I made a mistake in my AN last week, as it's the new story tomorrow and I forgot about Raise last week and had to speed-write it in two hours. Anyway, there will be a poll up on my profile as soon as the new story tomorrow drops which will let people vote for which story (of the three involved: Raise, Wildest Dreams and new story) will take the Thursday slot and be updated every week. Check it out if you have a vested interest in one or the other taking it or ignore it if you don't.

It will only run from Tuesday to end of Wednesday, as I'll need to decide Thursday so I can write whatever takes that spot. Whomever is ahead wins.

Cover Art: Kirire

Chapter 25

The private aircraft came down on a runway in the middle of Atlas, and Blake sighed as the wheels bumped on the tarmac. How the landing could be harsher on a runway than in the wilderness of Menagerie she didn't know, but the pilot managed it all the same. Jaune was up front, busy thanking and shaking the man's hand. There was a small part of Blake that as curious to hear his story and how he'd met them, and what Jaune had done to help him, but the part of her more experienced with her work told her ignorance was bliss.

Her parents had been understandably sad to see them go, but also happy to see she was alright and to meet Jaune. There had been much hugging, many promises to visit again – this time sooner than six years – and even a suggestion that they come for the Vytal Festival and spend some time with her, on her hospitality this time. Blake hoped it happened, as she had found herself breathing easier and just feeling less weighed down now that matters between them were sorted. Jaune had been right to push her intro it, not that she'd give him the pleasure of hearing her say it.

Sienna and the White Fang had also been remarkably chill with her. Not thrilled by any means, but grateful she and Jaune had dealt with their issue, and all of them silently agreeing it was better Adam not find out she'd come back. Blake wouldn't call it peace, but it was an understanding and an agreement of non-violence, which suited her role at ARC Corp. Her battle was no longer between human and faunus.

Despite coming by private jet, they still had to check into the country through the usual channels, which meant passports and queues and a quick scan of their baggage, and a quick moment of panic on the faces of the airport security when said bags were filled with guns and ammunition. It ended when Jaune flashed their huntsman licensees, and the security staff had laughed it off. Technically, neither of them were huntsman or huntress, but ARC Corp straddled the lines of law, and had an agreement with Atlas much like the Council of Vale, so they were afforded similar privileges. The two of them walked through the arrivals lounge and out into the waiting area where people were holding up signs for their family members.

Blake pointed. "Um. Were we expecting someone to come greet us?"

"Coral?" asked Jaune. "You must be joking. You'd need an industrial crane to drag her away from an interesting piece of research." Jaune looked where she was looking. "Why-? Oh. For crying out loud."

There was a man in a crisp white and grey uniform holding a sign that read, "ARC" in big red letters. It wasn't the uniform of Atlas' military, but something far more familiar to Blake. The man didn't have white hair, which probably saved his life, but the snowflake emblem on his lapel made his allegiance clear.

"So much for not drawing attention," said Blake.

"It's Atlas," mumbled Jaune. "The Schnee have their hooks everywhere. Well, let's not make things worse." He approached the man, who bowed and motioned them toward a white limousine parked outside.

"Good day, Mr Arc. Miss Belladonna. My mistress welcomes you to Atlas and thought it might be polite to arrange a convenience on your behalf. She felt it would be gauche to make such an honoured guest wait for a taxi."

"Willow Schnee is here!?" blurted out Blake. Jaune shot her an irritated look.

The man smiled. "I'm afraid not. My lady wishes she could have been here to welcome you in person, but, alas, she has better things to do." The insult was clear, and Blake winced, having led her and Jaune right into it. No wonder he looked annoyed.

"Ruining lives is busy work, I'm sure," said Jaune, giving as good as he took.

He walked to the limo, and another man – identical in every way; twins or an anomaly? – opened the door for them. He crouched and stepped in, and Blake followed. The interior was naturally plush and expensive, with a bucket filled with ice, champagne and two crystal goblets. Jaune didn't touch them, and Blake followed suit. The anomalies took to the driver and passenger seat, though they kept the window between them down to talk.

"I would not dare comment on my lady's movements," said the man in the passenger seat, "But business is booming as they say. You are headed to Miss Coral Arc's workshop. We shall take you there."

