Chapter status: MOSTLY REVAMPED. My writer friend will maybe give it a look eventually, but for now there are several additions and fixes. It's not *too* different from the OG, but I think you guys will like the changes that *are* there.
NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE BRAND NEW CONTENT. I've decided to push back Blake's POV chapter to chapter 9 instead.
Anyway, enjoy!
Blake messaged Yang late that same evening, just as the blonde was entering her room to put on her pajamas. And all Blake said was:
Blake: Midnight on the roof of the Historic Library.
Blake: Tonight. I'll leave the back stairwell open for you.
This left Yang scrambling to get Pyrrha out of bed so that they could start planning their method of operation without alerting Ruby and Sun. There were less than two hours to come up with a semi-functional plan, and they had to keep in mind that this would be entirely on Nightshade's turf. If anything, it was possible this was a trap on Nightshade's part, and they had to be prepared for that.
So, Pyrrha hurriedly got dressed, and then the duo huddled around the kitchen table with a 3D map projecting from Pyrrha's scroll in front of them. Using this, they surveyed the area around the rendezvous point. The library wasn't the tallest building in Vale, but its location on a hill did give it some extra height. Behind it, though, was a much taller office building, and this is where Pyrrha decided she would set herself up with a sniper and high-caliber UV-C rounds. She would be able to keep an eye on Yang from her vantage point, and if it came down to it, she was strategically placed to quickly join her partner.
Now they just had to hope Pyrrha's position wouldn't be obvious to the ancient, and if they were being extra optimistic, that Nightshade wouldn't even doubt Yang being alone. To be extra safe, Pyrrha wouldn't even talk to Yang through their wires, only listen.
What are the chances Blake already knows I've involved Pyrrha, though?
…High. The chances were very high.
They agreed Pyrrha wouldn't shoot Blake the moment the opportunity presented itself, but Yang still worried. Pyrrha's sense of duty might end up making her pull the trigger anyway. On the other hand, Yang also knew her partner was fully aware that acting outside of the parameters of their plan could put Yang in even more danger. This was going to be a test of trust between them, and after Yang keeping secrets from Pyrrha – and still doing it, to some extent – this could end up not going the way she would have liked.
"We need a signal," Pyrrha said, closing the 3D projection and putting her scroll in her pocket. "Something that will tell me you think you're in danger and I should intervene."
Yang sighed and stared up at the ceiling, hoping it would magically bestow an answer upon her. Spoiler alert: It didn't. "Uhh, I dunno, I'll, uh…scratch the back of my head for four seconds?"
Pyrrha gave Yang a bit of a quizzical look. "Weirdly specific. Why four seconds?"
Yang shrugged. "Three seconds is too short, could be a false alarm, and five seconds is too long. I'd have time to die."
"…Okay, then. That works. If I see you scratch the back of your head for exactly four seconds, I'll know you need help."
They fetched the sniper from the extra room they were using as storage for their gear and started ensuring everything was in working order – weapons, wires, scrolls, surveillance grids. It took longer than usual because they had to be quiet. Ruby and Sun didn't know the full story about all of this, and implicating them could complicate the already precarious situation.
Once everything was ready, Pyrrha turned to Yang and put her hand on her shoulder. Eyebrows creased, mouths firmed – the look they shared spoke of all the work they had done together in the past, and a warning of what was to come next. But Pyrrha only said, "Don't be reckless, Yang. That's all I ask."
Yang nodded and gave a bit of a tight smile. "Me? Reckless? Never." And after a short pause, she added sincerely, "You be safe, too, Pyrr."
"I always am." She then grabbed her gear and left the duplex.
She had to arrive before Yang since she needed to set up before the rendezvous. It was the first time they were separating, however briefly, since that first step into their investigation shortly after their arrival in Vale, and it made Yang nervous. If something happened to Pyrrha, Yang could never forgive herself. In any case, if Pyrrha suddenly needed help, she could use their wires to communicate. Yang would just have to hope she could get there fast enough.
She couldn't help but pace back and forth while she waited for the ten-minute head-start to finish. If there was one thing Yang was bad at, it was waiting. But she shouldn't have been anxious about this. Blake wasn't planning on killing her. That wasn't what this was about. And, so, if Blake wasn't a threat – at least, not right now – then Pyrrha would have no reason to intervene. Everything would be fine.
