Celeste led me through the night to a parked car, which was just a method of getting somewhere else, obviously.

She drove me in unbearable silence to some far off place I've been before.

"Have you been here before?" I didn't remember her putting her helmet back on, nor did I recall putting my mask back on.

"Yes, I have-"

"So you talked to Qrow?" Celeste immediately began driving away. She knew where she was going, too.

"Yes, I have. How do you know Qrow?"

She ignored me. She always was the quiet kind.

I'm complying simply for the fact that if she wanted to, Celeste would have killed me already. And she hasn't shown me any hostility thus far.

She stopped spontaneously in front of a rundown tenement. The flickering lights from a cracked sign led the way to the front, which she approached and I followed suit. She led the both of us around a few corners into the building's cellar, where the conditions were much better kept. More importantly, though, there were more people here.

"Everybody, I've found someone new."

The other four all looked to me as they did an assortment of things. Celeste turned to me and said something that haunts me to this day.

"Everyone else here is from Earth. Even me."

And all these people, save for one, went right back to what they were doing.

This one, pink-colored, short girl practically ran into me.

"Hey there! I'm Lily Azalea! Pleasure to meet you!" Lily grabbed my hand and shook it emphatically and then went straight to Celeste for a hug.

"The one in black meditating is Darcy Tamal." Said man levitated a few inches off of the ground in a "traditional" meditation posture. Aside from his close-shaven black hair, all I could discern about him was his weapons: thin, black, metal tubes with small panels of silver laid on the ground in front of him and were no doubt dust-powered. "Orange is Tawnidette Alani. We call her Tawny when we're here."

Tawny was dressed pretty casually, but her dark orange armor laid out before her as she pulled wires of all kinds out between its panels. That does not look fun. Also it seems that her armor is her weapon? Or something? I can't tell.

"The guy over there working out is Irving Katil. He's had his vocal cords ripped out by grimm, so he hardly speaks." Wow, fuck.

"As I said before, all of us here are from Earth. On top of that, the ones here know about RWBY, assuming you do as well."

"How would you know if I know of this RWBY thing?" Playing dumb wouldn't get me anywhere, but it would let me know how they get their info. Celeste chuckled dryly.

"Can't you tell? You're not the first one here. Qrow seems to attract a lot of us." Lily bounced over to me.

"Him and Junior. Didn't Junior tell you that someone was looking into you?" and promptly ran off. She's definitely the carefree kind.

"With that out of the way, I would like to ask you for something."

It was obvious what they were going to ask me. They wanted me to join them. For what it's worth, this group would make things easier on me from a purely logical perspective. Provided they have a plan, I merely have to play my part. Even if they don't, they could perhaps see mine to realization...

"You want me to join you." I set Thunderstruck down on the long wooden table they had the other weapons on.

Celeste looked to me with expectancy, Lily with excitement, Tawnidette with a quiet and passionate hope, Darcy with an almost irritated frown and closed eyes, and Irving with a brutal intensity. Even in spite of their standards, I managed to say,

"I can't."

-XXXXX-

The address was easy to remember but not so easy to get to. I was given a key to the room and let myself and my sister into the dark, vacant room. The lights barely sparked to life when prompted and shone on the dusty cabinets full of liquors. The long wooden table I had lain Thunderstruck on last night had little else but an annotated map.

The weight set Irving completed was on the ground inert, as was the rolled mat Darcy meditated on. Tawny's armor was nowhere to be found.

I explained the situation to Desiree in the dim lighting of the room. The other Earth people, more information on RWBY the show...

Celeste seemed to have gotten my message and all the same arrived after letting Dez soak up the info before she dropped another bomb onto the both of us simultaneously.

A pattern was observed among those that gathered in this room. A rather misfortunate, macabre pattern that involves anyone from Earth and being 16 years of age. At first it was just seen as bad luck or just as a coincidence, but it was present nonetheless.

When Irving was 16, he had his vocal cords severed during a grimm extermination by an as-of-yet undocumented grimm. Shortly following that, he had his vocal cords replaced by an Atlesian prototype. The operation didn't go as planned and as a result he can only speak with short phrases.

When Darcy was 16, his father and mother were murdered by the one and only Marcus Black, a hired killer renowned for his semblance. He swore revenge and is still hunting the hitman today.

When Lily was 16, her village was razed to the ground by masked people. She was the sole survivor and had to fight off dozens of grimm without aura on her journey to another, larger town.

