"Our enemies aren't going to sit around and wait for graduation day. They're out there somewhere planning their next move and we don't know what it is, but it's coming! Whether we're ready or not."
"For the White Fang!"
"No one will grant us the freedoms we desire; we must win them for ourselves."
"As far as I'm concerned, all humans can burn in hell now… and you will be there to greet them!"
"...we can expect nothing short of a genocidal campaign against humanity."
"Hunters are but one of many means humans use to keep our kind down. And what better way to send a message than to make an example of one of humanity's 'best and brightest'?"
"How can a bunch of children, albeit trained in combat, protect you against the dangers of this world when they couldn't even protect themselves against a gang of cutthroats?"
"Time to say goodbye!"
In that precise moment, the young Huntsman in training abruptly woke up. With a choked cry he sat up on his bed, throwing off the covers.
The skies outside were dark. It was in the dead of the night. The man looked around and found the other occupants of the room were still fast asleep, much to his relief. He knew his team leader hated it when someone interrupted her rest and wouldn't hesitate to give the offender a piece of her mind... or her fist. Doing his best to be as quiet as possible, he got off the bed and slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him.
Outside in the empty hallway, Roland Peregrine leaned his back on the wall and let himself sink to the floor, sighing deeply as he began massaging his temple. The last few months haven't been kind to him, his team, his friends... or anyone else at Beacon. There was always so much work to do since Vale City fell; Grimm extermination, scavenging, strikes against White Fang, recon mission... there was little time to attend classes and no homework couldn't make up for a lack of resting time.
The workload definitely made things difficult and students had trouble even getting out of bed after being on a mission nigh every day. But sometimes, fatigue or lack of rest paled in comparison to what students encountered during the missions. In most cases, it was mutilated corpses that never got a proper burial and were simply left where they lay. Sometimes, students came back injured after being ambushed by the few Grimm that remained in the city. The particularly unlucky ones had to deal with White Fang and its increasingly brutal tactics. Every student team at Beacon ran into them at least once outside the Academy. However, it were teams JNPR, TNDR and remains of RWBY that had the dubious honor of clashing regularly with this supremacist group.
Qrow Branwen took over Ozpin's investigation into White Fang and its 'allies,' including Cinder Fall and her underlings. Despite being the best Huntsman available, he was no miracle worker so sometimes he would take students with him in the field. This hands-on approach was the best way of teaching in his mind and the reality seemed to prove Qrow right. Students were learning faster than they ever could in the confines of the Academy, stuck in classrooms or beating one another in the Arena. The everyday contact with the harsh and unforgiving world taught them all one fundamental truth; if you can't adapt, you're as good as dead.
However, there was a dark side to this practical way of learning as every day the students would be confronted by the cruel and ugly side of the world.
The real life was no fairy tale. They were all well aware of it when applying to Beacon and accepted the danger of witnessing terrible things that could stick with them for the rest of their lives and had the potential of driving them insane. It would come down to that one day... But this was way too soon. Roland himself lost countless hours of sleep, haunted by all the appalling things he saw, and he was pretty sure his teammates and friends faced the same problem.
Not even two semesters in and the Hunters in training already saw death and destruction on an uprecedented scale. Roland himself had nearly died when his team got lured into a trap laid by White Fang. The cybernetic prosthesis that replaced his right arm served as a reminder of his brush with death. The disaster of Vale City was another thing entirely. There was no one in Beacon who didn't see people die or come close to being killed, no one who didn't lose someone close or hadn't faced the possibility of losing their loved ones. Lives were lost, teams were broken up, people were struck by grief and all the horrors of the battlefield.
And if that was enough to break some, White Fang was capable of summoning horrors of whole another kind and every encounter with those maniacs seemed to conjure a new nightmare.
The Faunus terrorists seemed hell bent on escalating the brutality and ammorality of their actions, like indiscriminate slaughter of anyone who didn't ally themselves with the Fang, humans and Faunus alike. When Roland first saw them executing civilians during the battle for Vale City, something broke inside him. It was the very first fight in which he actually intended to kill.
Then came the mission in Stone Creek where his team, accompanying Qrow Branwen, discovered the Fang's involvement in a slave trafficking network. It was the only reason why they stopped murdering everyone they came across. In hindsight, they all should've expected that. After occupying multiple villages at the fringes of the Kingdom's territory they had abundance of prisoners which they could sell into slavery, usually in Mistral, and get more funds for their operations. And they could keep some captives for their own needs.
