon, was bringing her film crew into the military town for the evening.
It was the first time in months the people of Atlas had any kind of distraction from the fear imposed from within and without and whether the Schnee Dust Company had any impact on them directly, everyone was tuning in just for a taste of something positive, optimistic, anything to help them escape from the grim reality being forced through their screens every night.
It was like something out of a heist movie where a couple attends some black-tie affair under false pretenses. The limousine pulled in front of the steps of the Goldenrod Palace; the most expensive venue space in Argus. A historic building that had served different civic purposes in the past, but had been modernized and turned into a three story, ten thousand square foot plus, fully catered venue space. It was a stately building of gray brick with high ceilings, grand spiral staircase, and a rooftop balcony with an unparalleled view of the ocean.
Adam stepped out first, clad in a black tuxedo with his hair suitably slicked back, the color and shape of his hair partially concealing his horns. He held a gloved hand out to the passenger. She put her ivory hand in his and made her entrance. A blood red dress perfectly tailored to her frame caught the eye of every partygoer, reporter and cameraman as she slipped her hand into her escort's elbow to walk up the stairs to the building's entrance. Her silver hair had been pinned into a French twist with ruby hairpins that matched her earrings and necklace. Everything about her appearance was perfect from her heels to the flow of her skirt, to her painted fingernails, to her bare shoulders, to her flawless make-up to her fur stole.
Two years ago, she was a freshman at Beacon, a child: naive and immature. The woman who walked up the stone steps was devoid of her childhood innocence. She was a woman, a survivor, a huntress, and a businesswoman and she looked every bit the part.
A reporter managed to catch her just inside the front doors.
"Weiss Schnee," she held a microphone out to her, "Jacqueline Sprat from the Remnant Reporter, can I ask what brings you out of convalescing and to Argus tonight?"
Weiss smiled, clinging dramatically to Adam's arm as she spoke into the microphone. "I was actually going on a tour of Solitas and heard my father wasn't going to be able to make it to the gala tonight, so I thought it would be a good thing to represent the family."
"Well, you certainly look like you're back with a vengeance! New hair, new look. Any plans to be more involved with the family business?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "I always plan on having a hand in corporation, but how much will depend on my father's political campaign, of course. We'll have to see after the elections."
The reporter put on her best 'surprised but not really' face. "We certainly will! You've been out of the public eye for so long, it's refreshing to see you again."
"It's good to be back," Weiss said sincerely.
"I'll let you get to it," Jacqueline said, stepping out of her way and moving onto the next arrival.
A host of other microphones swarmed her before she could even reach the door, fumbling over themselves and others attempting to ask her further questions. Seizing an opportunity, Adam made a show of parting the crowd to escort his lady through, his gloved hand on the small of her back guiding her through the sea of reporters and photographers until they were out of the lobby and into the main hall on the first floor of the event center.
Jacques had spared no expense. The venue was beautiful, well staffed, and well catered. A staircase wound up three flights of stairs to various indoor rooms for meetings, dancing, while eating and the large display screens, currently not in use, remained on the first floor. Roof access from the third floor was available, but few were brave enough to weather the cold for too long, despite the unparalleled view of the city.
"It's beautiful," Weiss breathed, drinking it all in. She hadn't felt this much at home since she was still at Beacon.
"It's just rich people flaunting their wealth and status," Adam said, the smoothness in his voice unable to fully conceal the cynnicism. "I'm surprised your father didn't make it a masquerade ball just to make it even more pretentious than it already is."
Her eyes widened. "That would have been a great idea! I'll remember that in case we get to host this next year."
He exhaled sharply but said nothing.
"Start at the bottom and work our way up?" Weiss asked, more instructing than actually asking.
"This is your affair," he replied, the throng of people and unfamiliar faces making him uncomfortable, though his face would never show it. She took his hand and pulled him behind her as she wove through the clusters of people on the first floor.
Cabaret tables dotted the floor for guests to stand and chat without having to hold on to their food or champagne. There were tables lining three of the four walls with various finger foods and hor dourves, though there were waitstaff also milling about with trays, offering their contents to any of the guests who seemed to be lacking. Growing up, Weiss never noticed the servers for these kinds of events, but tonight she was almost pointedly aware of them.
