I Met an Amazon Chapter 10, a rwby fanfic

Summary: Adam looks in the mirror and finds out that he hasn't changed; he's still the monster of Menagerie.

The girls have a fun night out and really connect.

Cardin has an interesting mission.

Notes: This episode speaks of drug use, abuse, prostitution and similar issues. If this triggers you, then I wouldn't recommend it. Nothing explicit of course.

The Lord has opened my ear.

For my part, I made no resistance, neither did I turn away...

So, too I set my face like flint; I know I shall not be shamed.

Adam walked with a singular step towards the ferry port that would carry him close to his destination. The distracted or anxious Adam of the last few days had disappeared and although the weight of his current mission manifested in the darkness of his brow, his mouth still curved imperceptibly into a smile.

From the information he had gotten about the assassin, he would be at a safehouse in the docks at the moment.

Why did it have to be the docks? He asked himself with an internal groan; the bull faunus was unable to swim and he was queasy whenever there was a large body of water involved.

Still, he acknowledged that since the safehouse was isolated, it would be the best scene for the battle; the taurine general could carry out silent kills, but only against weaker enemies. If the record in his file was accurate, then this man was not in any way, shape or form, the weaker.

One particular one still sent a shiver through the redhead's frame.

"Chief suspect in the assassination of Parda Paarl."

Parda Paarl had been the assistant of Leo Lionheart, Haven Academy's Headmaster. Each and every Headmaster was reputed to be able to take on an army on their own, and although their assistants weren't as strong, they were hardly ordinary people that could be taken out by the average assassin. If he truly had taken her out, then Adam couldn't take him lightly.

He couldn't deny though, some part of the shiver that shot through him was excitement.

Let's go.

The night had descended in Vacuo, and the city showed some of its true beauty.

The beauty didn't come from elaborate buildings with more elaborate alleyways between them or even the renovated castles that could be spotted every once in a while while you enjoyed a stroll through - although these, with something of the Orient in all of their designs did strike the eye as at least foreign if not gorgeous.

In my opinion, the true beauty of it was in the view of the residential areas, a single window shining light of a home outwards. It was the closest we would get to those families in this story, and as I have said before, I will not fabricate any details simply for the sake of fancies. Still, it was something to imagine what was going on beyond that portal of life we all know as windows; it made one wonder what story a father was telling his children at the fireside. I can't say, but it was for certain that it was a better story than this one.

The small hours approached and the windows darkened one by one, shutting us out of those happy tales, it was time to face our own much more depressing one.

Cardin walked through the streets in a step that, although lazy, was one of some definite purpose. It was clear that his was the fact because of how his brown eyes, dull and nearly black behind the mask of his ghastly eyebags, scanned all about him as he walked.

The part of town he obambulated was not the innocent residential area that we had explored slightly, it was rather a place that streaked crimson illumination all over all its denizens in such a way that it would take very little imagination to picture it as some sort of entrance into some strange hell. Cardin, with the haunting effect of the lights on his face looked like one of this hell's diabolical inmates.

Many do not believe in Hell but they are not, as yet, able to deny Vacuo's red light district and in my opinion, the two places could only be distinguished as varying in degree, not kind. Maybe the red light was the cause because it made the merely unpleasant black smoke rising from the hookah pipes of beautiful but tastelessly-dressed ladies seem like something nefarious.

It was something nefarious though.

Apathy, the drug created from the Grimm of the same name was the best-selling drug in the world and one of the best-selling products in general. Synthesized in an unknown way from the cadaver of the creature and it was used to make its users calm and subdue negative emotions.

In a world where negative emotions spelled out chaos, one could see why this would be a good thing. However, seeing how the beautiful ladies, did their best to get customers with their sultry smiles and sensual lashes because they knew if they didn't, their pipes would be empty and they'd lose their minds, one saw how it was being abused.

His eyes landed on the signboard that read some vulgar innuendo or another and he seemed to have decided on going in. At the door were too large men that could have been twins but one had a pair of ivory tusks shooting out from his jaw and the other remained smooth-faced with a sarcastic smile.

When asked for his ID, Cardin presented it, along with some cash under the card. The latter's face grew even more sarcastic when he observed this, but on reading the name on the ID, he waved him in.

Cardin walked in, and his nose was assaulted by a scent that he knew was meant to be pleasant but reminded him of very cheap confection – sugared till it was poisonous.

