-(=RWBY=)-

Chapter 11

-(=RWBY=)-

The rest of the night was spent in a state of drunken contentment, until the crash came, some time before midnight, at which point Jaune found himself lower than ever.

It was almost a relief when he had to leave for his mission; at least then he could distract himself from the misery and melancholy that had reasserted themselves within his mind.

Instead, Jaune made to focus on the coming night, and the completion of the task Watts had set him.

With his usual combat attire and the armour he ordinarily wore being too recognizable, Jaune eschewed them in favour of throwing on some plain black clothes, and foregoing armour altogether.

Then, he pulled a beanie over his head to hide his distinctive blond hair, before tying a scarf around his lower face, and using it as makeshift mask to cover his mouth and nose from sight.

Last but certainly not least, Jaune armed himself. Wrapping Crocea Mors's distinctive hilt in black tape, and transferring the sword from its original, iconic sheath to a plainer, mud-brown one, Jaune swung his family sword over his shoulder so as to carry it on his back. Then, he strapped his old training sword to his waist – made of ordinary steel, it was what he once used in training against his schoolmates at Beacon, though for tonight it would see some real combat.

For the mission ahead, Jaune would not be using Crocea Mors – he wasn't looking to kill anyone, after all. And besides, there were only perhaps a dozen Anra blades in the world, and if he went around hurting people through their aura, it would be noticed by the survivors, and intense suspicion would fall on him; it would only be a matter of time before he got outed as the rogue huntsman attacking the military. Loathe as he was to go into combat without his old friend in hand, the advantages of it just didn't justify the risks. He was bringing it along only in case everything went to hell, and he had to fight his way out against a Champion-level combatant, or some elite huntsman team.

Instead of Crocea Mors, he would be using his training sword of ordinary steel tonight. And even that was a risk – the Arc family's fabled reputation as swordsmen was too great, and the present public scrutiny on him too heavy, for it to be out of the question that someone would draw a link between the impossibly skilled sword-wielding attacker, and the recently disgraced and disgruntled Jaune Arc. Still, it was a risk he had to live with – he wasn't about to go into life-or-death combat with just his fists and an unfamiliar semblance.

After ensuring his weapons were tightly secured to his body, Jaune turned off the lights in his apartment, and then proceeded to the sole window in the room.

Pulling it open, Jaune scanned the area to check for anyone watching – before slipping out, reaching for a nearby pipe running down the side of the building, and using it to climb down.

He reached the ground safely, and all without a sound. Then, he was off, walking at a brisk pace, though not running at the sort of superhuman speeds only a huntsman was capable of. He dared not do so, as it risked drawing welcome attention to the newest resident in the area – him. And having budgeted more than enough time to get to the meeting point, he wasn't in a rush anyway.

At this time, there were few people on the streets, and the night was both pleasantly cold, and relaxingly quiet. There were still some isolated groups of ruffians about, but the blades on his back and at his waist were sufficient to deter them, and Jaune suffered nothing worse than verbal abuse and unoriginal insults as he passed the local toughs.

Making good time, Jaune reached his initial destination – a run-down carpark, located a few streets away from his apartment block.

A variety of cars and trucks and motorcycles were parked on the sprawling asphalt, but it was one particular vehicle that Jaune sought out.

At the corner of the parking lot, Jaune found what he was looking for – the beat-up but still functional motorcycle that he had gotten from Junior. Jaune had told the gang leader that he was about to get involved with some shady, underworld business – and the man had believed him, given the harsh reality that Jaune needed some way to earn a living after his huntsman career was left for dead. And once Jaune had dropped some hints that he would be willing to help Junior out in some of his turf wars with rival gangs, the man had agreed to do Jaune a couple of favours – the first of which was the provision of this untraceable motorcycle to him. Were the raid to go wrong, and were the authorities able to track down this motorcycle, Jaune didn't want them to be able to trace it back to him – which was where one of the cash-bought, unregistered vehicles used by Junior's criminal organization came in handy.

Starting the engine, and kicking back the supporting kickstand, Jaune navigated the vehicle out of the parking lot, and onto the street – at which point he revved the engine, and was off at a tear.