All faunus.
All SDC employees.
Men and women both had uniforms: the men the traditional western formal wear, little different than what Adam himself was wearing, but the women: they had the traditional servants' attire of the SDC. Mandarin collared dresses that went all the way down to the ankles, but were sleeveless, backless and had slits up to the mid thighs. Unlike the traditional uniforms worn which were red, however, the special corporate event uniforms were a shimmering black with gold trim. It became apparent that only certain faunus that were the appropriate height and size were selected so as to be the most aesthetically pleasing: and the scooping backs of the uniforms conveniently came up just high enough above the waist to cover where their SDC tattoos or brands would be. Weiss was reminded of having to serve in Adam's chambers when they were in the headquarters in Mistral: long hours on her feet in high heels, expected to be both pleasant to look at and easy to ignore.
"Champagne, Miss Schnee?" a youthful looking rabbit faunus bowed slightly, extending the tray to her. When she politely refused, she made the same offer to Adam, who also refused.
They had discussed their plan beforehand, if Weiss floating from person to person, being sociable, and 'catching up' with old acquaintances could be considered a 'plan'. Regardless, she played her part expertly; strategically making her way through the building, chatting up business associates of her father's, laughing, smiling, and engaging with everyone who she thought might recognize her. Adam honestly didn't have much of a function beyond being eye candy; few people interacted with him beyond a vague congratulations on being the man who managed to bring Weiss Schnee as a date.
Of course it was difficult not to overhear the comments and gossip being whispered about.
"I thought she was out of the company! Didn't her dad have her declared insane or something?"
"It was PTSD. She was supposed to be in the Schnee's summer home going through therapy or something,"
"Dang…puberty hit that middle Schnee daughter like a bus. When she was at that concert on TV last year, she did not look that hot. Can I say that? Is she over 18?"
"Why did she cut off all her pretty hair? Is it a huntress thing? They don't have long hair?"
"Twenty lien says she's banging the bodyguard."
"Well they're sharing a single hotel room, so…probably…"
"Is he a faunus? Are those horns?"
"Ohmigosh, how ironic would it be if Weiss Schnee ended up dating one of her dad's faunus employees? And a bodyguard? It's like something straight out of a novel."
"I wonder what happened to his eye."
"Mine accidents happen all the time. It's probably a work injury."
"Isn't she a little young to be in a dress that revealing?"
"She's got legs that go all the way up."
"Why is she here, though? Jacques couldn't make it so he thought he'd send his daughter?"
"I'm not sure if using the huntress daughter as a campaign tactic is genius or ridiculous."
"You think after what happened in Vale she'll still try to be a huntress? Or do you think she'll just take a job at the company?"
"I'd rather her take over than that little clone of Jacques he keeps bringing down with him on business trips. She's a spoiled princess, but she's at least polite to people. I heard Whitley fired an intern because she brought him a coffee with one too few creams. In it."
"I believe that one," Weiss said, knowing Adam could probably hear more than she could.
When the live music started in the upper ballroom, Weiss was one of the first on the floor, putting Adam's week of practice to good use. He wasn't flawless, but nobody really noticed because she certainly was. Her elegant, yet precise movements and the flare on her dress drew the eye of every bystander. They danced the first four dances together before Weiss had to stop for a short rest.
"It's been a while since i was this active in heels this high," she said, pulling Adam toward the seats lining the wall. "My feet are going to hate me tomorrow." As she sat, she slipped her shoes off for just a moment, rubbing her ankles. Adam stood, observing the room, scanning for possible threats. Though he didn't expect an incident, he was still the high leader of the White Fang, and both international authorities and probably his own brotherhood had a bounty on his head. One can never be too careful.
Across the dance floor, Weiss spied a familiar face. A young man, approximately her age with dull blue hair stood with a champagne flute trying to chat up some of the ladies. She recognized him immediately. She stood and made her way to him, Adam following closely behind, unsure of who her target was and what she was planning.
"Henry Marigold," Weiss called his name, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Henry's reaction was hardly as positive. His eyes widened as he realized who she was and memories of the benefit concert came flooding back to his mind.
"If you'll excuse me ladies, I simply must steal him for a dance," She pulled him onto the floor with her, leaving Adam and Henry's companion's behind.