Still, the nasal attack was soon forgotten with the sight his eyes met on entering. The room he walked into was more bizarre than he had ever seen, and he had just fought a Desert Death-Stalker. The walls were decked with ornate wallpaper and flowery curtains and excessively so even the Winchester heir who was no stranger to luxury found it all overwhelming and almost had a physical reaction to the epicurean excessiveness of the environment.

He was whispered into another smaller room before he could finish processing though.

The furniture of this room was significantly more modest, it consisted of a bed with a deep purple canopy that suggested something untoward. The suggestion was quite right, because at the side of the bed was a lady scantily-clad in an almost transparent dress of the same purple colour as the balcony. Cardin nearly jumped out of his skin on noticing her, something that amused the lady greatly, evident from the small light in her eyes at his reaction.

"Are you ready?"

Pyrrha traced a crescent on her chest as she said a small prayer for Adam; she had been worried about him for a while, but a sudden intuition made her feel instinctively as though she should all the while feeling guilty that she only did so when she needed something.

After the small ritual, her eye caught the white-haired Schnee heiress who was surprisingly busy with something other than stalking the red-haired Mistralian.

She was actually training with her teammate Ruby, although it seemed more fun than regular training because Ruby dashed about with her Semblance in fun patterns, evading her partner easily. Weiss shouted at her in irritation, but even she couldn't hide the fact that she was having a good time.

Pyrrha walked up to the pair and gave a polite greeting.

Weiss reacted in predictable fashion and started her flattery and usual overtures, making Pyrrha regret the decision but still not affecting her smile.

"Could I join you guys?" she asked.

"It seems like you're having fun."

"Of course, we'd love for you to join us."

Blake and Yang looked on at the trio enjoying themselves and Yang asked her partner if she wanted to join. Blake looked coldly for a second at the flamy head of hair of the Invincible Girl, but in the end smiled at the blonde Branwen.

"Why not?"

With the entrance of the last two, the training exercise transformed till it was unrecognisable from its original form. Firstly, after being struck one too many times, Ruby protested and it was changed to a normal target game, then after that into a sort of race that involved running on your hands and a number of other convoluted rules that a narrator with much greater abilities than mine would still struggle to elucidate.

The Sun had finished its shift, but the Beacon girls hadn't. Laughter was still audible in the park.

"I'd have never guessed in a million years that you could be this fun," Yang said, knuckling Weiss' head that was trapped in her armpit as she did.

Weiss struggled free of the odoriferous pit and smacked her on the shoulder but did not answer.

The group relapsed into a comfortable silence for a while, looking at the dark sky and feeling quite at peace.

"Anyone else hungry?"

"Starving."

"Very hungry."

Ruby's question evoked assenting responses and with the urging of Yang, they agreed to keep the mood alive and head out to eat somewhere.

At this time, Adam had just reached the docks, his face and head were hidden behind a black mask. And in his hand, rather than his usual red blade, was a silver one with strange glyphs across. It came in the box that the Augur had given him, he had used an identical blade in the last mission he did for him too.

He walked into the warehouse that served as the hunter's warehouse with a manner of caution but swiftly, feeling like the best way to gain an advantage was by attacking at once.

A few steps in, and the lights came on in the warehouse, bathing the left side of it in light and leaving the other side in the darkness.

The lights streamed directly down on the red figure of the man Adam knew to be called Gascon. His crimson presence seemed to dilute the light's intensity and Adam was not sure if the person before his was real or phantasmagorical.

Before he could decide, a shot of electricity made its way through his body and glued him to the floor.

In the less than a second interval between Adam's eyes adjusting from night vision, the man had managed to set a trap beneath him and therefore land in the first strike. Before he could act though, a crimson aura flared up like brooding star, dispensing the charge from his system and frying the small device at his feet that was responsible for the shock.

The red assassin seemed unmoved by this and simply mouthed a mocking "ooh" before pulling out a long and slim golden cylinder that, with the notches on its side and end, seemed like a large flute. It seemed it was, because he placed the end to his lips suddenly, as though prepared for a concert.

Adam rushed forward with a speed that although unexpected, did not faze the apparent flautist. The strike was blocked by a subtle shake of his head, before a tap from his finger released several shots from the other end of the tool.

