Ruby pushed open the door leading to City Hall, nearly tripping over the small ledge. Not for the first time, she cursed the shoes Weiss had insisted she wear.
Trying (and failing) to regain her dignity, Ruby walked over to the desk, where a young woman sat. Her focus was on a computer screen, and Ruby could see a small earbud in her left ear.
"Two o'clock appointment?" She asked, and Ruby almost replied. Before she could, the woman continued, "Of course, I'll fit you in. Have a nice day." She tapped her ear, and then suddenly noticed her. "Oh! Hello there. Can I help you?"
Ruby swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden weight in her stomach. This was the point where things could go disastrously wrong in Weiss's plan, and it all depended on how well she handled this conversation.
"I'm doing a project for school on...um..." What was it?
"Oh! Local businesses! I need to know how many buildings a..." She pulled out a sheet of paper. "Gladium has."
She lifted her eyes from the paper to the woman, hoping she'd accept her lie. Weiss's lead was useless without the information.
In the warehouse, while Yang and Ruby had their heart-to-heart, Weiss searched through the few papers the White Fang left. Most were personal letters, notes, that kind of thing. However, a few were taxes.
Those taxes listed the owner as Gladium, a farming company. Ruby had never heard of it, and neither had Weiss. She had a pretty good idea what it was, though.
"It's probably a shell company, no other purpose beyond keeping the building clean," she explained during the taxi ride over. "Big corporations use them all the time for... profit diversification."
Her hope was that they could use the name to track down buildings the White Fang owned, and find Blake through that. However, there was one teeny tiny problem...
They had to find the buildings first. Thankfully, the information wasn't illegal to look for, and the City would, and could provide it.
However, they did need a decent reason to be looking for it. Yang suggested the 'school project' excuse, but they needed someone who actually looked the part of a young student.
So that's why Ruby found herself standing here, wearing a stupid dress, and missing her sweetheart. Stupid partners and their excuses, "You'll never pass as a student with that on, you dolt."
"That won't be a problem, honey." Ruby shook her head and refocused. The woman was holding a pen and a slip of paper. "Now, I just need your name and scroll number."
Ruby tried not to let her panic show. "Uh...why? I mean, can't you just look it up?"
The woman's smile grew slightly strained. "New policy, I'm afraid. I need to know who accessed what information. Security concerns, you understand."
Crap crap crap. This wasn't part of the plan!
"Umm... Ruby Rose," she said, deciding success was worth the risk. Even if Cinder looked into her activities, it wasn't like this was all that suspicious.
Ruby gave her number, and then waited as the woman trawled through property records. It took a few minutes, but she was eventually called back up.
The woman handed her a sheet of paper. "Here you go, every building Gladium owns. Hope it helps."
The smile that graced Ruby's face required no acting. Almost bouncing, she said, "Thank you thank you thank you-!"
"Okay, I got it!" The woman laughed. "Have a good day now."
Ruby nodded, and ran out of the building. Across the street waited Yang and Weiss, sitting at a restaurant table and trying to look casual. They still stuck out like a poppy in a field of clovers. Weiss saw her, and waved her over.
"Did you get it?" She asked. Ruby nodded, and passed the paper over. "Alright, this isn't too bad. Two locations, three if you count the one we already visited."
Yang, in the middle of drinking a large espresso, drained the rest of her cup and threw it away. "Which one am I hitting?"
Weiss glared at her. "We're not hitting anything. This is going straight to the police."
Yang's eyes grew into small planets, and slammed her hands into the table, leaving two large dents. "What!? No, no we're not giving this to the police! We're not giving this to anyone!"
Weiss glared at the blond girl. Ruby noticed her left hand traveling towards Myrtenaster.
"Why not?" She asked, gripping her sword like she may have to pull it out. "Why shouldn't we bring this to the police? This isn't some club, we're fighting actual killers."
"We did before too," Ruby pointed out, trying to stay diplomatic. Her leader sense told her to intervene before things got too serious, but she also wanted to hear both of their arguments.