Finally, when Celeste was 16, she enlisted into the Vale Defense Force as an anti-grimm specialist for a scholarship. Before she turned 17, her partner went missing and is thought to have died. In her depression, she lost her opportunity for the scholarship and instead went back to Signal to finish her training. That's all she said about her "cursed event."

Seeing as how Dez and I are 16, she implied that we are due to have something happen to us.

It sounded like a load of shit. Bad things happen to everyone all the time and age doesn't matter. Being skeptic about it wouldn't help however, so I filed away a warning to myself in case something happens. Maybe it happened already with Katrina being part of the White Fang? I secretly hoped that was the case.

A tad bit of time was allotted before I spoke up to break the silence saying that if Dez joined up, then so would I. My twin then reshifted the attention to me saying that she would stick with whatever I chose. So, in a bid to get sympathizers and support, I basically offered my allegiance to this group, who collectively went by the name "The Phantoms." Apparently, there was an even older batch of us that donned that name due to the simple fact that everyone in this group died once already. No one knows what happened to them.

But, ooh, edgy name. Fitting too. I do like it, but I highly doubt I'll call us that in conversations among us.

"For now, keep training at Signal. This goes without saying, but word about us goes out to nobody." Celeste granted to the both of us each a key to this room. "Make time to come here at least once a month. If we need help with anything, we'll reach out to you." Our scrolls buzzed with a notification as she said that and left.

-XXXXX-

Well there's no turning back now. I mean there wasn't a chance before, but I think that there was some sort changing of destiny bullshit or whatever with that interaction. We all love a good story, right? My life's been one for a while now.

If you're still reading this, then you know what will or has happened to me. All the events detailed in writing up until now are my recollection of them now, writing as if they just happened. All entries from this point on will not rely on such an unreliable method, though my memory is far from bad. I think. I must continue to write in this the same way I have, for your sake.

Anyways, the point of this is that I mostly know what will happen to me and that the messages I leave here are for you, Desiree. I'm sorry for lying to you, and I'm sorry I can't go with you. I love you and will always love you, but that is why I must go. I leave the contents of this journal and all of my mortal possessions to you, my sister.

Please forgive me.

-XXXXX-

You know, Ruby got really good really fast. She's definitely a prodigy at more than just her classes.

For sure, her skill with a scythe grew exponentially. Is Qrow that good of a teacher? Probably not.

Speaking of, the Phantoms work for Ozpin, surprise surprise. Qrow is our liaison and Junior is out of the loop. Junior mainly works with the members individually and is not to be informed that we work for the Headmaster of Beacon Academy.

There isn't much of an organizational structure to the Phantoms, either. They all seem to value each other but ultimately, Lily's thoughts are almost always unanimously agreed upon by the others. Aside from that, though... Darcy and Irving work alone and Lily and Celeste are more than capable.

Not that I'd know for Lily. Celeste, sure because I've fought against her myself.

I went off on a tangent. The whole point of me bringing up the Phantoms was to say that Dez and I volunteered to monitor White Fang operations in our usual area with one stipulation: we can no longer intervene in their actions if it doesn't directly involve harming people. I would have fought Lily on that since indirectly harming people is still harming people, but everyone else agreed with her instantly, sans Dez.

I will admit, though, she definitely seems to be adept at decision making. If we kept messing with their operations, things might escalate to violence much sooner than anticipated. Plus, if we were to disrupt things further without assistance, then we might get into some serious shit, in Lily's unrestrained words. She wants us to wait until she finishes her assignment.

To that end, I mentioned the masque maker in Vale and proposed having everyone else get masks for anonymity reasons. Lily agreed to get one since the others have some kind of facewear.

-XXXXX-

"Sir, I really don't know what to think about this." Dad was talking to Mr. Schnee over the scroll about something he obviously didn't like when Dez and I returned home. We laid our things down in front of our room and relaxed the same way, coincidentally, by watching television. I sneakily caught my dad's side of his conversation.

"We can't just replace people like that." People are losing their jobs over this issue. "There will be a cut to costs..." Dad trailed off. He must not have been able to finish that thought. "Sir, I'm going to be straight with you, they only agreed to kiss your ass. Pardon my language." That was likely in reference to some board members, also probably the other directors. "No, Sir. Sir, punishing the whole out of some misjudgement-" That didn't sound good. "Sir, acting rashly to some perceived misjudgement is the reaction they want."

