"So… this is Rust," Sun said in a low voice as his armored boots crunched through the snow. All around, gentle snowflakes were falling and twinkling in the light of the moon. The air was frigid and biting, lending Ghira's pauldron upon Sun's shoulder a bit of extra chilling weight. "It's so…"
"Shitty," Ilia finished for him as she walked along at his side.
The buildings scattered about the mining town were visibly worse for wear compared to those within the walls of Mantle, and several had holes in their metal sidings covered with cheap tarps, foam, or mismatched wooden planks. A single heating bar stretched out through the center of the town, branching out to cover some, but not all, of the more isolated homes.
"Yeah," Sun agreed. "But… I kinda didn't expect anything less. From what you told me about Cinnamon, and what vague details I already knew about her, this… makes sense. It also makes sense for Solitas, which I'm starting to think is the shittiest place on Remnant. The more I see up here, the less I like. This whole trip has been hell…"
"You think it's really been that bad?" Ilia asked as she pulled her fur-lined cloak a bit tighter around herself. "The Academy's nice at least, and we've actually gotten a lot done since we arrived. Amity's almost in the sky, this fucking election is almost over with, we gained Ironwood's trust… and pissed him off several times… we rescued Corsac, we delivered the relic, we met and befriended the Aces, Jaune finally got laid, we got tech upgrades… we've done just about all we could, and a lot of it has been thanks to you. All of us look to you for guidance, you know. Corsac included."
"I know," Sun admitted as he followed Ilia into a gap between buildings. "I just…"
"Miss Blake," Ilia guessed. "And that's making everything else feel awful, no matter how things go."
"…yeah," Sun agreed. "I know I can go to you guys to vent and for advice, but it just isn't the same. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feel like the world was ending and global communications were back up. I don't even know if she's alive."
"And how do you think I feel?" Ilia asked, her tone sharpening somewhat. "Blake was my best friend, Sun."
"Was?" Sun asked, suddenly curious.
"…don't make me say it out loud," Ilia mumbled as she turned once again, leading Sun down a path toward a fairly isolated house.
"Say what?" Sun tired, quite clearly not following.
"…it's you, dipshit," Ilia said with a roll of her eyes. "You're probably my best friend, at this point. I still love Blake, sure, but… there's something about you, and about us that just… it works. Even when I want to rip your tail off and ram it down your throat for being so stupid and forcing me into embarrassing bullshit. You know, like you're doing right now."
Sun smirked as he noticed Ilia's reddening facial scales even in the shade provided by the nearby buildings.
"Aw, I knew you cared," Sun teased with a growing grin. "And I promise I won't embarrass you too much. Especially not in front of Ironwood, or when Blake gets here."
"…fuck you, Neptune is now my best friend," Ilia declared as she crouched low and began to move more slowly. "That's it, up ahead. Gotta be."
Sun mirrored the chameleon's movements, keeping a hand near one of his holsters.
"How do you know?"
"Matches the description of her old house," Ilia explained. "She… told me some things. Not everything, I don't think anyone knows that except maybe her boy-toy. I told her to meet me where it all started. Hopefully she got the hint."
"I'm sure she did," Sun considered. He stopped a good fifty feet from the building and let out a sigh of resignation. "How do you want to play this? As far as she knows, she's only meeting you."
"Oh, come on," Ilia scolded. "You're just… implied. If she didn't expect you to show up, then she's an even bigger dumbass than you. I say we play it straight, and you march right in with me. After all… she's a cornered animal right now. I honestly might need you if things go south."
"'If', she says," Sun mused. "Honestly, I feel the same way. Just… be direct, honest, and give her her options. She might not like it, especially after we forced her out of hiding to begin with… but it's not like we like any of what's going on. Time for her to make a big decision."
"Before we get in there…" Ilia began, choosing her words carefully, "…just keep in mind that… she already has made some big decisions that helped us out. She's put herself in harm's way to protect our people, regardless of everything else she's done."
"…I literally can't believe what I'm hearing right now," Sun deadpanned. "What happened to you telling Yuma to tell her that you'd never forgive her?"
"Things change," Ilia said with a halfhearted shrug as she continued to approach the house. "People change. I've changed, in the time I've been here and after everything I've seen. I'm not saying I forgive her… but I'm starting to think I understand her, especially after seeing all of this. I don't think we have to hug her and say it's all water under the bridge, but I also don't think we should come down on her like Ironwood wants us to. Not in the way we present things, anyway. You took Corsac and I in with very little questioning, and both of us have done a lot of shit, Sun…"
"I think I'm right there with ya," Sun replied with a shake of his head. "I feel bad for her, and for doing this at all… but at the same time, she forced our hand when she tried to kill Weiss. It all just snowballed from there. Whatever negatives come out of this, she brought upon herself."
"As if she wasn't setting bullshit in motion long before that," Ilia snarked as she walked up to the front door. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and she just won't be here."
"I'd hardly call that lucky. That would probably mean she's in deep trouble, and it's our fault," Sun reminded. "I don't feel like staging a rescue mission for someone who indirectly almost got me killed. Let's get this over with."
Sun reached out and turned the doorknob to the rundown home before taking a step inside. The entire entranceway smelled faintly of firewood, as though someone had recently been inside and tried to warm up the home. A single light from a place beyond the central living room shone through the darkness, though its source was just barely out of sight.
"Be ready for anything," Ilia whispered. "I've got your back, big bro."
"I'm leaving you here to die in an act of betrayal, little sis," Sun joked.
