KS: And we're back for some more Nature's Wrath. I'll be honest, there were certain things about last week's episode that didn't sit well with me and probably the rest of the FNDM (namely how Weiss was presented), but I digress. It's the new year, and we should put all of the past year's troubles behind us. Now, let us read.
Blake was still shaken after her encounter with the armed group that razed the White Fang outpost to the ground along with the operatives stationed there. In all her life with the Fang, she had never run into such a highly armed and dangerous group that opposed them, and she never thought she ever would. Until now.
She was at a local pub in a village located near a swamp. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't the ideal spot to gather intel, but given the circumstances, it was all she had to go on.
"You're looking for some group who tore the Fang a new one by flattening their outpost, huh?" the bartender said, wiping a glass. He was a tall, muscular man with dark skin, orange eyes and black hair tied in corn rows. He wore a white tank top under a gray apron, blue pants and brown sandals.
"Do you know anything about them?" Blake asked hopefully. "Any information will do."
He put his glass down and looked at Blake. "Can you give me a description of what they look like? If they sound familiar, I can tell you what I know."
Blake nodded and gave the description. "They had white armor with orange highlights. Also, they had weaponry that made Atlas look poor in comparison."
The bartender took in the information he was given, then let out a heavy sigh.
"I was hoping it wouldn't be them, but I don't see anyone else capable of destroying a White Fang outpost and live to tell the tale."
"Do you know who they are?" Blake asked.
The bartender chuckled. "Know them? Kid, about a day ago, those people you described stopped by here. Said they were going out to burn down another outpost.
Blake's jaw nearly dropped. "Another? You mean that they've been hitting other outposts?"
"Sure have," the bartender replied gleefully. "You know, the White Fang has been giving our village no end of trouble trying to recruit the faunus population into their dead end cause. And if no one complied, they would use one of us as an example of what will happen if we cross them. Lucky for us, those soldiers killed their hopes of returning around here after bringing their outpost to pieces. We'd all be dead if it weren't for them."
"Who are they?" Blake asked.
"They're known as Grimoire," the bartender answered. "A group of mercenaries with skills at are at the same level as a veteran huntsman. It's unknown how or when the group was founded, but they've been around for a long time."
"If they've been active for that long, they must have been around during the Great War," Blake theorized.
The bartender shrugged as he took out a bottle of milk and poured it into a mug. "That's the rumor, although I have doubts they were organized back then as they are now." He pushed the mug towards Blake. "It's on the house."
Blake looked at the mug and blinked in confusion. She turned to the bartender. "Why would you-"
"Thought you wanted some," he interrupted. "You know... all things considered.
Blake didn't know what he was talking about, but when he pointed to her head, she started to get an idea. Lifting a hand to the top of her head, she noticed that her ears were completely visble. She began to panic.
"What? How?" she began to fidget uncontrollably, realizing that she lost her ribbon after escaping the soldiers. "Oh no..."
"Relax, kid," the bartender said reassuringly. "I get a lot of faunus around her and I have no problems with them. Although, you seem to have a problem."
Blake's ears curled down as her expression sank. "It's... complicated."
"I won't pry unless you ask me to," he said.
"Thank you," Blake said quietly.
"By the way, are you gonna drink that? If not, I can give it to some cats who-"
Blake immediately took the mug of milk and chugged it down before the bartender could say anything else.
"...Or you could do that," he said, slightly shocked.
Blake let out a sigh of content as she slammed the mug down on the barstool.
"I need a break from all this," she said. "I need a break from everything going wrong with the world.
"You wouldn't happen to be talking about the incident in Vale, would you?" the bartender asked.
Blake was caught off guard by the question. "W-Why do you ask?"
The bartender sighed. "It's all everyone talks about around here. Did anyone you know get caught up in that mess?"
Blake felt the pit of guilt in her heart grow deeper than before. She basically in the dead center of the incident in Beacon... and a close friend of hers nearly lost her life in it. And what did she do afterwards? Leave her and everyone else left to dry without so much as a note or explanation.
Then again, she thought that neither one could properly justify her abrupt absence.
"I'd rather not talk about that," she said somberly.