A long moment of silence passed as my older sister boldly stated her intent to play a video game.

"Sir... No, Sir. Understood." And then he was off the scroll with a sigh. Dad called out to the three of us, "Hey you guys know those Atlesian Knight things? The robots?"

"The AK-130s?" I asked. "What about them?"

"Mr. Schnee is replacing a large number of guard jobs with those things. A lot of people are going to lose their jobs."

"Why is that? Cutting costs?" Cinna questioned, eyes unmoving from the screen.

"Yeah. That and the company just received a whole lot of them for at a discount. Apparently, the Atlesian Military are replacing them soon." Dad sighed once more and clutched his head. "The Fang are really making things hard."

There was a feeling inside me that couldn't be shook. I squinted my eyes and thought. Then, I asked.

"Where are they going?" If I'm right then the stations most hit by the Fang will be outside of the Kingdoms and the law. Ergo, routes that are safe to travel through but not stay in, like train rails and roads are fair game.

"I dunno... Maybe the trains since the Fang outside the walls like to hit those," Dez chimed, scrolling around on her scroll.

Heh.

"That's a good guess, sweetie," Dad agreed. Alright, looks like he'll bring that up to the Department of Security or whatever the SDC calls it. "I don't really know, though."

The day after that was pretty unremarkable. Up until dinner, when I asked Dad to bring me to his work the next day. I was the only one interested, so it would just be me and him.

The next day, I was brought to the refinery. It was a large warehouse filled with drab, gray machinery and bright, white lights. The faded beige walls contrasted the canisters of multi-colored dust and the occasional splash of color from one of the workers provided further personality to the establishment. Powdered dust was sealed in airtight containers in a separate room for safety reasons, of which I appreciate. Dust crystals, on the other hand, were wheeled around on large trays to the the machines.

Every different type of dust was ground into powder in likewise different and easily distinct mills. While the mills themselves were small compared to other factory machines I've seen, the refinery was still packed, owing to the fact that there were many machines.

Something that caught my eye in specificity was the electric dust crystal synthesizer. Making the dust itself was "easy" but I had never seen the crystal be made.

That aside, I only came here to acquire more gravity dust.

Ever since I learned that it could be "coded," to respond to only certain aura and similar gravity dust signatures, I had an idea. I'll save its purpose for later, though.

What is it? A strongbox kept sealed using gravity dust coded to my aura and my gloves.

So I brought home a single crystal of the stuff and used Dad's tool set that he's never used yet to make some gravity dust disks. The lock was slapped onto the box and I had one seriously lockpick-proof container.

As I returned the tool set to the coat closet, Dad asked,

"What did you use that for?" I showed him and mom the strongbox and its mechanism.

He said something strange. Upon seeing the gravity dust I had taken with me earlier in the lock, he said to Mom,

"Teenagers scare the living shit out of me."

I didn't think much about it at that point, but felt that that was a little suspicious. I didn't have much of a reason to think that, but I'll keep it in mind.

Probably just paranoia, though now that I've given it an alibi, so to speak, it's bound to mean something more. One can never hope to subvert Chekhov's gun.

Especially considering that my dad suddenly felt ill and decided to go to sleep early.

"What was that about, Mom?" The harmless question would seem like genuine concern that was indeed present. She tilted her head and scrunched her face in thought.

"I don't really know, dear. Maybe he's coming down with something?" She nodded, as if she had just remembered a detail from her past. "That used to happen to him before we had Cinny and you two, so I suppose it was bound to happen."

Hmm. That'll require some investigation, but it appears decidedly less concerning than both the White Fang and the Phantoms. Whatever the case, no stone shall be left unturned.

-XXXXX-

I've been training extra hard with Irving as my break comes to a close. He is... brutal.

I want to point out that he has a unique role in the Phantoms: he specializes in absolutely destroying grimm.

And I think I'm putting it lightly.

Like, I watched him tear an Alpha Beowulf's jaw apart. Another approached him, and after receiving a stomach full of buckshot, he forced the bones in its arm out and impaled its head on the bones.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Celeste informed me that there was more to his story than I thought. His best friend, a Faunus named Daisy, was a casualty of a precursor attack on his hometown. During this time, he was out on a supply run for his town. He returned to find her missing and listed among the dead, only for the next wave of negative emotions to attract more grimm.

I pressed him for details about the grimm that stole his voice during that attack and all he said was,

"Had an axe."

