A/N: so, late again. Sorry 'bout that. Don't wanna jinx anything, but MasterPrince, Hybrid and Myself are all pretty confident that things'll be better moving into the next arc/Vytal Tournament. Also, theres a cover-art by the amazing Icario now! Unfortunately, FFN's cover-art/image uploader is about as user-friendly as trying to use your teeth to turna boulder into gravel, so until I manage to wrestle that into submission, heres a link to the full res version (and yes, I'll add another 'link' to my profile so ya don't gotta dig for it.) www. / r/ RWBY/ comments/ tvyj0h/ remnant_dxd_crossover_fanfiction_cover_team_jnpr/
All that said, I still don't own RWBY, Highschool DxD or make a single penny off of this.
The Heroes' safehouse has become... familiar. Weiss can admit that.
Though a month of regular visits will do that for a place. And it isn't just the pounded flat ring of dirt–or mud, when it's raining, like it is outside right now–that is the sparring ring in the yard she's come to know well.
That's not to say that she is particularly familiar with the living quarters on the second or third floors outside of the office Cao Cao uses for private meetings at the entrance to the Master Suite on the third floor. But the Living Room–which she's pretty sure had been a ballroom at an earlier point in the building's history–kitchen and dining room that Ruby, herself and Cao Cao's group are scattered about to celebrate their most recent 'mission' that she's come to know well and feel comfortable in.
Whether it's the ballroom just off the central hall she and Ruby had first 'officially' met the core of this little splinter group of the wider Supernatural world that Arthur likes to use when instructing her and Ruby on the wider socio-political fabric of the hidden world she and her best friend had stumbled across–Or at least, a portion of it–the dining room that she has on many evenings been forced to endure or even partake in her Dolt of a partner's overly-energetic eating habits, though thankfully their new friends had seemed more amused by them than anything else; or the kitchen where the two of them regularly are subjected to Siegfried's lectures on appropriate dietary considerations for a training regimen as harsh as the one they are currently on.
Pyrrha's advice is just as sound, far more politely delivered and Weiss isn't ashamed to admit that she's glad to be able to turn to the Invincible Girl for it again. Though, to be totally honest with herself Siegfried's stricter bearing and turn of phrase when instructing her is reminiscent of Winter to Weiss, one of the few things from home she does miss.
This half of the ground floor has been 'modernized' with the narrow hallways separating the two rooms for the 'family's' use from the kitchen which the household staff would have once been tucked away in. It is far more homely than the still-separated Sewing Room, Study and storage room that the staff would work from on the other side of the hallway leading from the entrance hall back to the walled-in yard.
She takes a sip from the glass of wine she has been, and plans to continue nursing for the rest of the night, Crystal Blutte's weight on her right arm finally familiar to her.
She can see most of the living and dining room from where she's standing.
The Heroes are clad in clothing more-or-less the same as what she'd grown used to seeing them in, albeit made from Huntsman-grade materials with their chosen Emblems now emblazoned on them. Heracles is slightly flush-faced and boisterously re-enacting or recounting their battle against a mad scientist's homemade battle robots and enhanced 'Super-Grimm' they'd cleansed from the madman's island over the space of a few hours–a feat that would have taken a team of Huntsman trainees a week at least to accomplish–excitedly with an almost equally inebriated Jeanne to the uncharacteristically present-and-enraptured-by-their-tale Connla as well as several of their other 'subordinates'.
Ruby and Le Fay are chattering away at each other, glasses of milk sitting on the table next to them, and a tray of cookies between them. Standing between them Leonardo is stoically weathering their energetic back-and-forth, the boy drinking from a glass of sparkling grape juice. Georg, had been with them for the mission, however as soon as they had returned. The self-titled Hero Factions eldest mage had taken what little they had recovered from Merlots lab down to the workshops and labs set up in the manors basement to study.
Arthur and Siegfried are closest to Weiss and in the throes of a heated looking discussion, though neither has raised their voice. Close enough to listen in, Cao Cao is standing by, all but glaring out a nearby window, one hand holding his spear… Really? Does he ever part with it?–His other hand hangs limp at his side with his Scroll clenched in it, a splash page Weiss has seen or overheard her Father fire several IT department heads over clearly visible to her on it. She can only assume that they are as sore as Ruby has been that the madman they'd been hunting down for most of the week leading up to tonight's climactic assault had mysteriously vanished without a single trace from his self-destructing lab during what should have been their moment of triumph.
To be totally truthful with herself, her mood probably aligns the most closely with those three over anyone else in the manor currently. That in mind, she decides to make her way over towards them.
Weiss thinks back to the climactic fight in the burning lab.
Most of the modified Grimm had been killed, only the largest of his mutant Grimm and a few particularly hardy prototypes remaining. She had been off supporting Ruby and Connla on the outskirts of the vaulted chamber they had cornered the mad scientist in. Georg and Le Fay had collected several samples of whatever mutagenic reagents the madman had been using, but the rest had been put to the flame courtesy of Weiss' Fire Dust and a handful of precision fire spells from the Magicians. They had gathered for one final charge into the madman's personal quarters when a pulse of magical energy that she can now recognize as purposely disguised–the sort of spellwork for when a person can't hide that they are doing something but want the how and who to remain as shrouded as possible–had washed over them. Cao Cao's typically cool demeanor had given way to a barely contained agitated frenzy as he bid them to hurry almost as soon as the sensation had washed over them. Heracles had bashed the armored door down with a roar to reveal–nothing. No Merlot. No filing cabinets or computers to store the data that they had been unable to remotely access the few times they'd slowed their lightning assault on the scientist's sprawling island base to try to figure out what he had been up to beyond the obvious, and what little his periodic, self-aggrandizing taunts he'd made over their Scrolls alluded to. Just bare concrete.
Their strike team had all of half a minute to gape in shock at the impossibility before what Weiss recently learned to recognize as the Sigil of a Devil House emblem prominent at its core. One that she had not and still is not able to identify, or even recognize. All the other trappings of a powerful Magic Circle spinning and weaving into existence around it.
Weiss is almost positive she had heard Arthur actually curse under his breath before springing into action and teleporting all of them outside the lab. Bare seconds after the last of them had stumbled through the portal and it had snapped shut, the entire complex had gone up in a tremendous blast that had thrown all of them off their feet, the island shaking like it was about to come apart, or alive with volcanic activity around them.
Thankfully, only the lab had been rigged and runed to explode.
For a few moments, there had been silence as they all pushed themselves back to their feet, dusted their tattered and dusty clothes clean and checked for any fresh wounds. As soon as the hulking Grecian Hero had regained his feet and bearings he had unleashed his Balance Break with a furious howl. Moments later, after how completely they had been played set in, Jeanne had joined him and the duo proceeded to literally tear apart the smoldering remains of the facility. Cao Cao, his voice terrifyingly calm and controlled, ordered Georg to use the most powerful Grimm lure he had available to draw in as many remaining Grimm on the island. Less than a minute later the rest of the strike team had begun to physically, and in many cases vocally vent their frustrations on the wretched beasts.
Even Le Fay, Ruby and herself had joined in on the senseless violence. None of them had been amused, or happy.
Arthur notices her before she reaches earshot, and the two swordsmen turn their attention to her in near perfect unison. "Ah, Weiss! You performed admirably in the field today."