Adam barely managed to block the shots and was transported to the other side of the room due to the force of them.

A whistle shot out and a pack of black wolves emerged out of thin air and rushed at the redhead. This was his ability; Piper: Wolf Hunt.

The lupine creatures moved like clouds of smoke, their appearance was deceptive though as Adam found out when the steel-like fangs of one of the beasts sent an excruciating vibration through his blade and into his arm.

Still, the silver blade glowed slightly and he rebounded, sliding under the smoky beast and gutting it with a deft motion. Just as it was dissolving, three shots came from the golden flute of the hunter, Adam's acute hearing had prepared him though and he sliced through all of them before swinging his sword at the other wolves. His swing was short by a few metres, but a bright red streak, like fire followed the blades trajectory and turned all the beasts into smoke.

"Very good," the man said, his first words ringing the exact hollow voice one would expect in a creature so deadly, "So that's how it works."

Cardin was going through quite a different battle at this moment, but he would not entertain any implication that it was less intense or fatal than Adam's if anyone were to ask.

The lad had lost his armour, whether it had been taken or if he had done it himself is neither for us to know or judge but he was in normal clothes that gave him protection from nothing save the cold and cold was scarcely his problem here.

The lady sat at one edge of the bed with a face that he was confident cats made at their meals, he gulped in great anxiety and lay as stiff as a board but hoped it wasn't evident that he was nervous.

"This isn't your first time is it?"

Her voice made it clear that she knew it was, and that she found it quite amusing.

After his lack of answer, she came a little closer but Cardin moved back a bit in response.

"I'm not here for that," he said, his arm raised as though he warding off a wild creature, "I'm here because I can't sleep, I heard you could help with that."

The lady pouted at this and simply said that a small dose of apathy would fix that for him and that he needn't have come all the way here if that was all.

"I've never used it," he said darkly, "we're not allowed to at home."

"Ah, your daddy didn't let you huh?" she asked rhetorically, reaching for a pipe and falling on the boy's body, paralysing the usually rough heir.

"We can try your first one together," she said, inhaling and then planting a kiss and sharing second-hand smoke in a way that differed from the norm. Cardin turned red at this and wasn't sure whether he ought to be more shocked at the fact that he had just used apathy for the first time or that he had just been kissed for the first time.

He wanted to protest, but the gentle hand of the lady quieted him and he lay back down with a glazed expression. He looked in her eyes gently, this was the first time in forever that his eyes were gentle. They had turned to stone.

"Tell me," she said gently, stroking his hair as she did, "why have you been finding it hard to sleep?"

"I've been having dreams, terrible ones."

She gave a small coo of pity, an expression that would have regularly send the brunette into a rage but he almost seemed not to notice.

"Tell me about them," her voice was gentle enough to almost draw out tears and certainly to draw out secrets. Cardin turned his head, not looking at the questioner but instead at a bronze pot-pourri in the corner of the room, its scent had held his nose since he came in and he admired the carving on the container now, he stared at it intently as though he expected it to speak, to tell him something important.

It was while he did this that he told her about the dream, of horned wolves and mocking snow globes of life drained tragically from young veins and of the wilted rose that was its only testimony.

"Do you know what it means?"

He said: "A memory."

His voice and tone were strangely impenetrable on that question and she decided to not push him on it.

"Is that all?"

"There's another one," he said hollowly, "always after the first."

She asked for the details once more.

"It starts with me on my knees next to the cold grave."

He started with a frosty voice, it was like he had been transported into the dream and was narrating his experiences to her, she fancied that she almost saw an ice blue monolith in his iris as he spoke.

"From the amount of snow on me, I know I've been there a while, days at least... it feels like aeons."

"My cousin is there too," he continued, "She's doing her best to comfort me. I don't want it though, I want to be left alone."

"Heavy winds suddenly come and they blow the snow off me, and carry the wilted rose on his grave far away. I run after it, and in the place where it lands, I see those eyes again, staring up at me from below the ice."

"The wolf's eyes?" she asked, her voice having a timbre of passion, as though she were in the thick of it with him.

"Yes, but it's no wolf... I jump in after it, crashing through the ice like a missile. There's nothing there."

At this point, he turned to her and the tears he had kept back flowed silently, the pools of salty water in his eyes catching the violet reflection of hers as the two pairs were locked.

"There's nothing there, but I don't come back up for air."

