[Author's Note: College + Broken Computer = a sad fish. A suitable subtitle for this chapter would be: the one with all the back-story. As always, reviews are appreciated. I know just how badly I need my work to be torn apart.
I'm sure we're all still reeling from what happened last week and I'm certain that came through in some of this chapter. Not sure if there are any actual words I can say about him that will do him justice, but I know that without this show it may have been a while longer before I got out of the writing rut I was in at the time. There's no way in hell I'll ever forget, but there's no way I'm going to stop now.
Rest well, Monty (or don't, as is your style). We'll pick up the pace in your stead.]
Sapphire stared at the girl standing in the dimly lit hallway from a distance. Blue light reflected through half-drawn curtains from the unbroken side of the moon above, casting shadows that caged them in like the ribs of some monster from a bygone era. Flecks of dust swirled in a loose haze below the waist, glimmering in the light like a gold digger's dream. The girl's hair was more blue than she'd remembered it being and her legs were not as long as they'd become. Her shirt didn't quite fit her, exposing part of her belly, but still hung loose like it was made for someone wider than her. She held a teddy bear by an arm in one hand, its bare feet barely hovering above the polished, wood floor. Most adults that saw her with it gave her mother the same concerned stare, while their kids were more open with their prejudice. Stitching barely held the memento together, one of its legs from another toy entirely. She didn't think it was all that strange to still have it by her side when she was fifteen, but the first time it was torn apart in front of her she became hardened. With her mother's help she put it back together, sewing an eye-patch over the eye they could not replace. Her mother hollowed out its nose, inserting a wedge of steel inside so that when her daughter hunted down those responsible and bapped them on the nose she'd more than just bruise them. Sapphire giggled. It'd taken hours to get the stains out of its fur. She briefly recalled the one wheelchair-bound boy who'd liked it, often asking if he could hold it even with its out-of-place leg.
The girl yawned and scratched her stomach lazily. She kept her eyes closed, still a little groggy and lightheaded from the dream she'd just woken up from. Sapphire looked at the bookshelf standing at her waist. She couldn't quite remember what stories rested inside; the titles scrawled on their spines were a blur to her. She went to touch one of the tomes and was met with an immediate flash of memory. Pictures of legends and adventure filled her mind for the shortest of instants - its pages were home to tales for a naive and unbroken soul. She shook her head and refocused, finding herself drawn to the lonely candle sitting on top of the shelf. It made her uneasy. Neither heat nor light radiated from its solitary, colorless flame. It was like the darkness was choking it out, its wax base stale and dry.
The girl took a step forward and a sudden chill ran down Sapphire's spine. She turned around to see the light from the windows slowly fade from existence as shadows washed over them. Cracks splintered in the floor, wisps of an unfathomable evil streaming out of them. She felt something lick at her feet - the unseen tendrils of fate, it seemed. She looked back to the candle for help and saw that its flame had been snuffed out. The girl seemed so far away, waddling carefree like she did. She had to catch up to her. She had to warn her.
Sapphire broke away from the shadows with little effort; the tendrils slithered around her ankles crumbling like a burnt twig. She did not run but she paced herself fast enough to catch up with the girl without spooking her too badly. She was lucky enough to be wearing socks - her footsteps made little noise as she moved. But for every stride she took the girl seemed to take three. She was quickly becoming out of her reach. Sapphire broke into a run, and then a sprint, but even then she could not reach her. Physics did not seem to apply to the girl - she slid faster over the floor than her feet moved. Sapphire reached after her, trying to grab any bit of her to tell her of the trouble that sought her. The hall seemed to stretch on forever, nothing like she remembered. She tried to call after her but the words refused to leave her throat. It was like an invisible hand was cupped over her mouth, silencing her. She barely got out a broken "no" when the girl vanished from sight.
Sapphire struggled to a halt and let her arm plop back to her side, panting from exhaustion. Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. She was scared, but she could not understand why. The shadows following her were a threat in their own right, but they didn't feel like the reason why she was running.
Sapphire found it hard to breathe. She bent over, resting her palms on her knees for support. Sweat trickled from her chin, splashing into a puddle on the floor, echoing into the distance as if it were the only sound to hear for miles. A trail of red at her feet caught her eye. She lifted her head and saw that it jolted into the dark ahead, zigging and zagging unevenly back and forth like it'd been freshly carved with one of her brother's calligraphy brushes. An overwhelming sense of dread hammered in her chest - she could see it drip through the floor. The shadows begged to embrace her, tugging at the sleeves of her brother's jacket. She took one step forward before they stole the floor away, casting her into the pit below.
She blinked once and suddenly she was in the kitchen. The girl sat on her haunches, staring hungrily into the fridge with its door swung open wide. The light inside shone unusually bright, eroding away the shadows hunting her. Sapphire heard them hiss as they retreated, letting a little blue moonlight back into the room. Her teddy bear kept watch from the table nearby, its legs dangling casually over the edge.
The girl hummed a nonsensical tune as she shuffled ingredients around on the shelves of the fridge. Her bear, who'd taken the name "Thatch" after its injuries, did not approve of her midnight raids for snacks. However, when she pulled out a yogurt and a stick of string cheese like she always did, the bear did not seem to mind. She gave Thatch the latter of the two treats and joined it on the table for a short feast. She tussled the fuzzy, red mohawk she'd glued to its head. Sometimes she'd wonder if she should gift it a leather jacket to complete its punk rock ensemble.
Sapphire peeked into the fridge herself and frowned. She wanted to pour herself a glass of milk but something told her that she shouldn't touch anything. The gallon on the top shelf was expired anyways, she knew. The leftover chicken from the night before was tempting, though. It was her dad's old recipe - he'd taught it to her just before he passed away.
She stood up and looked back to the girl again. She'd already slurped down her yogurt and Thatch's cheese was nowhere to be found. She set the bear on her lap and snuggled around it, kissing its forehead. The two made an odd pair to the outsider's gaze, but they made Sapphire felt a little bit warmer inside watching them. The scene painted by a girl and her trusty bear was almost serene to her. She missed the days of trusted company.
