AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wanted to really delve into the darker, uglier sides of Mantle (which is already pretty dark and ugly, even in RWBY). I read on the RWBY Wiki that RT intended the place to feel like Blade Runner, so I tried to emphasize that. For those of you that might be Cyberpunk 2077 fans, you might appreciate this story.

Tiffany Crimson is canon...sort of. Very briefly, in the Happy Huntresses' first appearance, Robyn radios a Crimson to stand down. The RWBY Wiki thinks Crimson is a he (and based on Will Scarlet of Robin Hood's Merry Men), but the Happy Huntresses are all implied to be female by their name.

Note that there's some pretty ugly stuff in the latter part of this chapter, with some serious squick. Just a warning-after all, this is something of a noir story...

Rainee Cordovin walked down the streets of Mantle, hands loose at her sides, dressed casually—loose slacks, a black shirt, and a long jacket. Her normally long brown hair was done up in a ponytail, and dyed black—something she hated doing, but there was always the possibility she would be recognized where they were going tonight. She wasn't crazy about this assignment, either. She wanted to be back on the serial killer case. She had just been assigned to Vice two months ago, and this was her chance to prove that she was worthy of the promotion, despite her youth. Mantle's police were shorthanded, and they had been so happy to get a genuine Huntress on the force that promotions came quickly-and maybe undeserved, she thought. Especially to someone who lost her-no, stop that, Rainee, she commanded herself. That wasn't your fault. That was no one's fault. Not Ozpin's, not Oobleck's, and not yours. Just bad luck.

She also felt stupid. For some reason, when she had heard that Marrow Amin of Ace Ops would be joining her as the "military liasion," it had slipped her mind to tell Tiffany Crimson of the Happy Huntresses that Marrow would be joining them. That Ace Ops and the Happy Huntresses cordially despised each other was no particular secret in the Kingdom of Atlas: Ace Ops was seen as Ironwood's overofficious attack dogs by the Huntresses, while the Huntresses were seen as little more than terrorists, barely one notch above the White Fang because Robyn Hill didn't kill people. Rainee knew that wasn't true about the Huntresses, and she suspected it wasn't true about Ace Ops.

Somehow, they were going to have to work together. At least it's just for tonight, she thought. Hopefully Marrow and Tiffany could wait to kill each other until the next morning.

Rainee huddled deeper into her jacket as the shadows lengthened: the sun was out from behind Atlas and going down, and there was a chill in the air that even Aura struggled against. The warmth of the Rude Awakening was welcome. She returned the waitress' greeting and spotted her coworkers. Rainee nearly laughed: they were sitting on a couch, facing away from each other, clearly trying to do their best to ignore the other. Cats and dogs, Rainee thought, and stifled a snicker.

"Hi, folks," she greeted them as she walked up to the couch.

"Hi," Tiffany replied without enthusiasm.

"What's up." Marrow's voice was just as flat.

"Well, this is going to be a fun night, I can see." Rainee folded her arms over her chest. "Look, it's just one night, okay? Try to get along for that long."

"Fine," Tiffany grumped.

"I'm ordered to," Marrow sighed.

"Sounds great!" Rainee said it with purely artificial enthusiasm. Then her smile disappeared faster than a snowball in the Vacuo desert. "Let's go get this over with."

They left the Rude Awakening. Rainee noticed that Tiffany wore her usual black hoodie and light green pants; she carried a skateboard over one shoulder. She looked one of a hundred young people of Mantle, out for the evening away from their parents. Marrow had dropped the uniform as well; he wore a long duster, a shirt that proclaimed in neon letters MANTLE IS FUN and denim jeans. He had kept the ascot. They looked very much like three punks looking for trouble rather than three undercover law enforcement officers—of sorts—who barely knew each other.

Marrow caught up with Rainee. "Hey, sorry about…you know." He motioned his head towards Tiffany, who was still ignoring him. "I talked to the general. He didn't know about her," he whispered.

"I doubt Robyn Hill told him. And there's no point in whispering," Rainee said in a normal voice. "She can hear us."

"Yep," Tiffany grunted, and pulled on one of her ears.

Marrow took a deep breath, turned, and blocked Tiffany. "Look, Miss Crimson, I need to know if you've got my back if stuff goes down tonight. If you're just going to run off or let me get killed, then I'll leave right now and screw my orders."