"There's nothing there, but I can't move, I don't want to."

"The last of my air leaves my mouth, but I don't chase the bubbles up to the surface, I stay there as my lungs are filled with ice-cold water and I wait."

She was scared to ask the next question, her lips quivered with emotion at what he was telling her.

"Wait for what?" her voice was a whisper, if you had heard it your heart would have been cleaved in two by the emotion in it.

"I wait for it to be over."

"What happens next?"

"Someone pulls me up," he said, leaning forward, his face almost touching hers now, "but every time, it takes longer and I sink deeper. It won't be long till they can't fish me out any more."

She looked at him intently and mouthed the words: "What then?"

"Then," he said tiredly, kissing her lips absent-mindedly before leaning backwards and resting his head on the pillow, "I won't have to wait any more."

At this moment, the girls made it to a noodle cart and had ordered comically large bowls of their best stock. Someone must have shot an inaudible starter's pistol, because all of them made their way to the bottom in almost no time.

There was a deep air that Pyrrha wanted hold on to.

There wasn't any mention of the Invincible Girl or of tournament titles or whatever. Even Weiss had forgotten her usual scheming in the midst of the friendly atmosphere that they were all involved in and spoke with an uncouthness that was vulnerable, and that she would surely regret the next morning.

As Yang took another mouthful of noodles, her chopsticks suddenly broke and Ruby squealed with girly delight that she had consistently denied she had during her life and that she would again deny once this congenial company broke apart.

"What happened?" Pyrrha asked with some genuine concern, the other girls also cocked their brows in wonder.

"It's a dumb tradition from back in Patch," Yang answered, rolling her eyes and grabbing another, "if your chopstick snaps suddenly, it means you were thinking of someone you love and have to 'fess up."

"You have to," Ruby said gleefully, getting into her face, "don't tell me it's someone embarrassing like Principal Ozpin or Professor Port?"

"I'll let you know that Port is a solid ten," she responded with a smile, "but as for someone I love, I'm currently caught between five members of the Achieve Men."

"Aren't there six guys?"

"I can't date the drummer," she gasped in mocked surprise, "what do you take me for?"

The entire group laughed jovially.

Ruby sat down, and just as she raised her spicy noodles to her lips, a familiar crack sounded out and Yang's brilliant lilac eyes zeroed in on her sister.

Rwby hemmed and hawed as the entire group waited intently for the young girl's confession.

A whisper of the name "Lie Ren" came out of her mouth, and at the expression of surprise, her face became as red as her hood.

"Really?" even Weiss couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah well," she started, twiddling her fingers in embarrassment as she did, "he's very calm and tall, and – "

"And Nora would turn you to ashes if you so much as approached him," Blake said, not able to keep herself from teasing her fellow brunette.

"Sorry to say," Weiss said, after some of the surprise, "those two are joined at the hip, you have no chance."

"Yeah, you'd have better luck with Adam."

With this statement, both Blake and Pyrrha turned to each other and locked eyes, looking away just as quickly with embarrassed blushes.

Ruby and Weiss too, who had a complex view of the man from their bone-chilling view of him at the Whitey's bar and his quick reaction to save them at the mines.

Yang was oblivious to their strange reactions though, and when she asked whose chopsticks would break next, the other girls upturned their bowls into their bellies and dropped them in less than a flash, with Weiss asking for the check.

The four of them stepped out of the cart as Weiss paid the shopkeeper.

Yang continued to tease her sister and Blake and Pyrrha stood close to each other in admittedly awkward company.

Pyrrha's green eyes gave the dark princess a once over and she acknowledged in her mind that she was truly beautiful. The crowning aspect of hers wasn't her dark features or even her amber eyes, but the interplay between them. Unlike Pyrrha's beauty which was that of the Greek sculpture; consisting of perfect features that all complimented themselves in perfect proportion, Blake's beauty was the marvellous beauty of contradiction; she was exactly beautiful because her fiery honey-coloured eyes looked out of place with her pallid face.

Pyrrha gave a self-deprecating smile before whispering to the girl: "In all honesty, I was a bit jealous."

Blake hadn't been expecting this, and looked at her in puzzlement.

"This is ridiculous," she continued in her self-mocking whisper, "and if you tell anyone I'll be forced to deny it for fear of being embarrassed, but when that explosion went off in the mines his first instinct was to jump in front of you and save you. In my worst moments, that made me jealous."