Weiss offers a ghost of a curtsy. "It was nothing, really. All of you far out-preformed Ruby and I." Fake smiles all around it seems. Not that she'd have been able to recognize them if she didn't have to wear one at most social events back in Atlas, though she can easily understand both why they are as dissatisfied as she suspects and are taking any effort to disguise that fact. The resources at their disposal–as far as Weiss is aware at least–compared to what had been expended in the hunt for Dr. Merlot and subsequent assault on his base had been less than ideal. Of course, Weiss doesn't doubt for a moment that the madman won't face justice before the year is out–next year in a worst-case scenario–but the setback is still irksome to say the least.
And from the carefully blank look on Cao Cao's face, she's quite certain he won't be forgiving or forgetting this slight anytime soon.
"Nonsense!" Arthur warmly replies, resting a hand on her shoulder. "The speed with which you not only crafted, but have become proficient with your... side-arm? Is quite admirable." The blond Hero's train of thought stumbling to a halt as he searches for the correct word for her most recent addition to her arsenal.
Weiss shrugs, shifts her drink over to her left hand, and raises her right, clenching the hand into a fist to expand Crystal Blutte, the sleeve of her jacket splitting from wrist to elbow to accommodate her targe. "Collapsible repeater-targe." She supplies, taking a moment to check her makeup in the mirror-polished shine of the shield's slightly lowered central span. The raised edge's plain, unpolished steel slightly scuffed from the day's fighting, and a few chips in the white paint coating the raised snowflake pattern extending from the targe's spike to the rough mid-point of its body.
"That," Siegfried agrees with a grin. "Is quite impressive, especially for a firearm." He sips from his own glass, his second of the Earth vintage–cabernet sauvignon, apparently–that reminds her of the Mistrali Reds that both she, and to a far greater extent Mother prefer. His grin turns into a wide smirk as he continues, "Add to that just how quickly you've taken to 'Arma Weiss'–"
"No matter how many times Ruby uses that name for the offshoot of my family's Semblance I stumbled across, that is not what it is or shall be called." Weiss cuts him off with a put-upon huff.
The two strongest swordsmen of the Hero Faction chuckle. Before either can say anything more, Cao Cao proceeds to smoothly interject that, "No matter what you think of the name your partner came up with for that technique, that you are already using it in battle is an impressive feat. You should feel proud of yourself, Weiss." Perhaps, but she will still need Winter's help to move on from that to true summoning. Being limited to Summons that are connected to her will become a crippling and obvious shortcoming quite soon, she suspects. Clad in and armored by the greatest challenge she has faced unaided so far, an army of her vanquished foes answering her call to strike down the enemies of humanity and freedom, her friends and allies focussing down those few beasts and charlatans too durable or clever for her personal army to overwhelm…
Yes, Weiss likes that mental image quite a lot. "Thank you, Cao Cao." The smile she offers is less fake than it had been prior. And it isn't just the pleasant fantasy of her potential future that put it there. A compliment from the leader of this nascent warrior order is one must truly put in work to earn.
Siegfried takes a sip from his glass before playfully adding, "Now don't go getting too proud of yourself. It'd be a real tragedy for you to wind up like Heracles."
Oh, now, that is going too far. "Hey!" A familiar, squeaky giggle draws her attention away from the typically cynical swordsman to see Ruby approaching, attempting in vain to purse her lips and muffle her laughter, the less full glass of milk held over them in a pale imitation of their overly polite red-headed devil friend. "Quiet you!"
Ruby shakes her head in a gesture that isn't fooling anyone. "I didn't say anything. Snrk…" Thankfully she hadn't said anything untoward, from suggesting changes to Weiss' combat outfit, to wild assumptions about the histories of their allies here to general social faux pas' Ruby's… uniqueness, has certainly made itself known during their time here. At last, her partner and teammate is starting to learn some restraint.
"And the Grimm Slayer herself graces us with her presence." Cao Cao offers Ruby a warm smile as she joins their little group.
"Oh, shut your face, Cao Cao." Ruby waves him off with a bashful grin and blush. It's a testament to how swiftly their friendship has grown that Ruby can get away with saying that to the typically stern leader of the Hero Faction. Maybe, maybe Georg, Siegfried or perhaps even Arthur could get away with such casualness with him in public, though none of them have the right disposition to actually do so. Weiss' team leader and best friend's gaze darts to the Scroll in Cao Cao's hand when it lets out a soft chime, and its screen shifts. For a brief moment recognition darts across her face before her expression drops into something more sullen at the sight of the same sigil that had been on brazen display in the moments before their triumph was stolen from them. "Oh…If you don't mind my asking, are you familiar with that, erm, well, it looks like a Devil family emblem?"
"If you'll excuse me." Arthur's expression goes even darker after spotting, something on Siegfried and Cao Cao's faces. Weiss raises an eyebrow as Arthur offers a shallow bow, turns and departs, Siegfried frowning after him while Cao Cao retains his purposefully blank countenance.
"Familiar enough, as far as sigils go, that is." Cao Cao answers with mild distaste, though he does take care to stress the correct word for the array and cast Ruby a subtle glance. Her nod of acknowledgement is, well, it's more discreet than it would have been at the start of the year. "It pays to know our enemies and would-be exploiters, after all." He holds out the Scroll towards Weiss and Ruby, allowing them a clear look at the symbol. He gestures at the screen with a slight motion of his head. "That is the crest of the House of Asmodeus."
Siegfried takes his eyes off Arthur's retreating form to add on, "Assuming that our intelligence is trustworthy, the current Devil King bearing the name Asmodeus would more likely than not either find Grimm experimentation of the sort Merlot was doing not worth his while, or distasteful at best; it stands to reason the Old Satan Faction, or at least someone acting on their behalf absconded with the good doctor."
Weiss and Ruby pale, recognizing the name from both Jaune and the Heroes' depictions of the more violent fringe elements of Devil society. "B-but that means–"
Cao Cao closes the image and puts away his Scroll. "One of several things, the worst case scenario being that Remnant has yet another player vying for power and control of your homeworld. At the very least, the Old Satanists now know of Remnant, though with how tightly controlled travel between worlds is, what we saw today was most likely a simple scouting action taking advantage of a unique situation, and the scoundrel responsible for our mission's incomplete success may still be in search of a time and opportunity to report back to his masters still. Which means that that particular threat is one that we can worry about later." He offers them a genial smile as he takes the offered glass of milk from Ruby. He takes a sip from the glass and lets out a contented sigh. "This is still the beginning, both of the greater struggle and you girls' journey. And I sincerely hope that once you graduate Beacon, we can expect you to officially join our ranks. The chance to receive a higher education is not one to be passed up lightly, and was denied to many of my followers, so I will not hold it against either of you if you decide to decline an immediate invitation to our order."
"R-really?" Ruby stutters, eyes going wide.
Cao Cao nods warmly, "The two of you have made great strides as warriors since joining with my forces, irregardless of how much further your potential peak may be or what skills you still need to hone presently." He locks eyes with a now blushing Ruby. "Your training up until now may have been focussed on your skills as an individual combatant, but I intend to begin personal lessons with you on leadership soon, and fully expect you to stand on par with Georg and Siegfried as one of my lieutenants in due time." Ruby's blush goes from a ghost of pink to a furious crimson as Cao Cao shifts his gaze to Weiss. "And Weiss, I will not repeat my earlier compliments, though they are still valid no matter what additional training you require from your family to properly come to terms with the mantle you inherited. That said, I have no doubt that when the time comes you will be the ideal choice to handle our organization's fiscal needs with your father's shrewd skill and grandfather's honor."