She stared back at him. "I'm not going to kill you. Robyn wouldn't like it. I wouldn't do that to Ironwood's pet."

"For fuck's sake…" Marrow visibly resisted grabbing her by the front of her hoodie. "Don't say that, please? I got enough of that in the Academy. I've heard all the dog jokes, lady. All of them. My nickname used to be Good Boi Marrow, and I fucking hate it. Now if you're going to call me a godsdamn pet, I'm not only leaving, but I'm going to kick your ass on the way out."

Tiffany's mouth quirked into a smile. "You're nowhere near fast enough to take me."

Marrow was smiling as well. "Don't bet on it."

Tiffany looked past Marrow to Rainee, who was pleading with Tiffany with her eyes. Then she turned away from Marrow. "Okay…fine. I'm sorry I said that. And yeah, I've got your back. You may be one of Ironass' people, but I protect my team, temporary or not. Good enough?"

"Yeah, good enough." Marrow fell in beside her and they began walking again. Rainee shortened her stride so they were now in a row. It was more conspicious, but easier to talk. Marrow nodded at the skateboard. "So is that a gun?"

Tiffany burst into laughter. "Heh, no. It's just a skateboard." She smiled at him, and for the first time, the smile was genuine. "That's right; you know Rainee and me went to Beacon. Everything's a gun there." The smile faltered. "Or it was."

Marrow didn't want to touch on what was obviously a very sore subject. "So, uh…what weapon do you use?" He patted the duster. "Mine's an assault rifle, but it can transform into a boomerang. Pretty cool, huh?"

Tiffany nodded. "Yeah. Does it have a name?"

Marrow almost proudly told them, then remembered the jokes. "Fetch," he finished in a low tone. "Because it always comes back."

Tiffany giggled, which was an extremely annoying sound. "You get pissed at dog jokes, and your weapon is—"

"Never mind." Now Marrow wished he hadn't brought it up.

They walked in silence for a bit, then Tiffany held up the hand not holding the skateboard. "Here's mine." Marrow saw that the ends of her fingers were tipped with steel claws. They were only three inches long, but they looked very sharp. "Not much, right? Not too fancy. I carry the Happy Huntress staff too, but that's too obvious out here, and...well...I kind of suck with it." She clicked the claws together. "But when I get up to full speed, baby…these things are like supersonic razors." Marrow looked confused, so Tiffany explained, "It's my Semblance. Speed. I can run like the wind."

Marrow nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I know someone like that."

"Who? That little shit on Ace Ops?" Tiffany snorted. "I can give her ten seconds and beat her in the flat. I'm the fastest Faunus in the world, baby."

Rainee lifted her feet as she walked. "Oh my, but the bullshit is getting deep." Tiffany stuck out her tongue.

"So what's your weapon, Rainee?" Marrow tried a joke. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

To his surprise, Rainee actually blushed. "Uh, it's a staff." She nonchalantly opened the jacket, and he saw a length of metal attached to her belt, hidden by the coat, no longer than the stunsticks the Atlesian police sometimes used. It must have shown on his face, because Rainee quickly pointed to a switch atop it. "Collapsible. It extends out to about five feet."

"Okay, that's kind of neat," Marrow said. "Does it turn into a gun?"

"Er…no."

"A shield?"

"No."

"A missile?"

"Um, no. It's just a staff." Rainee looked embarrassed now.

Marrow felt a little dumb. He thought all Huntresses had fancy weapons. Tiffany's claws made sense if her Semblance was speed, but a collapsible staff seemed kind of pedestrian. "Does it have a name?"

"Uh…no," Rainee admitted.

Tiffany was smothering more giggles. Marrow wondered if maybe he should name it; maybe Rainee just didn't have a lot of imagination. "So, um, what's your Semblance?"

Rainee opened her mouth to say something, then obviously thought better of it. "There's Grunwald," she said instead.

He was pacing underneath an apothecary sign. Kevin Grunwald was shorter than all of them, even Tiffany, and he wore a suit of fine quality. His hair was slicked back, and, as the light caught it, Marrow was surprised to see streaks of green in it. Grunwald saw them approaching, and put a hand in his suit pocket; it didn't take an experienced soldier or officer to know there was a gun in it. He seemed to relax when he recognized Marrow, then glanced at his watch. "You're late." Marrow looked at the clock set into the apothecary's sign; they were a minute off the meeting time of six o'clock.