Blake was at a loss for words but she reached her hand out and squeezed the Amazon's arm.

"Hey guys," Weiss said, walking out of the cart, "I got us fortune cookies."

The interaction between Pyrrha and Blake had taken seconds, but if they had a day they couldn't have said more.

Blake pulled away and accepted the treat from her white teammate, flashing a small but friendly smile at the redhead as she did.

Her face made a dramatic change though on reading her fortune and she excused herself rapidly before running into the night before a comment could leave the lips of her companions.

Adam was in a desperate situation; he was running low on aura and he had dislocated his left arm. An alarming change had occurred after the first strike; the man attacked him in a much more collected manner, using his wild hunt to wear him down, but avoiding strong impacts with his blade as much as possible. He had seen through the taurine fighter's Semblance just with his first time using it, that was not all though, he matched all of his moves perfectly, it was like fighting a mirror, a mirror that hit much harder than he did.

Adam had been swinging a sword as long as he had been walking, up till this point, he had been confident that although there were many more powerful than he was, there were none who could keep up with his skill with the sword. He was being proved fatally wrong at this moment, as the brooding red bravo bested him with the blade, barely breaking a sweat.

Adam decided to change the field of battle, and suddenly, he jumped up and emerged out of the roof. Gascon had been expecting this, sending his wild hunt almost immediately as the other made the motion to jump. Luckily for the redhead, he underestimated the aura he'd use in the jump and the spectral wolves missed him.

A volley of shots followed immediately afterwards though and struck him just as he emerged out of the dome of the warehouse. Adam had intended to jump away to another building, but he was suddenly face-to-face with someone unexpected.

Before his very eyes was a pale girl with large reflective ones that looked back at the faunus piercingly. In her grey and almost transparent iris, he saw, not the masked face that he had appeared in to this fight, but his own face, stripped of any disguises. The shock of this made him freeze for a second, and in that second, she moved back airily and suddenly a barrage of bullets burst through the dome and sent the bull falling down onto the docks.

"It seems you've grasped the secret," Gascon's voice said, his second sentence throughout this encounter, "it won't help much I'm afraid."

I know that much, he said to himself, his eyes wandering off the girl who was now a few metres away from the pair and circled around by her small frame like a terrible, obnubilating wall. Her reflective eyes stood out from their dark influence still, and they seemed to capture all of the world in that moment.

Perhaps it wasn't the whole world but Adam thought to himself that she had certainly captured him. From the fact that her eyes seemed able to see through his disguise and her effortless dodge, he was able to ascertain that she was the secret to Gascon's ability to see through every action.

His only thought was to separate the pair now, and so he applied all his aura to his feet; even if they could predict what he'd do, it would be little help if he was faster.

Let's go!

Cardin was unaware of when he fell asleep, and when he woke up he wasn't in the bed that his head had fallen on. Instead, he was bound and slung over the shoulder of a huge man who was secreting him through the alleys of the city and towards its outskirts.

Behind this man, and directly in his line of sight was the lady he had met in the happy house he visited. She was wearing something quite different than earlier and clad in a tan leather armour that seemed to be trying to make up for her other outfit by concealing anything akin to womanly figure under its heavy plates.

Cardin couldn't see this though because he was blindfolded.

"Where am I?" he whispered.

He received no answer, but he could sense that he had been heard.

Very well, he said to himself, prepared to use Magnum Onus to mount an attack but being shocked to find that it was ineffectual.

"You guys ought to let me go," he said calmly, "you know quite well who I am."

No response again.

Cardin decided to be silent from then on.

It was a few hours before they arrived at the edges of the city, it was evident by the increased fierceness of the cold desert winds that carried sand towards them wave by wave.

They whispered in a Vacuoan local dialect that he couldn't understand, but he was sure it was something along the line of Ishmaelite traders and he consequently started to get a little nervous.

Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the steady winds of the desert. It was followed by a flash of light that blinded everyone except the blindfolded Winchester heir although he was thrown down unceremoniously like a sack of potatoes as a result, a generally cranky sack of potatoes.

There were a multitude of sounds indicative of struggle and in a few seconds, there was silence.

When the mask was taken off, he saw before him his three teammates and the loathed Professor Rumpole, all grinning down at him.