Cao Cao pauses to look both of them over seriously. "From what I've seen of the two of you, as well as the reports my subordinates have made you're both on the fasttrack to becoming the true inheritors to the spirits and mantles of Summer Rose and Nicholas Schnee." He nods at Ruby, and then Weiss.
Weiss can feel her cheeks burning as the dark haired teen pauses to let his words sink in. The Huntress-in-Training pair share a quick, prideful grin. They've never known Cao Cao-or any of the Heroes to be brutally honest-to give empty praise. And while he doesn't know much of their personal history or as well as his followers that he had entrusted their training and recruitment to, hearing their strongest tell them they were well on their way feels amazing. That said… Weiss rests a cautionary hand on her partner's shoulder before she can speak up. "You are absolutely right that a proper, quality education is not something to be turned up lightly. Ruby and I will have to decline the immediate invitation… though I do sincerely hope that that does not mean that our, apprenticeship with you and your subordinates will come to a close so soon."
Siegfried scoffs, giving them a sharper, teasing grin. "Just because you runts are 'on your way' doesn't mean I'm done with either of you. If you're set on taking the slow route, as it were, I expect the both of you to join at the top when that time comes, not in with the rest of the chaff." Cao Cao nods in assent, and the tension that had worked its way into Weiss' spine when she spoke melts away.
So much so, she can't help but banter back, "Now who's starting to sound like Heracles?" This earns her a stunned look for a second before the Demonic Sword wielder lets out a boisterous laugh and claps her on the back almost hard enough to send her stumbling, which is enough to tug her teasing smirk into a more honest smile. Now he's acting like the brute on purpose.
With the more boisterous of the Heroes in the room having hit a lull in their conversation, and the talk between Weiss, Ruby and Cao Cao having hit something of a stumbling point, the leader clears his throat and casts his gaze across the room. When he speaks up, projecting his voice just enough to be heard throughout the set of rooms they are scattered across. "Our more, scholastically inclined allies are studying historic examples of asymmetric warfare and propaganda campaigns that met with success. I have here in this room, not just the inheritors of Remnants finest heroes mantles, but those of Greece" he gestures towards Heracles "France," Jeanne now "and England." He points towards the door where Arthur and his sister are now standing. Weiss doesn't know if he is simply talking himself up, or if the silence that had fallen over the room as he began he continued to pontificate had been intentional. "And we have more still fighting the good fight abroad or preparing a haven for the greater battle when the time comes for it to be joined. Like calls to like, and soon, all of the Heroes of mankind will be gathered under our banner, and we will finally be ready to strike back at the forces that have so long sought to use or abuse us." Despite her lingering misgivings, Weiss can't deny that the older teen's speech is moving her, stirring something that calls for action, for justice deep in her heart. "Be they Grimm beasts, power-hungry Devils, duplicitous Fallen Angels or any other myriad beasts or monsters that thinks of us as something less than them."
For a moment, silence hangs over the room. The spell is broken by Ruby letting out an excited cry, the other gathered Heroes quickly joining her.
Cao Cao raises his glass, "To victory, to Remnant, and to Heroes United!"
The other gathered Heroes–along with Ruby and Weiss–all take up Cao Cao's cry, some in full, others repeating one or two of his declarations. Thankfully, it doesn't devolve into a chant. Weiss has had more than a lifetime's worth of chanting a nation or companies name or motto at the different rallies held by Councilors her father and family had been invited to; and that is before she takes into account the fervor her Father's more eloquent executives can drive a refinery or mines crew into when pressed.
Still, the sensation, of letting herself get caught up in the fervor instead of staying perfectly aloof and unaffected is… heady.
As the excitement abates, the scattered groups return to their previous conversations. "That was… rousing." Weiss hears herself offering wryly to Cao Cao, her voice betraying a touch more emotion than she would normally like to when speaking with a peer whose motives she is not completely sure of that has shown as much social acumen as Cao Cao has.
The taller teen lets out a small sigh. "I won't say that it was planned, but we four aren't the only ones upset that the outcome of today's mission–success that it was–was not a more complete victory."
"Hence the brief flirtation with monologue to avoid resorting to the sort of canned platitudes motivational speakers seem to love falling back on to keep tempers from flaring and the group from falling on ourselves. Clever." Weiss nods, ignoring the True Longinus' wielder's light faux-bow at her commentary.
Ruby kicks at the floor awkwardly. "I mean, if it works…" for a moment no one really knows what to say next, until the prodigy continues "though, what you said about heroes did get me thinking. Kind of."
"Oh?" Cao Cao asks, as he, Siegfried and Weiss turning to face the younger girl.
She goes a bit rigid, before letting out a dismissive snort and waving the pair of them off. "It was stupid, forget about it."
Cao Cao's smirk softens. Huh, maybe Weiss should still be worried. "Go ahead, Ruby. If not your skills or leadership acumen, your spirit alone justifies your presence among us. We'll gladly hear what you have to say."
"Thanks. Well… I was thinking that for Mom and Nicholas, and the ancestors of a few of the other people you have here in Vale, no one really called them heroes while they were alive and they didn't do it themselves either. No big, ya know, proclamation of what they were. It's something that just stuck once other people started doing it." Ruby's speed-muttering becomes more coherent and sure of herself.
Right.
Of course the Dolt would miss a big part of what she's, probably, trying to get at. "But people do get called heroes all the time. And I'm sure your mother was on the receiving end of that more than a few times, simply not on an international scale. Firefighters, police officers, emergency workers and Huntsmen are called heroes frequently when they go above and beyond what's expected of them in their occupations. It's just that, when part of what you're expected to do is help people it takes more for a person working in such a field to garner widespread recognition."
Ruby just stands there, gaping at her like a fish out of water until Weiss prods at her. "R-right. It's not about killing the most monsters or, or their weapons or even… Dying a hero's death. It's about all the people they inspire." Ruby softly mutters as she contemplates her glass of milk.
Weiss and Siegfried's expressions are contemplative, Cao Cao's shifts from cautiously curious to blank to genuinely thoughtful to calculating in rapid succession. "Inspiration, you say…" A handful of heartbeats later, Cao Cao collects himself, and his smile–a genuine one–is far warmer than any Weiss had ever seen from him before. "Very well said, Ruby."
Ruby gives a chuckle and rubs at the back of her head. "Thanks! Uh… Not to, umm, I mean, I don't wanna sound like I'm nagging you or anything but Blake is the daughter of the people who started the movement that's done the most for Faunus rights in generations; and Yang and I do have the same dad, who was just as awesome as mom was, and her mom was on the same team as them so she was probably just as amazing too. Those are some pretty noble legacies to inherit too, aren't they?"
Ruby probably misses it, but Weiss catches the older teen's face twitch ever so slightly, shuttering over for a flash before his polite mask slides back into place. "Yes, they certainly are the scions of a pair of interesting legacies..." He takes a quick breath before his face has lightened up ever so slightly before he glances back over at Ruby. "I suppose if you vouch for them, the Hero Faction may consider… Branching out. New world, new rules as it were." Siegfried shoots a look of naked surprise back at his leader while Ruby beams in delight. Weiss feels a mixture of both feelings, especially considering the Hero Factions primarily human makeup, Siegfried's background notwithstanding.