He's motivated to find Daisy someday and fights grimm out of pure hatred. He's also aware that his hatred towards them attracts more to him and uses that to fuel his hatred even more.

To be honest, I think he likes me. He likes the way I treat the grimm.

He thinks I'm ruthless. Him being a graduated huntsman, he's seen a lot of huntsmen that are unnecessary in how they fight grimm.

I don't like to waste time with them. They are monsters, nothing more, and deserve no sympathy.

He gives great advice on the grimm while he fights.

Ursai are easy to cripple with their stubby legs, but follow up quickly because they're good crawlers.

This was most easily seen when he used his double-barrelled shotgun to cripple one that he decapitated in short order with his chainsaw bayonet.

However, his greatest lessons came to me when there were no grimm to kill.

Sometimes, it's not about winning. Sometimes, you just need to make sure your opponent can't win. And sometimes, it's about how many pages you can add to the rulebook.

In some cases, simply not losing is a victory. If you can attrition your way out, you'll likely make it.

He taught that to me when we managed to disarm each other. He, being 2 decades older and twice my weight, had no trouble preventing me from getting to my weapon via a wrestling pin. Once I understood that I was just losing aura without getting anywhere, I tapped out.

Of course, it didn't help at all to know that he could have summarily broken my aura and snapped my neck had we been fighting with no holds barred. Thinking back on it now, he could have been considerably more violent without permanently injuring me.

Irving and Darcy don't seem to get along well. The both of them are pretty quiet, though, and that appears to reduce confrontation.

Dez seems to have taken to Lily. It might be vice versa, but they appreciate each other. She's too innocent.

Aside from all the interpersonal relations in our organization, no word has been sent from any of our handlers to us.

Typically, the Phantoms would be the eyes and ears of Ozpin and his associates, who we aren't supposed to know. They would have received some sort of assignment by now, but that has yet to happen.

-XXXXX-

Through a large part of human history, black cats have long been thought to be signs of misfortune. Even in Remnant, some elements of Earth persist.

Lo and behold, the black cat of RWBY, or the "Omen of the White Fang," the Phantoms have come to call her.

Blake again. This time she's by herself wandering around the back of the gray concreted Vale train station without her ears on display at a really odd 3 in the morning.

I'd place a nice lot of lien on the odds of her looking for some places to mark for the Fang especially since I've been tailing her for about a week now doing just that.

Tonight, though, she looks aimless and almost thoughtless too. Something about her seems off, I suppose.

And so, like an idiot, I began talking to a terrorist.

"Hey there." The greeting startled the faunus, who instinctively reached to her back. I feigned ignorance and played nice. "Reaching for something?"

She sighed, put her arm down, and faced away from me, eager to leave. I continued.

"Are you doing alright, ma'am?" I asked innocently enough. "You don't look too good, maybe." Blake began to briskly walk off and I began to follow, pestering her with questions. Eventually, she snapped at me.

"I'm fine!" she yelled. I backed off tactically.

"Alright, alright, I just thought you were looking for something or someone." After a quick second in awkward silence, I offered her a quick apology. "Okay, sorry for bothering you. I was just hoping you knew that the trains here are popular for the... melancholic. Especially huntsmen and huntresses." I sighed. That wasn't necessarily a lie as the suicidal do often come here and occasionally a huntsman or huntress will too.

"I was hoping that you weren't going to do something drastic. I lost one of my friends here before." The lie began. "I've been coming around here every now and then just to try to stop those who would try."

"That's nice." She said coldly. Huh, she's rude to humans. Hearing this, I purposely misinterpreted her words.

"Ma'am, please don't do it. I don't want to say that what you're going through isn't bad or that your death will kill others because of the grimm-"

"That's not why I'm here." Blake turned a cold eye to me. "I'm not doing anything like that."

"Oh, thank the gods." I let out a fake breath of relief. "I thought you'd be like Katrina." Upon Blake's quizzical look, I could complete the lie I crafted. "Katrina Lobelia. We used to be classmates and friends before she disappeared. All of our classmates thought she killed herself here. Not that they'd care, since she was a faunus." Immediately, the girl's face shifted to confliction.

"What was your name?" She asked. She had taken the bait.

"Shale. Shale Slate." The lie wouldn't hold up for long if she asked Kat about it, but knowing Kat, she'd say that's for the best. And the only reason it would even hold up in the first place is because chain suicides are common on Remnant. The news stations even avoid stories like that to distance themselves from being accused of fear-sourcing, a term meaning that any report that has no academic or practical reason is grimm bait and therefore frowned upon deeply, if not straight up illegal.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Shale." Her face softened a bit. While Kat wouldn't elaborate to her superiors about her supposed suicide, I'm more than sure that she'll investigate it herself.