"Took you all long enough," he said gesturing for his bounds to be loosened.

After that was done, his armour was restored to him and he looked at the pair that had kidnapped him, there was a third one too, the one who came with the transport but Rumpole had gone ahead with him, coercing him to take her to the point where they were taking Cardin before the ambush. She adjured them to take care of the pair until the police and the Headmaster made their way there.

Cardin looked impatiently at the pair and suddenly walked towards the lady. Now, when she had shed her obnoxious makeup the brunette saw that she was much closer to his age than he had thought. That wasn't his main focus though; his eyes burned with rage.

When they were in the room, she had put some sort of spell on him and he had told her things he had scarcely admitted to himself.

There was a story of a man that, so struck with the spirit of remorse, ran into a chapel and asked the first priest he saw to hear his confession. He went home feeling much healed and relieved but after a while, he began to resent the priest. The idea that he had prostrated himself to pointless penance before the puny and paltry parson pierced his proud spirit and whenever looked at him, a stream of spite flowed from his breast. This story ends with the man slaying the priest.

I took this slight detour so that you know that this man was Cardin, symbolically of course, the boy had not (as yet) killed any curates. He had bared his soul to this woman and he hated her for having heard it.

It is likely true that she used some tactics of seduction, suggestion and maybe a Semblance to extract those truths from him, but he would not have hated her less if he had run to the street and simply given his confession to her.

He lifted her up and looked her in the eyes, she collapsed to her knees suddenly at the force of the blow the landed at her midsection. The thin plate of armour around her midsection was squeezed in like the discarded manuscript of an amateur's first play.

When the others protested, he insisted that since Rumpole hadn't time to question them, they had to and that if they didn't get information now, they would be cut out by the adult Huntsmen. His explanation silenced their protests but they still looked on uneasily.

He sat on her chest, his weight increased dramatically by his Semblance and he used his knees to pin her arms to her sides so that she was powerless to resist his force.

"Where were you taking me?"

There was no response.

"Why did you kidnap me?"

Still no response.

"Who are you working for?"

Predictably, there remained no answer.

Cardin laughed a hollow laugh as a result and he added the weight he applied to her frame, causing a small groan to escape her lips although she still did not answer.

Cardin pulled out what seemed to be three unsharpened pencils.

He used one hand to pry open one of her eyes like a friend who checked to see if something was still in your eye.

He asked the first question again and this time, when no reply came, he dropped one of the pencils a little way from her head. The small tube made the earth around them tremble a little. He had made it weigh dozens of times heavier than it was supposed to be.

He asked the second question again and when she didn't answer, he dropped the second pencil much closer, so close that it caught some of her dark hair and made her ears ring. It was heavier than the last one.

Her eye was still pried opened and the last pencil hovered over it menacingly, the threat was as clear as Dust.

There was no way he'd do it.

If something of that weight was dropped on someone's eye, forget being blinded, the person wouldn't be able to walk ever again. She struggled frantically under his weight and he once again made himself heavier in a seeming attempt to mock her.

In all honesty, the best result for him was her refusal to answer. He wasn't in the least interested in hearing the answers; there were just the pretence for him to cause her to suffer. This was the Cardin that Rumpole was wary of when she warned him that day, it had been the same Cardin that had nearly taken the life of his partner that day, this was the lad that looked over the city and prayed that it be consumed. His spite had finally an output.

He asked the last question.

All who watched the scene with bated breaths expected a sick crunch, but what happened instead was that there was the sound akin the cracking of a bat and the pencil was thrown into the sands next to them, sending a large spray upward.

Cardin turned to the side to see Jaune next to him, Crocea Mors still outstretched after batting away the deadly missile.

Cardin's face went through a range of transformations from pale rage to indignation before settling into a sort of sarcastic smile, made more menacing by his multiply referred to wan features and dark circles. He raised his arms in surrender and got up from her frame, not forgetting to land a kick to her pretty head before that, and receded into the darkness, leaving all the company in a silent horror of the lad.

Miruwa was her name, and her ability was the penetrating True Mirror. She could see any and all and Adam's plan was bound to fail. Plans always failed against these sort of things, the only way to beat the perfect sight was with a perfect coincidence, there was no other way. One such coincidence happened at that moment and it was the salvation of the bull.

