A little busy today with work. Nothing too dramatic, just something that cropped up because some mistakes were made and I was told we weren't printing something, then the sales team went and sold on it and so I have to write it exceedingly quickly.

Cover Art: Kirire

Chapter 15

The Schnee family had rented out an opera house as the location of their auction, and that was only discovered after Roman received a text that led them to an unmarked car, then the car brought them to the venue. Roman opened the door and offered his arm for her to hold onto, conveniently the same side as her microphone and earbud to hide that. Her dress flowed and brushed at the backs of her legs and the heavy metal suitcase filled with money handcuffed to her left hand weighed her down. It would have perhaps been less suspicious if Roman had a hold of it as the buyer, but Jaune obviously didn't trust a thief with that many millions.

Other people were already beginning to arrive and climb out of cars. Many of them were muttering or arguing with the drivers and some even looked ready to resort to threats or violence. The uniformed drivers refused to be baited, keeping their heads down and their voices even. When one was grabbed and shaken by a large man with his shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, the driver gasped before bursting like a water balloon in a spray of white goo that flooded down onto the gravel. The man who had caused it staggered back, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing to deny what he'd just caused.

"What the fuck…" Roman whispered.

"The drivers are all anomalies." Blake groaned it as she said it, and more to Jaune listening in than to answer Roman's question. "For the love of – do they want to be found out?"

"The Schnee enjoy causing problems for us to clean up." Jaune said. "I don't believe they actively want the truth to be discovered because there are much easier ways to reveal anomalies to the world, but they certainly enjoy pushing the boundary. Ignore the drivers for now. They hopefully won't be a problem if they leave with Winter."

Blake tugged Roman away from their own driver, who she now noticed was very plain and average looking. Suspiciously so. He had perfectly clean skin, blank blue eyes and black hair. They all did. Every single one of them was a clone of the last. "Ignore it," Blake said. "It's a Semblance. Clone Semblance."

Roman wheezed as he laughed. "You really trying that on me after what I saw before?"

"It's the story for everyone else. Including anyone who asks you!"

"Got it." He recovered quickly to his credit, plastered a confident smile back on his face and hooked his arm around her waist. "There are shakers and movers here tonight," he said. "I count three mob bosses, one crooked businessman and a lawyer." He shuddered. "Truly, evil knows no bounds. I wonder how many refused to come."

"You think many did?"

"When you're asked to get into an unmarked car and be driven to an unknown location for an unspoken purpose, yes." Roman nodded back to where the altercation had occurred. "We're jumpy people, us crooks, and curiosity over an invitation from someone as rich as a Schnee only goes so far."

"Curiosity." Blake tasted the word and found she didn't like it. "Is that why everyone is here?"

"Pretty much. That invitation didn't give much away and who expects a rich snob like Winter Schnee to invite you to a mysterious auction? I doubt anyone that is here really cares much about what's for sale, but we're all curious."

"What would you think it was if not for us?"

"Hmm. Maybe a business deal or job. Wouldn't be the first time a legitimate business has contacted our kind to run interference on a rival or ensure a little criminal damage gets run through insurance. You know the drill."

She didn't, but she nodded anyway, looking at the people all around them as Roman and she walked into the theatre. Many had come in fine suits and dresses, but there were some who eschewed that in favour of a more dangerous image. The person who had inadvertently killed one of the drivers was stood by the entrance angrily smoking a cigarette now, and through his open white shirt Blake could see tattoos all across his chest. His hands were shoved into his pockets, which caused his jacket to ride up enough to reveal a handgun strapped to his side.

"A favoured lieutenant of a large mob on the north side of the city." Roman whispered into her faunus ear. "He's more used to beating up people than bidding, but obviously the boss wasn't going to risk his life coming here."

"Is he a huntsman?"

Roman chuckled. "Few of those take work in the underworld. You can earn as much going legit and Beacon takes a very dim view on people using skills they've taught for crime. Glynda Goodwitch comes after you personally if you do."

"How come you have aura, then?"

"My past is a little coloured," he admitted, "but the long and short of it is that I'm not officially a huntsman. Not a graduated one, anyway."

"You went to Beacon?"

"The past is the past." He nudged her along and under the grand archways of the theatre, toward where a crowd of people were congregating before a ticket booth. "Let's focus on the here and now, hm?"