"True," Weiss admitted. "But that was different. We were information gathering, or didn't have much choice." She leaned in, staring at Yang directly. "Now, now there're too dangerous. Neither of us are sure what exactly happened at the restaurant, but we the fight from Beacon. That kind of weaponry is… far beyond what we should be dealing with."
"That doesn't matter!" Yang argued. "Think about it, if we go to the police, or Ozpin, or anyone else, this'll wind up on the news, right?"
"That's true, but…"
"And if Adam hears about it, he'll run. He'll disappear, and take Blake with him." Her hands curled into fists, and her voice dropped an octave. "Or worse."
Weiss glared at her. Then her mouth faded into a tired frown, and she sighed. "You have a point," she acquiesced. Picking up the paper, she tore a strip off and pocketed it, and then handed the rest to Ruby. "This building looks like the largest. You two take this one, and I'll go to the smaller one. We'll meet outside your building."
Ruby nodded.
Another sigh. "Then let's get to it, shall we?"
As it turned out, breaking metal cables with a broken tooth, even one with aura constantly pumped into it, takes a long time. Blake couldn't saw through the cable itself. That would take far too long, so she had to jam the narrow end of the tooth under a single thread, and push and pull it until it snapped. Rinse and repeat.
She heard her two jailers talking a few times, nothing useful, sadly. Mostly they talked about their families, or the antics of the soldiers around here. Despite being a prisoner of them, Blake felt a slight pang of nostalgia for her own days in the White Fang. There was a simplicity to her life, a knowledge of who was in the right, and who was wrong.
Another thread snapped. Blake pulled her arms apart, trying to break the rest with her own strength. The metal held, but she could see it start to weaken. An hour in, and she had managed to cut away half of the cable surrounding her arms. It amounted to about three-hundred individual threads.
Aura was keeping her tooth fragment sharp, but it was getting harder and harder to saw. She wasn't surprised. She was trying to use a butter knife to cut through diamond.
"Hey, think we should check on Mrs. Tall and dark in there?"
"Go ahead; just make sure she doesn't hop past you."
They both laughed.
Shit.
There was nowhere for her to hide, no way to pretend she hadn't been doing anything. Even if the soldiers were brain-dead, they would surely see the frayed metal around her wrists.
Well, when you can't hide, and you can't run, there's only one option.
Attack.
The door swung open. One of the guards walked in.
"Wakey wakey!" he called. "Time for your check up!" That's when he caught sight of her, and her arms. "How did you—"
Before he could finish, Blake swung her arms at his head. With the added weight, it was too slow to hit him, but it made him pull out his sword and retaliate. She blocked it with the cable between her arms, and it snapped in two.
He looked at the fallen cable, and then at her. "Fuck me."
She threw a punch into his nose, hard enough to send his head crashing into the wall. He dropped his sword, which she picked up and used to hack through the cables around her legs. In two swings, they were gone, and she could move freely.
Guard #2 came around the corner. He raised his rifle to shoot, but before he could blink, Blake ran over, and cut his gun in half.
"Holy…" he breathed, before Blake slammed the flat of her sword against his head. She felt his aura break, and his body crumpled to the ground.
pGuard #1, still clutching a broken nose, his mask broken, stumbled out of the container. He spat a wad of blood and spit at her. "That all you got!?"
Blake replied by dropping to the floor, and sweeping his legs out from under him. He dropped onto the floor, his head bouncing off the concrete surface. She slammed her foot against his forehead, knocking him out for good.
The room was quiet now, save for the soft breathing of the two unconscious guards, and her own rasping breath. Her aura was still in tatters, and the fight hadn't done much good for it. Thankfully, her ankle felt much better now.
She lifted the sword up and into the light. It wasn't anything special, just a cheap, mass produced blade stuck on an equally cheap handle, but it would hold up. At least until she got out of here.
Grabbing a sheath from the unconscious guard, she looked around her current environment. She was in the main storage room of the warehouse. Cargo containers were set up to create walls, making the place look like it was made of Legos. Window's allowed streaks of sunlight in, with the darker spots illuminated with large florescent lights.