A small part of Weiss–one that feels a lot like Blake glaring at a too-clean square just to the side of a restaurant or shops front door and suggesting the team tries somewhere else–is afraid that a meeting between the Heroes and the rest of Team RWBY won't be as smooth as she or Ruby hope…
_-*R-DxD*-_
It's pouring rain, and thunder is rumbling ominously in the distance. Most people would have happily stayed in on a night like this, or at least drove to wherever it is they need to be.
Lacey doesn't have a car, and even if she did, she'd probably still have walked.
The big, gray hooded, form-obscuring poncho of a raincoat she's wearing does a great job of making her nondescript. Blending her in with the handful of other unfortunates out and about on foot despite the late evening storm.
Anonymity is good, especially when you'd been as stupid as her. Going out drinking with her... new friends, despite knowing that a bunch of fanatics are after her? Wandering the back alleys until some of them actually found her just so she could pick a fight? One she had planned to let them walk away from?
Well, not really 'walk' away from, but she hadn't planned on-on killing them either.
That cryptic, snarky jerk had really pulled her stupid ass from the fire with that.
And some of the things he'd said... Well, here she is.
Outside of her old Combat School, pounding on the door a few hours after the last class lets out for the night hoping that Mr. Laurent is still awake and sober enough to hear her and let her in. She has questions that need answering. She starts when the low electric buzz of the side door–the one that leads up to the row of apartments above the strip mall where Serpent Strike is still renting a unit for its operations.
Frowning, she sidesteps over to the door and walks through it, throwing the hood back not after the glass door shuts behind her, but when she's halfway up the staircase and anyone following her would have lost sight. The hallway the stairs empty out into isn't particularly dirty but is certainly run down, an overpowering miasma of spray air-freshener just barely covering the scent of something decaying.
"What's up, kid?" A weary voice rumbles from down the hall. She turns to face it and quickly spots her teacher leaning against the doorjamb of the only open door in the hallway. He's taller than her–not that that takes much–with straw-blonde hair cut in a no-nonsense high and tight with a neatly trimmed goatee of the same shade and a thick stubble extending up his cheeks and down his neck from it. His cold blue eyes are locked on her, the rest of his angular face somewhere between neutral and apathetic, the lines of it marking him as a man who is either in pretty rough shape for his mid thirties, or pretty good for his mid forties.
His arms are crossed, his left hand–the one that isn't scarred up–is dangling a half-full looking bottle of beer by its neck, and is wearing a baggy pair of black track pants with a white stripe running up the side of both legs, and a clean white wife-beater, his well muscled arms on clear display, along with the stereotypical 'tough guy' tribal tattoos scattered between the wrist and shoulder of his left arm that cover most of his scars.
Lacey can't help but offer, "What, a girl can't drop in to see how her old teacher is doing?"
He rolls his eyes and takes a swig from his bottle. "Ya know, if you wanted to ask about coming back to Serpent Strike you could have just called and saved us both the time. Until you clear shit up with Roman, the cops and the White Fang the answers no."
Lacey pouts, before sticking her tongue out at him. "I know that." Her raincoat is starting to get stuffy so she pulls it over her head, gives it a good shake then folds it up and tosses it over one of her shoulders. "I just have some questions and you're the only one who can answer them."
Jaundice grumbles for a bit before grousing, "I'm sure you could get your answers from someone else just fine, kid."
Lacey shrugs. "The reason I have the questions in the first place mentioned you specifically."
"Whatever bullcrap Roman's people told you about me is just that, a load of crap." He grumps back before taking another swig from his bottle.
She doesn't just hold her ground, she stomps over to stand in front of her sensei, where she spots what she's pretty sure is either a new, or rejected poster for the combat school downstairs in a cramped entryway behind him, the school's 'mascot' crimson serpent reared up to strike with 'badasses don't back down' scrawled around it.
She could keep the byplay up pretty easily, and she has missed her teacher, but... "I ran into a guy who recognized what you've been teaching downstairs that called it the Assassin's Talon not, well..." She gestures at the poster behind him.
Jaundice curses, before backing out of his doorway and gesturing into his apartment with his beer. "Old lady across the hall is a nosey gossip, and I'm pretty sure the guy next door's ankle-bracelet is the kind that makes you legally obligated to introduce yourself to new neighbors when you move in."
She nods and walks past the older guy into his apartment. It's not exactly dirty, but it's pretty damn clear that not much work has gone into keeping it clear either. The counters have a bit of junk on them, the carpet is worn and has some threadbare dirty paths between the couch, kitchen and what she thinks is the bedroom.
Honestly, if it weren't for Mrs. Aech, she'd probably have gotten herself a place like this by now, if only so that her take on the jobs Roman's still got her running would be better.
The walls are painted the same terrible shade of mustard that the hallway she'd just walked in from is, but that's a minor foible compared to earning more money for Beacon next year.
Besides, working with Roman is just turning out to be another way to help people, amazingly enough. Most of his people had–now that they're opening up to her–had pretty crap childhoods growing up in the slums and gutters most of 'polite' Vale society doesn't like to admit exist and crime had been their only out. And with a lot of them barely having active Auras, if they have any at all, they really don't belong outside the safety of the kingdom either.
So the escort runs Roman's been putting her on are really just Huntress missions a few years–Months– early. She's made literal deals with Devils and accepted offers she couldn't refuse to see that dream through now.
She could scarcely believe it, but Lacey will be starting Beacon next fall. Initiation is gonna be a cakewalk compared to how this year has treated her.
The amount of time it takes for her to justify–err, think about working with one of Vales most famous active criminals is all it takes for her to drape her raincoat over one of the stools lined up along the counter separating 'kitchen' from 'living room' and Jaundice to get to the mismatched set of furniture in the living room.
He gestures at the ratty brown leather couch as he plops down into a deflated recliner that's upholstered in an eye-wateringly bright orange corduroy. Telling the story doesn't take long, especially considering how she wants to downplay how stupid she'd been acting that night.
She gets as far as the ash-haired interloper treading the line between saving her bacon and taunting her before Jaundice goes pale, and holds up a hand to stop her. His face is pale as he drains what's left in his bottle before asking, "You aren't paraphrasing or just spewing bullshit, are you? His exact words were Assassin's Talon?"
Lacey nods.
Her teacher slumps back into his recliner and runs his scarred up hand through his hair before muttering. "Fuck. And here I thought I'd gotten enough distance between that crap by now." He looks up at Lacey, who is honestly more confused than anything else. "You ever wonder why so many thugs show up to my little combat school?"
"Because you and their boss go way back?"
Jaundice shrugs "I mean, yeah, we do, but that's not all of it." He waves dismissively before absently thunk-ing his empty bottle down on the side-table to the right of his chair next to a few others.
The pair are silent for a moment, some documentary on the Great War still rambling on on the TV opposite both of their seats. "I know most of you kids listen when I say that something is dangerous and could seriously hurt or even kill someone if you fuck it up. Roman's guys–and their friends smart enough to tag along–all perk up just a bit whenever they hear that line though. That I have to say that so often isn't a mistake either."
Lacey can feel a pit forming in her stomach like another pillar of what she thought had been her path to becoming a hero is about to get a wrecking ball taken to it. "I... what is it you're trying to tell me?"