As he gathered the aura on his legs, prepared to give the sprint of his life, the wood of the dock they stood on gave way, partially because it was scarcely maintained, being an isolated end, partially because of the battle that had spilled over there, partially because Adam was putting a tremendous amount of force into the motion and finally, because like all perfect coincidences, it was good for the story.

Adam and the girl were plunged into the water because unlike her, Gascon was fast enough to react on time. Just as he nearly went after her, three figures emerged from the shadows and attacked him.

They were the trio of Brid, Bay and Lug and although their coordination was admirable, it was no match for the skilled button man and in moments they were backed into a corner.

Their saving grace was Lug's Semblance, he shouted a command that paralysed the man long enough for them to make their escape. If he had time, he would have sent his pack after them, but instead he jumped into the water and searched for Miruwa.

His search was unfruitful however, she was already far away in the few minutes which he had been occupied.

In another part of the city, drenched and exhausted was the group of Adam, Miruwa and Blake. There was a small fair there, and confident they'd be undetected, they blended it.

She had explained that she had reached the pier at practically the moment it collapsed and that the thing that had brought here there was a fortune cookie on which was written a message that said he was in danger and that she had to be there instantly.

The Augur? Adam asked himself in serious fear of this mysterious man's apparent omniscience. Speaking of omniscience, his eyes turned to the small girl who was gorging herself on warm noodles. She was a powerful tool, he shuddered to think what ends she could be bent to if she fell into the hands of the Augur or similar people.

"The Headmaster is likely the only person with enough resources to protect her," he said after voicing his thoughts to Blake and responding to her resultant question of how he planned on handling it.

As they spoke, the young girl's chopsticks broke and Blake, her night out still fresh on her mind, couldn't help but laugh and tell the girl the significance of the snapped chopsticks.

"My parents," she said innocently, when asked who she had been thinking of, "they're dead now."

Blake apologised for asking insensitively.

"Don't," the girl insisted with an abstruse smile, "they're not far off."

Blake smiled at her and purchased a bunch of sweets before departing from the company. Just before she left, she turned back and saw the red towering figure and the small girl and couldn't help but feel that it was perfect and that it reminded her of something just right.

With this in mind, she walked up to him – apologising to Pyrrha internally as she did – and planted a kiss on his lips gently.

She escaped immediately after.

Adam was shocked but still too distracted to register it for now, it would only occur to him really weeks later.

After she had departed from them, the small voice of his charge was heard.

"You were lying."

Adam turned to her and measured her with his gaze, not denying her statement.

"You could have told her I was, it would have made it more difficult for me."

"I try my best not to make things difficult for people," she said with a cheeky smile, before pointing at a kabuki mask in one of the stalls and having him buy one for her. She chose one with dark lenses, so that they covered her mirror-like eyes.

They still pierced through the bull faunus. She told him to take one for himself too and he obeyed docilely and lifted his on his head.

"When I was born," she continued, content to take his hand and be led wherever he wanted, "I fancy that the doctor turned to a poet on seeing my eyes. In my head I hear the words 'this child is a sign to be rejected and despised by many, for she is destined for the fall and rising of just as many, because by these her eyes, the secret thoughts of many will be laid bare.'"

Adam was puzzled, but he followed her words religiously, as though confident she was going to direct him the Holy Grail with the next word.

She apparently liked to be listened to, and she made many more overtures at poetry, almost all of them cutting. She felt true elation by the acknowledgement of her first – and her last – audience member.

The pair found themselves on a ferry that took them to one of the smaller islands connecting to Forever Fall. She had kept him entertained all the while with more and more creative poems of which he was attentive to with desperation, grasping at them like water in the desert.

She took off her shoes when they had climbed up a hill that overlooked the Penumbra Sound.

"I've never done anything bad," she whispered, "I've never harmed anyone."

She raised her arms towards him to show the scars they were decorated with, she pulled her hair back to show similarly grotesque ones on her neck, as she raised the hem of her dress, Adam caught her hand and stopped her.

"Why did they do this to me?" she asked.

"I can't answer that," he looked at her guiltily, feeling like he was responsible for every one of those scars himself. In some way, he was.

It was men like him; men who thirsted for power, who used others for their own means, they had done this to her. They had done it with no remorse and with no consequence.

Gascon had lost a special tool, but he would live without it.

The Augur had certainly had designs on her, but he had many other tools to use and break.