Jaune could not claim to be as skilled as the likes of Yang at driving a motorcycle, but he was competent enough, given his training at Beacon. Off-road motorbikes were, on account of their speed and manoeuvrability, one of the most effective ways for huntsmen to travel in the wilds, and Beacon had conducted driving lessons accordingly.

As Jaune raced through the streets, he passed factories and warehouses and heavy vehicle parking lots. And though it was night, and though the dangerous speeds he was coaxing out of his motorbike meant his surroundings passed in a blur, Jaune could see clearly enough that many of the buildings were dilapidated. The area had seen far better days, that much was undeniable.

Jaune headed south, and east. His destination was an abandoned warehouse on the southern edges of the industrial district, and owing to his absolute unfamiliarity with this part of Vale, Jaune had rely on his scroll's map app to find his way to his destination. The scroll, of course, was an unregistered spare using a disposable SIM card – and not his personal scroll, since the latter's SIM was legally registered to him, and could implicate him were its use to be later geolocated to being within an area where a terrorist attack had occurred.

After perhaps twenty minutes of travel, Jaune reached the vicinity of the designated meeting spot. Killing his speed, Jaune found an abandoned alleyway to leave his bike in, before approaching the warehouse where the team for the coming raid would be waiting for him.

His aura was up and his mind alert, as Jaune walked towards the warehouse. With his senses cast out, Jaune could identify a dozen aura signatures within the building; and from the strength and intensity of those signatures, it was clear that everyone present had their aura unlocked.

Next to the giant, rolling sheet door that served as the warehouse's main entrance, there was also an ordinary door; striding up to the latter, Jaune opened it, and walked in.

The sight that greeted him was expected, but no less welcome for it.

Men and women in white vests and Grimm masks stood in a loose circle at the centre of the warehouse.

It was all Jaune could do to hide his loathing; he hadn't forgotten the kidnapping of Weiss, and the attempt to make a snuff film out of her. And for all that Sienna Khan had disavowed the kidnapping after the fact, and denounced it as the rogue act of an extremist branch in Vale, Jaune held her responsible all the same – the woman who had led White Fang into abandoning peaceful protest in favour of brutal terrorism did not now get to complain that some of her men had gone a step too far on the slippery slope to hell.

Terrorists – that were what these people were, and Jaune did not let himself forget it, as he strode forward deeper into the warehouse.

Heads turned towards him as he did so, and assessing gazes from behind white masks fell upon him.

One man, however, did not deign to look up from where he was seated on an upturned crate.

Red of hair and black of horn, the man continued calmly and methodically sharpening his sword, which was itself as crimson as the rivers of blood its owner had doubtlessly spilled.

Without inflection in his voice, Jaune said,

"Taurus."

Jaune knew the man by reputation. He was, by all accounts, a deadly swordsman, one whose strength rivalled that of any elite huntsman; he had to be, to have done the things he did, and to have killed the men he had.

The White Fang's ruthlessness and brutality did not begin with Taurus – but the man had played a significant role in getting the Fang to push the boundaries of inhumanity, by targeting civilians and not merely the military or the SDC, and by slaughtering soldiers who had already surrendered.

Taurus was still honing his sword against a whetstone, and did not initially acknowledge Jaune's greeting. It was only a few more rounds of sharpening, and a final flourish of his katana, that he stood, sheathed his sword, and said,

"And you are?"

The man's tone was blunt, and just shy of impolite. So, without wasting his own breath on pointless courtesies, Jaune replied,

"Mordred."

The codename tasted bitter on Jaune's tongue. The treacherous knight from Angraeli legend, who had betrayed his father the king, and brought doom upon their kingdom and the ideals of chivalry for which it stood – this was a none too subtle allusion by Watts, who himself could not resist being clever at the cost of antagonizing Jaune.

If Adam Taurus got the reference, however, he did not comment upon it; indeed, Jaune doubted that it was in him to care about such things. Instead, Taurus gave a curt nod – which Jaune took to be acknowledgement that he was indeed the person Watts had sent, to help the White Fang on their raid upon the airbase.

At that moment, however, the other White Fang members started backing away – in the first sign that things were not going as planned.