"Please present your invitations," one of the clones said. He wore a large smile that looked far too inhuman. It was too wide, stretched out to show teeth and crinkle the face in such a way that it looked closer to bursting into tears than real joy. The anomaly didn't seem to realise the effect it was having on the guests, who averted their eyes rather than look at the man in front of them. "Please present your invitations for this most wonderous, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Roman shouldered his way forward and dragged her along. No one appeared to want to go first, so they reached the front where Roman drew out the blue envelope. "Here you are, my good man. One invitation for my lady friend and I."

The anomaly took the invitation and read over it slowly. Very slowly. Its eyes flicked left and right many times, more than were necessary for such a short message, and a soft rattle of breath left its mouth. After just enough time for Roman to start fidgeting and Blake to worry they'd been discovered, it looked up with its hideous smile again and said, "Good! You are good! Please enter and take a seat. The auction will begin soon."

As they passed beyond the booth, the people behind began to present their own invitations, emboldened by their display. It turned out that they hadn't in fact been the first as some people had arrived long before them and had already taken seats in the theatre audience. The stage was left clear, doubtless for the auction itself, but people were dotted all over the place, very few sitting near one another and most trying to keep a good distance from both the stage and their neighbours.

"Any preference?" Roman asked.

Blake repeated it to Jaune.

"Just sit somewhere in the middle. Not too close and not too far. Blend in where you can."

The message was passed onto Roman, who led her aside and to one of the blocks of red seats on the left side. It would be to the auctioneer's right when they were looking out from atop the stage, and about mid-distance in terms of seating. The theatre had upper booths and a second floor but those had been closed off. There weren't enough guests to warrant it. Roman took a seat and Blake sat next to him, whipping the metal briefcase up over her legs and resting her hands atop it.

"I kind of expected a little more schmoozing," she said. "Don't you criminal types ever talk?"

Roman responded with a quiet little laugh and then said, "This isn't exactly a networking meeting, my dear. Everyone here is on edge. It's not a good time to walk up to someone and say hello, especially not if you end up startling them." Roman hesitated and then asked, "How likely is this to go wrong?"

"The plan is to buy the item and walk out the door with it. No violence."

"That's a relief."

He didn't know about Jaune jinxing it, however. She didn't feel like telling him. It might not be anomalous to hear Jaune go on about it, but that didn't mean she wasn't coiled like a spring. Maybe it was better no one approach them. They might catch a metal briefcase to the face if they tried.

"Where are you, Jaune?" Blake asked quietly.

"On a roof several buildings over watching. I'm as far away as I can manage."

"Be patient, kitty-cat," Roman teased. "I'm sure this won't take too long."

/-/

It took a little under an hour.

Blake had long since grown impatient enough to start fidgeting, and Roman was into his fourth cigar, leaning back against the seats with his arms hanging backwards over them. Others had begun to move about to stretch their legs while some muttered angrily and a few even tried to leave. They weren't stopped funnily enough. The anomalies manning the booth let them go and they departed the auction without once seeing what it entailed. They were the lucky ones.

For the rest of them, it was a slow wait as the last of the guests arrived and took their seats, and as the time spent inside ticked to the hour, the lights above them slowly dimmed and floodlights illuminated the stage. There was no drum roll or music to announce her arrival, but as the curtain drew up, Winter Schnee strode forward, heels clicking against varnished wood.

The Schnee family were public enough that Blake had seen pictures of them before, mostly as targets to the White Fang, and yet Winter here looked like nothing she'd seen. The pictures always showed them as stately, disciplined and maybe even morose. They were humans who looked emotionless, either frowning or neutrally staring into the distance whether it be magazine cover, news story or just a paparazzi shot. Adam had joked that a Schnee only smiled when a faunus died, and it turned out he'd been wrong.

A Schnee only smiled when they were watching the world burn.

Winter Schnee's smile was wide and almost manic, not as inhuman as the anomaly that served her but wild in the manner of a person drunk on the experience. It reminded her of those few faunus in the White Fang who enjoyed the fighting and the killing too much, even more than Adam at his worst did, and who would stalk the camps after with blood dripping from their hands and their faces drawn into feral masks of ecstasy. Winter was enjoying this, Blake realised. No, she was thrilled to be here - absolutely enthralled by what she was doing. Jaune had been right. The Schnee weren't in this for the money or the power. They were in it for the excitement.

