All around were white walls, white floors, white ceilings, everything was primarily white. There were some blacks and grays, but it was always said that white is the cleanest color, the most pure of the lot. It was a quiet place, most of the time. A place where you could hear the freezing winds outside howling as they whipped around the structure that protected you. It was usually a calming sound, one that he took solace in whenever he had the chance. A boy, maybe five, sat at the window of such a place, and out of it he saw only the frozen tundra, a massive, expansive landscape that went on for miles and miles with seemingly no end. The only thing that broke up the frozen wasteland was the nearby outline of a town, a very small settlement where his uncle would take him to gather supplies. His white hair fell in front of his face and his brow furrowed in annoyance. His hair was getting too long, and he made a note to ask his uncle to cut it as he swept the annoying fringe out of his eyes. As his attention returned to the window and the peaceful sounds of the wind, footsteps soon interrupted it.
The door to his room opened with a hiss, sliding automatically into the wall, and in stepped a man, a taller figure with a thin body, and was wearing mostly white from head to toe. His glasses were silver and his pants and shoes were black, but his shirt, coat, and even his tie was all white in color. His face carried a smile, as it always did, even if the boy knew perfectly well the monster that resided behind that face.
"Uncle." he said, flashing a smile of his own, as it was expected of him.
"Mila, how are you this morning?" asked the older man, his white hair cut short, and slicked back to remain out of the way. His dark eyes closed as he let out a laugh, a response to Mila's silence. "It's alright, my boy, it was a stupid question. I'm fully aware that you wish to go back into town, isn't that right?"
"I want to see my friends. Blaine, and Shimmer, and…"
"You belong here, Mila, not with them. We are doing good work here, work that if anybody else knew about, everything would be taken. Your parents died for this work, for this future, would you really throw it all away so you could play tag in that cesspool they call a town?"
Mila ran his hand along the curved, metal frame of the window and stared grimly out at the silhouette in the distance. He could see the sun beginning to rise behind it, causing the light to break and cast a massive shadow across the white, desolate landscape.
"No." he muttered, before sliding out of his chair.
Even his clothes were nearly all white. He had on a pair of white pants, a white jacket, and under the jacket, a white shirt made of fleece. His shoes were black, but that was the only color he was allowed. Mila followed his uncle out of the room and walked down the halls of the facility. It was a long building, and while it didn't rise into the air, it had two sub-levels, which held things that Mila had to always keep a secret. They found a set of stairs and he was led down to the first level, where room after room was filled with cabinets and shelves, all filled up with notes and books related to his uncle's research. Mila, like usual, was led down to the end of the hall, where he was then directed into a room, one that only held a single chair, and a small table with wheels below it. Above the chair was a large, circular light, and fixed to the chair, were several metal brackets.
"How is your semblance coming along? Are you noticing any changes yet?" asked his uncle.
"I-I'm not sure. I-it still feels the same." he answered, nervously.
"Then we must keep working, hmm?" his uncle said, smiling warmly, and gesturing for Mila to sit in the chair.
Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he took his seat. He watched as his uncle latched the brackets around his hands and ankles, binding him to the seat. The chair was then raised and reclined so that he was lying down, though his upper half remained somewhat elevated. He saw his uncle wheel over the table, and took note of the supplies that were resting atop it. A bubbling back vial, a sliver of smoky black flesh, and a few syringes. His uncle picked up a syringe and stuck the end into the bubbling liquid before pulling on the plunger to fill the metal tube.
"Are you ready, Mila? I don't want to do it if you are against it."
"Mom and Dad would want me to, so yes, I'm ready."
"You're such a good boy, Mila, I'm sure they would be so proud to see you carrying on, even with them gone. I'll make this as painless as possible, promise."
