Hey~

So, a couple of you may have noticed that some of my chapters have mysteriously vanished. A large part of the writing process is in the review/revisions and thus, after much deliberation, I have decided to completely remake Neo's character. She's still an assassin... but now there are other dimensions to her character that make more sense and are more clear to me and help the story. Also, having her stay at Weiss' mansion wasn't doing any to help the plot and was really actually not helping my ideas come together. So, yes. Some scenes have disappeared xP I'm sorry for the confusion.

Yang couldn't breathe. She was starting to see stars. Despite facing imminent death, she was starting to gain respect for the pint-sized assassin. The midget was really strong. Yang had her hands grasped firmly around the assassin's wrist at her throat — and she couldn't pull them off. Thrashing, Yang tried calling for help. Of course, that never works when air can't get down your throat to begin with.

Crap. Yang was going to die at the hands of this shortie. Being beaten down by someone who was two-thirds her height was not doing wonders for Yang's pride.

Footsteps. Slightly muffled. Yang latched on to that thought and continued fighting for her life. She just needed to shout loudly enough - attract attention.

"Hel —" Yang gasped, using all of her effort to lessen the pressure around her neck.

She was cut off by lips pressing into hers, forcefully, invasively.

After the initial confusion and shock passed, the first thought Yang had was that the assassin tasted surprisingly sweet. It reminded Yang of ice cream.

The second thought was that the assassin had ridiculously soft lips.

Then the third thought: Yang wasn't a bottom.

That was when Yang heard the door creak open and snapped back to attention. Screaming, yelling. Right. She needed to do that. But her shouts were literally swallowed by the assassin, who had moved her hands to pin down Yang's wrists to the ground and kept her mouth firmly on Yang's. Yang tried to at least turn her head so that she could convey with her eyes that she was not in anyway a willing participant but the door closed quickly, too quickly. All that was left then was the sound of footsteps scurrying away.

The assassin kept her lips on Yang until the very last moment, Yang fighting the pipsqueak the entire time. When she pulled away, still pinning Yang's hands down and weighted on Yang, she was smirking.

Yang gasped, glaring at the deceptively strong girl. The girl who Yang had tried to help. The girl who was simpering and cocky. Yang's blood was boiling.

"Get off me," Yang glared, starting to thrash. The gears in her mind started turning. She needed to activate her semblance somehow. Only then would she be strong enough to kick the midget off of her. Concentrating, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her eyes turned red. "I said, get off me!" Yang shouted throwing the assassin off of her and into the air.

The assassin wasn't so easily defeated, however. Easily, she twirled herself around in the air, righting herself to land perfectly standing on the other side of the room. Then, she smirked and bowed.

Yang heaved herself upright, and launched a round from her gauntlets at the assassin.

It connected with the assassin's body.

And shattered the illusion.

Leaving nothing but an empty room.

Yang blinked. She hadn't imagined all that had she? Reaching her hand to her neck and feeling the bruises, she felt an odd sense of relief at the sensation of pain — that meant that it had been real. Yang wasn't going crazy.

Damn it. Yang realized belatedly. That meant that Yang had let the assassin get away!

Yang disarmed her gauntlets. Her expression deadly serious.

Next time, Yang promised.

Next time turned out to be sooner than Yang expected.

There she was, tossing and turning in her bed, trying to fall asleep but failing miserably. I mean, it would have been hard enough to fall asleep after having been almost strangled to death the same day, but it was even more difficult to fall asleep when there were… noises… coming from Weiss-y and Blake-y's room.

This was not a good day.

Just don't think about it. Think about other things.

The first thought to come to Yang's mind was the assassin's infuriating smirk. It was like a menacing threat, a ridiculing laugh and a condescending smile all at once. How was that even possible? Gah. This wasn't working. Yang tried to once again clear her mind.

But, now that Yang was thinking about it, the assassin had sad eyes — her smirk never seemed to reach the rest of her expression. The cockiness ended at her lips. The rest of her face was blank, robotic, listless even. Except for the eyes. Very mesmerizing eyes. Yang could have swore they changed colours from…

What colours were they?

Glass shattered. Or at least, the sound of glass shattering bounced off the walls in her room. Then, the sound of feet landing on the ground and stumbling around a little. It was a very distinct sound that Yang was starting to commit to memory. But still, a grain of doubt lingered in Yang's mind.

It couldn't be her right?

Yang couldn't see. She was lying on her bed facing the wall with her back to the rest of her room. Yang armed her gauntlets before making a move to turn around on her bed, having learned her lesson of underestimating her opponents already this morning. If it was the assassin, Yang would defeat her this time around.

Yang leapt up from her bed, battle position ready.

The assassin stood in the centre of the room cradling her arm. The bandages that Yang had applied that same afternoon were tattered and worn — some of them peeling off. The assassin hadn't changed her clothing either — they were still the same rags and tags. What had changed was the smirk on the assassin's face — it wasn't there. In its place, the assassin wore a tight grimace. Yang focused on the eyes this time around. Yang had been right — they did change colour. Blink. Double pink. Blink. Grey and Pink. Blink. Double grey. They were mesmerizing.

And pleading. Watering over.

The lips that had been so confident that morning quivered, opening slightly then closing again. The eyelids to the ever changing irises closed.

Yang didn't wait for the assassin to ask. "Come here, sit on the bed."

Yang was a Healer after all.

All at once, the tension seemed to drain out of the assassin, replaced with relief. She stepped over gingerly, one excruciating step at a time, towards the bed. Yang had grabbed her tool kit and flicked on the lights as well as sanitized her hands and put on gloves before the assassin had arrived to the bed. Sighing, Yang set her items to the floor and strides over to the tiny girl, lifting her in an easy motion and setting her onto the bed. The assassin had a protest that died quickly on her lips at the feel of a comforter underneath her.

"You have a fever," Yang frowned, placing a hand on her patient's forehead just to confirm. That wasn't good. Gently, Yang lifted the assassin's injured arm. She knew it. Bullet wound — with the bullet still lodged in the flesh. It was getting infected. The skin around the area blackened and rotting which probably induced the fever.

Yang rifled through her bag, taking out a bottle of pills. She unscrewed the cap and took out two of the white capsules. She held them at her patient's lips who were firmly shut in a thin line. "It's just to bring down the fever and make you fall asleep. You need to trust me," was all Yang could say. The rest was up to her patient to decide.

Worse came to worse, Yang would try to take out the bullet with the assassin still awake.

The assassin winced and rolled her head around, squeezing her eyes shut. Finally, she opened them, both eyes pink, and looked straight into Yang, holding the gaze for a moment. Then, she opened her lips, letting Yang press the capsules onto her tongue.

"Good girl," Yang praised, running her hand through her patient's hair. "Sleep now. Everything will be better in the morning."

The assassin forced her eyes to stay open as long as she could, staring straight into Yang's lilac ones the entire time. Before drifting off, the assassin mouthed a phrase with her lips.

Yang smiled.

"You're welcome."