The second sign came, when one of the White Fang soldiers – a speckled, brown-skinned girl – said,

"Adam, don't –"

She could not finish speaking before the third sign came from Taurus himself. Leaping forward, the bull faunus drew his sword from his scabbard in a single motion of blistering speed and impossible smoothness –

– thus forcing Jaune to draw his own blade in reply, to counter as necessary.

Taurus's strike came down hard and fast, in a vertical cut aimed for Jaune's head, and though the very natural reaction would have been to step back, to dodge, Jaune did the exact opposite – stepping forward and to the right, while bringing his sword around in a counter-cut.

His high, horizontal twisting strike met Taurus's attack, and even as the faunus's blade was blocked by the crossguard of Jaune's sword, the tip of Jaune's blade was already arcing in from the right towards Taurus's own head.

The steel sword left a horizontal scratch upon Taurus's white Grimm mask, and the man jerked back, to re-establish some distance between the two of them.

The other White Fang soldiers were still hanging back, not attacking, and Jaune's suspicions were confirmed.

This is a test – a test of strength.

Had Adam Taurus truly wanted him dead, he would have gotten his men to swarm him. That he had not done so suggested that Taurus was more interested in gauging Jaune's skill and general strength – to see, perhaps, how much of an asset Jaune was going to be for the raid, and how best he could be used.

And if that was the case, Jaune was more than happy to oblige.

Taurus tensed, seemingly ready to leap in once more with another attack, and Jaune almost fired off a counter-strike then and there –

– but his instincts screamed at him that this was a mistake, that Taurus was merely attempting a feint. Perhaps it was the way the man's weight was incorrectly distributed; or perhaps it was the obvious folly of attempting a surprise, lunging attack from range when such had already failed once – regardless, Jaune didn't think Taurus was about to try the same thing twice.

That was what his instincts told him, and Jaune had long learnt to trust his instincts when it came to fighting.

Instead of attempting the counter-strike that would have left him exposed had Taurus merely been feinting, Jaune simply pressed the attack himself, lunging in to strike.

Taurus, to his credit, shifted gears immediately, pushing himself back one step to avoid the arc of Jaune's blade.

He succeeded, if barely, and the tip of Jaune's sword grazed his mask, leaving a vertical scratch to complement the earlier, horizontal one.

He fell back once more, even while keeping his sword pointed towards Jaune in a ready position.

Despite himself, Jaune found himself enjoying the fight.

He was, admittedly, not pushing himself. All that mastery of aura he had achieved at Rothenburg, and all that power he had grasped – he called upon none of that, now.

Jaune was walking a fine line, here. He had to show enough strength to prove his usefulness, but he didn't want to beat Taurus so badly that the man got angry and simply called his team in to attack Jaune – in which case he would have no choice but to fight for real, kill the Fang, and miserably fail Watts's task.

Hence, Jaune chose to show off his substantial skill, even while holding back the sort of raw speed and strength that he had, in his desperation, managed to pull out against Rainart.

Taurus and Jaune himself were still eyeing each other.

Jaune was holding his sword in his favoured high stance, sword pointed up; and Taurus mirrored him in this – an aggressive posture befitting the infamous terrorist leader.

No one moved to attack, but in silence, every shift in posture was noted, every attack vector calculated, and every strategy considered – such was a battle between true masters of the blade.

Jaune wondered what the other White Fang members thought of what was going on. To their untrained eyes, it would seem as if their leader and the outside huntsman were doing nothing but staring uselessly at each other; but if so, more fool them.

In the end, it was Taurus that first broke the standoff, when Jaune shifted his weight from his front foot to the back. Interpreting that innocuous move as the prelude to a pre-emptive strike, Taurus sprung into motion.

The man's right leg kicked off, pushing his body forward and generating kinetic energy that he then imparted into his sword. With his left leg staying planted, Taurus pivoted and brought all that force into the downward swing of his sword.

It was a powerful strike, well-executed, and would have seriously dented Jaune's aura had it hit –

– but it did not hit, for Jaune stepped to the side while twisting his sword, letting his blade point downwards even as he held the hilt near his head.