Jaundice lets out a mirthless half-laugh. "I guess this is where I get stereotypical because there's, well, I wouldn't exactly call it a fairytale, maybe myth or piece of folklore that'll explain this better." Maybe not? The Hunters' Children and the Girl in the Tower are both fun, and even though all the different translations of the Shallow Sea are kinda judgey at least they're optimistic. "Have you ever heard the one about The Killer with Forty Two Names?"
Erp...
"Yeah, that was my reaction the first time too. Historians put it in there with all the other big ones, but it's not the sort of stuff you go around telling to kids either. I'll spare you the details, I'm crap at telling stories and anyone with CCTNet access can find it no problem. Abridged version is that it's about the first guy, person, whatever–no one ever did figure out their actual identity–that started killing for a living. Was a Brothers-damned shadow and impossible to stop or track."
"But what does–" Jaundice glares at her, and Lacey snaps her mouth shut. Buzzed or not, he's teaching her right now. And his first rule has always been 'shut up when sensei's talking'.
Jaundice nods and keeps going. "Lots of pretty words and shit to dress up that The Killer was the most lethal bastard to walk the face of Remnant. When he started getting old, he took in two street kids. Trained 'em. Problem is, they hated each other's guts. After he died the both of 'em started taking swipes at each other alongside their regular 'work' until one got the other. That guy took on two students of his own, and then..."
Lacey blinks once. She blinks twice. "...Are you about to tell me that there's some ancient order of assassins hiding in the shadows and you're the guy doing recruitment?"
Jaundice scoffs. "Nah. Historians like to argue about the whole order of assassins thing, but that never goes anywhere. They all seem to conveniently miss the tradition that gets set up right at the end though."
"You're shitting me." Okay, hanging out with criminals has ruined her manners and vocabulary, she'll admit it.
Her teacher holds up one finger, before standing up and walking over to his bedroom.
After a few minutes of her sitting awkwardly while he thumps around in what she can only guess is a closet. He returns holding a smallish wooden chest, its lower half coated in a red lacquer so dark it almost looks black, the upper wood stained almost as dark. A dull iron band circles the top and bottom of its seam, both bands have a chain of emblems emblazoned on them, though a handful have been painted over, scratched out or otherwise defaced. The clasp is a bulky looking thing with no keyhole, but a sharp looking iron spike. It isn't long enough to cause any real damage, but it would certainly draw blood if you aren't careful. The spot on the band above it is blank, with a coiled cobra reared up to strike to its left. The spot below the cobra has been thoroughly scratched out, but there's a winged boot, toe pointed downwards centered on the band beneath the clasp.
Jaundice thumps it down on the stained, utilitarian coffee-table that's sat in front of the couch. He thumps back into his recliner. "Yes, this is one of those chests. No, I'm not messing with you, saw the Old Bastard open it once, let me look through what's inside it, there's no faking that. Even if there were, I've got a buddy who runs a pawn shop, Semblance lets him know how old things are, and this–" he thumps his fist on the top of the chest "–predates Vale–You know, the oldest modern kingdom–by at least five centuries."
She must have a weird look on her face, because Jaundice rolls his eyes in that exasperated 'I act like I can't stand these kids but they're my students and there's nothing I won't do for them' sort of way he's got.
He flatly remarks, "You got a smart mouth in the months since we last talked. Don't feel like dealing with it tonight."
Oh. Yeah, that's fair. "Who's the 'Old Bastard'?"
Jaundice shrugs, face a bit pinched. "The guy who founded Serpent Strike. Mean son-of-a-bitch with a Semblance that let him knit broken bones back together who drank harder than I do. Was half in the bag for half of the classes, and if he thought that a bit 'extra' would help a lesson sink in he wasn't above getting brutal."
That sounds... unpleasant, but with how hard Jaundice had been pressed to teach all of his students before he lost her help dealing with the kids who still need to get the basics down. "Why isn't he helping you then?"
Jaundice reaches over and grabs a bottle off the end-table next to his chair, frowning when he realizes it's empty. "Last time I saw the fucker he was drunk as a clam and bouncing between ecstatic and terrified."
Her former teacher shoves himself out of his chair and ambles over towards the kitchen and crappy old pastel blue fridge as he talks. "Ya see, I'd just gotten expelled from Beacon for kicking an ass that thoroughly deserved it." He opens the fridge, pulls a bottle out, cracks it open and takes a long swig. "Put a bully in their place normally and it's business as usual. Do it during an international broadcast and everyone loses their Brothers-damned minds."
Lacey blinks a few times, eyes warily bouncing between her teacher and the apparent ancient artifact sitting on a table that's probably been rebuilt half a dozen times with more bottle and can stains, boot-prints and darker splotches that are probably blood than it's got clean stained wood. "Why was he so excited about you getting expelled? Wouldn't that be bad for the school, not good?"
Her teacher shrugs as he drops onto the couch right next to the arm she isn't leaning into, bottle held in both hands, forearms rested on his knees, gaze unwaveringly set on the chest. "Any press is good press, right?"
Lacey really doesn't like where he's going with this.
"Last time I saw him was about five minutes after I had a messy breakdown about how fucked my life was at that point on a park bench down by the docks. Still don't know how he found me. He rambled about how this was exactly what the school needed to take off, some crap about proving he's right, told me not to worry about Beacon–that he had some friends that will get me in the Valean national tournament circuit, slapped his palm on that" Jaundice jerks his head at the chest "and told me to study up."
Lacey shoots a doubtful look at her teacher. He snorts "Yeah, I tried everything, and you're welcome to too. Pretty sure it's set up to only need a few drops. Honestly, I never looked inside it again after that night."
"Why not?"
The older man scoffs. "Back when I was your age, whenever anyone important up and disappeared or turned up dead without any leads most people would just chalk it up to Marcus Black. Same thing when any Huntsman worth two shits and a giggle started caring more about crime and corruption than grimm went dark all the sudden." Jaundice pauses. "Well, the only other time Marcus ever came up was when Roman had a rant about some idiot he knew wound up dead for crossing someone they damn well should have known better than to have. Every now and then I'd catch a news story about the serial killer that likes to string people up and bleed 'em dry like pigs. Some 'twisted mind' who likes to leave their emblem to get coated in their victims blood. Lucky for me, the media freak-out over the founder of a disgraced and closed combat school winding up the next victim got me nice and anonymous again. Around a year and a half ago, when Roman and every other shady bastard I know spent a week drunk, I had the distinct displeasure of watching that 'serial killer's' emblem scratch itself out and slide over beneath my dead teachers emblem, and that wingy-boot add itself underneath the clasp."
"Why are you telling me this?" Lacey can't help but ask, her attention more on her teacher than the box or the... smell, of his apartment complex.
"Because I figure you deserve to know what you're getting into if you decide to open that chest of yours."
Lacey's gaze darts back to the chest "What do you mean–"
"A brush with the White Fang. Running with Torchwick's crew. Still wanting to get into Beacon and willing to do whatever it apparently takes to pay for it. You need all the help you can get, and this is the best I can do for ya." He pauses and runs his scarred hand through his hair. "Besides, after I dug up a translation of The Killer's story from ancient Valeish that actually described that thing" he jerks his head at the chest "I did a quick re-read of some of Remnants other fairy-tales and folklore and decided that sane people leave whatever the fuck it is that's going bump in the night the hell alone."
Shaking a bit, Lacey reaches out and presses her index finger into the spike at the center of the 'clasp'.