Which is a crucial part to my plan.

-XXXXX-

Over the course of the week after I planted the rumor, Katrina hasn't been present in any White Fang gatherings in any capacity.

Fortunately for her(and unfortunately for Dez and I), she had gained a degree of autonomy as more or less an officer for them. Her combat experience and developed aura granted her a very considerable advantage over any faunus with a gun and untrained aura.

So her absences weren't to her extreme detriment. She more than likely would have gotten a few choice words from her sect leader, but little else aside that.

Katrina's investigation, in time, has brought her to the very same train station I sowed the seeds of my controlled chaos. I would create my own tragedy. Destiny will not control me.

It was on a rainy night that I started to walk to an isolated area not too far from the station, making more than sure that the heavy footprints I left in the disgusting, betraying mud led her to me.

I wouldn't kill her. I don't even think I could if I tried.

But after 4 long hours dug into a hillside a few hundred yards away from where I planted a marker, she came into view. Hellion Bloom's long blade and stout haft proudly displayed in her hands. A pure white grimm mask obscured her face, but I had more than her weapon to confirm it was her. Her white-eyed hair hid her wolf ears by color, but not by shape.

I slammed the bolt of Gunmettle closed on a new type of gravity dust round.

The marker was a simple stick cross I hammered into the ground. All around it were dense pockets of gravity dust I borrowed from the Phantoms and buried. All that was left was for her to see what it said.

Through the scope of my gun, I read her lips.

"Ever upward, Katrina."

I probably should have taken into account her heritage. Many faunus have a much stronger sense of smell, and seeing her take a step back told me that I left a "scent" all over that place.

That step back was all it took for my shot to miss by just maybe an inch, the dust round flashing by her face to shatter a tree branch to her right. My bit of crafty engineering seemed to have worked though, as that round wasn't meant to break auras.

The tree that had been hit by Gunmettle was peppered with gravity dust that actuated immediately, pulling on its trunk intensely with the dust in the ground. If Katrina hadn't had any aura training at all, she wouldn't have been able to react to the trunk snapping off, falling violently to the gravity dust.

Now keenly aware of what was going on, she took cover.

I racked Gunmettle quickly to stay on target, aiming to the new pine that she glued her back to. A flash of metal distracted me as she used her lance as a grappling hook, wrapping its chain around tree branch after tree branch towards me.

She could have ran. I slapped myself in the face for not realizing that possibility, but was relieved to know that I knew her well enough. She wouldn't run from neither me nor Dez. She herself wanted the chance to tell either of us to stay away and wanted to give us the chance to kill her for her betrayal.

Before long, she showed herself to me. Aside from the mask, she hadn't changed much.

I stood up and took hold of Gunmettle.

A snappy hiss signalled Bloom's spearhead shot its way to me. I kicked it out of the air with ease; she was testing me.

"Hey, Kat." I levelled my gaze at her and picked out a spot to place Gunmettle. Calmly, I walked to the spot and put it away. "Dez'll kill me if she found out I hurt her newest baby. Hope you don't mind." Even with her mask hiding her eyes, I could feel the contempt.

"Gray. Gainsboro," she ground out. I nodded my own masked head, understanding that she'd demand answers. I pulled up the mask and bared my face to her.

"I know what you're thinking." Flexing my aura, Thunderstruck flew out behind her into my hand. "But this was inevitable."

"Why?" The rain grew light and I could see her silhouette much easier. "I never wanted you two to get involved."

"We were in it from the start." Shrugging, I prepared for the fight to begin. "Our father is an SDC executive. We know how much the Fang hates us." She definitely already knew this. "And even if he wasn't... I wanted to be involved."

The fact that they aren't dead is proof that she was genuine in saying what she said.

"You can still stay out of it! Please!" I shook my head and lowered myself as her pleading faced bled all kinds of remorse and guilt.

"I can't. I'm sorry." I looked up to her trembling lips and readied. I'm one heartless bastard, aren't I? "We both know that you didn't have to join the Fang." In a manner of speaking, nobody in the Fang had to. However, reasoning a peace between us and reconciling our differences was not my goal.

I needed to make her an enemy.

No.

I wanted to make her my enemy.