The prisoners freed in Stone Creek had a lot to tell about appalling conditions they lived in and the treatment from their masters. Laborous work, harsh punishments for most minor offences, insults and humiliation every day. The Fang had a special kind of hell in store for anyone that fought them and had the misfortune of being captured. Like Gwen Darcy, who spent weeks in Fang's captivity and suffered through beating, starving, and other kinds of torture.
And things would get only worse from there...
Some time later, only a few days, after Tanya was finally allowed to rejoin their team, Qrow approached them and told them about the location of a large underground base several miles southeast of Stone Creek. The elite Huntsman gave them a choice to accompany him. Even after witnessing all the horrible things in the Fang's outposts, team TNDR accepted. Roland was starting to think they were all secretly sadists...
The fight at the base wasn't any easier than their previous skirmishes with White Fang. Worse, it seemed that the Faunus terrorists did their best to disprove their assumption that their appaling behavior couldn't get any worse.
Oh, how wrong they all were...
Personally, Roland hated remembering that particular mission and the consequences of the Fang's new, hardline supremacist, anti-human ideology were only one of many reasons. There were many unpleasant surprises his team was faced with... some of which did their damnedest to kill them.
oOo
The offending blade cut the air right next to him, just a few inches shy of biting into his flesh.
He cursed as he only narrowly evaded the attack. His team was forced to split up to cover more ground as they explored the base. It was only a matter of time before the Fang regrouped and laid an ambush on them in the depths of the underground complex.
That was how Emery and Roland found themselves in a fight for their lives. Sure, they faced greater numbers and survived but these bastards were especially persistent...
Blocking an incoming blade, Roland twisted his rifle-axe and threw the offending weapon away, retaliating with a quick jab with the axe head... only for his opponent to leap nimbly away. The Fang grunt was a head shorter than him, but Roland knew better than to underestimate his opponent. Firing off a couple shouts to keep the goon from counterattacking, he took a wild swing at his side. The goon managed to block, though the force of the blow managed to stagger him a bit. Roland then launched into a flurry of strikes, twisting and spinning his weapon until his opponent eventually got overwhelmed and his blade was sent flying out of his grasp.
He glanced away for a short moment, seeing his teammate mopping up the attackers with almost no effort. Then he aimed his rifle at the disarmed trooper. "It's over, pal. Get on the floor, hands behind your back, now!"
The thug wasn't willing to give up. Instead he leapt at the gunman, hands going for his throat.
Biting back a curse, Roland fired, hitting the thug's shoulder. It did absolutely nothing, though... and in the next moment a foreign pair of hands latched onto his throat and squeezed hard. Dropping his weapon, Roland punched the bastard that was trying to choke the life out of him in the stomach. The thug gasped as the metal fist buried itself in his midsection, and released his grip on the human's throat. Roland then shoved the goon away and slammed the left fist into his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor.
The bastards are getting tougher with each day... Roland thought to himself, rubbing his bruised throat.
"Damn," Emery remarked as he looked at the knocked out troopers. "They really wanted us dead."
"Tell me about it." Roland grunted. He shoved his unconscious foe with his boot, rolling him onto his back. Then he knelt down and reached out to pull off the thug's mask, curious to see who was the bastard that gave him such hard time.
He wasn't prepared to see a very youthful face staring back at him. A shocked gasp escaped his lips; the boy was barely in his teens.
oOo
It was a shocking revelation to all of them. Roland couldn't help it but feel worried that so many Faunus were eager to join White Fang, men, women, children, even after everything those terrorists did to both humans and their own kind. The hatred must've run deeper than they all thought if the Fangers were willing to use kids in the fight against humankind. That pissed him off more than ever.
As his team moved through the base, they discovered sights even more appalling than child soldiers.
While he and Emery were busy clashing with goons who were way too young to be soldiers, their teammates found out the hard way that the Fang used their captives not only as labor fit for the more dangerous tasks but would also force them into tending to their carnal needs... and the poor women who had the ill luck of being chosen for such task were given no choice.
Once he caught up with the other half of his team, Roland was surprised to see his team leader carry a shivering naked girl, beaten and starved. The poor thing was obviously severely traumatized and wouldn't talk to anyone at first. Worse, she would start panicking whenever a male approached her. Tanya knew the reason for that, given the revolting scene she chanced upon. The girl in her arms was a sex slave and the Fang treated her as such, beating her every time she refused to obey her masters. Her ordeal might've been over, but the horrors she endured would stick with her for a long time.