This brought a length of angled steel between him and Taurus's strike, and the blow, though powerful, ended up parried to the side, sliding off the span of Jaune's blade even as Jaune let the force push his own sword down and around.

Twisting, Jaune guided that redirected force into a strike, and brought his blade screaming down at Adam Taurus's face.

A third scratch joined its two existing brothers on Taurus's mask, though the man's last-ditch dive to the side saved his head.

Taurus rolled on the ground before coming back to his feet, white concrete dust covering his once-immaculate black coat.

He was fuming now. Rage and anger billowed off the man, clear and unmistakeable to Jaune's aura sense, as an inferno at night was to the eye. Not that one needed a huntsman's aura sense to tell that Taurus's temper was boiling over – that much was obvious, from the man's bared teeth and the furious growl he was giving.

His fury left him his intentions helplessly exposed, however, and with the shifting of his shoulders and the tensing of his legs, it was contemptuously easy to see that Adam Taurus was about to throw himself recklessly into a frontal, all-or-nothing attack.

Taurus's right leg pushed off, and Jaune – almost lazily – brought his sword high and across, in the start of a counter-stroke that would parry Taurus's blade, while creating an opportunity for a follow-through strike against Taurus's head.

Except –

What!?

Impossibly, Taurus's intense anger dissipated, like it was never there; and far from lunging in, Taurus merely did a single, halting step forward – no more.

A feint!

The tables had turned, and now Jaune was in a terrible position, with his blade thrust out uselessly, ready to counter an attack that was never to be.

And now, only now, did Taurus attack in earnest, the man ducking below Jaune's blade and diving in, sword point first.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The razor-sharp end of the katana sped towards Jaune's heart.

He wasn't dead; far from it, for his aura would protect him.

Nevertheless, Jaune's very soul rebelled against the idea of letting the blade touch his chest – of letting someone, anyone, best him at swordsmanship; this dance of sharpened steel, this battle of anticipation designed to kill.

He was the greatest swordsman in the world, and he was not about lose to some lesser mortal.

Summoning that mastery of aura which had carried him to victory at Rothenburg, Jaune imbued his body with extraordinary strength and speed.

Then, with a roar, Jaune ripped his sword downwards.

Steel met steel; blade tore cloth; but flesh –

– flesh was untouched, and blood unshed.

Gingerly, Jaune stepped back, right as the same time Taurus himself backed off.

Jaune's jacket bore a nasty cut, where the tip of Taurus's katana – propelled by the force of Jaune's deflection – had ripped right through the cotton. Jaune himself, however, was no worse for the wear.

"I almost had you, there."

Taurus spoke. His tone was bland, almost observational.

For a terrorist leader, Jaune decided, Adam Taurus was much more level-headed than he let on.

Inwardly, Jaune revised his estimations upwards, of just how dangerous the man was.

Taurus sheathed his katana, and Jaune followed, by returning his steel sword to its scabbard. And to Taurus's comment, Jaune replied,

"Almost, yes."

"Mmm."

If Taurus was displeased at the slight needling, he did not let it show. In any case, with the fight done, Jaune was compelled to ask,

"So, am I strong enough for you, Taurus?"

That was the whole point of the fight, after all – to gauge Jaune's strength, and his usefulness to the raid. And of that, Taurus's judgement was –

"Yes."

The man's answer was blunt, as was the question he followed he followed it up with.

"You were holding back, until the end. Why?"

Jaune considered his reply; and mindful of not giving insult, he said,

"It wasn't a fight to a death. There was no point."

Then, changing the topic and taking the opportunity to offer some praise, Jaune added,

"That was a clever trick, pretending to be angry, and baiting in an attack. How did you do it?

Huntsmen could, through their aura sense, perceive an enemy's emotions, and thereby gain an edge in combat. Smugness could indicate unreadiness and a susceptibility to a surprise attack; rage could signal an imminent direct attack that needed to be countered; and fear could hint at jumpiness, and a tendency to lash out or fall for otherwise obvious feints.

On the flipside, however, if one could fool one's enemy as to one's emotional state, one could draw them into misreading the timing of one's attacks – thus creating exploitable vulnerabilities.