She hisses and draws her hand back as the chest clicks open, and the blank square above it presses back just a hair from the rest of the upper band-probably just as deep as the one below it. Inside are sheafs, scrolls and small leather bound parchment manuals. Each and every one of them is some form of martial arts instructional manuals–the sort that the hero always learns from in those Mistralli kung-fu shows and historians babble on about in half the documentaries about the history of Huntsmen or the kingdoms from before the modern era–and all of them have small dark stains around their edges about the same size as the little bloodstains Laceys finger is leaving as she shuffles through them.
"You need me to give you a refresher on how to actually use all that?" Lacey shakes her head. A lot of the stuff she could learn from this looks pretty brutal, but...
"Good. Don't know who taught the Bastard, but it's pretty clear that he founded my school based on what's in that chest. I reopened it making common sense tweaks to what he taught me, and since you're my best student so far still you should be safe if that damn thing has any nasty surprises about the whole 'lineage' thing the Story was hinting at." Lacey puts the manual on short sword techniques she'd been leafing through back in the chest as Jaundice stands up again. "I'd tell ya to stay safe or wish ya good luck, but since both of those ships have apparently sailed for you, give'em hell kid." At that, he closes the chest on the table and nods towards his door.
Yeah, she needs to get back to the safehouse…
And to think about whether or not she should just leave this to collect dust like Jaundice had, or try to use the knowledge locked inside it.
_-*R-DxD*-_
The luxury airliner touches down as smooth as butter in Vale and despite how refreshing and relaxing the trip had been and swift when compared to taking a more traditional seafaring transport. Kali cannot wait to track her wayward daughter down.
Probably to hug the ever-living daylights out of her.
Either that or grab her by the shoulders and shake for all the worry Blake had put her and Ghira through when she ran off with Adam and Sienna's ilk.
She won't have long with her baby girl, at least not right away.
Kali's surrogate daughter has been doing well in keeping her apprised, Brothers bless her.
Her first business appointment alongside the enterprising beaver Faunus that had pitched the idea of a luxury airship cruise liner to her and Ghira as a potential source of income and tourism draw for their little island city-state is in a little over an hour up on Amity.
The ship had landed a decent distance away from Vale Internationals main concourse, but that is part of the services 'draw' apparently. Separate baggage and TSA checks away from the madness of one of the four largest airship docks on Remnant. Exclusivity, a bit of the red-carpet treatment, and...
Getting singled out of the crowd of vacationers by a trio of black-uniformed VSPRD officers. Lovely.
Sighing, Kali slides out of the crowd, crosses her arms and waits for the cops to get to her. Maybe it's a bit childish–and she knows that Vale's law enforcement is perhaps the best of the four kingdoms–but getting stopped on the tarmac brings up too many memories of Mantle and the bad days that had ultimately led to her and Ghira stepping down and letting Sienna and her supporters take up the torch.
The officer at the center of the trio has a sergeant's chevrons on either shoulder, and a pair of talons in place of hands, dark skin and a ponytail of dreadlocks almost as dark as his uniform bouncing along his back as he walks.
To his left is a pale skinned woman with drab gray and black feathers protruding from the small of her back, and to the center officers right is a muscle-bound man with ocher skin who looks like a human right up until he gets close enough for Kali to pick out his goat-eyes. "Mrs. Belladonna, we understand that you are a very busy woman, but Chief Drak was hoping you could spare us a bit of your time down at the station before things really take off for you. Even showing up to the Festival as late as you are, he's convinced your itinerary is packed."
Kali tilts her head curiously as the sergeant clasps his talons behind his back, and the other two officers drop their dominant hands to the shot-tonfas on their hips, eyeing the crowd behind her and in front of them suspiciously. "What could the VSPRD possibly need to speak with me about? It's been a few years since I've been to Anima, and I'm just a housewife these days."
The officer chuckles a bit, "All due respect, ma'am, the First Lady of Menagerie isn't 'just' anything." he shoots back loudly enough to be heard as he spares a glance to eye the crowd suspiciously as well. "And not all of us have forgotten who the soul of the movement was back when it actually stood for something. Anything beyond that we should probably wait until we get to HQ to talk about though. Safety concerns." He adds a bit more quietly.
Ah. Kali nods agreeably, "I have a few hours before my first appointment." She agrees, desperately hoping that whatever issue is so sensitive that the officers now leading her to their squad–err APC doesn't involve her baby girl in a holding cell. Blake had always been... impulsive. And Kali highly doubts that their years of separation has tempered that. As for Cheshire, well…Perhaps she should be a little worried. Goodness knows the girl never really grew out of her rebellious phase.
…Maybe she should be a little worried.
Just a little.
The trio form a loose triangle around her as she starts walking towards their transport. After the four of them have boarded, the goat faunus thumps the wall separating the driver from the passenger bay twice. The engine rumbles to life, and the vehicle almost immediately starts moving. "No need to look so worried, Mrs. Belladonna. Your daughter's team hasn't made any more runs at the Branwen twins' record for most damage to public property by Beacon students since the mess with Torchwick."
Goat-eyes nods, "Her and that monkey boy–"
"And his team." Talons interjects, getting a dismissive snort from the other man in the transport.
"–are good kids. Been a great help down at the station."
The bird-girl rolls her eyes. "The only reason Wukong's team are still helping the bug-crunchers out is because he wants an excuse to hang out with her."
Kali is doing her best to keep up with the conversation, but...
"Oh, she hasn't told you yet?" The sergeant asks, probably having guessed that from the expression on her face. "Well, don't let us ruin the surprise then."
What?
She tries to get the officers to explain, but for the rest of the ride, all they do is snicker at each other and dodge her questions. Not that the ride is too long, with the four of them piling out of the transport less than fifteen minutes later. The officers lead her through the station and seem far more relaxed than they had at the airship docks.
Which she supposes makes sense, considering this is their headquarters and a literal fortress.
She follows the officers through the hallway, doing her best to stay out of the way of the officers moving closer to a jog or run that the brisk-but-not-rushed pace the officers that had taken her from the docks had adopted. Eventually they come to a stop in front of a door that, if the white blocky 'Fang-breakers' scrawled across its sole frosted window, will lead to a suite of offices dedicated to supporting the officers dealing with the wayward group she had had a hand in founding. She lets her gaze wander while the officers banter and bicker while their leader shuffles through a keychain in search of whichever one will get them past the door.
A splash of color and youthful faces grabs her attention. The boys are probably about Blake's age, and the 'intern' ID cards hanging from plain black lanyards all but confirms her hunch. The blond, monkey tailed one at their lead freezes when he spots her, eyes going wide after looking her over before his gaze starts to bounce to anything and anyone but her. "See something you like, young man?" She can't help but tease.
The boy's face flushes and he stutters out "S-sorry. It's just, you look a lot like my girlfriend, and, her sister, and well..."
One of the other teens–this one with spiky blue hair–playfully punches his shoulder. "Dude, didn't she specifically say the two of you aren't official yet?"
The blond moves to swing back, but the red-jacketed teen dodges easily. "That doesn't mean she won't give Sun a break and admit it if he doesnt mess up this weekend." A wiry redhead interjects, before the tallest of the group–a dark skinned young man with forest green hair and a ring of tattoos around his upper torso catches all three in his arms and pushes them forwards with a grunt.
Moments later, the door she had been waiting behind swings open. Kali glances over to the goat-eyed officer as she follows them into the room. "I take it, that was the 'monkey' you mentioned earlier?" The officer nods, and Kali has to admit, momma-cat is interested. He certainly seems like a better match for her baby girl than her last suitor.