Mila's breathing sped up and he closed his eyes in preparation for what he knew was about to come. His entire body tensed up as he heard his uncle step closer and roll up his right sleeve. His breath left him as he felt the cold of the syringe touch his bare arm. There was the sound of gas bursting out of it, and in an instant, before he even felt the prick of the needle, his whole body was on fire. He gritted his teeth but the screams of agony still filled the air. His eyes shot open and were glowing blood-red. Crimson veins ran down his entire body as he shook, fought, struggled, did everything he could to break free. Despite the cold, he was covered in sweat, and he felt tears streaming from his eyes as he arched his body, using all of his strength to rip his hands and feet out of their metal bindings. His hands closed tight so that his new claws were digging into his flesh as he spasmed from the pain. Over his own, horrifying screams, he heard his uncle tapping his finger on the table, as he always did. He would never help. He would never offer to end the suffering. He would stand there, watching everything that happened, and would incessantly tap that finger.
Mila's eyes shot open and he swiftly sat up in his bed. His whole body was covered in sweat, causing his bare chest and back to attain a glossy look in the dim, reflecting lights of the room, all of which were caused by a digital clock by his bed, and a small light that was by the door. His loose, white hair was a mess around his face as it stuck to his neck and shoulders. Mila's chest was heaving heavily and he hurt everywhere imaginable, as if he had just received a shot of that disgusting mixture. He held up his shaking right hand and saw glowing red lines spidering around it, and continuing up his arms to his chest. As he looked, red light emanated from his face, telling him that his eyes were glowing scarlet, as they did when his semblance was activated. Mila leaned forward and rested his face in his hands, trying to steady his breathing as best he could. As he felt himself coming down, he ran his hands through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes, and slid to the side of the mattress, where he glanced around the dark room.
"Not real, not anymore." he muttered, a hint of relief escaping with his words.
Mila rose from the bed, dressed in only a pair of black cotton pants, and approached the door to his bedroom, which he quickly opened and left out of. To his surprise, the common room wasn't empty. His head turned and he saw a figure sitting in front of the window, her legs crossed under her, her tail swaying slowly behind the table she was perched on.
"Can't sleep either?" asked Petal.
"Nightmares." he responded, walking closer to her.
"Real ones, or fake ones?" she then questioned, and that took him by surprise.
Petal mentioned some of her past, some of the horrors she had gone through, but she seemed strong, dependable, unafflicted by these things. He knew that the tiny faunus girl didn't get much sleep at night, and was normally in front of this very window whenever she was in the common room, but he never assumed it was from nightmares. He also never thought that she would know the difference between the dreams that are real, and the ones that are fake. Dreams that the person dreaming never experienced before, a fake reality conjured by the mind, that was what she meant by that. It was the exact opposite to what he had gone through, what he does go through on an almost nightly basis.
"Real." he answered. "You?"
"Unfortunately, very real." she responded. "My ears are open, just in case you want to talk about it." she then said, quietly.
"Would you tell me about yours if I did?"
"Someday, perhaps." Petal said, keeping her eyes forward so that they never left the large, broken sphere in the sky. "You already know one of them, so I believe you owe me one in return. We can't cheat when playing this game or it wouldn't be fair. One for one, that's the rule."
Mila nodded and found a chair to set beside her. The moonlight coming in from the window reflected off of his still wet body, and as he sat down, the black ink on his left shoulder glistened in the light.
"A tattoo?" she asked.
"A moon." he replied, pressing a hand to the back of his shoulder, where the mark was situated. "It was my friend's suggestion, when we were younger. He wanted to get matching tattoos, so I said yes. He died shortly after, or so I was told. They never found his body."
"Grimm?" Petal questioned.
"Most likely. It wasn't uncommon to lose people to Grimm around there. I thought I would get over that, but I never did."
"It's funny how people say that time heals those things, right? It's almost like they never went through it themselves. You never heal after losing somebody close to you."
"No, you don't." Mila muttered. "Petal, when your home was attacked… What happened to your family?"
"I told you I was orphaned, remember? They all died. I was the only survivor. Now, I do consider that cheating right now, I hope you know that. One for one, don't forget."
"I was dreaming about my home… about my uncle. I lost my parents when I was young too, though I don't remember them that well. I can't even recall how they died. My uncle would just tell me that they died for the future, and would leave it at that. He took me in, and that's all I ever knew. His face is the only one I can bring back when I think of my family. Not my mom's, not my dad's, just his."