Blake gave a small smile. This wasn't a perfect set up for sneaking around, but it could be far worse. If she could get up, no one would see her, and most would struggle to hear her.
If she could get up.
The crates were stacked very cleanly, with few handholds. She was able to jam her fingers into the lip between the walls and the flooring, but it wasn't enough leverage to lift herself higher than a few inches. If she could find a narrow hallway or the like she could jump up them, but that would create far too much noise.
So she was going to have to stay low. Perfect.
Her mini jail cell was surrounded by walls on all four sides, with one narrow hallway leading out. Blake pulled out her sword, and kept it in front of her as she walked down it. In these tight spaces, stealth would rely more on luck and speed then skill.
Down the hall, left turn, walk for five minutes and turn right. Blake wasn't sure if she could find her way back, the walls were beginning to combine into a rainbow slurry in her memories.
"Hey, Jadi." Crap, another soldier, just past the next corner. She crouched down, and took cover.
"Hello? Jadi, you there?" TAP TAP. "Hello? Come on man, answer me…"
She heard Velcro opening and closing. A different voice spoke up. "Where are you going?"
"To the cell, Jadi isn't answering."
"Sure he isn't just drunk again?" A third voice, this one a girl.
"Hey! He's been clean for weeks!" Another girl, younger.
A small scuffle broke out. Blake peeked around the corner, and saw four people: two fighting, one trying to stop them, and one…
"Holy—she's there!"
Well, so much for stealth.
Blake flew out of cover, smashing her sword into the man's solar plexus. She noticed three things: the soldiers weren't armed; there was a fire alarm on the wall, inches away from the radio-man's hand, and the younger girl was… painting her nails. Or was before the fight broke out.
…Alright then.
Whistleblower—the guy who spotted her—recovered, and sent a well-executed, if somewhat telegraphed, punch at her neck. Blake lifted her sword, blocking the blow.
Before she could retaliate, Radio-man grabbed her hair and pulled down, nearly ripping it out of her scalp. Blake leapt upwards, causing the man to fall to the ground. She used his head as a land pad, giving his teeth a kick for good measure.
Her victory was short lived, as the table the nail-painting girl had used was thrown at her, knocking her to the ground. The same girl walked over to her.
"Got you, you son of a—" Her swear was cut off when Blake spun around, sweeping her legs out from under her. Unlike the guards, she recovered, but it gave Blake time to get up.
Nail-painter didn't say another word, instead choosing to throw a lightning fast fist at her head. Blake shifted her neck to dodge, but the blow clipped her ear. This girl was fast.
The second girl lacked any distinguishing features, aside from a mouse tail. A mouse tail. A mouse faunus, facing a cat faunus.
The universe was mocking her now, wasn't it?
The mouse faunus picked up a broken table leg, and swung it against her back. Still dodging Nail-painters frantic attacks, Blake had no choice but to take the hit.
Her aura, even drained, was the only reason her back didn't break. Pain lanced out, traveling through her body, leaving behind an odd tingling even once it had left. She didn't fall, but it left her distracted enough to catch Nail-painter's knee in her chin. Her head crashed into another shipping container.
Nail-painter and Mouse walked up. Whistleblower, clutching a sore wrist, stomped over.
"Is she down?" he asked, staring at her still moving chest.
Nail-painter shook her head. "I don't think so. Her aura hasn't broken."
Whistleblower pulled out a long chain. "I'll fix that, don't you worry." He whipped the chain, fire crackling along its length. "Time for a good old fashioned cremation."
Mouse grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare kill her, Adam still wants her alive."
Whistleblower scowled. "Fine," he muttered, and lifted the chain up. "I'll go easy on her." He brought the chain down on her legs, tearing through aura and bone, having forgotten to take into account her earlier injuries.
Or, at least, that's what would have happened, had Blake not dodged out of his weapons path, leaving a shadow behind to take the hit. His expression morphed into shock and rage, before she spun around, landing a kick on the side of his head.
Mouse and Nail-painter pulled up their arms, apparently forgetting about the alarm less than a foot away. Blake thought they were a bit overconfident. Even if they could take her out, which was a big if, bringing back-up never hurt.