So, they'd known not only that they were coming, what airport they were arriving at and the rough time, but also their destination – and, implied or not, the location of Jaune's sister and her office. Blake couldn't say she liked the thought of any of that, and she couldn't imagine, other than the pilot, who the leak could have come from. No one in Menagerie would care to sell information to the Schnee, and only she and Jaune knew who they were coming to visit.

"Lady Willow requests that you keep your family business to yourselves while you are here. She extends a hand in friendship, as all family should-"

"We are not family," said Jaune.

"Distant family." The man chuckled. "The Arc and the Schnee are cousins." He ignored Jaune's not-too-quiet growl. "And family does argue, from time to time, but really, you are not so different."

The man's face turned, twisting his neck until it had turned a complete one-eighty without his body moving. Rather than have his neck break, he looked completely relaxed, even as Blake's stomach churned unhappily. Jaune did not stiffen, but his eyes closed, and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

"I suppose all humans must seem alike to one such as you."

"It is as you say," said the anomaly. "But not all. You, for instance, feel very different. Unique."

"Tell Willow we will abide by her terms," snapped Jaune. He was having none of it. "So long as she abides by them as well. I am here to seek my fellow director's advice, not to act in Atlas or against the Schnee family."

"You ARC Corp," said the anomaly as it twisted its head back forward. "Always so formal. You are some of the more amusing of your species, if only for your silly ways."

Blake shuddered in the backseat.

/-/

The Secrets Office was larger than the Containments Office. That was Blake's first thought as the limousine drove away. She was used to their small apartment in Vale, from which Jaune both ran his office and lived, with his kitchen, bathroom and bedroom adjoined to it. By contrast, the Secrets Office was like a small police station; it was a single floor, but wide and square, with large glass-fronted windows stamped with "ARC Corp" and even a small parking lot out back, with six cars parked in bays by a back door.

A reception lay inside the front door, with a woman in a crisp suit sat behind a desk fiddling with her scroll. She looked up on seeing them, her eyes widened, and she slammed the device down, standing with a professional, if panicked, smile.

"Good day and welcome to ARC Corp. Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for the Director."

"I'm afraid the Director is-"

"I am Director Jaune Arc of the Containments Office." Jaune let that sink in, and the woman swallowed. "You will contact Coral and tell her to make time for me. That is not a request."

"O-Of course. One moment please."

Jaune walked away from the desk as the woman fiddled with an intercom; he waved Blake to follow, and they took their seats in a small waiting area. "You're more professional than she is," he grumbled. Blake wasn't sure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult. "A receptionist. Really. This is just because Coral can't stand to be pulled away from her toys for even the time it'd take to talk to someone."

It wasn't long before a door opened, and a woman stepped out that Blake immediately pegged as Coral Arc. She was a little shorter than Jaune, and thus a little shorter than Blake herself, with a smooth face and a pair of blue glasses attached by a thin chain to the collar of an open blue shirt. The hurried way she moved caused the white lab coat she wore to flutter behind her, and combined with her pinched lips and sharp eyebrows, it gave the impression of someone always in a hurry and unhappy to have to stop and talk to anyone. Impatient, rude, and uncaring of anyone else's opinions. That was the impression Blake got of the woman. Which was why it was a surprise when the woman stomped up to Jaune, slapped her hands on his cheeks and smashed her lips into his.

Blake's jaw hung open.

It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was more of an awkward and angry pressing of pursed lips together, with no movement and no effort to deepen it on any side. That didn't really cause her any less of a mental breakdown as Jaune's sister kissed him. Jaune pulled back, eyes clenched shut and face turned away. "C-Coral. Do you have to do that every time we see one another?"

"Yes," said the woman. She removed her glasses and used her sleeve to wipe off the misting, then replaced them. Her expression remained flat, even after she'd just gone and done that. Blake's own face was bright red. "This is your protégé, is it? Faunus. Hm. Not that I mind. Quite the nice specimen as well. Are you bedding her?"

"No!"

"NO!"

Coral hummed at Jaune's answer and ignored Blake's mortified cry. "A missed opportunity. Physical release is scientifically proven to improve mood and reduce stress. You should consider it."