"Good evening! Good evening!" Winter raised her arms high, dressed in a beautiful white gown that flowed down to her feet, but under which Blake could see the faint outline of trousers. "Welcome one and all, you fine ladies and gentlemen of Vale, to an auction you will not soon forget." Her hands fell. "I'd like to thank you all for coming out here with little more to believe in than a promise from myself and the mystery of an auction for an unspoken prize. I guarantee you will not be disappointed." Winter clapped her hands together. "Bring our prize out."

A murmur spread among the audience as two of identical clones came out together carrying a stone plinth between them. The stand itself was presumably not the anomaly, as something lay atop it, covered by a velvet cloth a dark shade of burgundy.

Winter gripped the cloth and tore it off with a theatrical flourish.

It was a ball. Dark purple to black in colour and not perfectly round. The bottom was flat to allow it to rest on the plinth and the top appeared to be flat as well. Blake leaned in but she was the only one to do so as everyone else looked remarkably unimpressed. Someone in the audience coughed and another yawned.

"I see you are all confused." Winter said. "Then allow me to explain." She angled it toward them by rotating the plinth, and Blake could see a small panel on the top flat section that looked like glass. "Perhaps you have all heard of the children's toy – a magical 8-ball. Ask a question, shake and receive an answer. An amusing toy of a simplistic design." Winter stepped away from it. "Would anyone like to come and serve as a demonstration?"

For the longest time, no one did. The hardened criminals making up the audience were thoroughly annoyed and it was showing. In the end, someone nudged another to do it, likely ordering a subordinate, who rose with a heavy sigh and stomped down the central aisle. He wore a black suit, white shirt and a red tie, and his eyes were covered by a pair of red shades.

"Ah, we have a volunteer. Come up. Don't be shy." Winter showed no fear as the much larger man ascended the staircase. She motioned to the anomaly while staying a short distance away. "Please feel free to ask it a question and give it a shake."

The man grunted and picked it up. "What am I even doing here?" he asked loudly. Several in the audience guffawed loudly as the man shook it. He read the answer, snorted and said, "I'm here because my boss ordered me to be. Cute." He looked at Winter wryly. "That's not much of an impressive show."

"It wasn't much of an impressive question." Winter said. "Why don't you try asking it something more complicated? Something only you would know the answer to."

After a second to think, the man nodded and picked it up again. He cleared his throat and said, "When is my wife's birthday?" He gave it a shake and waited for the mist to clear. "T-Tomorrow." He looked up. "It's right."

There was an immediate clamour in the audience. "A fix!" someone cried. "It's fake."

"Then won't you come up and challenge it?" Winter invited. "Prove it false."

The man who had spoken leapt out his seat and stalked forward. It was the same as had killed one of the anomalies outside and he looked positively furious. He barged the man coming back down the stairs out the way, stomped across the stage and snatched the ball up in one hand. His lips peeled back as he stared down at it.

"What is my name?" he demanded, then shook. When it settled, he looked stunned. "That… That's not possible…"

"Oh?" Winter smiled. "Is it accurate?"

"You could have found my name out! Who ordered me here tonight?" He shook again, harder this time, and waited for the screen to clear. "No. That… There's no way. How many guns am I carrying? How many cars do I own?" He grew increasingly panicky with each response. "What porn am I into!?"

The answer unsettled him and he stepped back, setting the ball down and shaking his head as though he'd peered into the abyss and found it staring back. He stumbled off the stage, eyes wide and haunted. Those in the audience washed in a hushed silence broken by sudden chatter and angry whispers, by scroll calls and wild discussions. They were interested now. Of course they were.

"Blake. What's the anomaly?"

"It's a magical eight-ball that seems able to answer any question asked of it perfectly."

"What? Impossible."

"Are you calling an anomaly impossible? You of all people?"

"Not that," he said. "I just refuse to believe the Schnee would get rid of a perfect source of information. They could use it to locate every anomaly in the world, find ARC Corp's greatest weaknesses and dominate the planet. They wouldn't need auctions. That thing would tell them the perfect buyer, the perfect price and the best way to reach out to them."