And yet, though huntsmen over the ages had attempted such a tactic, they had never succeeded, for the problems were legion and the solutions poor. It was hard enough to use memories to summon specific emotions in the heat of battle; it was near impossible to get these evoked emotions strong enough to swamp out all other feelings and to send the enemy an unequivocal but false signal; and that was without even getting into the difficulty of making these conjured emotions feel natural in context – a sudden bout of fear when the enemy was previously icy calm, for instance, would not fool a remotely competent fighter.

Adam Taurus, however, had succeeded where everyone else had failed. Anger wasn't the most difficult emotion to summon, certainly, and the man was also taking advantage of the negative stereotype about bull faunus, and turning others' prejudices against them – but there was more to it. The sheer intensity of his rage, so overwhelming that no one could think it fake – Jaune didn't think feelings of such magnitude could be summoned on a whim.

With genuine curiosity, Jaune awaited Taurus's explanation – even if one didn't seem forthcoming, what with the way his question had made the man's mouth twist, while causing the surrounding White Fang members to shift uncomfortably.

"Never mind –"

"There's no trick."

Taurus interrupted Jaune, just as he was about to tell the man to forget his question. And tersely, the man continued, to say,

"All I do is think about the what the humans have done to us. And that's enough."

Ah.

That was most Taurus had said that night, in a single go – two sentences, no more; but from those two sentences Jaune Arc had gotten a pretty good idea of the man before him.

Anger isn't something he feels; it's something he is.

"Now –"

Clearly done with enough explanations for the night, Taurus began pivoting to discussing the upcoming raid.

"– I'll go over the plan –"

"Adam."

The speckled, brown-skinned girl who had spoken out against Taurus earlier stepped forward, and spoke out again now.

Taurus turned his head sharply, his annoyance at the interruption clear. And while that made the girl hesitate, she ultimately pushed through with what she had to say.

"We have to ask him. Sienna –"

"Tch."

The mention of the High Leader seemed only to deepen Taurus's annoyance. All the same he assented, albeit brusquely.

"Ask him, then."

The girl nodded, before turning to Jaune.

"... Mordred. During the raid, we'll be fighting soldiers, and also huntsmen. But even after we defeat them, these humans will still be –"

She glanced at Taurus.

"– too dangerous to let live –"

The way she said that phrase made it clear that the term was someone else's – almost certainly Taurus's – and she was merely repeating it.

"– because they could know our goals, or remember our tactics and numbers, and if they live they can give this info to Huntsman Command and the military. So maybe the wisest thing is just to k-kill them. Do you agree, Mordred?"

Jaune didn't miss how the girl stuttered over the word kill. Her unease in mentioning murder as an option was palpable, even if Taurus did not share her qualms. The man had been half-listening, but now he only snorted, before turning away to check a map on his scroll.

Jaune himself was utterly leery of this talk of murder. The whole operation had been morally fraught since the beginning, and this was not helping matters. The White Fang was attempting a raid on a Vale Armed Forces airbase so as to acquire some very powerful and very difficult-to-obtain gravity dust, and for the sake of gaining Salem's trust, Jaune was obliged to help them. Inevitably, innocent people, including brave soldiers and huntsmen, were going to get hurt in the process – though Jaune was going to do his best to avoid killing anyone or inflicting permanent injuries. The real worry, in truth, was what the Fang was going to do, and how many they were going to kill, with a hundred tons of stolen gravity dust at their disposal – but even there, Headmaster Ozpin made a persuasive case that Jaune helping the Fang now was the safer choice. They were probably going to succeed with the dust theft even without his help, given the vast resources Salem could otherwise lend; and if so, it was better to have Jaune inside the operation, where he could plant tracking devices on the dust, thus allowing the authorities to recover them at a later date, along with any other stockpiles of stolen dust stored at the same location. Additionally, working with the Fang gave Jaune the opportunity to find out more about what the Fang was planning on a grander scale – and also what Salem herself was hoping to get out of this alliance.

With all that said and done, Jaune was faced with an immediate moral dilemma – agree that the defeated soldiers and huntsmen ought to be executed, so as to protect his standing with the Fang; or disagree, and risk the mission and everything that depended upon it.