You're a piece of shit, Gainsboro Argent.

Pulling my mask down, I sent the signal to her that I no longer wished to talk. Katrina cast her eyes down to the leaves and mud and rain. She understood.

As a rifle, Thunderstruck sat on my shoulder aimed to the same ground she stared at. In a split second it was locked onto her as she moved to engage.

A testament to her training, she easily deflected the four bullets aimed squarely at her and let out a sharp cry that pierced my ears and almost literally rang in my head.

She had found her semblance. Somehow, that barbaric "yawp!" gave me a mild concussion as my vision spun.

Immediately, I was put on my back foot. My blurring and spinning eyesight faded out fast enough, but she was much closer than I anticipated. My rifle unfolded into my lance and I prepared for her assault, eager to sneak a few jabs or kicks in.

She lowered herself incredibly fast and pushed under my weapon with an upward slash, something that she must have done subconsciously. That meant that I knew how to get her off of me.

I stepped back and to the side as fast as I could, raising my leg to kick her in the face. The foot made contact with her acrylic mask, threatening to shatter on the spot.

She took the kick with a roll away and stood. Shakily, she gathered herself and blinked the pain away even while I dashed at her, spear point ahead. Katrina recovered her full consciousness and slipped downward to defend herself. Spinning Thunderstruck over my shoulder, I twisted my body almost painfully to slam the thrown weapon into her.

This sparked confusion in her as I was within lunging distance, Hellion Bloom firing wildly off course as she recoiled from getting hit in the face with my heavy lance.

Honestly, recoil assisting Thunderstruck might have been unnecessary.

Even so, her mask cracked and flew apart in the damp air even as the rain had cleared. She grunted through sheer force and I could see her light purple aura shimmer across her grimaced face.

She jumped away pretty efficiently considering her pain and hid herself behind a tree. One that I decided shouldn't exist, blasting it apart with Thunderstruck in such a way that it would collapse to my right.

It was obvious she didn't want to stay behind that one as soon as I began to saw it down. She was biding her time to both devise a strategy and to recover a bare amount of aura.

Since she was likely keeping an eye on me and I couldn't see her anymore, I pulled out a smoke bomb I fashioned with simple household products and a steam dust crystal. A single round into the bomb dispersed a very high-density cloud of smoke and steam around me, further obscuring my vision but blinding Katrina.

Her hearing is much better than mine, so I didn't move from where I was. Instead, I threw Thunderstruck a distance away and drew TUS.

"Where are you?" Katrina whispered to herself. A hole was cut into the cloud in the direction of my main weapon not that far from where I was, which I understood as the doing of her semblance. She crept up to my weapon and I held my breath, attempting to hide where I was.

The smoke would likely linger for a few more seconds, and then she'd literally be able to sniff me out.

Growing impatient, I knelt down to make the dregs of a noise and to prepare for her. She let out a hissing sound and I thought I could tell what her semblance was because I got hit by a decently violent gust of wind.

It seems her semblance generates force whenever she makes a noise with her mouth. Reminds me of the "Three Little Pigs" except that I might die if she hits me with that enough times.

Which she just did. The wind pushed me off balance and tore a hole in the steam, exposing me to her. And of course, she had her rifle ready instead of Bloom. Maybe I'm one of the pigs.

Some rounds knocked me further off balance and I rolled back into the steam, but it was already dissipating into the air. I needed to come up with something.

And not stop moving! She actually let out what sounded like a bark in my general direction which cleared up the fog entirely and shoved me against a tree, forcing air out of my lungs.

I could effectively take cover behind this tree as her rifle was not as strong as Thunderstruck. Or so I thought, as she decided to increase its power - or rather, her bullets' power, by yelling before each shot, granting them just a tad bit more energy, a much simpler task when aura is added to aid her timing. That was what it took to just barely overmatch the wood and scrape against my armor.

I pulled Thunderstruck up and to me at an awkward angle, sending the spinning lance careening through the smoke. It didn't have the intended effect of just straight up hitting her, but it did force her to the ground long enough for me to change up my positioning to another tree. It was for naught, though, as she pushed out one more yell to the click of her empty rifle.

The smoke had cleared enough now for me to see that she looked between the trees I moved to and from, aware that I had moved while I distracted her but not where to. I seized my advantage and loosed my weapon like a thunderbolt, the tipped point pressuring her aura with a forceful intensity and the energy channeled into it being transferred straight into her sternum.