Blake looked at the anomaly again. His words had caused her own natural suspicious mind to return with a vengeance. Why had she taken the Schnee at her word? There had to be something more to this. A trick, gimmick or limitation. If there wasn't then Winter should have known they were here tonight. The whole debacle with the Rusted Queen would have been unnecessary because she'd have known the perfect time and way to enter the city.

The Schnee obviously hadn't warned the student what the Blank Slate would do to his mind and history, so there was no reason to assume all the warnings had been given out here either. It simply wasn't in their best interests to hand out all the details.

"Buy it anyway." Jaune said. "We can't take the risk it's what she says it is, and even if it isn't then it's still an anomaly. Make sure you win it."

"We'll do our best." Blake nodded to Roman. "Bid."

Roman raised his arm. "Fifty-thousand lien."

"We have a bidder at last." Winter said eagerly, pointing them out. "I have fifty thousand for this most marvellous trinket. Is that how lowly the answer to any and all questions is valued? I should certainly hope not."

"Seventy-five," someone said, arm raised.

"One hundred." Roman countered.

"One-fifty."

Another hand, another segment of the theatre. There was a new competitor throwing their hat in the ring, and Blake hissed. Winter had drummed up far too much interest with her show and now everyone was calling this into their leaders and asking for instruction. It wasn't long before another hand raised, and then another, and then another on top of that.

"Two hundred."

"Three."

"Four hundred and fifty thousand."

"Half a million lien."

"One million."

The bid doubled the standing one and earned sharp gasps from within the theatre. Blake followed the voice to see the very man who had called bullshit on Winter's display, and who now had his scroll to his ear. His face might as well have been carved from granite.

"One-two," someone said.

"One-five."

"One-six."

"Two million."

The same man increased the bid in large increments and near instantly, casting a pall over the theatre. Not only did it make it painfully obvious he would not give in; it also set the fantastical value of the anomaly. A hundred thousand lien wasn't chump change to most people but it was to crime lords, and the sudden rise above a million and now above two had made it clear they were competing in the big leagues now. This was serious money.

Roman looked as annoyed as she felt but he didn't bid even though he knew he could. No one did for what fell like a full minute. Everyone was afraid to push the price up by another five hundred thousand.

"Going once-" Winter said.

Roman stuck his arm up. "Two point one million."

"Two and a half."

"Fuck sake," Roman cursed. It was the same person. "He's not going to let this go," he whispered to her. "What is our plan if we can't buy this legit?"

Blake didn't know and posed the question to Jaune.

"We cannot let an anomaly like this go. We'll have to take it from the winner by force if we don't have a choice otherwise."

Here was the jinxing Jaune had been so adamant about. Blake pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned into her hand. At the time she'd been so appalled at the idea of Jaune saying three million wouldn't be enough, but now she wished he had been able to draw out ten as he wanted.

"Three million." Roman declared boldly.

Already? That was all they had-

"Three and a half," the man countered.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Roman kept his arm up. "Four million."

"What!?" Blake hissed it quietly and turned to glare at him. "Roman, we don't have four million."

"We can get it," he replied.

"Four and a half."

"Asshole." Roman swore. "Five million!" he said loudly.

"Five and a half."

"The Schnee are going to crucify us when we don't have it."

"Better to ask forgiveness than seek permission." He looked up. "Six million!"

For the first time since the bidding began there was no response or counter-bid. Blake sank into her seat, ears flat as she wondered whether they'd gone and won it. And for twice the amount she actually had in her case. Could they beg a credit period from the SDC? It would only take a day or two to get another three million out. Blake had the sinking suspicion they wouldn't allow that. Roman was going to get them killed.

"Twelve million lien."

It was almost expected by that point though the staggering amount still drove the air from her lungs. Blake covered her eyes with one hand while Roman finally lowered his own, sighing angrily. They weren't going to have a chance against someone who had been so thoroughly hooked by the anomaly. There was no telling how much money the crime boss behind the man had, either. The silence in the theatre was pervasive, and only broken by Winter's voice.

"Going once. Going twice. Sold – for twelve million lien." She clapped her hands together. "I invite the winner to come up himself and collect your prize. May it serve you and yours well. To everyone else, I wish you well and encourage you to keep your ears open. This won't be the last time I visit this beautiful city."