Jaune glanced at Taurus, who was still absorbed in his map, and – presumably – busy mentally running through his strategy for the coming raid. The man seemed not at all concerned about what Jaune had to say, even though he was infamous for his ruthlessness and brutality, and ought to been interested in whether his temporary ally shared his outlook and proclivities.

And as for the girl –

She looked desperately uncomfortable as she awaited his reply. It puzzled Jaune, that she would even bring up the matter, when she clearly didn't agree with the idea of summarily executing unarmed prisoners. Indeed, Adam Taurus himself didn't seem to care too much about ensuring their new team member – Jaune – had sufficient fanaticism for their cause. Watts had assured Taurus of Jaune's sympathy to the Fang, and that seemed enough for him. It helped, that Watts had slyly implied to Taurus that Jaune was a faunus, without ever outright stating it and risking having to prove the lie. As it was, Jaune could coast by on the misconception, and allow everyone present to assume he was a faunus without an immediately apparent trait.

Oh, not to worry, Mr Arc. I told Taurus that you were a former child labourer who escaped a Valean logging camp, and that you hate humans with a passion. He can draw the implications himself, and if he mistakenly assumes you are faunus – well, far be it for me to correct another man's pleasant delusions.

There was something Jaune was not seeing here; something he was getting wrong.

Casting his mind back, he recalled Adam's impatience when Sienna Khan's name was mentioned. It was Sienna Khan who wanted the question asked, this test for fanaticism, administered – even though it was Taurus who on the even more extreme, violent wing of the Fang.

And for all his withering contempt for Sienna Khan and her belated disavowal of Weiss's kidnapping, he had to admit that the she probably wasn't lying about her not approving it – the High Leader was far too savvy a politician to do something as politically suicidal and monumentally self-defeating as have the Fang livestream the torture-murder of a young girl.

Which meant –

Of course.

The truth clicked within his mind, and Jaune could hardly believe he had been so blind.

The question the girl was asking on behalf of Sienna Khan, this test of his judgement – it was not to ensure he was fanatical; it was to ensure he wasn't.

Everything fell into place then.

Sienna Khan wasn't worried about new recruits and prospective allies having too little ruthlessness; she was worried about them having too much, what with mindless brutality achieving them nothing in recent times but a public relations disaster, and increased military pressure in the wake of Weiss's kidnapping.

The speckled, brown-skinned girl was asking the question on behalf of her leader precisely because Taurus's brand of fanaticism was too extreme for even her – and because she wanted to ensure Jaune wasn't some murder-happy maniac either.

And Adam Taurus, of course, didn't care for the question being asked because he thought Sienna Khan's relative restraint weak and pusillanimous.

Meanwhile, Jaune only felt relief – not just from arriving at the truth, and alleviating the psychological stress caused by his previous state of bewilderment; but also from knowing that he no longer had to choose between two evils, or push for murdering defeated huntsman as the cost of keeping his cover.

"What's your name?"

Jaune asked the brown-skinned girl that, as a prelude to his actual answer.

The girl looked startled to have been asked.

"Ilia."

"Well, Ilia, I don't agree with killing defeated, unarmed soldiers and huntsmen. Killing people in battle is one thing, but once they're no longer a threat, what good does murdering them do? Lives are precious, and shouldn't be carelessly thrown away – we aren't Schnees, for gods' sake."

Ilia snickered, and many of the other White Fang members laughed too; just as he had hoped, that barb against Weiss's family proved popular, and won him some favour.

Continuing, Jaune said,

"And it's not like there are any secrets we're protecting by sending these people to their graves. If we take a whole warehouse's worth of gravity dust, we can't hide that fact. And –"

Jaune looked at Taurus, whose jaw was clenched, even as the man himself studiously looked at his map, and avoided giving any sign he was actually listening.

"– killing these people are counterproductive from a military perspective anyway. If you let them live, whatever backup arrives will need to get them medical help; this delays any pursuit. If we kill them, all those reinforcements will have nothing better to do but be hot on our heels. Being merciful is practical. Don't you agree, Taurus?"