…Right?
After climbing ten, long flights of stairs, Yang finally reached the top of the stairwell and stopped at the metal door. She took a calming breath in – not quite out of breath, but reaching that point. It was a lot of stairs, even for an enforcer. She double-checked that her wire was properly activated and hidden, and rolled her shoulders a few times, trying to psych herself up. She turned the handle.
When Yang stepped out onto the roof, the first thing that hit her was the wind. It wasn't so gusty that it was annoying, but it did make her worry about the clarity of audio Pyrrha would get if Yang's head was angled in the wrong direction. She didn't know how she would go about mitigating that, either, especially without looking suspicious.
Yang's eyes were drawn ahead, towards the edge of the roof. In the light of the almost-full moon, Blake was casually leaning on the low concrete wall, looking out to the city. Gone was her sunhat, and her cat ears were standing tall, occasionally twitching, one of them angled back a bit, catching Yang's arrival. Blake was still wearing the same outfit she'd been wearing earlier that day, and Yang suffered from resisting the urge to appreciate those sinful curves from afar.
Not why you're here, moron. This isn't actually a date.
Yang shook her head at herself, barely containing a scowl, too, and then walked forward until she was standing at a respectable distance beside Blake, just close enough for Yang's bracer to warm. She couldn't help admiring the view of Vale that demanded attention at the ledge like this. The city lights expanded all the way to the cliffs in the distance to the right, and the moonlight reflected on the ocean further off towards the left. If she squinted, she could see the island of Patch, and her heart squeezed itself in her chest. She looked away, noting the few skyscrapers cutting themselves out from the background, adding to the reality of two women on a roof somewhere being quite insignificant compared to the city.
"I didn't think you'd show up," Blake broke the relative silence, and Yang looked at her. She was still gazing outwards, forearms leaning on the stone parapet with her fingers loosely interlaced, the wind playing with strands of her raven hair.
"Yeah, well…I figured your presence and flirting were too weird to ignore."
"Am I that rusty? Shame, they seemed to have been doing wonders to your heart."
Yang felt the blush trying to creep up her face and valiantly tried to fight it down, but to no avail. Blake definitely sounded like she was back to her more subdued self, there was no reason to get so worked up. On top of that, Yang still wasn't sure if Blake was feigning interest in order to manipulate her, or if her flirting was genuine. In either case, whatever was happening to Yang's heart was wildly not okay. "So, you do actually like women, then."
A noncommittal shrug of Blake's shoulders, still not looking at Yang. "Doesn't matter to me." But then, for some reason, the corner of her lips that Yang could see twitched upwards. "You, on the other hand…" and Blake did glance at her, finally, looking highly amused, "are down for an evening of fun and a one-night stand, hm?"
I am going to kill Sun. Yang's blush deepened, as did her frown. "I don't want to talk about it."
Blake's expression became a full grin, and Yang swore she felt her heart stutter. With the sunhat and shades Blake had been wearing earlier that day, Yang hadn't registered just how captivating the faunus' smile was. She'd noticed the two outer incisors were angled forward and tilted towards the inner incisors slightly, of course, and she'd noticed the canines were naturally like a mini pair of fangs – not a straightset of teeth by conventional standards, but absolutely beautiful and perfect anyway – and the reality was that Blake's smile lit up her entire face in a way Yang hadn't expected, playful and teasing and maybe even affectionate all at once –
Gods, shut up, Yang. Maybe just ask her to marry you or something. Ugh.
To switch the pressure around, she opened her mouth with the intention of demanding why Blake hadn't just texted in the first place, but then Yang remembered Pyrrha was listening…and there were still things Yang hadn't told her partner – for example, Blake already having Yang's contact information by that point. So, instead, trying to hide her flustered state, she accused, "You could have found a better way to contact me."
Blake faced Yang. The hilarity slowly left her expression, replaced with skepticism. "I know it's easy to blame the bloodsucker for everything, but don't lie to yourself. You know I couldn't care less if your enforcer friends know who I am. You're the one who cares. You decided to keep quiet."
"Oh, sure, but you didn't exactly say anything, either, Miss Put a Bullet in My Head."