No one clapped. No one applauded. Men and women stood and stormed out, heads down, while the winner hurried down the aisle past them to claim his prize. Roman looked to her, his left shoulder raised as if to ask what their next step was.

"Jaune," Blake reported. "We have a problem."

"Everyone else is about to have one too," he said. "You two need to get out the theatre."

"What's happening?"

"It looks like someone wants to claim the anomaly without having to pay for it. There's a whole load of cars pulling up and I very much doubt the people piling out with guns are here to shake the winner's hand."

"Gang war." Roman said, having overheard. "I should have guessed. Everyone who is anyone will want that thing and why bid when you can take it from someone else?" He stood and pulled her up, then ushered her back away from the main stage. "Come on. We want to be out of here before the festivities begin."

He rushed them out the theatre's main hall and into the corridor beyond, past the ticket booths and toward the entrance. People were already coming in, suited and with their faces covered. Weapons were carried. Roman had them pause and held his hands up in surrender, but they were jostled aside as the men moved through, focused on the real prize. Blake watched them go and gauged her chances against them. She had aura, training and a useful Semblance but they had numbers and the police would come soon after the first shots were fired.

"Get out of there." Jaune said. "We can recover this later but we can't if you're dead."

Blake sighed and looked to Roman. "We're leaving."

"Best news I've had all night."

As they rushed out the theatre and away with numerous other guests, gunfire began within, shattering the silence and glass as screams sounded and alarms began to blare. It was chaos of the highest order, and the arrival of yet more vehicles and yet more gangsters piling out with weapons to rush inside didn't help any. It wasn't just one gang attacking. It was a battle royale. If the goal of the Schnee really was to cause as much chaos as possible for their own sick amusement, they'd certainly achieved that here.

It was almost too much to hope Winter might die in the crossfire.

/-/

They were back in the Containments Office and Jaune was slumped over his desk reading an online news report while Blake got changed. She came back out in her suit, grateful to be out the dress but still wearing her hair in ringlets. Torchwick was on the sofa, his boots up on the coffee table and a cigar lazily burning away in his mouth.

"How bad are things?" Blake asked.

"The news has it as a gang war. They're not wrong but at least they're not right about what it's over. They think it's a drug cartel or just some gangs butting heads over something. No news of the SDC, Schnee or the eight-ball they're warring over."

"They won't out that and risk inviting more competition." Roman said. "The mooks on the ground won't even know what they're fighting for. Too much risk someone steals it and runs."

"That works to our advantage." Jaune said. "At least something is…"

She had to assume there was no news of Winter's death or he'd have said it. In all honesty, she probably had her own way out and disposable guards in the form of that anomaly she was using, and that was assuming she only used the one. If the Schnee weren't afraid of them, they might have a whole bunch slaved to each of their family members. The next step had to be getting that anomaly back from whichever gang won this war. Identifying who had it at all was the problem.

The Council would be angry as well. A war in their streets wasn't anything they wanted, and she wondered if the fault was going to be theirs. After all, it wasn't like they could go after the Schnee and risk dust shipments being cut off. An embargo would cripple the kingdom. It's ARC Corp's job to keep anomalies off the street and you failed in that, she could imagine them saying.

"How are we going to do this?" Blake asked. "I can fight but you can't."

"We're not joining the war. We'll fight if we have to but…" He wiped a hand down his face. "I don't know. There has to be a way around this. Something we can do. Roman, you're a thief, right?"

"I'll stop you there," Roman said, "I steal from unsuspecting people. A good thief doesn't go after a gang in the middle of a war. They'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"Can you find out who has the device?"

"Maybe."

"We'll pay you."

"I said maybe," he repeated tensely. "I have contacts but I'll have to see what they know. Nothing us guaranteed in this business, least of all something that only just happened."

"Try anyway." Jaune said. "Please," he added to make it a request. "You'll be paid generously for anything you find. The three million is yours if you identify who has it accurately."

He looked interested at that. Cautious, though. "And will I be expected to go in and steal it?"

"No. That'll be our job."

Too much risk Roman might steal it. Too much risk the anomaly might have side-effects that made it dangerous to him and the people holding it now. They had no idea what the cost of using this thing was, and if it was as bad as the last… well, this war might be getting a lot more interesting in the coming days.