The door of the fridge slowly creaked shut, phasing through her like she was a ghost. The sound it made when it closed startled the girl, who bolted upright and tightened her grip on Thatch. When she realized it was just the fridge she sighed with relief but her heart raced on anyways. The sudden dark made her feel small sitting on the table with the ceiling so close to her head. To calm herself she did the one thing that could when she was little. She held Thatch to her chest firmly and whispered "shine, little bear," into his ears. In the girl's mind, and to Sapphire's eyes, the teddy bear began to glow, creating a small bubble of light around them. "I'm here for you," she could've sworn she'd heard a deep voice akin to a wise lion monarch's boom say soothingly into her ear. "Always."
Everyone she knew when she was young always told her that the fear of the dark was an irrational one. They said that she'd grow out of it with time and that it was only natural for children to have it. But when a decade had passed and their reassurances turned to scoffs her mother scolded them for being the irrational ones. They didn't know what it was like to live beyond the cozy walls of the kingdoms, she'd tell them. They were too soft to truly know fear.
"Can't sleep either, eh?"
The girl turned to see her older brother step out of the dark. He yawned and rolled his shoulders before rubbing at a crick in his neck.
"Mmph," the girl grunted in reply, burying her face into the back of Thatch's head.
He strode over to the fridge and opened it, bending over to get a good look inside. The bright light glanced off him, outlining him in the dark and filling his emerald eyes with color.
"Took the last yogurt, did you?" He asked with a hint of disappointment in his voice. She nodded. He straightened out and slapped the fridge door shut, almost waking their mother up were she not such a heavy sleeper. In the absence of its light the freckles on his arms shone like starlight, bringing more comfort to the girl than Thatch ever could. He'd rolled the sleeves of his favorite jacket up to his shoulders to get the most out of his unique ability. "Oh well," he sighed, taking a seat next to his sister, "I can't blame you. It's not your fault that we share a favorite food."
"If I'd know you'd wanted it," the girl mumbled quickly, "I'd have saved it for you."
"Ah, don't fret it, sister," he smiled, tussling her hair. "I can always pick up a pack in the morning. Then we can fight over the last one all over again!"
"Hah! You? Fight?" The girl turned to look at him with an expression as aloof as the tone of her voice. "That'd be the day."
"Yeah, yeah," her brother said, shaking his head. He watched as she rested her head back on top of her bear, looking an awful lot like the dejected, emotional teenager she often claimed she wasn't. "So what's up with you?" He asked. "You've had a lot of sleepless nights lately. Anything you want to share tucked away in that head of yours?"
"No," the girl lied, "not really."
"You sure? 'Cuz you only ever take the last yogurt when you're, as mom would put it, 'emotionally compromised,' which is code for angry. Which I suppose is quite often, but it usually doesn't keep you awake at night."
"Don't make me punch you," the girl threatened with a giggle.
"My point exactly," he grinned. Sapphire had to cover her mouth when she punched his shoulder, electing an exaggerated, melodramatic groan from the depths of his soul. "But seriously," he continued, "are you okay?"
"I-" she huffed, hesitating for a moment. She'd always been able to confide in her older brother - well, almost always - but this felt like something too personal even for them to talk about. "I'm just worried," she eventually said.
"Oh? About what?"
The girl gave him a curious look that told him all he needed to know.
"Oh. Ohhh. This is about me leaving, isn't it?"
"Figured that out, did you?"
"Look, sis, about all this- I can promise to you that I'm not going to be like the great, perfect, all-sister with her being too busy as a huntress to even write to us monthly, but I've got to get out of this house. It's not like I'm leaving you all alone. You'll still have mom and Thatch and your friends at school… Well, maybe not them because we found out they're all ravenous dick-weasels… And I suppose Thatch doesn't have big enough hands, or opposable thumbs, or enough automation for that matter, to work a controller to play video games with you, but it won't be all that bad."
"But why do you have to go?" The girl asked, tearing up a little. "Can't you just keep doing what you do from here?"
"I know it's hard to understand - believe me, it's hard to explain too - but I've just got to get away from Vale. The red tree leaves and bright night lights just aren't doing it for me as inspiration anymore. I figure that if I see some new sights, meet some new people, I'll really hit it big and get my art out there. I've seen everything I need to see here. It's time to move on.
"Not that I won't be coming back, mind you," he amended after a short pause, catching what he'd said. "If I wind up broke on the road I might have no choice to call for help. But such is the life of an artist, no? Pushing the limits of my very being just to get a little more creativity out of my passion is what I do."
"Other than the sleeping all day bit," the girl joked.
"Hey, I stopped doing that years ago. You're the one who still clings to the comfort of a bed after six morning alarms."
"What can I say? I had a good role model."
"Well, at least I made some positive impact on your life," her brother grinned. The girl agreed. Sleep was pretty damn amazing.
A chill ran down Sapphire's spine as a sudden metallic scraping sound echoed from the hallway. The girl and her brother turned toward it, their eyes wide and fingers tense. A hollow, purple fog slowly rolled into the kitchen, filling the room with a foul, dank smell. The girl hopped off the table and slowly backed away, her brother following behind her. His eyes flicked back and forth as he scanned for an exit. It was like they had been tossed into a horror film and neither of them liked it.
Pounding alarm rang in Sapphires head as the glint of two flat, black lenses flickered in the dark, an icy stare behind them piercing the girl's very soul. She looked back to her brother - this felt like a sick joke. "Hello?" The girl called out. She heard the sound of tightening leather and clinking of metal as if someone was tightening their hand around a weapon. Then she heard something hiss. Whoever it was out there, they had a poor sense of humor. Playing psychopath under any moon other than a blood-moon just wasn't right.
Suddenly something sharp shot out of the dark and toward the girl. She gasped and barely managed to push her brother out of the way in time. Sapphire grabbed her shoulder as a scythe at the end of a chain struck the girl, fire coursing through an old wound. The girl yelped in pain and her brother shouted something unintelligible as she fell to the ground. Sapphire dropped to her knees as she watched the girl's brother clamor over her, checking franticly to see if she was okay. A cold figure floated out of the dark, every step it took parting a hole in the fog, a gasmask one of many highlights of its being.