And finally, Adam, who had seen his reflection in her all-seeing eyes and decided there and then that she was too dangerous. They had all played God in her life, and she had suffered because of it.

She hated him, even her peaceful eyes couldn't hide that, but she still tried to make him laugh, and her face transformed into a smile whenever she did.

She was too pure for the occupation of this world, she was too pure to hate.

She stood there, her beauty too difficult for the world to grasp. Like a sapling she grew before them, like a root in arid ground, a child of sorrows and familiar with suffering.

When the Sun came up, Adam left the small isle alone.

On the hill – it is there till today I assure you – there was a small grave. It had not the same things one would expect at a grave, instead of a bouquet, there was a handful of sweets and and a kabuki mask.

On the small and rough headstone, there was no name, but there was an innocent limerick on it.

I shan't tell you what it said, I don't know why I decided not to, but if you want to know, you'll have to make the trip yourself.

Just know this – that the sun rose that day and for the first time, Miruwa was at peace.

Adam walked into his room, and little surprised, he found a letter on his bed.

He opened it and read it:

Adam my boy, I'm afraid that I deceived you.

I led you to believe that Gascon was after you, I had meant to say that he had the means

to see through your disguise and no doubt you found out that he did.

The truth though, is that he wasn't after you but yours truly.

Some of my bitter rivals contracted him to make sure he put an end to me. You can

scarcely imagine, dear boy, how trying that was for me; I'm used to luxuries and

smooth-sailing and for this phantom to stalk me day and night, and destroy venture

after venture was quite uncomfortable.

Thanks to you though, he does not pose a real threat any more. You see,

it was inevitable that I win because of the fact that I am a prophet and he is an analyst.

I will explain to you further if you do not grasp what exactly that has to do with my victory.

A prophet relies on his natural senses and is able predict the future, an

analyst relies on his calculator. Now, his sums are much more accurate than mine,

but it makes crippling him as simple as separating him from his calculator.

The prophet is an independent agent, hence there are even blind oracles but not as yet

blind mathematicians.

The second element is that as a prophet, I am an artist. The difference between the artist and

a logician is that as an artist, I can handle the unexpected.

Examine your fight against the man; I threw so many elements into the pot that even

his all-seeing tool got distracted. If he were an artist, his results would not have

been tied so firmly to things going according to plan... alas, he is stiff-necked

and vanquished.

I understand that you were unable to rescue Miruwa, that is quite fine.

I even began to wonder what I would do with her. Likely run

the odd painful experiment to see if I could understand what made her tick.

I'm an artist though and would quickly be bored of tinkering with her

and likely do something poetic like feed her to wild Grimm.

Don't make such a face; I'm not sure I would be pleased with seeing judgement

from the man who murdered her.

The worst part of it is that you thought you'd be racked with guilt but

you feel relief that you did it. I'll

let you know one more thing, you'll have the best sleep you've ever had tonight,

bet on that.

You are, quite unfortunately, a monster. This is not at all an insult,

Gascon and I are also in your company and it's not the worst company you could keep.

We'll work together again, I'm scarcely done with you.

Sleep tight.

Adam burned the letter silently, the fire creeping across the high quality power and consuming the evil words written across them. After this, Adam crashed onto his mattress.

The man proved himself a prophet and Adam, injured and exhausted, slept peacefully. In his dreams, he was carried down the same grey river, but this time when the pool of blood ran through his fingers, he heard among them one laughing voice, one voice that did not accuse him like the rest, but tried to make him smile.

Rest in Peace Miruwa, please be in a better place.

Hello: Heavy stuff I think.

I've been multiply accused of trying to make Adam and Cardin look like perfect characters or not being sinners. I hope that with this chapter, I have beat the accusations haha. But seriously, I do feel like this is a good direction to go with the story; I very much like it.

I feel that Cardin and Adam are heavily twisted guys, and that can make for a good story sometimes. That's why they've gotten more time than the others, because dysfunction requires attention. In my mind, Pyrrha is probably the main character though. The other characters orbit around her in a special way and I hope to show that as I keep writing.

Thank you for reading, do give me your feedback and please check out my other RWBY stuff here.

Also, Gascon and Miruwa are based on Gaston (his name means 'man from Gascony' and the magic mirror from Beauty and the Beast. If you'd like to see more stories with them, I'd personally like to write more stories with them too.