"I don't need my sister talking to me about release of any kind," whined Jaune. He ran his hand down his face and over his lips. "And stop kissing me. It's weird. And illegal."

"I bare no romantic feelings toward you."

"That's part of what makes it weird." He sighed and said, "This is Blake. Blake, this is Coral. Don't worry, she won't randomly try and make out with you."

"Not unless it's required to ensure you remain at an operational level." Coral did not offer her hand, and Blake didn't offer hers either. "I've picked up rumours of you. Saphron does not talk, but her newest employee has yet to realise she doesn't answer to any director who calls and pulls rank. I hear you forced your way into the organisation."

"I mean, forced is a strong word…" said Blake.

"I am not Saphron. I don't care if you did or did not. It's too late to complain anyway." She turned away, dismissing Blake in an instant. "You're here about the recent flare of human-to-anomaly transformations, correct?"

"It's that obvious?"

"It is when literally every office is knocking or calling demanding answers, brother. You're not the first to assume I'd be the best to dig into this."

"Then you have been?"

"I have." Coral turned and walked through a door, and Jaune followed.

Since no one told her not to, Blake did as well. The room beyond looked like a cross between a dentist's room and an operating theatre, with a single chair in the middle and many, many sharp implements around it. To Blake's relief, the chair was not occupied by a human, but by a statue of a woman. The upper half, a bust. Several people in lab coats were humming around it, poking with instruments, and chatting among themselves.

It was strange to see so many people in one place with ARC Corp. With her being the only real employee of the Containments Office, and even the Fist Office only having Terra and Pyrrha, she had assumed that the Secrets Office would be of a similar size, and yet she could see windows leading through to other rooms, within which yet more people in lab coats worked away.

"I've yet to have the pleasure of interacting with one of these individuals," said Coral, "so I'm mostly working off second-hand accounts. Luckily, I've been able to determine a few similarities already. That doesn't make for hard evidence. I have correlating evidence that we are basing a hypothesis around, and that hypothesis is one that it will be up to field agents and teams to prove or disprove. Time will tell as to how that will happen."

"Anything would be useful," said Jaune. "What do you have so far?"

"Point number one: the transformations are found to happen only in those without aura." Coral paused and tapped her finger on a stack of documents on a very messy desk. She drew out a chair, swept numerous objects – anomalies? – aside and sat down, then swung her feet up onto the wood. "The cases thus far have either been in children or middle-aged people, and more of the latter than the former. There have been no stated cases in anyone training to be, or an active, huntsman or huntress."

"That seems like a bold assumption to make," said Blake.

"Correct – which leads us onto point number two, and my main hypothesis. The transformation happens in those who experience an event of great mental impact and anguish. The information you sent ahead to me of the child in Menagerie gives an obvious view of what type of anguish she experienced, but the event in Vale similarly involved a man who had his life's work and career swept out from under him. The case in Argus was similar, with a self-proclaimed genius, Arthur Watts, proven wrong and ridiculed."

"We've had another in Vacuo where one of the Councillors was exposed for corruption and taking bribes from a group looking to overthrow the democracy and bring back a monarchy. His claim and life's work collapsed about him, and he manifested into a giant carving of a scorpion made of sandstone and rampaged across Vacuo until he was put down by a joint effort between Shade Academy, ARC Corp, and, oddly enough, the monarchists who had hired him themselves. In all these cases, and other historic examples, there has been some event in their life prior to their transformation that has, for lack of a better term, set them off. Some trigger or causal crack to their psyche."

Blake nodded, even if she wasn't sure how accurate it was just yet. She could well see what had caused Anabelle's, but she wasn't sure about the rest. "What makes you think it's specific to those with no aura?" she asked.

"Simply put, those who fight the Grimm are constantly exposed to trauma and situations that should cause the same. Deaths of loved ones and teammates is common, as is seeing the remains of humans savaged by Grimm. It seems odd to me that generations of huntsmen and huntresses seem to be immune to this trigger despite working in ideal conditions for it. It may be that they are simply of greater fortitude, as they are more used to loss and pain, but I personally believe it is the known law of anomalous repulsion."

"Known law?"

"Basically, how anomalies don't work on other anomalies," explained Jaune quickly. "Like how the Blank Slate didn't make Crocea Mors invisible."