Sapphire's breaths turned shallow. This was what she needed to warn the girl about. This was what carved that blood trail in the hall. This was the fate that stole the floor away. This was the nightmare that haunted her dreams. This was the memory she could never escape. And it made her want to scream.
So she did.
Sapphire awoke with a jolt and bolted upwards, tossing off her covers in a flash of sweat. She breathed heavy, exasperated breaths, her eyes wide and vision blurred. She clutched her head as she reeled from her painful awakening, closing her eyes tight as she braced against an oncoming headache. She felt a need for escape in the pit of her stomach. She obeyed it with urgency.
Sapphire dashed into the bathroom on the first floor of her home and promptly vomited into the toilet. Her arms shook as she held herself over the swirling remains of last night's dinner. She felt dizzy and tired even though she'd been asleep for a good ten hours. She hadn't had a good night's rest in what felt like years. She flushed the bile down the drain and let herself slump against the cabinet under the sink. She coughed and sputtered, trying to take as deep of breaths as she could manage. It was hard at first, but eventually she calmed down enough to realize that she was no longer in danger. The memory was behind her, for now.
When she had the energy for it she pulled herself to her feet and leaned on balls of her palms on the sink's counter. She stared breathlessly into the mirror on the wall, barely able to see through the mess that was her hair. She brushed aside her tangled violet and blue locks and pulled the collar of her night shirt down past her left shoulder. She inspected a large scar that cut vertically deep between where her shoulder met her collar. It had healed years ago, turning a nice shade of pink to stand out on her pale skin, but she still remembered the pain like it was yesterday. Her mother had worked her hard ever since, ensuring that she would never fail like that again. She'd never said that she'd failed, of course, that was just her beating herself up. She knew it wasn't her fault that her brother had died, but she still felt like she hadn't done enough.
Sapphire sighed, stripped, and stepped into the shower, hoping to wash off as much of the memory as she could. The cold spray numbed the pain of the scar and masked the tears that streamed down her face. It would be weeks before she'd finally admit it, but living alone in a penthouse suite was starting to hurt.
"How's it looking from up there, bro?"
Nothing. Amber stared into her scroll's holo-interface projected from the palm of her prosthetic hand as she rested against the brick wall of one of the many shops in the market, her lips askew. Duster's picture floated motionlessly on the left, next to Sapphire's and Nigel's.
"Brother?" She repeated testily.
"Mm! Sorry," he finally responded. She could hear him smack his lips on the other side of the line. "Was eatin' a strawberry."
"Getting lovesick already?"
"No." He sounded a bit flustered. "Can't a guy jus' enjoy some delicious fruit every now n' then?"
"Even when it's a favorite food shared between both him and his girlfriend?"
She grinned as her younger brother mumbled something incoherent and heard him close the plastic container that stored his copious amount of "delicious fruit."
"Should I just mute the call for a couple minutes while you two sort this out, or…?" Sapphire's icon flashed as she spoke, punctuating every word of her interruption.
"Just poking fun at my brother, Sapphire - it's nothing to worry about." Amber coughed and quickly changed the subject. "How's that earpiece fitting you?"
"Fine. Smart of you to make them adjustable like that."
"Yeah, I don't know why most companies don't do that. Seriously though, bro, what's the word?"
"Calm, at the moment." Duster scanned over the crowd of Faunus that packed the market from his seat on the roof of a shop a few blocks west of Jade's emporium. They came in many shapes and sizes, colors and genders, but one constant remained among each of them: they all carried a glass bowl with three, rotating embers floating inside. There were a few humans among them, including Cid, Nigel and a familiar pair of wee blue booties, but they were far too outnumbered to even make a mark on the attendance statistics of the gathering. He could see the pie-chart now. There'd be blue for Faunus and orange for humans, with blue taking up the entirety of the chart. If you wanted to get really in-depth, you could have multiple colors for each kind of Faunus, but keep the human representation the same. For comedic effect there'd be numbers attached to the color key: 100% for blue, or otherwise divided amongst the individual Faunus types, and 0.0% for humans. That they'd be complimenting colors would be interesting to some, but with one entirely absent from the chart proper, others would be quick to point out how little it would matter.
And then the arguing would begin.
"'Why a pie chart and not a bar graph?'" He mocked aloud. "'Excuse me, but I believe a scatter plot graph would better fit your computations for maximum efficiency.' 'No it wouldn't.' 'Nerd!' 'Lol.' 'If you're going to put Faunus on this list, why not put all the animals of Remnant in there?' 'Checkmate!' 'Racist! 'That's reverse racism!' 'What does that even mean?' 'I want a top ten list!' 'Everyone knows that the White Fang are really a government conspiracy meant to-' 'Hey, I just made 2,000 lien in an hour by following these easy steps, and so can you!' 'It totally works, thanks dude!' 'Fake, I can see the pixels.' 'Everything is made of pixels!' 'I want bunnies to be number five. I like bunnies.' 'Ooh! And dragons can be number one!' 'Dragons are fake and gay, just like your mom.' 'You're half right.' 'WE'RE NOT A TOP TEN LIST!'"
"Uh… bro?"
Duster's face suddenly reddened when he realized that he hadn't muted his side of the call. Nigel sighed audibly. Sapphire tried not to lose it.
"You heard nothing," he growled with embarrassment.
"Whatever you say, bro." Amber could hear Sapphire's cackling from the next street over. "Can you tell if any of the White Fang are among them?"
"No," he frowned, shaking his head clear. "There are too many auras here t' get a good read. Gonna have t' rely on our eyes fer this one."
"Too bad, I like being able to cheat."
"It ain't cheatin' if it's natural."
"Do I need to repeat that one for Elaina, or-"
"And don't take that out of context!" He followed up, quickly catching the words that came out of his mouth without filtering through his brain like usual. "Th' long distance is hard enough without someone trying t' impose a false drama on us."