"Sorry." Marrow decided maybe he'd better take the lead, since he was the person Grunwald was supposed to give the data file too. Oh shit, Marrow thought, wondering if he was going to have to fight Tiffany for it. She's supposedly along to smooth things over with the locals, who won't cooperate with Atlesian military or Mantle cops, but what if Hill knows about the file? Dammit, he groaned inwardly. I always get the crap jobs. "This is Rainee Cordovin, Mantle Constabulary, and Tiffany Crimson, Happy Huntresses."

"I know. I was informed." He nodded at the two women. "Well, let's get going. It's about ten blocks." Grunwald turned and began walking.

"Meet Mister Personality here," Tiffany said, so quietly that only Marrow heard her.

They turned east, which worried Marrow: from where they were positioned, east would lead them towards the Crater, the vast depression that had once held the largest mine in the kingdom. The closer one got to the Crater, the more run-down Mantle became, the more poor the population was. In the Crater itself was little more than a tent city where the homeless and the desperate congregated. Some areas, Marrow knew, were well-organized by locals, but others were war zones, where even the Atlas military didn't go without Paladin support.

The nature of the city began to change, as the night sky was completely blotted out by Atlas. Well-lit shops gave way to poorly lit ones; pedestrian traffic noticeably thinned. The alleyways were increasingly filled with trash, where people with nowhere to go gathered around the heating grids to stay warm against the encroaching night. The bars here were seedy, the hotels cheap and rented by the hour—and some of those were simply brothels that made no attempt to disguise themselves. He willed himself not to be nervous; at least the three of them didn't stand out here either, though Grunwald certainly did.

Finally, after indeed ten blocks, they stopped in front of a bar. Above the entrance, stained by Dust, was a sign proclaiming the establishment to be the Black Swan, with an appropriate emblem. Grunwald did not look around before he went inside. Marrow held the door open for the ladies. "Last of the gentlemen," Rainee smiled.

The inside was dim. Tables surrounded a central bar, where a wolf Faunus poured drinks. There weren't many patrons, as it was still early. No one looked up when they walked in, and they sat at a table with their backs to the wall, facing the door. A cat Faunus waitress dressed in clothing that was neither morally nor meteorlogically appropriate ambled over. Her bored face brightened when she saw Grunwald. "Hello, Mr. Grunwald! The usual?"

Grunwald gave her a brittle smile. "Yes. My friends will have what they wish; I'll pay."

"I'm good," Marrow said, and the others quickly agreed. The waitress soon returned with a glass of Atlesian lager, plus water for everyone else. While Grunwald drank his beer, the others took one look at the water and declined to sample it. There was something floating on the top, and they couldn't be sure if it was Dust, actual dust, or algae.

"The lager is quite good here, despite appearances," Grunwald informed them.

"Mr. Grunwald," Rainee said, "what time are we supposed to be meeting your contact?"

"7:30. On the dot, Miss Cordovin."

"And what does he look like?" Tiffany added. Grunwald looked at her like she had sprouted horns. "Might not be a bad idea to know so we don't go up to some random guy."

"That is true," Grunwald conceded. "Very well. His name is Alexander Chyorny. I would say he is about six feet, heavyset, black hair and goatee. He knows me and will come straight to our table. It's been prearranged."

And that was the last thing he said for quite awhile. They waited in silence as the minutes ticked by. Marrow tried not to fidget. No one in the bar paid them much attention, and people filed in and out, in various states of inebriation. Marrow, Tiffany and Rainee glanced to each other, back and forth, but despite clearly wanting to, none of them made small talk.

7:30 ticked by, but no one matching Chyorny's description walked through the door. Nor did he at 7:35, or 7:40. At 7:45, Grunwald—who had drank another lager by then, as had Tiffany, who had finally broken down to thirst—finally shot to his feet so fast that his chair turned over. Marrow's hand darted beneath the duster, closing on Fetch, as several of the bar patrons also went for weapons. Grunwald didn't notice: he tossed a handful of lien on the table and stalked out of the door. After a moment, the other three followed him.

Outside, Grunwald was pacing furiously again, and when he saw Marrow, Rainee and Tiffany, he angrily motioned them down an alleyway, which smelled of excrement but was empty. "I'm not waiting for that idiot any longer!" he exclaimed.