Few hours later, the defenders of the facility were finally defeated. Somehow, Qrow and co. managed to capture most of their foes and locked them in a brig. Nevertheless, with the exception of Emery, all of them were forced to kill a few especially vicious goons that refused to yield. Roland took no pleasure in killing Fang troopers, in spite of all their crimes... but with every ecounter he grew to hate this particularly vile enemy even more.
As if things couldn't get any worse, Qrow and co. found a mass grave, still yet to be covered, and a morgue some time later. The room was filled to the brim with dead bodies. Most of them were slaves in dirty ragged clothes. It was all too obvious what end those poor sods met... and the sight of a couple corpses sporting White Fang colors brought no vindication, or relief. Nobody bothered to cover them up so their bloody wounds were on full display. Gashes, cuts, bruises, gunshot and stab wounds; whatever those people went through could only be described as 'hell on earth.'
So much death in one place... and when Tanya suddenly ran over to one of the cots, he suddenly knew it was about to get worse.
oOo
He watched her brush black locks out of the deceased female's face... and sank to her knees moments later, her body trembling.
In several long strides he was at her side. "What's wrong?" He asked urgently.
She didn't anwer at first. With a trembling hand, she pulled up the sleeve of the dead woman's ruined shirt, revealing a deathly pale skin adorned by an intricate tattoo that seemed to wrap around her arm.
Roland clenched his fists unvoluntarily. He saw this tattoo before... and only thanks to them he recognized the girl on the cot.
"Ellie... they killed her..." Came the whisper, thick with grief.
Ellie was Tanya's good friend, long before he came along and befriended her and the rest of Emile's gang; a martial arts enthusiast that loved tattoos, seeing them as a way of expressing oneself. Though coming off as brash sometimes, she never hesitated to offer help if someone needed it... and seeing her like this pained him immensely. His eyes trailed over her chest and up to her neck where he saw a black line running across her throat.
They slit her throat and left her to choke on her own blood, the bastards... She didn't deserve such a horrible death. Ellie never bore ill will towards Faunus... yet it didn't stop her captors from murdering her in cold blood.
"I- I'm so sorry..." Tanya choked out, holding onto her friend's cold body as if it were a lifeline.
Kneeling down beside her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They stayed like this for a while, mourning a friend who departed way before her time.
oOo
Ellie Hummingbyrd was taken to Beacon where she received a proper burial; she deserved better than to be tossed into a huge hole in the ground and forever forgotten simply as one of many casualties.
Tanya barely said a word since she discovered Ellie's dead body, only giving occasional orders to her teammates. It was difficult for her, knowing she would never see one of her best friends again. Were it up to him, Roland would leave that godforsaken place as soon as possible; his fury grew at every thing he saw in there. Alas, Qrow wanted to search the base for any useful information.
... and then there was also the question how to deal with the captured Fang troopers.
Branwen thought he might get some useful info out of the prisoners. There was over two dozens of them, though and that didn't include a few young brats that had the terrific idea of joining the Fang. As soon as the fight broke out, the recruits quite literally scrambled over each other trying to hide from the 'big bad humans,' though Qrow and co. caught them pretty quickly. The veteran Huntsman thought of a rather crude but efficient way of dissuading the recruits from 'joining the fight for freedom' or whatever the Fangers called it.
One visit to the morgue and a glance at the emaciated slaves, all acompanied by a blunt, biting commentary from Branwen, and the potential troopers were cured of any thoughts of ever becoming freedom fighters. Roland still remembered the looks of pure shock on their faces as they were shown everything that White Fang neglected to mention. He couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of nonsense the Fangers filled their heads with just to get them to join.
Then it came down to interrogations and Qrow asked the students to help out... which, in hindsight, was a mistake.
After previous experiences, Roland wasn't sure if he even could stay in one room with the captured Fang troopers without doing anything drastic. Those guys were nothing but murderers who slaughtered innocents by dozens without any hesitation or remorse... and he found it difficult to even look them in the eyes, let alone talk to them, especially after what he saw earlier that day. Despite that he did agree to help, hoping he could contain his urge to beat the snot out of the bastards long enough to take his fury out on some poor Grimm later.