"Alright, alright," Amber chuckled nervously. Sapphire still hadn't stopped laughing.
"Anyways," Duster said, eager to get the conversation back on track, "where are ya'll at? I can see Nigel easy, but I'm blind t' th' rest of ya." He looked to his giant friend, who stood silently amidst a sea of Faunus. His mohawk should've made him a standout figure to any passerby, but with the embers in the flower-crested bowls they carried changing colors as they spun, he was the least out of place thing in Vale that day. At that moment they shone a calming emerald-like color.
"I just got done talking to Jade," Sapphire said. "The leader of this march is going to be delivering a speech soon."
"That could be a prime opportunity for the Fang to make their move," Amber muttered in suggestion.
"She thought so too, but the pastor doesn't want to stop for anything. 'Today's too important to cower,' he said, whatever that means."
"Pastor?" Duster asked.
"He looks like one, anyways. He was wearing robes and the like. Didn't catch his name."
"Might be someone we know," Amber said. "Did he have a cut on his lower jaw?"
"Couldn't say. I didn't see any noticeable Faunus features either."
"Hm, alright then."
"Friend of yours?"
"We're thinkin' of a guy who runs an orphanage in town. Duster and I stayed there for a little while after… you know."
"I see."
"Good man. A little preachy, but he's just looking out for the young on the street. Likes fancy robes."
"I'll ask Jade later," Duster said. "How 'bout you, sis? What's th' view from th' other side?"
"Taking a breather right now," Amber reported, "but the alleys looked clear. I'll get moving again and make another check in a minute."
"Got it," he acknowledged. "Hopefully we'll be done before th' pastor's speech is done."
"Hopefully," Nigel muttered as inaudibly as he could. The chatter around him could be heard more clearly than his synthetic voice.
"We'll get y' back t' yer book readin' soon enough, Nigel," Duster said with a half-joked reassurance. "I'm gonna go silent fer a bit and switch rooftops t' get another angle on this crowd. Talk soon."
"You mean not just to get away before someone asks why you're ranting all crazy-like up there?" Amber quipped at the last second. She smiled, hearing her brother grumble again before cutting out entirely. "Well, that was rude," she added slyly.
"The two of you always get along this well?" Sapphire asked.
"Not always," Amber said, pushing off the wall she rested against. With a stretch and a yawn she started to make her way east along the market, taking short glances into every alley she passed by. With a flick of her wrist she set the interface of her prosthetic arm's built-in scroll to idle and it flickered off. "Sometimes we really get on each other's nerves."
"And that wasn't one of those times?"
"Oh- oh, no, not by a long shot. Sure we may poke fun at one another a lot, but rarely not in jest. Brutal sarcasm is just how we get by as siblings. If one of us were to let up for even a second we might think we're losing our grip on reality."
"Really…" Amber could almost hear the disbelieving cock of Sapphire's brow, followed by a haughty roll of her eyes. Or preceded by. Either way, Amber was sure she did either or both of those things.
"Well, no," she admitted, "but we get along just fine. It's nothing to fret about."
"I guess my experience with family is just different."
"Didn't have those little competitions with your brother, then?"
"No, we did. It was just… different."
"Don't want to talk about it?" Amber asked, recognizing the hesitation in her voice all too well.
"Not really," Sapphire confirmed. "It's still not easy to live with."
"No need to explain yourself, Sapphire," Amber said, her voice a few degrees softer. "I understand. Consider the subject dropped."
An uncomfortable silence quickly filled the gap in their conversation. To keep her mind occupied, Amber turned to studying her environment. It was a tactic she practiced often, not just as a mechanical genius, but also as a wannabe-huntress to keep herself immersed in the world she lived in and she was getting quite good at it.
At every intersection she crossed there was a police barricade on her left. To the public eye this is to keep dissenters out of the area so that yet another rally cannot be disturbed. The "general populace of Vale," otherwise known as its human inhabitants, were getting tired of hearing about the mass property damage that the White Fang were responsible for at each they disrupted, anyways. The Faunus themselves were split on the city council's decision to provide security for their events. On one hand, some were grateful for the support, believing the council was finally ready to recognize the division amidst their race and step in to help keep the peace, like the old White Fang tried to, but the current one enabled. It was a surprising olive branch, given the mass exodus attempt all those years ago before the Great War. On the other hand, some Faunus recognize that this was just another attempt to contain the situation, literally putting barricades between the peaceful and the malcontent, with both species on both sides. Just another cage to keep us in, she'd often hear muttered in hushed tones. This way the humans wouldn't have to worry about seeing their problems openly. She knew they were both right, but this day of all days was not one for conflict.
Were this the north, protesters might've been shouting and flailing signs about outside the barricades, screaming for the Faunus to leave, claiming that they're unnatural and monsters, occasionally equating them to lamp posts and trash cans. Atlas's General manages to keep the peace well enough, but with so many voices demanding blood for what the White Fang has done in recent years, it's only a matter of time before he succumbs to their will, along with his own well hidden prejudices. Amber wondered sometimes how her mentor managed to stand living there. She supposed her skill managed to drown out the opinions of those around her - or her looks. She was all too familiar with how humanity liked to fetishize the women of her race.
Human opinion seemed to be a double-edged sword of a sort. Take the baker on ninth, for instance. He is glad to hire Faunus at his shop. For one, they are cheaper labor than his own kind, an advantage he takes great care to exploit as a businessman. Additionally, they bring a culinary culture that he would otherwise have no expertise in. The creations they have produced remain among his customers' top purchases, something he is proud to advertise all over the city. He makes it a point to make sure he has the best talent rotating through his store so that there is always something new and exotic to try. However, he is not all that fond of his Faunus workers' voice. They will often take days off to go to rallies and speak of the injustices that their kind face, which motivate them to pour their souls into their work. The baker is content to smile and nod and was very willing to negotiate time off for cultural holidays - that just made sense, as he'd told them - but he wishes secretly that they would be a little less talkative.