The bartender took the hint and decided not to press the issue. "I understand."
Blake was washed over with relief, but that did very little to quell the raging guilt that dwelled within her.
"Hey, we're back, boss!" a youthful voice called out.
Blake nearly jumped at the voice and turned to the source... and immediately paled.
Walking though the door were the same soldiers she encounted in the ruined outpost, their white and orange armor plain in view.
"We just brought another outpost to shambles!" one of them said brashly.
"Maybe these will teach those damn Fangers we don't want a damn thing to do with them," another said with an elegant tone.
"I doubt it," a third said dully. "If there's one thing about the White Fang, its that none of them will rest until they've wiped every human off the planet."
They all stopped when they saw Blake standing in front of them. Both parties stared at each other, wary of their intentions. Blake considered drawing her weapon to intimidate them, but she quickly scratched that plan out, knowing that it would be ineffective against a small group of trained soldiers.
"Hey, I know you," the brash one said. "You were at the ruined outpost a while ago."
Blake winced at the memory. "Yeah, I know."
"You know, now that I think about it, you don't look like the type to stand with those Fangers," the elegant one said in a snob-like manner. "You seem much too timid to do anything about your current situation of your race."
Blake grit her teeth in frustration at the remark, not because of what the soldier said, but because it hit close to home.
"I wouldn't blame her," the dull one added. "With the direction the White Fang is taking, I'd say every faunus is trying real hard not to draw any attention to themselves."
Hearing that made Blake shiver with anger. She was trying real hard not to lunge at the soldier.
"Hey, all of you calm down," the bartender ordered. "There's no need for you to rile the poor girl up."
"Oh, don't worry boss," the brash soldier laughed. "We're not trying to rile her up. We're just telling her the facts on how the White Fang made it hard for all faunus to breathe easy in this-
His words failed him when he felt a sharp blade press against his neck. Blake gave him a dark look, threatening to cut him if he spoke out of line.
"Do you want me to kill you?" she growled. "If not, then don't give me any reason to."
Surprisingly, the dull soldier didn't react to her threat. He just moved the blade away from his neck and scoffed.
"Honestly, if you're going to threaten someone, do it like you mean it," he said with a disapproving tone.
Blake sheathed her weapon, but continued to glare at the soldier.
"I'm serious, here," the bartender said. "This pub has a strict one fight per week protocol. There was a big one last night and it took me the whole hour fixing this place up. I really don't want to have to replace the floorboards again."
"It's all good, boss," the brash soldier spoke. "Little Noir here has a tendancy to speak his mind once in a while."
"Well, make him tone it down a little," the bartender ordered. "The last thing I want to deal with is more injuries and repair bills."
"We'll try to keep him in check," the elegant soldier. "Now, would you kindly give us the usual?"
The bartender nodded and brought out three mugs, filling each of them with beer. He handed each one to the soldiers, who thanked him and opened the visors of their helmets and poured the drinks into their mouths. Blake couldn't help but be put off by their behavior.
"I'll make myself scarce now," she said quickly before turning to the bartender. "Thanks for the milk."
"Glad you like it," he said with a big smile. "It's on the house."
Blake nodded and prepared to walk out the door, when one of the soldiers grabbed her shoulder.
"Hold on, now. I have something that will interest you."
Blake slowly turned around to see who stopped her. It was the soldier with an elegant aura, but she could see her face now that it was no longer obscured by the visor. Her skin was pale, yet smooth and was complimented by purple eyes. Her lipstick was of the same color.
"We've acquired some... information about the White Fang, and I know you want to get your hands on it."
Blake narrowed her eyes. "And in order to get this information, I assume I have to give you something in exchange for it, right?"
The elegant soldier chuckled. "Well, aren't you a smart one? Yes, I do require something in exchange for the information. That is... if you're up for it."
Blake weighed her options. While the thought of more information was tempting, her rational/paranoid side felt that something was off about the deal. Almost as if she was witholding information of her own. Blake thought it was suspicious, but at the rate she was going, she had no alternative options.
"Okay," she said. "What do you want me to get?"
KS: Let's hope Blake isn't going to get herself into some trouble... oh, what am I saying? She's getting into it right now.