Roman swung his feet off the table and pushed himself up. "I'll get on that tomorrow and call you," he promised. "It'll take time for Intel to trickle down and whoever has it now might lose it before the night is done. Best to wait for a winner."

"I'll bow to your experience." Jaune said. "Thank you for tonight. Wait."

Pausing in the doorway, Roman hummed and then stumbled to catch the thick wad of cash thrown his way. He looked down at it, eyes rising.

"A bonus for tonight." Jaune said. "You got Blake out safely and we'd rather have you positively inclined to us than not. It's also hush money."

Roman flicked through it and grinned, swinging his cigar to the left of his mouth as he spoke. "Well, well, well, this is one way to earn my loyalty. Not a bad one. As for staying silent, you don't need to worry. No one would believe half the shit I've seen and I've no interest in convincing them otherwise. Vale is confusing enough without your brand of crazy taking over." He turned back to the door and waved over his shoulder. "I'll call you if I find anything."

Blake waited to be sure he'd left before saying, "I'm sorry about tonight."

"You tried your best." Jaune sounded as defeated as he looked. "Nothing goes to plan where the Schnee are involved. We'll have to sort this out quickly. I just don't like the lengths we might have to go to."

"I can fight. I know it's not ideal but I can if we need to."

"I know. I can as well." He noticed her stare and added, "As well as any of those gangsters can anyway. I'm not suicidal, Blake, I won't run into gunfire. Thing is, maybe there is another solution. There might be a way to do this without getting bloody at all."

"I'm all ears."

"If we can sneak in and steal the anomaly out from under their noses…"

"Didn't Roman just say how unlikely that is? Not to burst your bubble but the master thief probably knows a lot more about it than we do."

"I don't doubt." Jaune said. "But what if the person going in was completely invisible to the naked eye? What if they couldn't be seen, couldn't be perceived, no matter how hard those inside tried? What if they didn't exist?"

Blake's stomach dropped out. "You can't be serious…"

"I might just be." Jaune breathed heavily into his hands and looked up at her over his fingers. "Someone using the Blank Slate could get in and out without being seen. They could steal the new anomaly and bring it back here."

"And risk losing themselves in the process."

"Yes."

"You're insane."

"I'm desperate," he said. "I'm desperate and we're all about to be if criminals get hold of an anomaly that really can answer any question. Especially if it turns out to be capable of predicting the future. Our other option is to bring in Ozpin."

"Ozpin? You mean Beacon can send in huntsmen and huntresses?"

He nodded.

"What's wrong with that idea?"

"Ozpin won't want to give the anomaly up if he believes he can use it."

Ah. Blake grimaced and looked away. Ozpin was an anomaly himself and had rebelled against the containment of them before. He'd been willing to let them keep the Blank Slate but maybe that was because it was too dangerous. This might be as well but they just didn't know. Still, the thought of some heavy-duty support wasn't a bad one. "Can we ask the Council for huntsmen support?"

"Officially, all huntsmen answer to the city. Unofficially, most answer to Ozpin. I guarantee any huntsman or huntress worth helping us is loyal to him in some way. He'd find out. It might still be necessary. We might not have a choice with how public this is going. And if news gets out about what they're fighting for… well…" He sighed. "It'll become a Reality Class anomaly."

They would have to run damage control and convince the world it was normal somehow – make up excuses. How? Blake had no idea. Maybe they could argue it had been created by a Semblance and come up with a fake identity for a person who never existed, someone that had a Semblance that let them create items with limited precognitive effects. It was unlikely and unbelievable, but no worse than what people believed in already. That'd turn the anomaly into a worldwide attraction, however. It'd go from gangs fighting over it to nations fighting over it.

"Man," Blake said. "I hate the Schnee."

"Yeah." Jaune agreed with a weary smile. "Me too."

Ruby next chapter gonna be like "See? This is what happens when you don't have me around to pull you guys out the fire. Shake my head. You should just make me ARC Corp Director already and retire. I got this."

Alas, if only they could train Timothy to go in and get the item for them.

Oh, and as a heads up this isn't actually the Relic of Knowledge, or the Eight-Ball of Knowledge, with Jinn trapped inside it. The anomaly is working on a different set of rules that will be explained but could also perhaps be figured out based on the questions asked and how Winter acted around it.

Next Chapter: 1st August

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