"You're mine," Mouse growled. Ah, that's why. Glory, of course.
Nail-painter leapt at her, limbs blurring into a solid wall of punches and kicks. Blake dodged and parried, barely managing to avoid another hit.
However, her movements left her open the Mouse, who took advantage of her openings and hit her with blows Yang would be proud of.
Blake couldn't help but admire their teamwork. The more agile partner kept the opponent busy, and gave the powerhouse openings to dish out pain. The powerhouse also kept their foe from moving, forcing them to take more hits from their partner.
Something had to break, but luckily, it wasn't Blake. Nail-painter overextended her arm, allowing Blake to hit her elbow and throw her across the room.
Mouse, robbed of her support, valiantly tried to tackle her. Blake hiked up her knee, smashing it between her legs. While she was reeling from that, Blake swept her sword against her head, and t
he smashed the body part into the floor with her free hand.
Nail-painter got back up, but she was holding her shoulder and had a pained expression. Her eyes darted towards the alarm, and her feet soon followed. Blake threw herself forward, using a clone for extra propulsion. Her foe was closer to the alarm than she was to her, but Blake was faster.
Much, much faster.
She crashed into Nail-painter's stomach with a perfect flying tackle, sending her down. Any aura she had was long gone, so all Blake had to do was wrap her arm around her neck and squeeze. She pressed her head against Nail-painter's back, listening to her heartbeat as it began to slow down.
Within a few minutes, her breathing slowed, and she stopped struggling. Blake let her go, taking care to keep her head from hitting the ground.
Blake sighed, and stood up. All four of her opponents were in various stages of unconsciousness, and she couldn't hear any sign of the alarm being risen. Still, the scuffle had been far noisier than she wanted, and considering what she heard, they would be found before long.
It was time to move.
She slipped through the remainder of the warehouse, narrowly missing detection several times. As she grew closer and closer to the doors, patrols grew denser, and more heavily armed. Her initial combat success would likely not be repeated.
However, the boxes also grew less tightly packed. There was more cracks that she could slip through, allowing her to bypass entire sections of the building. Forklifts and tools became more common, as if the White Fang was trying to make the building seem more like a normal warehouse.
Finally, she came to a door. There was a window running down its length, and through it, she could see an exit sign.
Slowly, she turned the handle. The door was well-oiled, and was silent as she pushed it open. Stepping through, she closed it behind her, and sighed in relief. No alarm, no more soldiers, just a straight path to freedom.
"-we can't attack a Schnee mine, not directly. You don't have the manpower!" That's Torchwick's voice. What is he talking about?
Blake shot a longing glance at the door, and then down the hall. More voices floated down, although only Torchwick was loud enough to hear.
She felt two tugging sensations, one towards the exit, and the other towards the door. Freedom was a few short feet away, and whatever plan Torchwick was talking about could be dealt with later.
However, this was the first chance she or any of her team had to figure out what was going on. Adam was planning something, something far sooner than anything that happened originally and they had a duty to stop it.
Blake groaned, and walked down the empty hall.
This had better be worth it.
After sending Yang and Ruby off in a far too dirty looking taxi, Weiss traveled downtown. Her goal was a small, house-like building, adorned with real, if dead, vines and an overflowing mailbox. The taxi driver had given her a weird look once they arrived, but a small pile of lien convinced him to "forget".
So now, she stood in front of a peeling red door, uncertain exactly how to pull this off. Fighting Grimm, going through paperwork, even tracking down Yang was all something she was familiar with. This, her investigating a lead, acting like a police officer or a private detective, this was new. Some small part of her wondered if she should have a warrant, or if huntresses could even get one.
You're wasting time. Just open the door!
She grabbed the door knob, an old copper model, with dozens of dents and scratches, and turned. It didn't budge. A few kicks proved that it was locked, not jammed, so she only had one option.
SHING!
The aura infused blade cut through the old wood with the ease of cutting water. Twirling Myrtenaster in a circle, Weiss cut out the door knob itself. It fell to the floor, and the door slowly swung open. She stepped inside.