Amber supposed the analogy was actually that of a "two sides of the same coin" kind, rather than the double-edged sword. They were similar enough, but she made it a point to ask Nigel later which actually fit. He was well versed in the world of language, after all. Either way, the bakers inside the market proper were a better choice to visit. Not only were their abodes a more cheerful sort, they actually listen when their workers complain. They actually act. Jade probably has an active hand in making sure the shop keeps that share her road are able to recognize a good plight when it crosses their desk, but really the only reason the baker on ninth is more popular is because the city had to impose a restriction that kept certain ingredients out of the other bakers' stores because their delicious smells traveled as far as the nearest kingdom.
Stationed at one of the barricades Amber recognized a pair of detectives who were often assigned to cases related to Faunus matters, specifically about Roman Torchwick. They were both dressed in white dress shirts, black slacks with brown suspenders, and slick black shoes. Their trademark shades and hairstyles set the two of them apart but they were same minded on one thing: neither of them got paid enough to do their jobs. They were constantly being overworked, pulling shifts for cops too flakey to do their jobs properly and they always had something to be made about. On the surface with how often they interact with Faunus such rage seems to be misguided prejudice, but really they just hate everyone but each-other. The one with the beard, receding flat-top hairline, and no-nonsense attitude had to put up with a divorce that left his relationship with his kids in shambles and made him the laughing stock at the one job he'd managed to keep. The other, with hair to match his aloof nature, was torn between keeping his best and only friend sane and pursuing his dream job of becoming a world renowned stage actor. None of this was public knowledge, but Amber had managed to pick up on it in the very way they twitched down to the wrinkles on their middle-aged faces. No one should have to live with so much stress that young. Also, her Faunus hearing helped too, but that wasn't as important, or so she'd claim.
A loud voice echoed overhead from the west side of the market. It sounded like the pastor had begun his speech. She couldn't exactly understand what he was saying - there were no speakers on the outer streets of the market and the way that sound reflects off of buildings had a way of muddling words, but she was sure it was something deep and inspiring. If it was who she thought it was preaching from the podium in front of the fountain monument, then she knew just how good he was at getting people back on track after a tragedy.
"See anything yet?" Sapphire asked, having decided like a rebel that the dictatorial regime of awkward silence was over.
"No," Amber muttered, slipping her hands into her pockets as she passed yet another empty alley. "Not even the homeless stuck around to watch." They were probably removed by the police hours ago. "At this point a late lunch is going to become an early dinner."
"What is this all about, anyways? This isn't as rowdy as your typical rights rally."
"You mean you don't know?" Amber asked with a slight pause.
"Should I?"
Amber stopped for a moment to pull her hand back out of her pocket and stare at Sapphire's unblinking picture disappointedly. The very nature of the question she just posed was part of the problem about human-Faunus relations. While her kind knew everything about theirs, Sapphire knew nothing about hers.
"Oh, sorry," Sapphire quickly apologized, as if able to feel her stare. "That came out wrong. I meant-"
"I know what you meant," Amber sighed, relieved she didn't have to verbally call her out, "and I'm not surprised. This isn't something that's taught in what you'd call 'general education.'"
"Then educate me. It's not every day you see a crowd of people carrying bowls of rotating fire in the middle of the day."
Amber slid her hand back into her pocket and continued down the street, stepping flawlessly between oncoming passersby who either didn't see her or refused to acknowledge her existence solely because of the tail swinging behind her legs.
"This is a wake," she explained, "held in remembrance of those responsible for fighting for our right to remain in the kingdoms and live as equals."
"A wake?"
"Yeah - those bowls of fire you mentioned are a special sort of candle. The bowls are fashioned from highly refined energy dust and while they vary in design they are often modeled to be leaf-like or rose-like in memory of the massacre beyond the walls."
"That's what sparked the war, right?"
"Partially - there are numerous accounts as to what the root cause was, but it certainly contributed. I don't know a Faunus alive in the city who didn't have a grandparent who lost a friend that day."
"I'm sorry, Amber, I-"
"Don't be," the wolf Faunus barked, aggressively cutting her off. "It's not like anyone could've done anything about it. Tensions were high back then. The war could've started because someone had sneezed in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"I- I see," Sapphire stuttered, gulping audibly. "Well, what's the fire for?"
"It's not actually fire, but rather a special kind of dust crystal called a dragon stone. It shifts between every color of the rainbow periodically. It's said to represent the embodiments of the soul, but it's mostly decorative at this point. You see a lot of traveling performance acts with Faunus casts use them as lighting effects."
"I don't think I've ever heard of a dust like that," Sapphire admitted. "But why does it look like fire if it isn't?"
"The fire effect happens when three or more dragon stones are in close proximity of one another and have a person's aura channeling through them, which is what causes them to rotate like that. The bowl acts as a conduit for the untrained, allowing for easy transfer with little loss of energy, but those skilled in spiritual manipulation, like a huntress, can activate them in the palm of their hand. If you hold your hand over the flame it will feel like a great power is flowing through you - that's the person's aura - but it gives off no heat. The more stones you have, the bigger the fire you can make, but the rarity of the stone makes such displays hard to put together, though luckily they never seem to run out of charge, like most other forms of dust."
Amber paused and chuckled softly. "It's one of our people's last kept secrets. Most humans believe that the stones are just a colorful, useless form of burn dust, so don't go spreading this information around. If the public were to find out, they might try to profit more from our culture than they already have."
"I won't say a word," Sapphire promised sincerely. "You can't see it, but I'm doing that thing where you pretend to zip your mouth shut."
"Then why are you still talking?"
Silence. Uncomfortable silence.
"I'm sorry," Amber apologized, putting her head in her hand. "That was out of line."
"It's okay." Sapphire's voice was flat and distant. She was lying. Amber clenched her prosthetic fist to mute the call for a moment and sighed. She was really bad at this. Why must Nigel not like talking? If he'd spoken up he'd have saved her from the embarrassment. She shook her head. He'd probably stopped listening eons ago.