Yet he failed, miserably so...
oOo
A bare room with a table and a couple chairs in the middle. Two captive Fang troopers sat on the chairs, hands restrained behind their backs. The older one glared fiercely at his captors... the other one seemed a bit too meek for a hardcore terrorist. Still, Roland tried to look at anything but those two.
He and Nicolaus were at this for hour... and they didn't get anywhere with the questioning. Most of the goons they caught were lowly grunts; those small fries couldn't have known anything important. Fangers were in the process of vacating the base when Qrow and co. kicked down their front door; no wonder there were no officers around. What a convenient timing to wrap things up in here... This couldn't have been a coincidence. Alas, they had other things to worry about.
Pickup wouldn't arrive until an hour or two so there was plenty of time. Qrow was in the next room, taking his time questioning other captives. Tan and Emery remained with the freed slaves; the team leader tried to coax some info out of them, just to keep herself from thinking about Ellie and her lifeless body in the morgue.
"You guys won't gain anything by clamming up. You know that, right?" Nicolaus spoke in a level voice. "We could always deliver you to Atlas, and the people there won't be as... polite, as I am."
"I ain't telling you shit, traitor!" The cocky thug snapped back. "Go ahead and take me to your masters in Atlas; maybe you'll get a treat for that, lapdog!"
"Traitor? Me?" The fox Faunus scoffed at the accusation. "I'm not the one murdering my own people just because they don't want an interracial war! When humans decide to strike back, what do you think will happen to White Fang when it drove away all its allies, hm?"
"We don't need allies! We're stronger than anyone who dares oppose us!"
"Funny," Roland remarked casually. Nobody noticed he struggled to keep his voice leveled. "If you're so goddamn strong, then how did you get yourself captured?" There was no answer. "I know why; it's because despite all your bravado and big talk, you White Fang types are just a bunch of fucking pussies." Resting his hands on the table, he leaned forward with a smirk. "Why else would you target civilians who can't fight back instead of fighting those who can? And don't even get me started on your partnership with the Witch in red..." A code name for Cinder Fall, the enemy number one. "Bottom line, you guys are a bunch of murderers, terrorists and hypocrites. Nothing more."
"Your time will come, scum!" The thug snarled. "Every oppressor has a price on their head!"
Ignoring his hate-filled rant, Roland turned to the other grunt who barely said a word during the questioning. "What about you, boy? You look like a freshman in a combat school, with the way you're shaking in that chair."
"Don't tell him anything, Tojo!" His comrade hissed at him.
"You should be more worried about me." The gunman glowered at the shaking goon. "What do you have to say for yourself, killer?"
The poor bastard began shaking like a leaf. "I- I don't know anything!" He stammered, oblivous to his comrade's murderous glare. "I'm just a grunt, I do whatever I'm told! I didn't even kill anyone, you gotta believe me!"
Unfortunately, the gunman knew this was bullshit, thanks to Qrow's recent discoveries. "How did you get that nice uniform, then?" His face contorted into a sneer. "I have it on good authority that in order to become a full member of White Fang, a recruit mustkill a human. A new policy of your organization, an initiation, if you will. With that being said, you're either a fraud or a liar." The frightened goon whimpered pathetically. Roland began pacing across the room. "I don't care which one you are but if you got a shred of conscience in you, you'll tell us all we need to know to stop your insane campaign." Stopping, he cast a fierce glare at the captives. "And no more lying. Seriously, because I'm very pissed right now, at this place, at your band of terrorists, at all the disgusting shit you've done and, most of all, at you personally. One more lie..." His expression became downright menacing. "And I just might snap and do something I might regret."
The younger grunt looked like if he was about to piss himself. Roland was starting to think they might get somewhere.
Too bad the poser next to him decided to ruin it.
"I always knew you were a gutless sack of shit, Tojo!"
And here it goes...
"Or do you have anything to say, Mr. Badass?" Roland asked in a disparaging tone.
"You think I'm afraid of you, human?" 'Mr. Badass' growled. "I met scarier, meaner men that you... and yet they still begged for mercy before I killed them all! You talk big but in reality you're weak and pitiful, just like the rest of your kind! You should consider yourselves lucky if we spare your miserable lives! We are the masters of Remnant and humans should be honored to serve us in any way we choose!"
And the Faunus you murdered were just an afterthought... Roland could feel his blood boil. He heard this kind of drivel many times... but hearing it from this cocky little shit infuriated him.