The inside of the building perfectly matched the outside. Cobwebs adorned every surface, and what they didn't touch was wreathed in shadows. Small, golden lights flickered into life, reminding her of Blake's eyes.
Weiss stumbled, her heart rate climbing. She'd been trying to avoid thinking of her abducted teammate, focusing on solving the problem instead, like Ruby had. Because the truth was, she was terrified. Although she had only seen the aftermath, she still remembered Adam's meeting at Beacon. Yang's stump, Blake's disturbing stomach wound, and the friends no one could find…
Now Blake was in that madman's grasp, and Yang was losing it trying to find her. Weiss hadn't known Yang for all that long, (or two years, depending on who you asked) but she had never seen her this focused, this intense, on anything. It wasn't the good kind of focus either, but the kind that makes you scribble out random phrases on the walls while doctors shove drugs down your throat.
Something cracked in the darkness. Weiss hoisted her sword in front of her, lamenting her lack of light. With a muttered curse, she pulled out her scroll and held it in her off hand. The screen was a poor substitute for a real flashlight, but it was the best she had.
Unless she didn't mind lighting the whole building on fire.
The floorboards creaked, robbing her of any stealth she may have had. Faded pictures adorned the walls, ghostly eyes staring at her with frozen glares. She supressed a shiver.
The first three doorways she passed were all caved in and broken. The rooms themselves were in slightly better shape, but not by much. Broken furniture, shards of glass, and more dust than a Dust mine were all long-term tenants. The house looked abandoned.
Something told her that was the point.
She nearly missed the fourth door. It was flush against the wall, closed and in one piece. She noticed the small handle on the left side, more specifically; the small spots were there was no dust.
This door had been used, and recently.
Wishing she had the foresight to bring gloves, Weiss grabbed the handle and twisted it. Opening it until she could just see a thin crack of light, she heard muted whispers. Something rattled around, perhaps ammunition. She didn't open the door all the way, not yet.
Backing away from the door, she pocketed her scroll and hoisted Myrtenaster. She idly switched to ice, to avoid damaging the building, but her focus remained on the door. The few noises she had heard had vanished. The room, and the house, was silent.
She stepped forward, hand out, ready to push open the door. Her blade remained high, ready to take out whoever, or whatever was on the other side. If Blake's captors were here, it would undoubtedly be a tough fight.
Weiss took a deep breath. The stale air tasted odd, reminiscent of old paintings.
Go time.
Weiss leapt through the door, slamming it against the wall. Myrtenaster was out in front, ice Dust ready to fire. She snapped her head up, wincing at the sudden light. Her opponents stood in front of her, wide eyed and…
Young.
As in, really young. The oldest she could see could be no more than seven. All of them stared at her, eyes wide in fear. Many clutched teddy bears or blankets, or each other.
Every single one was a faunus. Every, single, one.
Weiss let her sword drop. Her grip remained firm on the handle, but she wasn't going to use it. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room. Bright colours, reds, yellows, and blues, plastered the walls. Hastily cleaned up toys still littered the floor, and she could see paint and honey all other types of sticky liquids stuck to every surface, usually in the form of a handprint.
This… this was a daycare.
CLICK.
Weiss spun around, sword high. The sound was the first expected thing she had encountered, but even it was soon rendered pointless. The gun was there, aimed directly at her head. The shooter was a man, hair white as her own, skin wrinkled and potted. His arms shook, not out of fear or adrenalin, but age. Opening a trembling lip, he spoke.
"Go away," he whispered, his voice just audible in the quiet. "Go away or I'll blow your head off." He jabbed the gun at her. "I mean it!"
"I'm—I'm not…" Weiss stuttered, words turning to mush in her head. "I'm not here to… to hurt anyone."
He suddenly starting wheezing, and it took her a minute to realise he was laughing. "Not hurt us? Not hurt us? That's what you do! That's what you Schnee's all do, isn't it? Take what you want and leave us to pay the price?" He gestured towards the kids, dropping the rifle to his side. "Leave them to pay the price?"