The man finally looked up. Without visible emotion, he replied,

"A better reason than caring about the lives of humans who want to kill us. But enough."

He directed that more to Ilia than to Jaune himself. And then, to the whole team, he allowed,

"For this raid, spare who you can, and kill who you must. It's more than the humans deserve, but that should keep Sienna happy, and if she's not..."

Taurus trailed off menacingly.

Otherwise, however, things seemed to have resolved themselves well enough; in particular, the raid wasn't going to be as bloody as Jaune feared.

"Boss?"

One of the other White Fang members chose that moment to speak up. It was the bat faunus, who had his arms crossed even as he looked at Jaune.

"Yuma."

Taurus acknowledged his subordinate.

Yuma stroked at his goatee, before speaking once more; his voice deep and gravelly, there was a sense of authority to him, and as he said,

"I might be wrong, but I think this guy's a human."

This declaration almost caused Jaune to start in surprise; and while the rest of the White Fang crew descended into murmuring amongst themselves, Taurus himself seemed as still as stone.

His reply was a single word, one which thrummed with tension.

"Explain."

Yuma nodded.

"Well, it might be nothing, but this guy keeps saying people this, people that; we shouldn't kill these people, we shouldn't put these people in an early grave. You get the picture. But only humans talk like that; faunus don't. When we refer to them, we call them humans. Yes?"

Even before Yuma was done speaking, Jaune knew that Watts's implicit lie had been blown apart. Whatever the linguistic reality, and whatever the truth behind the ways in which faunus spoke of humans, Yuma's claim sounded persuasive – and as he heard an angry clamour rise around him, Jaune knew that the terrorists were this close to deciding to kill him.

Taurus, meanwhile, was turning his neck around so he could look Jaune in the eyes. It was almost creepy, the way the man's body stood stock-still as his neck turned, and as his head swivelled about. There was something deeply disquieting about the intense way in which Taurus seemed to focus on Jaune, and on his alleged humanhood, to the exclusion and detriment of everything else.

"Mordred. Prove you're faunus. Show your animal trait."

The command was simple, straightforward and something Jaune was utterly incapable of meeting.

Feeling the situation slowly slipping out of control, Jaune decided to go on the initiative, and break the truth himself.

"Can't do that, Taurus. I am human. Nothing wrong with that; and nothing wrong with me helping my faunus brothers and sisters fight for justice and equality."

Taurus didn't bother replying. He only walked forward, so he ended up right in front of Jaune.

Jaune was tall, but Taurus was even taller, and the bull faunus loomed over him now.

His hand was also rested on the hilt of his katana, a fact that Jaune could not help but be hyper-aware of.

His voice menacingly soft, Taurus said,

"Watts also said a lot of bullshit about logging camps and you hating humans. Not sure I believe that now. So tell me the truth, or I'll cut off your head, and send it to Watts. Why do you want to fight with us?"

Jaune's first instinct was to meet fire with fire, and answer threat with threat.

Threaten me again, Taurus, and I'll tear out your guts, and paint this warehouse red with your blood.

He had the strength to back it up, and the cold resolve to be believed.

But Jaune was not that sort of person; he was not Adam Taurus, to resort to threats of ultra-violence just because he was angry.

He still had his mission from Ozpin to gain Salem's trust; and hence, he still had to complete this task for Watts, and help usher the coming White Fang raid to a successful conclusion. That in turn required peacefully resolving this impasse, and restoring the terrorists' trust in him – and if that was unachievable through the truth, a lie would just have to do.

And not just any lie – but the best sort, a half-lie, with enough of the truth in it to be credible, and to be, from actual truths, indistinguishable.

Jaune had always been sympathetic to faunus rights, and it was not for nothing that he and Weiss had gotten off to a terrible start at Beacon. He had read the Liberty International reports, been sickened by the evidence of terrible oppression and abuse happening down in the Schnee mines – not that Weiss had believed the accusations when Blake had levelled them, and when Jaune had provided further evidence, in that brutal team quarrel on their first day together.

I'm not blind to the oppression faced by the faunus, and that's the truth.