"That doesn't make sense though. I'm an anomaly, and I used the camera on the globe."

"Okay, first of all, who told you that?" asked Jaune. His eyes narrowed. "And secondly, you did what!?" Blake cringed. Right, she'd done that after her accident. She laughed awkwardly and explained, to which Jaune cupped his face. "It's fine. No harm done. The answer to that is that the globe is the anomaly, not the people living on it. You affected and fixed them, and their civilisation and the weather, but you didn't turn the globe back thirty seconds. You couldn't have."

"As for the faunus issue…" interrupted Coral "You are not wrong to say you are an anomaly, but there is a difference between being an anomaly and being the descendant of an anomaly. Your blood has been mixed with humanity's over numerous generations. Believe me, we have checked." Her smile was not kind. "Extensively."

"The same goes for how the Blank Slate can turn you invisible even though you have aura – Light of the Soul," said Jaune. "It made your body invisible, but had you used your aura, it would have manifested despite the attempts of the first to erase it from history." He turned to Coral and said, "So you think that Light of the Soul is protecting huntsmen and huntresses from whatever anomalous effect is taking hold of people? That's fortunate. We'd be in a lot of trouble if huntsmen kept transforming."

"It's a hypothesis," said Coral. "I may yet be wrong. What I need is a live subject to play around with and understand. Inside and out. Alas, even I'm not willing to intentionally push someone to the point of breaking in the name of science. Instead, I've asked Willow to keep an eye out for any customers of hers who regress to that level."

"Coral…"

"The Schnee are evil; do not trust them. I've heard it before, Jaune, and from those older and more experienced than you. Leave it be. I am evil myself in the eyes of some of our siblings. I do not destroy anomalies and enjoy researching and using them. I'm sure father expects me to go the way of the Schnee as well."

"You won't." Jaune was firm. "I trust you."

"And that is why you are my favoured sibling," replied Coral. "I might even step in to save your life if it was in danger." Might. Blake scowled. "Speaking of, I do believe you need the approval of three directors for your little underling, no?"

To officiate her employment. Blake hadn't realised that was part of Jaune's plan, though the way he blushed and ran a hand through his hair suggested Coral had hit the nail on the head. Sneaky of him. He smiled and asked, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Let me test her quickly. No needles," said Coral, rolling her eyes when Jaune made to protest. "What I mean, brother, is let she and I talk in private, and I'll conduct an interview. You know Saphron and father will complain that I didn't take it seriously if we don't go through the motions. They'll try and say my approval doesn't count."

"That does sound like them." Jaune heaved a sigh. "Are you alright with that, Blake?"

"As long as she doesn't try and experiment on me, sure."

"I'm not suited for combat, and you are, lest I miss my guess, trained to some degree." Coral could tell all that from looking at her. Impressive. "If I tried, I'd be the one wrestled to the ground." She waved her hand at Jaune. "Shoo. Shoo. Your minion will be in one piece when I am done with her." She tossed him the documents. "Go and read through these. I'm not to let them leave the facility, so you had best memorise everything."

Jaune caught the documents and, with a suffering look at Blake, let himself out the room and away. Coral stood, closed the shuttered blinds, and returned to her seat, this time sitting properly with her feet on the ground. She met Blake's eyes, suddenly stern and almost unnaturally stiff.

"You have no idea the delicate balancing act you threaten to upheave," hissed Coral. "Nor the consequences of your doing so."

Blake leaned back. "I'm not-"

"Silence! Close your stupid mouth and listen, before you bring about the ruin of us all."

/-/

If anyone asked Ruby, this wasn't her fault.

Okay, she had let Yang convince her into following Qrow when she probably should have told Jaune and let him handle it. Okay, she had gone and outed herself as a part of ARC Corp and started the panic which turned the dive bar into a gladiatorial arena. Okay, she had whipped out Crescent Rose – a variable sniper rifle and scythe that, in hindsight, probably didn't look like a very friendly or non-lethal weapon – and told everyone to calm down. And okay, yes, she'd maybe – maybe – freaked out and fired several warning shots into the air to try and instil some order.