A familiar feeling tickled Amber's finger tips as she passed yet another alley. She looked down at her hand and saw a trickle of red sparks dance across her knuckles. She turned toward the alley and saw a couple of out-of-place figures standing at the border of the crowd with their arms folded. She flicked the sparks their way and stepped into the alley to avoid being seen. Through the sparks she scanned for metal she could use with her semblance. There was plenty of metal to be found in the alley but she was looking for a few specific objects. When the sparks reached the figures she found what they were. They each carried an auto-pistol and a short sword - standard issue weaponry for a member of the White Fang.
"I've got something here," Amber reported, unclenching her fist. She looked back to the street to figure out where she was. "I'm near sixth and pine. Could one of you ping my brother and ask him to get eyes on me?" Her question was met with static in her earpiece. An awful lot of static.
"Sapphire?"
Nothing.
"Nigel."
Nope.
"Anyone?"
Nada.
Amber looked down at her prosthetic palm and turned her scroll's interface back on. The hologram of the call popped up and she frowned. The status icon at the bottom told her that the connection had been lost. "Well, that's not good," she muttered, and set the call to auto-redial before switching it back to idle.
As Amber continued down the alley she ran a couple dozen scenarios through her head. She was most certainly walking into a trap - the two grunts were standing in plain view, though not in uniform, and her communications were being jammed. That's what she got for using standard market software rather than writing her own. Lazy. She'd have to rectify that for her next arm. She'd have made a killing by selling tech with custom-built security if she'd thought of it earlier. She could've really made a name for herself in the industry rather than still riding the coattails of her mentor's name like she was. But if that went public, then the White Fang could've got their hands on it. No matter the pros, nothing was worth having that connection, especially as a Faunus herself.
Amber froze unexpectedly as the crowd began to sing. She looked to the sky as warm lyrics washed over her and tugged at her heart. Streams of color wisped vibrantly from the fires in their bowls and dissipated into the sky as their souls came alive. It was a hymn for the lost - one of many songs yet to be sung that day. The last time she'd heard it was at her parent's funeral. She remembered Raoul placing a firm hand on her shoulder and telling her it was okay to cry like her brother. It was funny to her at the time seeing a well dressed giant who spent most of his time laughing standing so stoic. The way the tears streamed down his chiseled face was a natural wonder in its own right. She wondered who'd been lost this year. She mouthed a silent word of passing to contribute to their memory.
Amber refocused as the two figures before her motioned to remove their jackets. Underneath she confirmed what she'd felt earlier, a red and white gun and blade slung at each of their waists. Their vests and monster-like masks confirmed their allegiance as well - emblazoned on their backs was the crimson head of a Beowolf, with a trio of claw marks slashed behind. They were of the White Fang alright and they were about to make their move. She was going to have to act fast.
Amber reached behind the grunt on the left to grab him but had to stop when he turned to face her, his gun drawn and pointed straight at her head.
"Oh, hello," she grinned nervously, playing it cool to buy herself a little time. "I didn't think you'd heard me coming."
"We didn't," the grunt said. She could see the other one smirk, his back still turned to her. He had his eyes on the crowd, making sure those closest to the action wouldn't squeal. Perfect.
"Eyes in the back of your head, then," Amber joked, "or am I just unlucky today?"
"A little bit of both, it would seem." The grunt was bristling with machismo. He was under the impression that he was in control. Amber was set on proving him wrong. "Now, back up," he commanded.
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to do better than a gun if you want to threaten me," Amber said, jostling her jaw around as she turned his attitude back on him. "Now, if you were planning to unleash a horde of Grimm on me, then I'd consider taking you seriously."
"I am serious," the grunt growled, placing his finger on the gun's trigger. "Back up."
"Oh, I know you are."
Amber casually slapped the gun with her outstretched hand, disassembling it instantly with her semblance and scattering everything but the grip to the floor. The other grunt immediately lost his smirk. "You're just going to have to do better."
Amber had to leap backwards as the grunt finally came to his senses and drew his sword in a slashing motion. On her way she snapped her fingers at the second grunt, destroying his pistol as he turned to unholster it. By the time she'd skidded to a halt, they'd both had their swords drawn and taken a few steps forward. As she raised her hands into fighting position, two more grunts leapt down from their hiding places behind her and unsheathed their own swords. They also had pistols at their sides but made no attempt to use them. They knew it was futile to even think about shooting her. Amber jammed them with a smirk anyways.
"Four against one," she stated with a hint of amusement in her voice. "That's more like it. It's no beastly apocalypse, but it'll do."
The quartet kept their distance, making slight, otherwise unnoticeable shifts in their footings as they sized up their singular opponent. They were an apprehensive bunch, but the sharpness of their blades did no disservice to their intent.
"Let's not stand on ceremony, gentlemen," Amber taunted, trying to goad her opponents into making the first move. "I'm sure we all have places to be."
"We have a schedule to keep," the first grunt said deadpan. Amber noticed his jaw twitch ever so slightly to his left. She couldn't see his eyes behind his mask but she was confident that he'd just sent a signal of attack to one of the grunts behind her. "Let's make this quick."
The first step the grunt behind her on her right took was a little too heavy, cueing Amber in to the overhead strike he prepared to follow through with. She flicked her prosthetic wrist, electrifying the palm of her hand with a flash of blue. As the blade came down she twirled around gracefully, grabbing the assailant's attacking wrist and wrenching his arm out to the side. As he stumbled forward with a surprised cry she clamped her palm around the back of his neck, sending a jolt of electricity coursing down his spine and knocking him out almost instantaneously. Amber slammed him to the ground effortlessly, forcing a choked breath from his lungs out his throat. As she removed her palm she winced at the burn mark she'd left on the back of his neck. She silently hoped she hadn't paralyzed him for life. She ripped the blade from his unconscious grip and stood up, making the others watch as she snapped the weapon in two.
"Well?" Amber chuckled, tossing the useless sword aside and resetting her stance. She flexed her prosthetic hand menacingly, ejecting a plume of steam from her shoulder to cool down the energy crystal stored inside. "If you want this done quick, then come!"