Weiss smiled at him as she took his hands and began to sway to the music. It took him a moment to find his rhythm, but as she expected, he knew how to dance and found his steps easily enough. "
"I wasn't even sure you'd remember who I am," she said with a half laugh.
"I think I'd pretty distinctly remember a girl I tried to flirt with telling me she'd have security throw me out and then scream that no one knew anything."
Weiss' face became serious for a moment. "Actually, that's why I'm here. Not here tonight, but why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize for what I said."
Henry let out a small scoff, as if it had never bothered him in the first place. "That? It was over a year ago."
"I know, but I was being selfish and immature and even if I thought the people of Atlas were calloused to what happened to Beacon, I shouldn't have taken it out on you, or threatened to have you thrown out. You bought a ticket to the concert and you weren't trying to be malicious."
"I…I don't know what to say," Henry said, not making eye contact. He clearly was uncomfortable having this serious of a conversation. "It isn't really a big deal."
"Maybe not to you, but I just wanted to make amends. Can we start over?" She smiled, indicating to him the conversation going forward wouldn't be so heavy.
He seemed agreeable to this. "I think we can. Who wouldn't appreciate having a dance partner this pretty and this competent?"
That was the Henry Marigold she met and didn't actually like, but at least she'd been able to get back in his good graces. They finished the dance, making small talk, him shamelessly flirting and her pretending to enjoy it. Once they were done, they parted amicably and Weiss returned to where Adam was standing, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Was he a friend of yours?" Adam asked once they were out of earshot, back on the dance floor together.
"No, actually, that kid's a trust fund baby with no redeeming qualities whatsoever," Weiss replied curtly, "But his mommy is rich and if he and his mom like me, it'll be easier to network with them once I takeover the SDC. It's never too early to start accumulating allies."
Adam gave an approving nod. "I take it you'll be filling up your dance card with the socially prominent this evening while I'm out?"
"That's the plan. Give it a few more minutes and enough people will be inebriated enough, they won't realize you're missing. You'll have an alibi, and I'll be free to brown nose my way through the building, maybe talk to some more reporters, hopefully get a few minutes alone with Lisa Lavender."
"I have an idea." He took her hand and let her out of the ballroom, back into the lobby where the grand staircase wound up all three floors. The lobby was surprisingly quiet on the second floor as most of the occupants had moved either into the ballroom or the smoking room, and was slightly deserted. Her eyebrows furrowed in consternation as he pulled her further out of sight behind a support pillar.
"Do you think anyone could see us from here?" he asked quietly.
Weiss looked around, taking in her surroundings. While they were technically visible from the lobby of the first floor and could be seen if anyone happened to walk in their direction, it was a secluded spot. "They could if they were looking directly at us, but do I think they'd notice us? Probably not."
"Good." His lips curled ever so slightly into a smile as he used his gloved hands to push her shoulders into the colonnade and press his lips to hers.
She inhaled sharply, more out of shock than disapproval. "Adam, what are you doing?'
"Giving the tabloids something to talk about."
"But…" she was cut off as he leaned in to kiss her again, pushing his full weight against her. She didn't resist, gripping the lapels of his tuxedo until they wrinkled. He kissed her until she was lightheaded and her face flushed red.
"Do you have any other good ideas?" she asked.
"One, but I need to take care of it before I cut out for a bit." He stroked a flyaway strand of hair from her face. "Go back and dance with your socialites, I'll take care of everything. I'll be back before you know it and no one will be the wiser."
Weiss gave a firm, resolute nod. They both had their missions to finish, and this night would be critical to her long-term plan of vengeance against her father. Adam left first, heading back into the ballroom, giving her a brief moment to regain her composure before she stepped out from behind the pillar. The next time she was offered a glass of champagne, she took it.
While Argus was alight with activity, it was a relatively slow night in Atlas. Robyn Hill had made a terrible decision to hold a political rally in an attempt to take away from the Autumn Gala and viewers from Jacques Schnee's shameless politicization of his business affairs. While Jaune, Ren and Oscar had commandeered the TV to play games, Nora flipped through her scroll, trying to find footage of the rally that wasn't full of static. Apparently, Hill's campaign budget was not spending money on broadcast equipment. As she flicked from site to site, she saw articles of the Autumn Gala in passing, even recognizing Lisa Lavender on site. Then, it caught her eye: the red dress.