The sergeant aggressively clears his throat. "Gossip is fun and all, but now that we're in a secure location, I think it's best to be blunt. Your daughter's been a great help since she started liaising with us, but there are several points of contention, traditions and trends within the White Fang she outright admitted had been set into motion by you, your husband or Kahn when she was particularly young, and as such hadn't been able to offer us much insight on. Now that we have you here..."
Kali can feel the grin stretching across her face. Her little girl hadn't just left the Fang, but is working with official organizations to stop Sienna and Adam's madness?
However the rest of her meetings for the day goes, she's pretty sure she'll remember it as one of the best she's had in awhile.
_-*R-DxD*-_
Blake Belladonna has been having... a day.
Yes, she is perfectly aware of how lukewarm a way that is to describe things-internally at least-but as she has been able to spend almost all of it with her partner turned best friend and childhood friend turned sister in all but name and blood, she has refrained from those more descriptive terms. It had started how they'd planned with an early dinner at that diner Weiss had started treating them to at least once a week a bit after Blake had run off on her team. Yang and Cheshire had gossiped with each other like a pair of old ladies and Blake had simply luxuriated in spending time with not one, but two people she felt safe completely letting her guard down around.
Then, her traitor of a partner had mentioned that she had another date with Sun on Sunday-with one of her crappy puns of course–and Cheshire had asked what she'd be wearing for it. She should have lied instead of honestly answering 'something from my closet.' Cheshire had asked if she'd kept to the thrift-store mishmash Blake had taken to while traveling with her parents and the White Fang, or the classy, comfy and loose-fitting fare she'd taken to buying from the tailors back home in Kuo Kuana. Dodging with 'most of the stuff back home probably doesn't fit me anymore' had seemed like a safe bet.
At least until Yang had warily mentioned that most of the stuff in Blake's closet looks pretty new. Which she'll readily admit is a fact. Her suits, Beacon uniforms, enough pieces of her two combat outfits to not go crazy trying to keep them clean or stain-free, and the odds and ends she'd grabbed at Reticule, J-Mart and WallBox with the money she'd managed to scrape together in the time between fleeing the White Fang and joining Beacon to avoid raising suspicion.
Oh, and the handful of Team-wear Ruby had gone and spent half of her month's allowance on for all four of them before their first week together was over.
Still, all of it's new, and overall it's pretty sparse.
Which had lead to her being dragged from boutique to boutique by her best friend and found sister and used like a Brothers-damned dress up doll by a pair of girls with a far more forward fashion sense than her. Frustrating, mortifying, and damn-well better pay off and leave Sun's brain in a puddle on the floor when he shows up to pick her up. It had been all of that and more, and since it had just been the three of them her arms are sore from carrying the bags of choices she will-begrudgingly-admit they had been right about.
And now, her fellow Faunus and partner are cackling away in the private booth at the back of one of Vale's smaller nightclub, the blonde halfway through her second Strawberry Sunrise, Cheshire on her third Sex on the Beach while Blake sips away at her first Kuo Ka-Bam-Bam wondering where it all went so wrong.
"Oh stop moping, Blake, you had fun." Yang teases, poking her shoulder with her drink.
Blake rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her drink. "I'm not gonna wear half of that, and most of the rest I won't have time to use more than once or twice."
Still grinning, Yang leans back into the booth's bench. It creaks just loudly enough to be heard over the din of conversation and dance music, the acoustics here aren't the greatest, the crowd is thin and there is a poor, abused fog machine somewhere in the rafters billowing out damp air and grating, screeching noises that are hell on Blake's ears. That said, Yang is still pretty sure she's on the no-entry list over at The Club, and Club Farenheit had been an absolute zoo when Blake had led the three of them past it, so here they are. "I mean, stuff's probably gonna calm down after the Festival ends, and if all else fails we can go out a few times over the summer."
"Yang, we live on opposite sides of Remnant." Blake deadpans.
Her partner shrugs and shoots an impish grin her way "What's that, Blake, you want the whole team to come and visit you on the tropical island paradise you call home in southern Remnant where you're basically a princess? Of course we'd love to!"
Cheshire snickers into her glass, and Blake scowls at her troll of a partner. "Even if the tickets weren't ridiculously expensive, Weiss wouldn't be able to go more than five minutes without someone either trying to attack her or doing something to make her feel miserable."
Cheshire interjects shrugs, "Mehh, if that" she points to the bow–her last bow–where it's sat on her head with mild distaste. "seriously works for you, I'm sure we could figure out a way to trick people into thinking Ice–"
"Weiss." Blake corrects her with a sigh and an unimpressed look. She'd done that on purpose.
"–Whatever," the older girl huffs playfully. "is a Faunus."
Blake heaves a sigh, but before she can try to defuse that ticking time bomb Cheshire continues. "I still can't believe you wear that stupid thing all the time or that it actually works." She lazily swipes at the crown of Blake's head, clearly letting her block the lazy attempt.
Balke signals to a passing waitress that she needs a refill, getting a grinning nod from the bored looking woman. "You promised you'd leave it be for tonight if I let the two of you drag me around." Cheshire teasingly sticks out her tongue, but doesn't try to take it again. "And it works because most of the morons in the White Fang see 'just another human' and either ignore me or try to act tough. Bigots with a thing against Faunus are pretty much the same."
Yang snickers, "So, what you're saying is that all Weiss-cream and P-money need to do to have a normal night out is dye their hair and change up the look? That all the extra 'going into hiding' crap Pyr drags around is just her being paranoid?"
"I don't have my face on boxes of cereal or on billboards outside of performing arts centers." Blake deadpans.
Cheshire snorts, "Just wanted posters."
Yang bounces an awkward look between the two raven-haired young women she's sharing the booth with. "Really? I thought those would have all been taken down, since, well, ya know..." She trails off, pretty clearly unsure as to just how much Blake should or is allowed to talk about to civilians.
"Oh, those'll come down once it's public knowledge I, umm... flipped, I guess." Blake allows.
Cheshire lets out a lazy yawn, glaring at Blake's bow "Which is gonna be when?"
The waitress returns with a fresh drink for all three of them, and Yang slides a twenty Lien note onto the waitress' tray and shoots her a catty wink. Blake takes a sip of hers and hides a grimace. Overpriced and made with crappy rum and tequila. "Sooner rather than later with this being my last bow."
"Ohhh? Finally decided to stop hiding?" Cheshire smirks at her, utterly unrepentant over how she's been slowly but surely taking that option away from Blake since she showed up in Vale, or the danger and potential consequences Blake–as well as her teammates and parents–will very likely need to face because of that.
It isn't just Cheshire though. Ever since she started at Beacon, meeting people that were just… people.
A Schnee that wasn't everything Adam and the Albains are constantly decrying the entire family as.
The Invincible Girl being an honest, kind, down-to-earth person rather than a victory-obsessed diva.
The VSPRD officers that have been slowly opening up to her over water-cooler conversations and idle chatter in between briefings, debriefings and hours spent poring over reports and archival records turning out to not be the jack-booted, heartless bastards they had always seemed at the rallies leading up to her parents leaving and Sienna and Adam taking up the White Fang's reigns.
Blake closes her eyes, and takes in a deep breath. There's no need to burden either of them with her baggage, the weight of her crap life choices and willful blindness.