"I'm not in the mood for this shit, punk!" He warned. "Either you start talking or-"
"OR WHAT?" The goon challenged. "You're better off killing me now because once I get out of here I will find you and then you're dead meat! I'll kill your family, your friends and then I'll kill you! What do you say to that?!"
"Last chance," Roland growled, his hand inching towards one of his pistols. "TALK!" Keep pushing me, motherfucker, I dare you...
"You'll have to kill me first." The goon sneered. "But you won't; you're too spineless and pathetic for that... But that's alright since I get to hunt you down later and crush you like a worthless bug you are-"
Several visions flashed through his mind. Dead bodies riddled with bullets. Bruised, emaciated figures huddled at a wall, scared out of their wits. The corpse of a girl, a huge slash on her throat. A grenade speeding towards him as he couldn't move away.
Like a pressure cooker blowing its lid off, or a volcano erupting, the long suppressed rage blew over.
His hand touched the handle of the pistol. The gun flew out of its holster, its muzzle pointing forward. A single flash and a deafening bang cut off the goon's angry tirade.
The captive gasped as a bullet blew a hole through his chest. His cowardly comrade started screaming his head off.
Roland stood there breathing heavily, his pistol still aimed at the goon's chest. As if in trance, he couldn't move.
"Peregrine, what the fuck?!" Nicolaus' shocked cry sounded as if coming from great distance.
The wounded captive was choking, his lungs flooding with his own blood.
For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off of him.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
oOo
What the fuck was wrong, indeed...
He did kill before, but that was either in self-defence or in the heat of a fight. What he did back in the Fang base could only be called an execution. Even now he could see the shock and disgust written all over Nicolaus' face, or hear the anger in Qrow's voice as he told him off for this stunt.
It wasn't like he planned to shoot that guy. The mission was exhausting, both physically and mentally. He was damn tired and seeing all over again how low the Fang fell filled him with unbridled fury. That hateful little prick he interrogated, his superior-than-thou attitude, insults, threats and the utter scorn with which he talked down all the people his organization killed, it just pushed him over the edge. Before even knowing it, he grabbed his pistol and pulled the trigger, shooting the goon right through his heart.
Qrow had barged into the room moments after the shot was fired... and he was pissed. Roland didn't say a thing as the veteran Huntsman ranted, calling him a 'maniac' and a 'loose cannon' and saying that at this rate he'd soon become one of the very same people he despised. Although he wouldn't admit it at first, Roland knew that Qrow was right and he felt ashamed of himself. This wasn't the first time his quick temper got him into trouble, though it wasn't always this bad. But now... There was little reason for him to smile, he struggled with mood swings, and every time he saw anyone sporting White Fang uniform, he felt like catching the slimy bastard and throttling them. Yes, they deserved it after everything they did. He hated them more than anything else... but shouldn't he be better than lashing out blindly like an enraged animal?
It became increasingly clear that he was facing a serious problem.
How could he expect to survive if he couldn't keep his anger under control?
What would happen the next time he flipped his lid? Would he end up lashing out against his friends? Or his family?
Would Qrow's warning come true?
The other noticed he was having problems... but only his teammates knew about his kill streak against White Fang. They were worried, though Roland was pretty sure Nicolaus actually hated him for that latest stunt, at least for a few days. Not that he blamed him; he did execute one of his kin right in front of him, terrorist or not. Even though they made peace eventually, there was still some tension between the two of them. Tanya outright told him that he was 'scaring the shit out of her' with the way he was acting.
His anger problems were causing a rift between him and the rest of his team. He could only guess how the others would react if they knew he had killed; he never told them. Yang only knew that he offed some goons who were killing civilians, but that was it. Lovers shouldn't keep secrets from each other and Yang deserved to know everything... but he was scared he might lose her if the truth came out.
I can't keep going like this. I need to get my shit together.
But how could that be possible when all he could think about was the White Fang? The maniacs that wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone for the sole reason for being a human?
Bastards even invaded his dreams. Too often he would wake up in the dead of night, thinking he died. It was like a vicious circle with no chances of escaping.
He slowly dragged himself onto his feet and walked back into his team's room, hoping to catch the few hours of sleep he had left until dawn.
I can't let them mess with my life again. I won't...
With that thought in mind, he drifted off to sleep.
Author's note: Alright, this is the last short in the series. I got struck by another writer's block so it took me a few days to come up with the way I wanted to write this. As for the next arc of the full story... that depends on how well I'll cope with the finals. The first chapter might be out this month, or the next. Can't really say at this point.
As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)