It was the kind of comment that would have warranted a slap, probably, and Yang regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth. But instead of taking the bait, Blake only nodded a bit, like Yang was somehow making a lot of sense. "No, you're right. I should have showed up looking like a screeching gargoyle trying to kill you and everyone you care about. I don't know what I was thinking, being so civilized." Her sudden glare alone made Yang's windpipe close up, and then her tone slowing into a deliberate warning made it impossible to swallow, too. "I'll make sure I don't cause you any guilt next time by being exactly what you expect me, want me, to be."
Yang stayed silent, turned away, seething while nursing that critical hit. Blake didn't mince her words or bother arguing about semantics – she struck the problem at its heart. And if Pyrrha had heard that, she was probably agreeing hard with Blake against her better wishes, too. And they were both right.
There was nothing Yang could say in her defense. She'd been stupid and insensitive trying to keep her secrets, and she'd been alive too long to be shifting the blame like she had. So, Yang looked down, stepped over her pride, and murmured, "…I'm sorry."
Blake sighed, and the intensity in her bright irises lost its defiance. She just seemed sad and regretful again, and Yang instantly wished she wasn't so talented at putting the entirety of her own foot in her mouth – and then somehow shoving the second one in after it.
"Apology accepted. I'm sorry, too." Blake leaned on the parapet again, tension leaving her stance. "If it means anything, I have no intention of putting the knowledge of your names to any kind of use or telling other vampires."
Yang glanced up, surprised, and saw that Blake's tight, wry smile very much conveyed she knew exactly why Yang had lashed out. It was becoming more than clear that this ancient vampire's bullshit radar was off the charts – and that she would tolerate zero of it.
In the same line of thought, she'd responded rather kindly to Yang's apology instead of putting it back in her face or outright attacking, and that encouraged the blonde to pursue this more candid approach – both with Blake and with herself. She took a breath and said, "Well, thanks for the reassurance. I do gotta admit part of my panic was –"
"Gay?"
"Huh?" But then a blush swept up Yang's face that fast. "Uh." And before she could stop it, before she even knew what she was doing, a genuinely surprised laugh came out of her. She slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes widening.
Blake grinned.
Holy shit. Pyrrha's gonna shoot me. Yang didn't even know what she was supposed to say to that. Didn't even remember what she'd been about to say in the first place, either.
"You make it so easy," Blake murmured, far smugger than she had any right to be. "But I'll give your heart a break. Here, I have something for you." She turned away, apparently getting something from on top of the parapet on her other side. She faced Yang again and extended a container with a fork towards the enforcer.
Yang swallowed hard and did her best to regain her composure. She still felt heat on her cheeks, but she stared at the container suspiciously. "What is that?"
"Something I used to eat before I became a vampire. I finally had an excuse to make it."
Yang hesitated, but then accepted the container. She took the fork and opened the lid, revealing a perfectly normal looking meal composed of a salad and a…large dumpling of sorts beside it. It smelled nice. Something you used to eat three-thousand years ago, huh?
What a turn this encounter was taking.
"It's okay if you don't like it. I think I got the recipe right, though."
"Did you poison this?"
Blake rolled her eyes. "Why would I poison my food?"
Yang almost pointed out what would have been the obvious, but then she remembered she was Blake's food. And it was imperative she didn't accidentally reveal the truth to Pyrrha. So, instead, Yang made a face and changed the subject. "What's with all this, anyway? I thought you had something urgent to tell me."
"I asked you out on a date, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but I had assumed this wasn't actually a date." She sliced a piece of the dumpling-thing off with her fork and cautiously tried it, aware of the weight of gold eyes watching her. It tasted like it was a mix of fish, chicken, veggies, and spices, but Yang couldn't figure out what those spices or veggies were – and she was usually pretty good at pinpointing those. The fried dough really lifted the flavors, though, and Yang's eyebrows rose in appreciation. "Thank you for the homemade food. It's really good."
Blake seemed pleased, eyes like little shimmering mirrors reflecting the city lights in the dark as she observed Yang for a moment. She gestured slightly at their surroundings, saying in a soft tone, "I figured this beat a dilapidated warehouse."