But it wasn't enough; the White Fang would not believe that abstract moral outrage had brought him here. There had to be a personal reason – an injustice he himself experienced, to make Jaune take up the sword against his own people.

So, a lie to seal the deal.

And for that, Jaune turned his mind to Blake's outburst in that very same team quarrel. He could remember it clearly even now, months after, so powerful were her words, and so memorable was her righteous anger.

"Oh yes, of course, it's just a conspiracy. Everyone's just out to get the poor, victimized Schnees. It's totally not the case that reputable organizations like Liberty International have compiled tons of investigative research showing faunus in the Schnee mines being beaten and whipped, of female faunus being raped, of faunus men being mutilated with the fucking SDC logo –"

Blake stopped mid-rant. She was pale, and growing paler. And for some inexplicable reason, she was pointing at her left eye, and yet was now looking at her own pointing hand with growing horror.

Without another word, she fled the room.

Weiss was speechless; Jaune, meanwhile, only felt a sinking feeling, as he got a sense of the truth behind the last – admittedly insane-looking – finger pointing part of Blake's rant.

He was no fool; it was clear Blake had a family member or friend who had been subject to the horrific, humiliating torture that was faunus branding. And as for the weaving of that injustice into Jaune's own fictive narrative –

All around Jaune, white masks gleamed in the poor light of the warehouse.

It was at that moment that inspiration came flaring up, like the flame from a match struck in the dark – and Jaune knew with absolute certainty what he had to say.

"You want to know why I fight, Adam Taurus? I'll tell you. I'll tell all of you."

Jaune looked around – at Ilia, at Yuma, at all the other White Fang members, and then finally back at Taurus himself.

"I've never lived under a rock. I've watched the news; I've heard of the Schnee mines and the people they abuse. All that made me furious, made me want to know more. So I read the human and faunus rights reports; I learnt all about the beatings and the rapes and the mutilations. I was sickened – but still, I thought the White Fang was wrong, and that violence is intolerable; because it hurts people, and doesn't even work in forcing change on the world."

Jaune snorted; the bitterness came easy enough.

"Then, one day, I got into a huntsman academy – a small, low-tier one, not Beacon or any of the Big Four – and there I met my partner, this guy who was a dog faunus. He was a good friend, and an excellent huntsmen.

"But here was the strange thing – I never get to see the upper part of his face. In the dorms, at breakfast, in class, in the showers – he was always wearing these thick, visor-type glasses, which hid both his eyes and the area around them. I kept telling him it looked stupid, and that it also made people afraid, because it somewhat looked like the White Fang's masks. He told me to mind my own business, and so I did.

"Then, at the end of our first year, we went off on a training mission. Long story short, things went wrong, the Grimm dogpiled us, and my friend died protecting me. The Grimm mauled him bad, and most of his body was a bloody mess – only his face, really, was left.

"I took his visor off, then. I wanted to see my friend's face, for the first and last time, before we had to bury him, and before we had to say our final goodbye.

"Do you know what was on his face, on the area around his eyes? Do you?"

Jaune pushed his face up into Adam Taurus's.

"A fucking brand! Spelling S-D-C! On my dead friend's face, like he's some sort of animal to be branded, some sort of property to be stamped!"

Jaune was bellowing now, his emotions running wild in sympathy with the words he spoke and the story he told. And all this while, he was gesticulating wildly with his finger; pointing, always and ever, at his left eye – at where his imaginary friend's imaginary brand was meant to be at.

And then, all of a sudden, like a puppet whose strings were cut, Jaune sagged.

In a tired tone of voice, he concluded.

"I decided then that if they wanted to treat my friend and other faunus like animals, then they're slavers and murderers who deserved to die. And that's why I'm here, helping you – for justice, and for equality, there's no one I won't kill."

For the longest while, no one spoke. Taurus himself could have been carved out of granite, for how absolutely little he moved.

Then –

– after long, long seconds –

– Adam Taurus finally spoke.

For a man animated by anger and sustained by rage, he was, in this moment, miraculously free of such dark emotions.

Instead, it was with a calmness bordering on tranquillity that Adam Taurus said, softly,

"Ilia. Get our friend here a mask. He'll need it, to be one of us."

-(=RWBY=)-