"Uh-huh. You don't have the stomach."
"No, I really don't," Sun agreed. "Does it feel… weirdly warm in here?"
"…yeah," Ilia agreed as the pair made their way through the living room. "Something's not right…"
As Sun took another step, he felt an odd chill ripple across his skin despite the growing warmth. He hesitated, looking over to his left where nothing but a bookshelf stood. Sun squinted, trying to determine why exactly he was so drawn to the furniture only for a haughty voice to break him from his thoughts.
"Honestly, I try to warm up the place so we don't freeze to death during this little dialogue, and this is how you react? So ungrateful."
Sun moved to join Ilia's side and get a look into the kitchen, where Cinnamon Shoal stood alone. The room was well-lit in contrast to the rest of the house, and a steel barrel filled with fire dust stood burning in the middle of the room. The orange glow upon the woman's face gave her an almost devilish appearance, and the spines on her arms cast spiky shadows out over the walls in the light of the flames.
"…hey," Ilia said awkwardly as she stood at the edge of the living room carpet, not quite making the step into the kitchen. "You came…"
"As if I had a choice," Cinnamon snapped. Her eyes flicked to Sun as he took up position beside Ilia. "What a surprise to see you here, as well. Come to read my sentence on behalf of your master?"
"Not quite," Sun denied. "We came to talk and figure out how to make this work out as best it can for everybody involved. There's a way out of this. We've come too far and we've all sacrificed too much for there not to be a way."
"Is that what you think?" Cinnamon asked as she crossed her arms, seemingly unimpressed. "How can you be so sure of our overall situation when you don't even know what situation you're in right this second?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ilia asked as she narrowed her eyes.
"Oh, you'll find out," Cinnamon warned. "As soon as I want you to."
"Listen, all I'm saying is, if Jacques Schnee actually wins somehow," the tiger-striped faunus began before taking a long drink from his mug of beer, "there's gonna be riots. Looting. Mantle's gonna burn down, and we'll ride the flames up to Atlas."
"I don't doubt it," Yuma agreed as he traced a finger along the edge of his silverware, not quite paying attention to the bearded man sitting across from him in the booth. Just like so many other patrons of the underground club, the tiger faunus had on a white mask with red highlights around the eyes, denoting his status as a member of the White Fang. "But I hope not. We really can't afford more problems. Mantle's a powder keg, and we shouldn't be making any moves unless Cinnamon gives us orders. Ironwood's left us alone for this long because we've been relatively quiet."
"Pff, Ironwood," the burly man spat as he slammed his tankard down upon the table. He raised his voice to be heard more clearly over the pulsing music, though Yuma was able to hear him plenty well. "That figurehead has no idea what we're capable of! Even Robyn Hill doesn't know who she's messing with amongst the Fang! We're just biding our time! Waiting for a moment to pounce! Cinnamon's gonna lead us on a crusade t-"
The doors leading into the club burst open to reveal two men standing in the entranceway, one of which Yuma recognized. Arthur Watts wore a brown duster, though the fabric was stained with dark red splotches around his waist and the left side of his chest. Blood seeped from his hairline and down his face, and the man had an arm around Scarlet David's side as the redhead kept him upright. In Arthur's free hand was some sort of sizeable box or case suspended from a handle and covered by a black tarp. Scarlet helped the man limp forward into the club, earning stares and cries of shock from the faunus assembled within. Yuma and his companion both stood up, and the bat-winged faunus raised a hand toward a set of windows at the far end of the room. Quite suddenly, the thrumming music died down and Arthur's haggard gasps for air echoed through the room as he dropped his parcel to the floor.
"Members of the White Fang…" Arthur said between breaths, struggling to stay upright. "I come bearing grievous news. Some of you know me, while others may not, but… that hardly matters, in a situation like this. My name is Arthur Watts- I'm an associate of Cinnamon Shoal, and we've been coordinating our efforts within Mantle over the past several weeks."
"I've never heard of him," the feline faunus grumbled as he gave Yuma a sideways glance.
"No, he's legit," Yuma replied as he shuffled out of the booth. "But I don't like this. Something's off."
Arthur waited a moment both to catch his breath and to allow the chatter to die down. Satisfied that he once again had the floor, he straightened up slightly and wiped his sweat-slicked hair back.
"The two of us were in the process of securing dust from an S.D.C. transport earlier tonight, and we ran into some… resistance in the form of Robyn Hill and her ilk looking to score a similar bounty. Cinnamon didn't make it out alive."
The uproar in the room was immediate, and Yuma drew his scroll as if acting on instinct. He was immediately greeted by a blinking red box reading NO SIGNAL in the upper left of the screen.
"What?" his colleague said loudly. "That's impossible!"
"It is," Yuma agreed. "Stay here and hear him out. Cinnamon's out meeting with… people. I'll get to the bottom of this."
"Please, I need you all to listen!" Arthur said loudly as he took a step forward in an effort to regain everyone's attention. "I come bearing her instructions for the White Fang, as well as a plan to avenge her. While I understand your reaction, there is no need for panic!"
Yuma pushed and slid his way through the crowd of faunus as he made his way toward the doors. Just as the exit was in reach, he felt a strong hand upon his shoulder and whirled around to see who had grabbed him.
"You're not going anywhere," Scarlet threatened in a low voice. The man had a pistol held low, aimed directly at Yuma's abdomen. "Of all people, you need to hear this more than anyone."
Author's Note:
What wondrous bullshit abounds…
-RD