She rolled back to dissipate the pressure and swung her weapon around to get a bead. She aimed at where I used to be and dropped her mag to reload. However, I had acquired her in the sights of my sidearm and blasted her weapon apart and out of her hands. Katrina cussed and slipped backwards to run and retrieve her lance. Gunmettle was in my hand in an instant and she was a silhouette in the scope. The titanic muzzle blast of the rifle blinded and deafened me for a split second.

Gravity dust perforated her shirt's back and she was thrown forward onto the ground. Thunderstruck flew into my hand, and, with a throw that would be light for me, locked onto the pull of the dust on her.

It knocked her face back into the ground and through the distance I could hear a faint, watery shattering and see waves of light purple wash over her. Her aura was down.

I casually walked over to her and the cruelty in me surfaced. I needed to give her a reason to hate me. Simply defeating and leaving her would not do.

So while she was crawling to Hellion Bloom, I aimed at her with my revolver. Any limb I choose would cripple her for life, seeing as how prostheses would be mostly unattainable for the White Fang.

The arm, to prevent her from fighting? The leg, to prevent her from walking and fighting?

The feeling of power overwhelmed me. No matter what I chose, she would despise me. A twinge in my neck stung my conscience and threatened to make my lunch force itself out of me. This was more than physical. This choice would be psychological, mental, emotional.

Whenever she would see herself in the mirror she would be reminded that one of her closest human friends would be capable of such hatred and disfigurement. That even though she gave me a chance, I would not. She wouldn't fight for equality anymore.

She'd fight for vengeance.

Her vengeance.

The sensation muddled my impulses, bubbling to the surface of my throat as a chuckle, then a snicker, and eventually evolving into restrained laughter that hissed between my teeth. What did I find so funny about this situation? Was it her spirit? Her drive to keep me from obstructing her and her organization's goals? Was it the irony? Her closest human friends finally giving her a reason to go over the edge?

Was it my anger manifesting as a macabre confusion, a cry for an easier solution?

First thing's first, I thought, as I laid a singular round into her weapon. With a burst of air, her last weapon fragmented in her hands and became nothing more than a few shards of metal stuck in her hands.

She let out a scream as blood trickled from them. It might have been in pain, but I would know soon enough.

"Kill... kill me." Katrina scowled at me aggressively. If I gave her any time to recover, she'd go right back into fighting me. "You've won. You know I would've killed you. That's what you want, right?" She wanted to keep talking.

I didn't.

The first shot splattered blood behind her right knee. The second created a hole large enough to look through. I gave her time to process what was happening, time which her brain spent interpreting as sheer pain.

The third shot blew her right leg from the kneecap down off in a glorious crimson fountain, some of her rich blood smearing itself over the steel cap of my boot. Her face, long since contorted in pain, glazed over in shock. She would pass out soon.

I readied to cauterize her leg with fire dust powder so she wouldn't die on the spot. When her breathing slowed, I sprinkled some over the spraying mass of muscle and bone and shot one last time, her stump being consumed by a flashfire that had no chance of spreading. What remained of her lower leg I took.

Unceremoniously and mechanically, I tossed it to the fake grave marker of her I planted. That wouldn't be her grave. That would be the grave of any respect she had for me.

I gathered my belongings and cleaned myself off.

I remember this all too vividly.

-XXXXX-

In hindsight, writing up most of my fight with Kat was a waste of time, as she would have completely changed. If at any point I had done so with anyone else, I might have anticipated fighting them again later and wanted to take notes, even if what I'm doing wouldn't involve them in any capacity. Perhaps you would have to, Dez.

-XXXXX-

Winter break is ending in a few days.

-XXXXX-

Dez and I are heading back to Signal. Nothing new on the Fang/Phantom front.

-XXXXX-

Classes are much harder this semester, it seems.

-XXXXX-

You're a piece of shit, Gainsboro.

-XXXXX-

I wish Katrina

-XXXXX-

Dez shook me awake again this month. I've been having trouble sleeping.

-XXXXX-

Can't sleep. This journal is going to be a dream journal for a few days.

-XXXXX-

Day 1: Flying in a bullhead. Jumping into clouds. Never reaching the ground.

Day 2: Gunshots in pitch darkness. My legs feel numb.

Day 3: Dreamless.

Day 4: A picnic with Mom and Dad and Cinna and Dez. The moon turned blue.

Day 5: Sleepless.