"No need to hold back, Blake, tell us how you really feel." Yang quips into the silence, voice somewhere between worried and concerned. Blake opens her eyes, takes a long drink from her glass, and, when she looks to her best friend and found sister to see honest, open and concerned faces, the words start flowing out of her.
About the White Fang.
And not the nice, sanitized glossing over of events she'd given Yang a few months ago.
She talks about life on the run, about scrub-downs in rivers and stitching clothes back together on watch at night and hoping that her enhanced vision will be able to pick out any Grimm or Huntsmen sneaking up on the camp. She rambles about watching friends and comrades wasting away from infections or strange diseases because the nearest settlement that won't ask questions doctor is either already over-worked and can't help a 'charity case' or is just some old coot with herbal remedies and good intention. How they'd changed the uniforms to white specifically to keep more brothers and sisters from having to die that way, or from lying about how badly they'd been wounded.
Trying to keep the few of them who were able to pass as human enough to go into bigger cities to buy the things they couldn't forage, hunt or loot from flying apart at the seams from self-loathing. How she feels like the biggest Brothers-damned hypocrite on Remnant for doing the exact same thing Illia had for years and unless things had changed drastically since the two of them last talked still does too. Hunger pains and the gut-wrenching terror of heartless, unthinking androids firing into scattered strike-teams fleeing from a failed raid on an SDC supply convoy.
Of watching the man she'd thought she would happily grow old with, who she had been able to spend hours in content, companionable silence with slowly change into something monstrous. Seeing his foibles fall and morals slip as the passion she'd always admired continued to burn brighter and brighter and not being able to do a single thing to slow down the change or stop it without giving up on everything they'd sacrificed so much for. Familiar faces she'd grown up alongside drawing protest signs and stitching flags together with slowly, person-by-person being replaced by new, angry, scarred and scared faces who only saw 'Lieutenant Belladonna,' not scraggle-tooth or flop-ear or stink-eye or any of the other childish nicknames she can barely remember having answered to now. Though thinking about it now, Cheshire had had a hand in thinking up last one.
Auntie Sienna turning into High Leader Khan after months away without so much as a word to Blake.
The horrible, gut-wrenching feeling she'd felt after slashing the train-car she'd been on free and watching Adam and the life she'd chosen rapidly disappear over the horizon and the taste of ash in her mouth at it having come to that. How even that had paled in comparison to the pictures of and interviews with mutilated Faunus who'd come to the same decision she had. Of the videos and stills of mounds of humans leaned up against walls or in neat rows with slit throats and vacant eyes over rictus masks of pleading or terror. Recognizing faces she'd spotted on Weiss' contact list in ransom videos and worse while she tries to figure out if she's been to the safehouse that they'd been shot in was one she knows about.
It's more than she'd ever planned on sharing with anyone, especially on what was supposed to be a fun night on the town. But once she'd started... If she regrets it in the morning she can blame to booze and hope Yang and Cheshire won't judge her for it.
Will be happy to carry on like this had never happened.
There's no profound silence. No deep universe-holding-its-breath moment like in any of the books once her mouth finally stops moving, her throat dry and glass empty. The other patrons of the Club still laughing and drinking and cat-calling over the shitty recycled techno and edm some third-rate hack of a DJ had probably cobbled together in their parents basement.
Cheshier's face is uncharacteristically somber, her eyes unfocused and looking towards something far away. She lets out a disgruntled sigh before offering. "If... if you want, I can buy you some new ribbons." She offers as Blake slams her empty glass down on the table.
"No, no. You're right, I need to stop hiding who I am. I can't keep running, and..."
"Needed to get that off your chest?" Yang offers, resting her hand on Blake's shoulder.
Blake nods. "Yeah." Maybe if she hadn't started working with the police she'd have been able to keep all this buried, been able to ignore her memories and lie to herself, but, well...
Cheshire's mouth quirks in an almost sheepish grin. "Well, if we're doing the whole baring our souls thing ..."
Blake does not like the connotations that statement has. Not that she has the emotional endurance to try to figure out the right words to put it off or hide it or, well, talk much more. So she offers her long-time friend a shrug and a nod.
The entire booth wavers in an increasingly frustratingly familiar heat-haze, as not one but two black cats tails shimmer into existence, waving playfully behind Cheshire, whose gold eyes are now slightly glowing from reflected light with feline slit-pupils instead of the duller 'normal' amber pair Blake had–apparently wrongly–thought Cheshire to have for nearly her entire life.
"Um… What?" Yang asks, lilac eyes blinking in confusion and mouth hanging slack.
Blake slowly moves to rub at her eyes, and unfortunately the new appendages as well as Cheshire's pupils remain. The extra effort put into taking in her friends actual form is enough for her to notice that the older girls 'human' ears had been illusory, apparently. Wait…
Cheshire(?) as unflappable as ever in the face of their-or anyones, really-awe, offers a showy bow, tipping a hat that she isn't wearing like some circus ringmaster. "Ta-daaaah!" She crows, a devilish grin on her face. When both Blake and Yang maintain their shocked silence for a few more moments her grin drops to a petulant, kittenish pout, and she continues. "So I may have left out one or two details when we first met, Blake. Sorry 'bout that."
Blake voices an old thought, well memory apparently of hers–one she'd always had just thought was the product of a child's overactive imagination–as she numbly looks over the black ears and tails, "I…I thought I was imagining things when I first saw you."
"Nope. Name's Kuroka, but keep that name under your hat, if you please. Let's just say I know a thing or two about being a fugitive. Hope we can still get along! Meow!" Cheshire–No, Kuroka declares, pawing at the air like she always does when she knows she's being over the top, or ridiculous or just plain contrary for the fun of it.
Blake stares for a good long while before she takes a long draw from her drink. Finding that there had been less than half the glass left already, she grabs the still stunned Yang's and finishes that too. She looks her surrogate older sister in the eye. "Start talking. Please."
Yang, having been snapped out of her brief fugue by Blake clicking her gaping mouth shut when she set her partner's empty glass back down in front of her, nods, "Right, secrets and soul-baring." She grabs her glass, and takes a sip, either failing to notice it's empty, or ignoring the fact. Yang offers a crooked smile. "This explains the killer cat puns."
Ches–Kuroka giggles her typical kittenish giggle at that, like she hadn't just started the second month in a row–For Blake at least–with a world-shattering revelation. If anything, her acting like absolutely nothing had changed is making this easier to handle than Team JNPR's revelation last month. When she sees Blake's still serious expression she rolls her eyes. "Oh, there's no need to throw a hissy fit, Blakey. All I really left out are a few of the reasons I like to move around so much, and a few powers that aren't really the sort you go showing off when everything's going purrfectly."
Yang belts out with a startled laugh. Blake rolls her eyes before looking over at the third woman in the booth who seems to be enjoying this turn of events far too much. "Think you can put your illusions back up so we can get some refills?" She hadn't really planned on getting smashed tonight, but, well...
Kuroka shrugs as 'Cheshire' suddenly returns with another finger snap, "Sure thing, Blakey. Now then… Hope you like long stories. I'll try to keep it short, just for you and your totally platonic gal-pal." She offers the pair a wink.
Yeah, from the sounds of it she'll definitely need a drink. Or three.
Loved it? Hated it? Just grew an extra appendage and not sure how to work that into your everyday life? Drop me a review, I love those things!
Beta'd by MasterPrince713 and Hybrid Theory
Up next: The tournament begins!