She opened her mouth, but he didn't give her a chance, lifting the gun and pointing it at her. "Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off!"
"Because it won't work," Weiss replied, slowly grabbing the barrel and pointing it downwards. "What is this, an Atlesian model?"
He didn't respond at first, instead choosing to glare at her. Finally, with the bare minimum of movement, he said, "Mistralian."
Surprised, she let out a brief chuckle. The gun looked identical to an older Atlas military rifle, even had the same product code. The only explanation was that the weapon was a knock-off.
She didn't tell him that, instead flashing the best smile she could muster. "A Mistral firearm. We're about ten centimetres apart, so that would have a force of… about twenty-thousand newtons."
He stared at her, obviously confused. She supressed a sigh, calling him an idiot would not help. "The gun won't break my aura, even at this range. I'll still be able to fight, and somehow… I doubt you will."
The gun remained… there, until he closed his eyes and dropped his arms. He didn't drop it, but she heard the soft click of the safety being reengaged.
He sat down in an old easy chair, his bones creaking. The kids, apparently taking this as a signal of some sort, began to resume their activities. They all shot her the occasional fearful glance, but Weiss had no idea if that was normal for little kids or not.
Then again, what about this situation was normal? She expected a small supply depot or communication outpost, not a badly battered babysitter.
Turning to the old man, she asked, "What is this place, exactly?" Her request was met with silence. "Excuse me, I'm asking you a question!"
He remained silent. Weiss leaned down, trying to see if he was missing hear aids or the like. A few seconds later, and she had her answer.
He was sleeping.
"…Wow." She felt a pang of envy. What she wouldn't give to fall asleep that easily…
Something tugged on her skirt. Weiss snapped her head around, prepared for some guard dog, but instead she found a young girl, no older than three, staring up at her. She had darker skin, as if she was lightly tanned. Her hair was dark, brown or possibly red, with chocolate coloured eyes. On the sides of her head, poking through her hair was two floppy dog ears, the same colour as her eyes.
"Excuse me, miss?" she said, lisping on her S's and E's. Her hand grew more insistent. "I need to use the potty."
Weiss blinked.
…She was adorable!
Weiss felt a stupid grin grow on her face. The younger girl shrunk back a bit, although she didn't seem intimidated, just… hurried.
Oh, right.
"I um…" She glanced towards the older man, who was still sleeping. "I don't know where the bathroom is."
One of the older boys pointed behind a bookshelf. He tried to avoid actually looking at her, but she gave him a quick thank you, and dragged the girl down the hidden hallway.
A few minutes later, she found herself waiting outside a bathroom door, feeling distinctly like an intruder. This wasn't really her place, and despite how much she wanted to pick that girl up and snuggle her and buy whatever she wanted and…
Ahem.
The girl came out. "All done!" she cried, throwing up her hands for emphasis.
Weiss, uncertain what the proper protocol was when a three year old used the bathroom, gave her a weak smile.
The girl frowned, and crossed her arms. "You're supposed to give me a sticker."
"I am?"
"Yeah!" She hopped over to her, and grabbed her hand. " Come on! I'll show you where they are!" Weiss allowed herself to be pulled down the hall, and when she got back into the room, most of the kids ignored her. She felt a small headache come on. Wasn't it five minutes ago that they were all staring at her like she was the devil himself?
Now… now they just didn't care. Why would they? She wasn't interfering with their play time, and none of them were really old enough to know what her family had done. So they just… acted like kids. Accepted her, befriended her—err, acquainted her without any expectations or desires.
Ruby would love it here.
The girl opened a drawer marked, "Indi". Presumably, it was hers. She handed Weiss a small sticker book, with dozens of golden stars. A few discolored areas showed where stickers had already been removed.
She pointed towards a star in the left hand corner. Weiss tried to peel the sticker off, but stopped halfway through when she was grabbed by a small hand.
"No! That one!" The girl—Indi, cried; now pointing to a different star. Weiss rolled her eyes, but did as she said. Trying to put it on her hand didn't work, as she constantly moved it out of the way, so Weiss stuck it on her nose.