"Was he horrible?" Petal questioned.
"At times. Most of the time. He did… terrible things to me, and made me keep them a secret from anyone. He was a scientist, you see, a fairly capable one, at that. The only problem was that he tampered with Grimm."
"Grimm?" asked Petal, looking over at him for the first time.
He nodded before continuing. "He would hire Huntsman to capture Grimm instead of kill them, and they would bring them back to him to be used as test subjects. You can do whatever you want to them as long as you don't kill them. They'll stay there, and they will never leave, as long as you can keep them contained. I remember the day I first stumbled on them. I was shocked. I knew he was doing some horrible stuff, but that… I thought he was crazy. After that, that was when he stopped manipulating me. He was honest after that, and I was a thousand times more miserable. I wasn't the nephew that he was trying to pull one over on. No, I was now only a guinea pig in his eyes. Something to be used until I could be of no more help to him."
"What did he do to you?" she inquired.
"He injected me with all kinds of strange things. I don't really know what they were, not completely, anyway. I know they had bits of Grimm in them, that's as far as my knowledge goes. You know, it's not even the pain that causes those dreams. I don't think so, at least. I believe it's him, my fear of what he did, and how easily he did it."
"Cole used to tell me to never acknowledge fear. He said that it was okay to be afraid, but when you let that fear control you, when you let it seep in and sink its hooks into you, that was when you lost."
"Good words to live by." Mila said.
"He had a lot of those while raising me. But he was wrong about a lot of things too."
"Like?" asked Mila.
"Like this place. He never liked the academies or the big cities. He would rather stomp around in the woods and swamps over this any day of the week. I personally enjoy it here. I think we can do a lot of good in this place, and I think we have a lot of work ahead of us. It scares me, but we have these new Grimm to deal with, and whatever else might be out in the world. I am also glad to have met you, and the others. You know, that was one of the main reasons I wanted to come here. I wanted to see what it was like for people my age, people that went to their fancy schools, and made friends with other students, and would all go out to have a good time at the end of the day. I wanted to experience that life."
"This certainly isn't the life you're describing." Mila stated.
"No, it isn't. That, like how people see Remnant, is a fairytale. Again, it was proven that reality is so much less than what's in our heads, but you know, I still enjoy this. Even this depressing conversation is something I'm happy to experience, and I think that I feel that way because it's real. People have problems, and we all have to suffer through them. I don't want to keep living life, imagining the world around me as happy endings and celebrations all the time. I want to experience life as it really is, and I want to overcome it. I plan on overcoming it."
"You're surprisingly inspiring, in your own, strange sort of way."
"Well, I am the leader of our team, so it's kinda my job to be." she said, grinning from ear to ear." Her grin then faded and she gazed back out at the moon. "I still think Rose would have been better suited for this."
"I don't." said Mila. She looked over at him as he rose from his chair. "I have faith in you, and I don't say that lightly. I don't trust easily, and I don't normally put my confidence in other people at all, but I think you are doing a great job so far."
"We've only been on one mission, give it time." said Petal, giggling quietly. "I appreciate it, Mila, I needed that."
"And I needed our conversation, so consider us even."
"I don't really feel like I helped you at all." she said.
"You did. Just getting it off of my chest helped more than I ever thought it would, so thank you for that. I'm going to try and sleep some more before morning, how about you?"
"No, I don't think so. I like it here, and it's too lovely a view to pass up. Goodnight, Mila, try to get some rest. Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What happened to your uncle?" she asked him, causing him to stop and turn to face her once more.
"He was arrested. His entire lab was seized, the Grimm were killed, and I was taken to Atlas Academy. That was shortly before I started my first year there, and I haven't seen him or heard from him since."
"At least one happy thing came of it, yeah?" Petal said.
"There was more than one thing. The problem is that the bad things outweigh them. Anyway, goodnight, Petal."
"Night." she replied.
Mila returned to his room, pulled his sheets over himself, and slowly fell back into slumber.