"Why don't you yell a little louder?" Tiffany quipped.

He ignored her, fishing into his pocket for a piece of paper. He jammed it into Marrow's hand. "That's Chyorny's address. Go find him, and bring him to me. I don't care if you have to drag him. I have a room at the Borderside Hotel." When they hesitated, he shouted, "Get going! We don't have all night!" With that, he left them, stomping off into the darkness and flagging down one of the few cabs.

"What an asshole," Tiffany commented.

Marrow unfolded the paper. It was an address a few blocks west, which made him feel somewhat better—at least it was no closer to the Crater. "Let's go. Sooner we find this Chyorny guy, the sooner we can ditch Grunwald."

It didn't take them long; they walked briskly, their eyes on each alcove and alleyway. It was cold now, and both Rainee and Marrow sinched their jackets closed. The heating grids kept Mantle relatively warm, but running around without a coat was still not a good idea; Aura helped, but it was still uncomfortable.

The apartment building where Chyorny lived was one of several crowded into a city block—overcrowded and filthy. Inside, they inspected the elevator. "Do we want to try our luck?" Marrow asked them.

"I think I'll take the stairs," Rainee answered.

They went into the stairwell and, suddenly gripped by an urgency they couldn't explain, ran up them two at a time. "Why don't you…use your Semblance?" Marrow puffed to Tiffany.

Tiffany shrugged. "Not good with corners."

They reached the fourth floor—Marrow noted with minor disgust that Tiffany wasn't even breathing hard, while he and Rainee were. Chyorny's apartment was two doors down; it was easy to find because there was music blasting from it, something that sounded like Valian thrashrock. The whole hallway resounded with the noise, as the other occupants had decided to simply turn up their music to override Chyorny's. Tiffany had doffed the hood of her jacket, and her ears lay back against her hair as she winced. The bass was doing Marrow no good either.

"Something doesn't feel right!" Rainee shouted.

"Yeah, I know! Stack up," Marrow said, hoping the two women had gotten breaching training at Beacon. They went to either side of the door. Rainee took off her jacket and unhooked the collapsible staff; Tiffany readied her claws. Marrow undid the duster's buttons and kept one hand on Fetch. He knocked on the door, staying to one side. "Mr. Chyorny?" he called out. "Mr. Chyorny! Mr. Chyorny, Mantle Constabulary!" He had to yell over the music, and there was no answer, though Marrow half expected a shotgun blast through the door.

Tiffany reached out and tried the knob. "Locked!"

"I got it!" Rainee set the staff down and reached into her pants pocket, pulling out her keys. Attached was a professional lockpick set, and Rainee went to work.

"Just use your damn Semblance!" Tiffany yelled at her. That earned her a cold glance from Rainee, and it quickly became a moot issue, as the lock clicked open. Rainee fell backwards, clearing the way as Marrow kicked it in, then crouched, sweeping the apartment and the corners.

It was a small place, what Marrow had heard called a "shotgun apartment," as a shotgun could be fired from the far end where a window was and still hit the door. Bathroom, kitchen and bedroom led off from the central corridor. Marrow moved into the hallway, Fetch up at his shoulder as he swept the corridor. He spotted movement, just a glimpse from the open window at the far end. There were two shoes, or boots—he couldn't be sure—and a rope. The boots were gone before he could do anything.

Tiffany was a different story. "Stop, dammit!" She dashed forward in a blur, so fast that the shockwave of her passing knocked Marrow off his feet and rattled pictures off of Chyorny's walls. She dived out of the window to grab the rope. The rope was no longer there, drawn up quickly by whoever had climbed it. Tiffany's hands closed on open air. "Oh, shit!" she shrieked. It was four floors down into a central courtyard made of concrete, which even Aura might not compensate for.

Marrow had dropped Fetch in surprise. He saw Tiffany begin to fall, and shot a finger forward. "STAY!" he shouted. Instantly, Tiffany froze in midair and upside down, looking rather surprised, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff of the neck. Rainee stepped into the apartment, her mouth open in shock at his Semblance. "Grab her, dammit!" Marrow snapped at her. She ran forward, took Tiffany by the arms, and hauled her back in through the window. Marrow relaxed, and Tiffany fell to the floor. "Ow."