The remaining trio learned fairly quick that attacking individually wasn't going to cut it, so they instead focused on group attacks. Their coordination wasn't perfect enough, however, so they came through a bit sloppy, telegraphing their efforts in a way that allowed for easy deflection. It made Amber feel like she had been temporarily gifted with Sapphire's battle perception. She was so confident in her ability to handle the situation that she lightened the force of her counters and left her arm's taser off. She even found herself sneaking a couple glances away from the fight and to the crowd of singing Faunus. Those closest to the alley had obviously taken notice of the scuffle, but none of them said a word about it. They were sweating nervously and singing off key with worry, but none of them desired to face the wrath of the White Fang directly.
There was one face that kept its attention on them. A boy no older than four with short brown hair, brown eyes, and brown skin with a shirt that would've put him right at home in the desert stared at her with wide, attentive eyes. Amber could not tell what kind of Faunus he was, if he was one at all, but his fixation was endearing. A couple of times when she had some room to maneuver in she'd throw a smile his way. He'd return it with a gap-toothed grin, pumping his fists ever so slightly when she managed to pull off a combo that some would describe as legendary. The boy's mother made an effort to keep his head turned to the center of the wake and sing, but he always managed to turn his attention back to the brawl. Amber hoped she'd inspired a huntsman in him. The world could always use more protectors. Maybe he'd lead a successful expedition into the wilds and form a new kingdom where all could live as true equals. Maybe he'd pioneer deep into Grimm territory and discover the truth behind their unfathomable bloodlust. Maybe-
As Amber sent one of the grunts crashing to the floor for the last time she was finally caught off guard. A wilder than usual slash of a blade caused her to step back into a sweeping leg. The boy gasped as she fell - his mother had heard enough at that point and forced him to turn away, keeping a hand on his head - and the half of the duo who still had a gun leapt on top of her. Amber struggled to break free but the grunt had an excellent hold on her. She spun up the dust crystal in her shoulder to activate her taser and tried to reach for his shin. He forced her arm to the ground before her finger tips could so much as graze him and stabbed his sword through its elbow joint, severing the connection of her artificial nerves. Amber seethed as the momentary backfire of the electricity powering her arm's defenses simulated the same pain she'd felt when she'd first lost the limb. A built-in fail-safe triggered the cool down of the dust crystal, venting more steam out of her shoulder before shutting off entirely. A remnant of its charge sprung through the hilt of the grunt's weapon, shocking his hand and forcing him to release his grip on it. He shook his hand and kissed his knuckles, letting out a short "ah!" She'd at least managed to zap him a little bit.
"Troublesome little girl, aren't you?" The grunt said, doing his best not to fume like a madman.
"I'd hardly call myself little," Amber grunted under his weight. "I'm taller than all four of you."
"I suppose we've learned today that size doesn't matter then, haven't we?"
Amber stared at him silently with squinted eyes. The man flushed red when he realized how rapey that sounded from where he sat.
"Really, man?" the other grunt asked, bewildered.
"Just give me your damn sword," the first commanded tersely. The other grunt complied and he placed the blade against Amber's neck. "I want you to know that I take no pleasure in killing a fellow Faunus. This just has to be done."
"Then what did you come here to do, armed as you are?" Amber asked, stretching out her neck to alleviate the pressure of the weapon.
"To send a message," he said.
"A message?" she scoffed. "What kind of message do you send by shooting up a remembrance wake held by your own kind? I thought you lot were trying to save us, not slaughter us!"
"The old ways are dying!" the grunt shouted, waving his free hand wildly. "They just don't cut it anymore. The humans would rather see us as pelts in front of their living room fire. If our brothers and sisters won't listen to the truth then we'll make them listen!"
Amber rolled her eyes and laughed. The White Fang she used to know would tell her to question her reality every day, even the one they proposed, like that boy Crab did. The way this man spoke only in absolutes was proof of how much the group has changed.
"Is that what you believe? Or is that what Torchwick shoves down your throat every day?"
"Enough!"
Just as the grunt was about to press down on the blade at her throat a beam of blue light struck him square in the chest. It flung him into the wall on the left and froze him to it, leaving him only enough room to wiggle his feet and turn his head. The other grunt spun around to retaliate, only to meet a roundhouse kick to the face that sent him spiraling into a nearby dumpster, which promptly closed on top of him. The disjointed aria he sung to voice his agony got a short, amused snort out of her. Amber turned her head up to look behind her and saw a familiar pair of boots seemingly walk on the ceiling toward her.
"Well," Sapphire said with one hand on her hip and the other on the staff of her glaive. "That guy was loud."
"No kidding," Amber groaned, rubbing at her temple with her functioning hand.
"Led me right to you." Sapphire put one foot on her prosthetic and pulled the sword out of it, much to Amber's chagrin, tossing it aside. "That and you'd mysteriously gone silent. Had to come find you."
"Thanks," Amber grimaced, still reeling from the pain of her broken nerves sparking against one another. She quickly tied them into place away from each other with her semblance.
"Sure thing," Sapphire smiled, standing over her. She retracted her glaive's staff and sheathed it at her side. The way the sun glinted behind her, illuminating her blue-violet hair to a kind of iridescence made her unexpectedly enticing. "I hope you don't think I'm like those humans," she continued, extending a hand to help her up. "Skinning people is… repulsive, to say the least."
"N-no," Amber stammered, accepting her hand. She had to make a conscious effort not to blush as Sapphire dusted her off. "F-for one, you recognize that there are humans like that, so that immediately t-takes you off the 'worst scum of Remnant' list I'm keeping."
"Well, good," Sapphire nodded approvingly, proud that she's at least better than the most worthless of humans. "But, wait - that was actually a thing?"
"Serial killer," Amber explained. "He was caught decades ago. A task force of police and hunters discovered him sipping tea in a chair made of Faunus skin, sitting in front of a fire place that had a rug made of Faunus skin in front of it, with Faunus heads of all kinds mounted on the walls."