Day 6: A girl that reminds me of a young Desiree(but isn't) showed me her kaleidoscope. It felt like something I could have created.

Day 7: Sleepless.

Day 8: A flash in an all-too-familiar storm. Catharsis. Freedom? Crashing.

-XXXXX-

My grades are falling. There's always this feeling of dread in the back of my mind.

I'm too far to stop now. This past month has been full of irreversible choices.

-XXXXX-

I woke up this morning tired beyond all description. Worrying about the Fang has taken too much of my concentration. I've been getting better since my "dream marathon," though.

This weekend would be a great way to unwind, since my friend group decided today would be a great day to do some shopping.

And guess who's driving and who's car we're taking?

Me. And mine. Yang, Desiree, and I finally got to start earning our wheels when this last month started.

Super easy. Licensing tests must be faster here, but I wouldn't know since I never learned how to drive back then.

Getting a car was likewise just as easy. I shot the idea over to Mom and she convinced Dad to pay for my car IF I could handle the down payment. Saving Junior's lunch money dealt with that, and I still had some change since Dez pitched some of her allowance money over so she could use it too.

Make no mistake. The car is mine.

It's an unimpressive, gray car. It's supposed to blend in if I need it to.

So here I was, parked in the dorm parking lot chilling with Bruno when the girls all came down at once. Dez, Yang, Kay, and one other girl stopped by and I rolled down my window.

"Hey, so this is Gabby," Yang introduced. "She didn't have much to do this weekend and I thought it would be fun for her to come along. Is that fine?"

Gabby waved at me and Bruno, her olive green bespectacled eyes already showing gratitude from behind her long, wavy, gray hair. I shrugged.

"Yeah, sure. It's fine with me." And then I remembered about space constrictions. "It might be a bit of a squeeze, though. We have one too many." Yang dangled her keys.

"I could take someone!" Without even a second's thought, Dez piped up.

Then we were off. Yang and my twin had a lot of fun on her motorcycle and we might have raced a little, but I'll never confirm if this happened or not.

"So, Gabbro, right?" A glance in the rearview showed I was not being ignored. "How'd you meet Yang?"

"I actually met her our first year. I was struggling with her da's course and he made her tutor me for a little. She saw me yesterday and invited me to go with you all." Her voice was almost forcefully gentle. I remembered hearing her speak a few times, and it was definitely more harsh and stern then.

"They're having a lot of fun." Bruno pointed to Yang and Dez, who started surfing on the bike. "They got pretty close fast, huh?" In between my honking, Kay added,

"It was basically an overnight thing with them." Sensing our approach of a sensitive topic, I kept my attention on Kermes. After all, it was because of her that they became friends. "It was after I..." Wincing, Kay shook her head and continued. "...after I got my scars."

The car was filled with a loaded silence. Truth be told, the scars didn't catch anything important and ran down the left side of her face. It was still a shame it happened, but she'd definitely be over it by now... Right?

She locked eyes with me in the mirror and I blurted out,

"Well they're badass! I think they're badass," to tentative agreement from the other two. Kay giggled a bit and seemed to be put at ease for the rest of the ride.

We spent the day in stores of all forms. Well, they did. Bruno and I kinda just walked around aimlessly. That didn't stop him from asking a question I didn't want to answer.

"So, what do you think of Yang?" I groaned. The way I introduced him to her was... less than ideal.

"Please, don't."

"Well, so far you've asked everyone in our group how they met her, and only her." He grinned and I could tell some crude jab was coming. Bruno's quite blunt and unrefined, so I wouldn't expect anything else. "Think she's hot?"

In that moment, I felt hatred. Just... just anger. Why should I have to answer this stupid fucking question at all? What the fuck would this even mean if it happened last month? As fast as the feeling came, it left, leaving me surprised and scared at myself. This couldn't be good, but I needed to distract myself.

"Sure, we'll go with that." I answered half-serious. Like, I admit that I've checked her out, but...

But I'm too busy thinking about how I can fuck with reality to consider dating or whatever.

I was never one to beat around the bush anyway, but I would really only say things like that if I was prompted. I really don't need whatever I say to bite me in the ass.

Purely logically speaking, having a significant other would only slow me down.

If I was purely logical, though. I guess I wouldn't say no if she asked me out or something.

...

Maybe I actually do want something like that.

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Hey y'all! Rico here.

Hope you enjoyed. This one's longer than normal since I took much longer to upload it. Thanks for reading!

Cheers, Rico.)