He got up and pulled the door shut behind them. Rainee pulled Tiffany to unsteady feet. "Dumbass!"

"Sorry! I wasn't thinking!"

Rainee looked past her. "Oh shit." Then she entered the bedroom. Marrow did a quick check of the bathroom and kitchen—they were empty—and followed her in after Tiffany. The other Faunus spotted the stereo and switched it off, finally ending the earsplitting music. That was actually less important than what confronted them on the bed.

It was Alexander Chyorny; he matched Grunwald's description exactly. He was also naked, spreadeagled on the mattress, his wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts with leather straps, a ball gag in his mouth. At first, Marrow thought he was lying on red silk sheets, then saw that it wasn't silk at all, but blood. More had pooled on the carpeted floor. "Gods," he breathed.

"Fuck!" Tiffany exclaimed. Then she saw the wounds. "Oh…fuck…" She put a hand over her mouth, shoved Marrow to one side, and headed for the bathroom. He heard her vomiting.

Marrow considered himself fairly hard-core; he had seen some truly horrible wounds from Grimm. A closer look at Chyorny's body, however, and he was tempted to go join Tiffany. "Who would do something like this?" he asked Rainee, who alone didn't seem affected by the body, but he suspected she had seen worse with Mantle Vice. Then again, he thought, maybe not. He couldn't think of much worse than this.

"Don't touch anything," she warned. She quickly fished into her back pocket and pulled out two pairs of plastic gloves. "Here." Marrow set Fetch down and pulled the gloves on.

"This poor bastard was tortured," Marrow observed.

Rainee carefully examined the wounds. It was obvious what had killed him: there was a single circular stab wound to the chest, through the heart; blood had bubbled out of the wound, pushed out by the last beats of the man's heart. That was actually the easiest wound to look at. There were smaller wounds of the same shape, but more shallow, to the elbows, wrists, ends of fingers—Marrow noted in passing that the thumbnails on both hands had been pulled upwards, halfway detached. There were more in the ankles and knees, and he resisted the urge to cross his legs as he saw the ones through both testicles and the head of the penis. None of those wounds were fatal, but he had a feeling that Chyorny would have wished they were. It was methodical, done by a professional, someone who found the body's pressure points for maximum effectiveness-though Marrow thought that anyone who could do this was probably also a professional psychopath. Chyorny's wrists and ankles were rubbed raw where they weren't stabbed, indicating that he had tried to get loose in horrible pain.

"Bruising around the eyes," Rainee observed. "Someone pressed on them, hard." Marrow looked. Chyorny looked back, but the eyes were dull, unseeing, and very red. Driven by an impulse as old as time, he reached out and closed the eyes. Rainee glanced up at him, but didn't comment on his action. "Somebody took their time with him." She motioned at the room. "Look around. Whoever it was, they were after something."

"The file," Marrow said, and turned away from the body. Tiffany walked in, wiping her mouth with a wad of toilet paper. She saw what Marrow was doing and that he was wearing gloves, so she pulled out a pair of black leather ones and tugged them on.

The room had been trashed: they had been too distracted by Chyorny's brutalized corpse that they hadn't really noticed. Drawers had been pulled from a small nightstand and a dresser and smashed open; clothes were strewn everywhere. Rainee was looking at the dead man's fingernails. "No defensive wounds. He didn't put up a fight. They put the ball gag in, and that was when they started." She looked at the stereo. "Turned the music up just in case someone heard him."

"Doesn't that mean he knew who was torturing him?" Tiffany asked.

"Maybe." Rainee checked the knots on the rope. "But that also means he let them tie him up."

"Was going for some hot bondage sex and got tortured instead." Tiffany looked up and found herself with a direct eyeline to what was left of Chyorny's genitals. She quickly turned away, rubbing her stomach.

Marrow turned over one of the drawers. All of them had been smashed open. There was a bootprint on one of them. "Rainee, come look at this." She left the body and bent over. "Atlesian military issue." He lifted one foot. "Same pattern as mine, but bigger."

"Doesn't mean much…you can get Atlesian surplus pretty much anywhere," Tiffany observed. She lay down and wiggled under the bed.