But really, none of that could be called her fault. Right? Most people naturally calmed down on hearing sniper fire. Most people saw small, childish girls with huge farming implements designed for cutting wheat down and thought "this is a perfectly normal and relaxing thing", right?

Okay. Maybe it was a little bit her fault, but most of it was still Qrow's. And Yang's. And Zwei's, and Dad's, and Ozpin's, and whomever else she could firmly lay the blame at the feet of. Curse you, Pumpkin Pete, you fiend.

"Ruby…" said Qrow, in that parental voice that implied he wasn't angry, just massively disappointed and mildly simmering like a pot of water about to burst into the boil. Ruby reacted, she felt, in a calm manner, by pointing her weapon at him.

"You're under arrest."

"No," said Qrow. "I'm not."

"You have the right to remain silent."

"I'd expect this kind of bar-based carnage out of Yang."

"Oi!" shouted Yang.

"What will your father say?"

"Nothing," said Ruby, "Because we're not telling dad."

Qrow planted his hands on his hips. "Oh, we're not, are we? Pray tell why."

"Because if we tell dad then we have to tell him what you were doing here, and then we'd have to tell him how you've been doing work for Ozpin, and what Ozpin is." Ruby saw Qrow's lips twitch downward and knew she was on the right track. "And then I could mention how Ozpin keeps trying to get me into Beacon even though I said no, and dad would be really creeped out by that. He might even demand to know why my uncle isn't protecting me from the creepy-"

"Alright, fine." groaned Qrow. "We won't tell Taiyang."

"Heh."

"I feel like I'm a little in the dark here," said Yang, interrupting with a huff. "First of, what the hell was all that back there? Were those faunus?"

"Yes," said Ruby and Qrow as one.

"Rhetorical question, morons. I know they weren't faunus!" Yang's eyes flashed red briefly; she was less than impressed with their weak efforts at tricking her. "And secondly, what's this about Ozpin creeping on my little sister, and our uncle not doing anything about it, huh?"

"You're taking that out of context." Qrow threw his hands in the air and eyed the runed bar. The anomalies within had run, either when she first announced who she was with or when she opened fire. One or the other. Now, there were just upturned tables, shattered windows and bottles and a stench of cheap booze spilling across the floor. "Ozpin is the headmaster of Beacon, and Ruby is – or should be – a huntress. It makes sense he'd be interested in someone as skilled as her."

Yang crossed her arms. "Ruby made her choice. If she doesn't want to be a huntress, she doesn't want to be a huntress. Matter closed." Yang and her sister didn't always see eye to eye, but they were fiercely defensive over one another. Ruby shot her a grateful smile.

"Ozpin just wants to change her mind. Is that so bad? It's not creeping."

"Yeah," said Yang. "Like a guy who won't take a no when he asks you out for a date isn't a creep if he keeps following you around asking you to give him a chance. Pull the other one. And you still haven't explained what the hell was going on here. Who were those people and why did they start running when Ruby said where she works? Were they criminals? Ruby works for private investigators, right?"

"They're not criminals," said Qrow.

"They are criminals," countered Ruby. He shot her a glower, but Ruby rode through it. "What? They are. The Council of Vale and the authorities would arrest them if they had the chance, and it's our job to."

"They shouldn't be criminalised," mumbled Qrow.

"Maybe not," admitted Ruby, "but you don't make the law and neither do I. Speaking of…" Trailing off, she let the sound of distant sirens be heard. "Maybe we shouldn't be here when the police arrive?"

Yang snorted. "I thought you were on the side of the law."

"I am, but if I'm caught here than dad will have to know and then Jaune will be called…" Ruby poked her fingers together. "I wouldn't be in trouble legally, but I might be with dad and Jaune."

They all would be, especially if Taiyang found out, so the three of them quickly vacated the empty premises and jogged far down the street toward an open plaza. It was late, and while nowhere in Vale was ever empty at night, there were only a couple of people hurriedly moving along.

Ruby dragged her shoes and tried not to falter under Yang's intense gaze; it was a mix between confused and curious, and it was the latter that she knew would get her in the most trouble with Jaune. She'd once thought, like Blake, that Jaune was awful at lying, but put on the spot and expected to come up with a story to explain away the things Yang had seen, she realised it wasn't entirely his fault. Some things were just really hard to explain away. Maybe Yang would spontaneously forget.