Ren sensed in an instant that something was off. He paused the game and turned around, not even speaking, just looking at her intently, waiting for her to tell them what had caused such a sharp turn of emotion. She couldn't find the words.
Jaune looked between the two of them. "Everything ok?"
"Jaune," she held her scroll up for them to see the pictures. "It's Weiss."
Jacques Schnee gripped his glass of bourbon tight as he stood in his office.
Arthur Watts had helped himself to Jacques' chair and was currently propping his feet up on the mahogany desk. He fiddled around with the tablet in his lap as spoke.
"As you so humbly requested, the broadcast feeds of Robyn Hill's rally are…suffering from interference." When Jacques didn't respond, he added. "I think you'd appreciate my efforts."
"I would appreciate it if you got your feet off of my desk." Jacques quipped back. For a brief moment, he wondered if allying himself with the 'dead' engineer was not going to ultimately be his downfall.
"As you wish, Councilman Schnee," Arthur said dramatically, removing his feet but remaining in the chair. He didn't hold it against the businessman; with his campaign and his business under heavy embargo, he was under a lot of stress and frustration. Watts himself had a bee in his bonnet as well: all of the backdoor protocols he'd left in place to let him into the security mainframe of the Atlesean Military had been deleted. He frowned, the crease between his lips growing harder with each failed attempt. He eventually gave up, closing the program with an exasperated sigh. He flipped to newsfeeds to check on the interference he'd been placing on Robyn Hill when the Argus news caught his eye. "Did you know your daughter was in Argus?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Jacques' eyes went wide. "No. What is she doing?"
Arthur smirked as he showed Jacques the picture. "Apparently, making a spectacle of herself at your gala."
Jacques inwardly seethed. She disappeared for months without a word of contact and now she shows back up to steal his thunder at one of his company's events. She'd be dealt with as soon as she came home, he'd see to it personally.
She'd caught up with most of the SDC investors she'd remembered meeting through her father and had even spoken to a few more reporters in the hour or so that Adam went missing, but ensured that she stayed mainly in the ballroom on the second floor, eager to share a dance with anyone who asked. She was slightly shocked when the music stopped for a short time and who she had to assume was the emcee took the stage with a handheld microphone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I understand we have a very special guest this evening. Miss Weiss Schnee who is here in public for the first time in over a year. It's lovely to see her, again." He gave a polite golf clap which was lightly followed by the occupants of the ballroom. "I know it's short notice, but we were rather hoping you'd be willing to sing for us, Miss Schnee. It's been too long since you've graced us with your voice."
It took a moment for the request to actually register in her brain. She nervously approached the stage, taking the emcee's hand as she stepped onto the platform. A microphone stand was put in front of her and she was left on center stage. Somehow, she knew this was Adam's doing.
"I believe the orchestra knows a few numbers that could accompany you." he nodded to the musicians who brought in a familiar tune. She sang two songs for them, and was encored into a third. While a part of her knew it was a combination of the novelty of having her back, people wanting to flatter her to get in good with her as the daughter of the owner of the largest international corporation, and the media wanting something sensational, but it had been so long since she'd been on a stage, so long since she'd gotten to perform, she treasured the opportunity. The adrenaline rush of singing for a live audience, the tension, the accompaniment…it wasn't just something she relished experiencing again, it was something she never realized she missed while being captive within the White Fang.
After the third number, the crowd present burst into applause and the emcee thanked her graciously. She gracefully curtsied, using her vantage point of being elevated to scan the room.
There she was.
Amid the attendees with her trademark earpiece and pantsuit.
Lisa Lavender.
Weiss made a B-line to her. They made nice, going so far as to fake hug and ask how each other was since they'd last seen each other.
"So glad to see you," Lisa said with minimal sincerity. "And I was surprised to get a call from you. You said you had a very important offer to make me."
"Yes, ma'am, I do."
"Oh, what's that?"
Weiss smirked, the arrogance evident on her face. "How about a kiss and tell expose on the most prolific businessman in Remnant in the height of his run for office?"
Lisa smiled. "Why don't we find a private conference room where we can talk?"