"Thank you!" she squeaked, and gave her a hug. Weiss froze up, her instincts warring between a desire to run and a desire to cuddle the smaller girl. Before she could make a choice, Indi pulled away.
Smiling, she asked, "What's your name?" In the mind of a three year-old, it was an innocent question. To Weiss, it would decide how the room would see her.
A few clearly knew who she was, and what her family had done to them. However, most had no idea, and even those who did knew only of the generalities. Indeed, it was possible that she hadn't actually been recognised as a "Schnee" yet.
So what would she call herself?
Slowly, she spoke. "Weiss."
Nothing more, nothing less.
Indi grinned wider. "Hello Weiss! My name is Indi!" She spoke slowly, like she was trying to remember how to say each word as she said it. Which she probably was, now that Weiss thought about it.
Weiss stuck out a hand. "Hello Indi. It is very nice to meet you." Inwardly, she cringed. Too formal, too robotic, especially for a three-year old. Maybe. She really didn't know. This was the first person below seven she had ever met.
"Um…" She looked around at the colourful walls. "What exactly are you doing here?"
"Waiting for Mommy."
"Where's is she?"
Indi grew quiet, and leaned in to Weiss's ear. "She's rescuing Daddy. But don't tell anyone!"
Rescuing her father? Why…
Dog ears, White Fang location, cranky caretaker.
This was a daycare, for the White Fang soldiers…
Perhaps she should have guessed such a facility would exist, but Weiss had never thought about the family members of the people she was fighting. Judging from the numbers in here, respectable, but not overflowing, she suspected that it was not common to have children in the group, but it clearly happened.
All these kid's parents, they were the people her team was fighting.
The chair creaked behind her, and she heard the gun being picked up from where it slipped. The old man was awake.
She turned to face him. "I'm…"
"What? Sorry?" he snarled, before devolving into a coughing fit. He took out a bottle of pills, codeine if she was reading the label correctly, and swallowed two.
Weiss cleared her throat. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I believe I'll be on my way."
He sputtered, nearly spitting out the two pills. "You're going to… leave? Without telling anyone?"
Weiss nodded. "I see nothing wrong here." And she hadn't. The room was in near perfect shape, all the kids were clearly happy, and the old man, for all his faults, was obviously well invested in their safety.
He narrowed his eyes. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Weiss opened her mouth to offer assurances, but paused. The man was deeply suspicious of her, and rightfully so. But he was clearly old school, and there was one thing she knew would convince him.
Raising an arm to her chest, Weiss recited, "I swear, for as long as my soul remains unbroken, my word shall be stronger than steel."
The old man blinked, struggling to keep the shock out of his expression. The oath she had used was an old one, originating prior to the Great War. The intended goal was to somehow bind your aura to your words, in that if you broke your promise, your aura would also break. It was nonsense, of course, but many still took it very seriously.
He gave her a nod, and wordlessly opened the door. Weiss stepped out, baack into the dark, dusty corridor.
Turning around one last time, she saw Indi waving at her, and gave a small wave back. Then the door shut.
Weiss sighed. As… enlightening as that was, it provided no further leads on her friend. She briefly considered the idea that they had some information hidden somewhere, but dismissed it. That would ruin the whole point of keeping them separate from the fighting, after all.
She checked the back of the hallway, and found nothing more than an old, broken bathroom. There was truly nothing left, not even tire tracks she could follow.
Well, hopefully Yang and Ruby had more luck.
The voices grew louder, both due to her increasing proximity, and the increasingly high tempers of the people within the room. Coming up on the door, she spotted a small table, adorned with a telephone. Scrunching herself up, Blake managed to fit under it's surface, wreathing her in shadows.
Meanwhile, the conversation within the room continued, and now Blake could pick out other distinct voices. Torchwick was still the loudest, the only one she could hear through the door without any muffling. She could also hear Adam, a few people that she didn't recognise, and…
"I can get your photos in about ten minutes." Viola. "Trust me; a two year old could pull this off."
"Then perhaps it's time to break out the diapers and baby formula, because this won't. work." Torchwick, sounding angrier then Blake could ever remember him being. "The whole point of waiting was that all the soldiers would be gone. Even if you get the photos, all your men will be dead."