"Alright," said Yang. "Spill."

Or not.

"Biological experiments," said Ruby.

"Anomalies," said Qrow.

"UNCLE QROW!"

"What?" He crossed his arms, raised one eyebrow, and stared her down. "It's not my job to keep these things secret, and I don't care for what that bunch of psychopaths believes is best." He looked to Yang and dove right in. "There are things on Remnant that exist that people don't know about, things that don't make sense or bend reality."

Yang blinked. "Cryptids?"

"Pretty much. Most of them are fake but some of them are real – and they live, or try to live, normal lives on Remnant. The organisation Ruby works for are a bunch of executioners who go around killing them wherever they can."

"Not true!" squawked Ruby. "Yang, we're like huntsmen and huntresses, but for dangerous, crazy anomalies instead of Grimm. And we don't kill – we contain. It's different."

"Ruby is naïve and has barely scratched the surface of-"

"Qrow is biased and stupid and-"

"Enough!" shouted Yang. Her eyes flashed red again, and Ruby cringed. "You're both acting like children. Ugh. How dare you make me be the most mature person here. On a Friday night no less! You," she stabbed a finger at Qrow, "Answer slowly. Cryptids are real. Give me an example."

"Those people you saw in the bar that had transformed body parts. They're just trying to live their lives."

"Right. And you," it was Ruby's turn to receive the finger. "Give me an example of how they're dangerous."

"You remember that spate of toxic textbooks that killed a whole lot of people a week or two back?" Ruby knew she did, and Yang nodded. Behind her, Qrow winced. "Those were made by an anomaly like those people back there, who decided that the overall IQ of people in Vale was so low that he should start a genocide on anyone who couldn't answer the questions in his mind-controlling textbooks."

"The fuck…"

"That's just one example of a rotten egg," said Qrow.

"There was also that guy who turned invisible in Beacon who was stealing underwear and who, at any time, could have turned to using his anomaly to steal more than just that. Like, people's virginity's or even their lives."

Yang's jaw dropped. Qrow winced again. "Two rotten eggs. You can't lump every anomaly into one box like that."

"You can't pretend they can all be ignored and that there shouldn't be an organisation dedicated to policing them either," said Ruby. "That's what ARC Corp is." She puffed out her chest. "That's what I am."

"I can't believe this," groaned Yang. "My uncle and my sister are arguing over things that shouldn't exist, and I'm stuck in the middle. What the hell is happening to the world? Why do people not know anything about this?"

"ARC Corp keeps things secret."

"By killing witnesses."

"Not true!" snapped Ruby. "Uncle Qrow is just a bitter old man."

"What's new there?" joked Yang. "Still, shit. Wow. And I'm guessing I can't tell anyone this on pain of death?"

"Ozpin and I will protect you." said Qrow.

"Yang doesn't need protecting because ARC Corp doesn't eliminate witnesses. We just ask them to stay quiet because the alternative is a whole lot of panic. I mean, look at me, I'm a witness and I'm perfectly fine. Plus, who would believe you?" Ruby giggled as she said it, and Yang smiled wryly back.

"Yeah. That sounds about right. I'd get called a conspiracy theorist." Her eyes sharpened, and her smile fell. "You are telling me more though. I'm not living in ignorance when all this is going on, and even less so when my little sister is involved."

Oh. Oh crud. Oh CRUD.

Jaune was going to kill her.

Well, no, he wasn't. He was going to sigh and think to himself how he shouldn't have trusted her with the office, then he was going to smile and tell her it was fine while deep inside he lost faith and respect for her.

That's worse, thought Ruby. Give me death!

"Well?" asked Yang, tapping her foot. "I want answers. Maybe you should take me back to this office of yours to give me them."

Office? The mess. The empty take-out wrappers she hadn't tied up yet. Timothy. Ruby paled. Oh hell, Timothy. Yang had… well, she wasn't arachnophobic, but she had cried once when a big spider about an inch long had landed in her hair. Ruby wasn't confident of her sister's reaction if one six feet in length did the same. "Um. I… uh…" Ruby's eyes darted left and right and spotted her way out. "Oh look, a distraction!"