"That is… disturbing, to say the least," Sapphire shuddered.
"He was promptly executed after a trial, but his deeds are a reminder for our kind, both new and old, that no matter how far we come that we'll always be treated like animals."
"That shouldn't have to be true," Sapphire declared.
"That's nice of you to say," Amber smiled sadly, "but that's how it is now. Maybe someday we'll be able to live a life like yours, but today?" She grabbed her tail and pulled it into view. "This is all that anyone will think of me as."
Sapphire put a hand on her shoulder and looked her dead in the eyes. "I don't," she said simply and sternly, "and neither do you."
Amber's smile weakened and she brushed her hand away, turning to the quartet of unconscious gang members before them. She sighed and shook her head. She was used to fighting injustices with her fists, not talking about them. What was it about her that made her want to talk?
"Is your arm going to be okay?" Sapphire asked, recognizing the need for a subject change.
"At the moment it's unusable." She cleared her throat and pointed at the grunts. "Check their pockets for me, will you? There should be a short-range signal jammer among one of them." Sapphire did as she asked silently. "Minor damage to the outer shell aside," Amber continued, "it's going to need a complete rewiring. Lucky for me, I have extras at my shop."
"You gonna need help with that?"
"I'll be fine, other than taking it off and putting it back on. I've gotten pretty good at single-handed repairs over the years. My brother can help with the rest. He knows the basics well enough. Speaking of which, where is he?"
"He said he'd also found some troublemakers before going silent like you," Sapphire told her. "Think he's fine?"
"He can handle himself - most of the time, anyways. Once you find that jammer, we'll ask."
"Well, I don't see a jammer, but I found this-" Sapphire pulled a grey scroll out of one of the grunt's pockets and tossed it to her. "Could that do it?"
Amber looked it over and found it to be password locked, just like the one that led them to the wake. She really needed to write some cracking software for her next arm too.
"Hm, no time for that now," she muttered to herself. "One way to find out."
Amber channeled her semblance through the scroll and shattered it, catching its memory card as the pieces fell. Sapphire flinched as the static in her earpiece popped and fizzled into silence.
"I think that did it," she said, rubbing her ear.
"Good," Amber nodded, pocketing the memory card. "Call Duster and Nigel and tell them to meet us at our favorite café. I'm starving."
"Time for that early dinner, then?" she chuckled.
"Oh yeah," Amber smiled. "Come on, I'll lead the way. I know a couple of overworked detectives up the street that would be ecstatic to know these guys are here. Oh-!"
Before they exited the alley, Amber turned around and saluted the boy who'd become enamored with her. He turned to look at her, his mother's attention elsewhere, and grinned, celebrating her victory.
Sapphire waved as Amber and Nigel left, the two friends having already finished their meals and, as they both had important business to attend to, were eager to move along. Duster sipped his root beer silently, basking in the late-afternoon sun. It had turned out that his reason for going silent was the same as his sister's - the group of four he'd engaged also carried a scroll with a jammer. However his fight ended prematurely when the grunts received a message to withdraw. They said something about the gaze of the dragon being upon them. Nigel wondered if that had anything to do with his mother. Either way, they had successfully prevented the attack on the wake and the ceremonies were free to continue on long into the evening. Amber made it a point to return to it and check on the proceedings, maybe listen to a few more songs before rebuilding her arm. She offered for Nigel to join her, but he'd declined. He said he had a script to finalize, a word that made Duster's eyes light up. It seemed the two of them had something planned, but neither of them would elaborate.
Sapphire couldn't stop thinking about the clue they'd discovered the other day. Her brother's killer was a professional - she'd never left a trace before. It wasn't like her to slip up like that. The remains of a used gas canister may not look like much, but its serial number was completely intact. If they could follow it to its origins, even if it didn't lead directly to her their chances of finding her would increase by an unfathomable magnitude. The prospect chilled Sapphire to the core. She was excited to finally have the chance at justice - at redemption, revenge and peace. She was so giddy that she wasn't sure if she could ever stop shaking. Yet a mistake that big also felt wrong. It was long past time for doubts, but what if this was a setup? She did not like the idea of bringing in any more people than she already had. What if the people Duster was using to search for the can's origins were threatened or harmed or killed? Sapphire would not be able to live with herself. No, it was time to end it and she knew exactly where her best chances lay.
"Uh, Saph, you okay?" Duster asked, tipping the brim of his hat a little.
"What do you mean?"
"Yer shoulder. Yer clutchin' it awful hard."
Sapphire looked at the shoulder home to her oldest scar and saw that she had a hand gripped tightly around it. She hadn't even noticed she was in pain. She withdrew her hand and set it on her lap, willing herself to relax.
"I'm fine," she lied, taking a large drink of her water. "Actually, have you heard anything back from your contacts?"
"About that gas can, y' mean?" He sat forward and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's only been a day, Saph. I know yer itchin' t' catch this killer, but these things take time."
"Short answer?" Sapphire asked impatiently, crossing her arms. She wasn't a big fan of runaround answers.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I have not."
"Okay, do you still have the can? Or is it in someone else's care?"
"I do. All I ever sent were pictures." He took another sip of his root beer and tilted his head to one side. "Why d' ya ask?"
"While we're waiting on your people to get back to us, I was thinking we could take it to someone who I believe could help us expedite our search."
"Expedite, huh?" Duster huffed, lacing his fingers together. "Y' know, faster ain't always better." Sapphire gave him a silent stare. "This someone y' can trust?"
"More than anyone I know," she affirmed. "She's a retired huntress who likes to keep tabs on the weapons industry."
"Sounds like a resource we could get a lot of mileage out of," Duster said approvingly, one eyebrow raised. "When d' ya want t' go and where would we be goin'?"
"I want to leave tomorrow morning. We'll be catching a security bus to a cottage outside the city."
"Outside the city?" Duster guffawed. "I'll be sure t' pack some extra ammo."
"Yeah, she's never liked the idea of living behind a wall. 'Too safe,' she'd say." Sapphire laughed silently and sighed lovingly. "She is my mother, after all."