"We have a plan," Adam countered, his voice alone enough to turn Blake's blood cold.
Something tapped, presumably Torchwick's cane. "Oh really? Tell me then, oh 'master planner'. Tell me all."
"Laxatives."
"Excuse me?"
Someone shuffled paper around. "Do you see that? It's a river, supplies all the water for the mine. We'll dump the drugs in at the surface, and then all the soldiers will drink it. We move in, mop up whoever's still standing, and then the mine will be ours."
Viola spoke up. "Won't that affect the workers too?"
"They don't get to drink until later in the day. By then, we'll have our own supplies."
a Torchwick hemmed and hawed, but Blake knew he would agree. The plan would work, and that was all that mattered to him, and to Adam.
She had to get out, find her team, and tell them what she learned. This was big, even without knowing the mine itself. Taking care not to make a single noise, Blake crept out of her hiding spot. She rounded the first corner.
BAM!
Something pink came at her out of nowhere. She stumbled back, dazed. Her assailant didn't let up, landing a series of blows along her arms and legs. Blake soon found herself on the ground, staring at the business end of a very pointy umbrella. Neo's smirking visage filled her view.
Adam and Torchwick came rushing out of the room, Torchwick a hair behind the faunus, and limping, she noted with grim satisfaction.
Torchwick spoke up first. Pointing his cane at her, he said, "What is she doing here?"
Adam, his glower visible even through the mask, replied, "She's supposed to be my prisoner."
Torchwick snorted. "Clearly, since she's two feet away from us and armed." He bent down and picked up her sword, then tossed it to the sides. Then, with a tip of his hat, he said, "Nice work, Neo."
Neo smiled.
Adam pulled out his sword. He circled her, ignoring Torchwick and Neo. "Clearly, keeping you alive was a mistake." He lifted his blade, aiming it at her heart. "One I won't repeat."
Blake knew there was no way out of this. Adam's sword was extremely lethal; odds were it would cut straight through her aura, killing her instantly. Neo's grip was unbreakable, even if she could move with two heavily armed killers standing nearby.
All she could do was summon up what was left of her bravery and spit at her former partner. "Tell Cinder that I'll be waiting for her."
Adam, seconds away from killing her, stopped. He stared at her, his expression showing surprise even through his mask. "How… how do you know that name?"
Neo looked equally as stunned, and when Blake craned her head, she saw Torchwick gawking at her in open shock.
Adam sheathed his sword, pulling her roughly to her feet. He jammed her against the wall, arms held stiffly behind her back.
"How do you know that name!?" he roared, spittle flying into her hair. Despite the question, he never gave her a chance to answer, instead slamming her into the ground. "Fine, don't talk. I'll find out eventually."
"Adam…" Torchwick warned, stepping over to his ally's side. "Forget about it, she's too dangerous. You agreed with me, so Just. Kill. Her."
Adam shook his head. "I can't. I need to know where she found out about that, if we have a leak…"
"Then you have to make an example out of them, I get that. But she is too dangerous, and has too many friends to be left breathing!"
Adam seemingly was about to retort, but was cut off by the sudden appearance of a soldier. "Sir! Got a message from the refueling station. They've been attacked!"
Adam turned on him, growling. Torchwick followed, and with both of her foes distracted, Blake tried to make a run—well, crawl for it, her legs were not really working—and escape. Before she could make an inch, Neo stabbed her hand, the blade punching through to the floor.
"It's like I said, they're coming after her," Torchwick said, not noticing, or not caring about the "fight" behind him. "And considering how much damage one of those kids did, I don't think you want to be fighting them."
"You're right," Adam agreed, a rare enough action to shock everyone present. His voice suddenly much louder, he barked at the messenger. "Prepare for transport, I want everything packed up in five minutes, we're moving out."
"Yes sir." The messenger turned around, but before he got anywhere, Adam added one final sentence.
"Leave behind a "surprise" for our guests."
"What kind, sir?"
"The lethal kind."
"Understood."