Marrow straightened up and walked over to the nightstand as Rainee pulled out her Scroll and started taking pictures. They had found nothing that looked like a data chip or a jump drive, something that a file would be stored on. Maybe whoever tortured that poor guy already has it. Shit. Somehow losing something that valuable was less important than someone being horribly killed for it.

He remembered something and walked back through the hallway to the kitchen. It was undisturbed, though he noticed that there was a dinner still in the microwave; Marrow also noticed that it was tidy and clean. He opened the cabinets and pulled food boxes out. "Aha," he grinned. Behind a stack of cereal boxes was a long, thin book marked LEDGER. "Always the last place you look." He grabbed it, flipped it open, and went back to the bedroom. "Look what I found. These guys never searched the kitchen."

"I found something too!" Tiffany squirmed out from under the bed and held up an appointment book. "Maybe it fell under the bed. Wanna go first, Marrow?"

"Don't mind if I do." They gathered around as he flipped open the ledger. The payments were recorded in a precise hand, using a pen. They quickly searched through the names, but only two were consistent: Gordon and Amariyu. On the third to last page, Amariyu disappeared, and Kevin started showing up with regularity. "Kevin?" Marrow asked. "Maybe Grunwald." The payments were not substantial to any of Chyorny's list, but they were consistent: he had been paying people regularly, and being paid regularly in response.

"My turn," Tiffany said, and opened her book. All of the pages prior to that week had been ripped out. For the day before, there was a single note: 8:00-?/GORD/BS/9000. That matched the last entry in the ledger, a payment to Gordon for nine thousand lien-the largest payment by far. Next to it was printed, again in Chyorny's precise writing: "Cancelled-reschedule." For the current day, there were two entries: 6:00-7:00 TERRI/PERSONAL and 7:30-8:00/KG/BS/FILE.

"I guess we can figure out what Terri was—Chyorny's sexy fun time. Except Terri wasn't Terri. The second one, that's us," Rainee noted. "BS must be the Black Swan—KG is Kevin Grunwald." She pointed to the entry. "And the file."

"So he had it," Marrow sighed. "And whoever did this got to it first."

"Guys." Tiffany pointed to a bloodstained fingerprint on the page—just a fraction of one, but it was there. The blood was still fresh. "Whoever killed Chyorny probably saw this."

"They couldn't have seen us at the bar," Rainee said. "They were here, torturing Chyorny."

"No, but what if Chyorny didn't have the file?" Marrow pointed at the body. "Look, speaking as a guy, someone puts something through my branch and berries and I'll tell them shit I don't even know. Unless they just hung around and tortured him for kicks, and it looks like whoever did this was a pro...he would've told them pretty damn fast where that file was-if it was here. What if it isn't?"

"He's got a point," Tiffany said. "Whoever that was that I tried to jump, they were just leaving when we came through the door." Her brows furrowed. "Who wears white boots to torture someone? You'd get blood all over them."

Rainee quickly looked over the body, and put her fingers on the fatal wound. "More ragged than the others, much deeper. This was done deliberately, but hastily. They probably stabbed him when they heard us at the door."

"Hey, you almost sound like a cop!" Tiffany grinned.

"Not the time," Rainee shot back.

"I either start joking or I start puking again." Tiffany turned away from the body.

"Ladies, I hate to break this up, but if he didn't give up the file and whoever killed him saw this book, then I imagine they figured out who KG is. And if they know who Grunwald is—"

"—there's a damn good chance they know where he's staying." Rainee pointed towards the door. "I'll call this in on the way. We've got to get to the Borderside before Grunwald ends up like this."

AUTHOR'S ADDITIONAL NOTES: Better get a move on, people.

Anyone who has read my old Battletech stuff knows that I like putting staff-wielding heroines in my stories. It may also be obvious by now that Tiffany Crimson is a bit of an expy and combination of Tiffany Gia and Brittany Diggers from the Gold Digger comic. As a huge fan of Fred Perry's work, I've always been curious how the Gold Digger cast would fare on Remnant. (If you've never read the series, give it a chance, especially the earlier volumes, before the main characters got very powerful. It was a combination of Indiana Jones, Tomb Raider, Harry Potter, and Thundercats.)

I also wasn't sure if Marrow's Semblance defies gravity, but since he's able to freeze Grimm in midair, we'll assume that's how it works. We knew his Semblance, and now we know Tif's...but what is Rainee's, and why is she so secretive about it? Read on...