"That's not going to-" Yang looked anyway and trailed off at the sight of a small girl, no older than eleven, walking up the steps to the underground subways, her green summer dress tattered and dusty, and torn in places, and her face smeared with grime and dirt. The girl looked like she'd been mugged, beaten, and then dragged across the ground for a hundred metres. Her lip was bloody, one eye swollen shut, but she continued to smile despite looking like she'd been attacked or abused. Yang swallowed. "Fuck me. Okay, that's a good distraction. Uncle Qrow, can you call the police or an ambulance?"

Qrow broke out of his shock and hurriedly reached for his scroll. "Y-Yeah. I'll get on that."

Yang was good with kids. It came from pretty much raising Ruby after their mother died. It wasn't that she was usually mature, or motherly, or patient, but she could flip a switch and put it on, and she'd been Patch's best babysitter for a good reason. Well, the parents liked her professionalism and cheer, while the young boys she babysat all had crushes on her. Yang had been good at looking after girls as well and approached the bruised and dirty girl with slow steps and a bright smile.

"Hello there," said Yang, speaking up a short distance away so as not to startle the girl. Ruby trailed behind, prepared to help but knowing Yang would be best for this and staying quiet. "You're out late. Are your parents about?"

The girl could have cried, froze or run away – those seemed reasonable reactions. Instead, she looked at Yang and her eyes widened. "You're pretty!"

"That's sweet of you to say." Yang knelt, eyes closing as she smiled wider still. The girl trotted up to her, enamoured by Yang's easy camaraderie and friendly air. "Do your parents know you're out so late?"

"Mmm. Nope."

"Where are they?"

"I left mommy back home. She didn't want to play; she never wants to play." The girl sighed, and it was filled with disdain and frustrated, childish annoyance. "Mommy is so boring!" The girl's blue eyes fixed on Yang again. "You don't look boring. You look like fun. Do you want to play with me!?"

Something tickled in the back of Ruby's mind.

Yang had no such reaction. "We can play all you want while we get you somewhere warm and put some food in you. Then we'll find out where your mommy is. Okay?"

"Yay. Finally. No one else wants to play with us."

"Us?"

"My friends," explained the girl. She pointed, pointed down the staircase to the underground. "We had to play with one another, so they're all waiting to wake up. Can we play now? I want to play with you."

"Uh." Yang looked back to Qrow, who was talking to the police about a missing girl. He gave her a thumbs up, and Yang turned back to the child. "Okay, sure. What do you want to play? I spy?"

"I want to play die!" The girl's hand moved, and Ruby gasped. Silver streaked out. "You can go first!"

The knife slid across Yang's throat before her sister could react – but not before she got her aura up. It sparked as she choked on the blow, turned blunt and non-lethal. Yang reeled back, falling on her ass in shock and scurrying several feet away from the childishly pouting girl with the very bloody knife in hand. That blood hadn't come from Yang, which raised questions of whose it was.

"That's not right!" accused the child, pointing angrily at Yang and stomping one of her feet. "You're supposed to bleed and die, not live. You're doing it wrong." The girl turned the knife inward and said, "Here. Watch me."

Yang screamed. Ruby did too, she supposed, and Qrow might have as well. It was all lost to the visual nightmare that was the little girl, not even a teenager, driving the knife up under her chin and into her throat, then carving from left to right with both hands. She lacked the strength to make it a quick or painless affair, and so jerked and worked it with both hands, catching on muscle and sawing wildly until she was through. The girl's lips stayed peeled back in a smile, her eyes stayed on Yang, and even as her head flopped back and her knees struck the ground, and as blood ran down her dress like a river, she opened her mouth and garbled out her words in a red mess of blood and bubbles.

"See? Like that." The bloody knife was held out to Yang. "Your turn."

Oh, hi Yang. Welcome to the world of ARC Corp. Leave your trauma at the door. We have plenty to go around.

Meanwhile Blake about to learn that things are even more fucked up than she could have thought. Who could have possibly guessed, eh? Totally normal and functional family here. Nothing weird going on at all. And no. No incest. You'll get the detail next chapter, but please don't get fetishist on me here.

Next Chapter: 17th October

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