Great. How am I gonna explain that one to Pyrrha? Unless she could play it off as a 'creepy vampire joke, ha-ha funny.' Maybe Pyrrha had already taken it as that. Hopefully. Yang took another bite of her food, partially sitting on the parapet and crossing her ankles as she leaned. "Well, can't say you're wrong. If this was a date, it wouldn't have been half bad."
Even if Yang had meant it as a bit of a joke, Blake's expression fell, as did her gaze. She looked strangely conflicted. "…I suppose I can see why you'd assume I was being deceitful." And then she was quiet.
There was an itch to prompt Blake for an explanation, an itch that Yang really wanted to scratch because it bothered her seeing even the hints of how far that immortal anguish ran, and there was a dumb part of Yang that thought that maybe, just maybe, she could help…but then Yang remembered Pyrrha. Again. Remembered literally the whole situation right now. How all of it was wrong. How Blake couldn't be trusted. How there were lives to save. Murderers to find.
And how hurt Yang would get if she continued being so naively reeled into Blake's sweet, dark nothings.
It was better not to even give her the chance to say them at all.
Because maybe deceitful was exactly what she was being.
So, Yang firmed her expression and her tone, and veered the subject towards the matter at hand. "Then prove to me you're not. Stop ignoring the point of why we're here and trying to distract me with flirting and gifts. Give me something to work with."
There was a pause. A little as if Blake had been slapped and needed a brief moment to recover – except there was no way she could've been hurt by that. But then she broke eye-contact and returned her gaze out towards Vale. She passed her hand through her hair, cat ears leaning back as she untangled the mess the wind had caused. She was stunning. And utterly forlorn. But her next words brought reality into laser focus. "I found your culprits."
Yang nearly choked in her attempt to swallow. "You – but wh – I…" Too many questions tried to come out at once, causing some kind of verbal stroke. She took a deep breath in to get her thoughts organized, and saw Blake look at her from the corner of her eye, heart-shaped lips curving into the hint of a smile.
"Take your time," she murmured, teasing gently.
It is not fair how beautiful this vampire is. Not fair at all.
Yang slowly exhaled. She couldn't be so distracted. Pyrrha was literally watching. So, finally, she managed, "Why did you go looking for them, anyway?"
"Because you're here."
The gears turned in Yang's head…and just kept turning without anything sensible clicking into place. "…Okay, and?"
Blake arched an eyebrow, any amusement she might've felt earlier now gone completely and replaced with a challenge. "I think you know."
It took all of Yang's willpower not to glance in the general direction of Pyrrha's location. She couldn't give Pyrrha away to Blake, and she couldn't give Blake away to Pyrrha – and still, why those two things mattered at all was beyond her. The only thing Yang could do was stay quiet, staring at the ancient, issuing a challenge of her own with her eyes. Maybe she did know, maybe she didn't. Maybe it wasn't safe to talk about now. Whatever the case, Yang knew that her hot-and-cold behavior was chipping away at Blake's patience by her good humor diminishing.
Blake crossed her arms and mirrored Yang's stance against the parapet, leaning back on it. "Their crimes brought enforcers to Vale. That's…annoying to me."
Oh, this is going to turn into an argument. Yang put the container down for a moment before she retorted, "No, what's annoying is you asked me to come here to tell me something supposedly urgent, and instead it feels like you actually thought we could just have a good time. There are people dying out there because of your kind."
And it was then that any casual ease Blake might've had vanished – and with it, any pretense of this having been a friendly encounter to begin with. "I see." The air darkened around her, and she stopped leaning on the low wall, her stance tensing as she uncrossed her arms and shifted her weight – the change was imperceptible, but everything about her body now radiated the coiled power of a predator. Gold irises flashed like lightning, and Yang was suddenly very much aware of who, exactly, was standing there before her, especially when her bracer warmed up uncomfortably. "If this is who you insist on wanting to deal with, then here I am, Operative Ember – Nightshade –" she bowed then, deliberate, one arm behind her back and the other extended to the side, but kept those dangerous glowing eyes staring right at Yang, "– at your service."
Yang swallowed hard. This wasn't what she had meant to draw out. But her and her stupid mouth couldn't say things right…or say the right things, either. Was it time to signal Pyrrha? But despite the hammering of her heart, Yang scowled. "Just tell me where they are and we can get this done and over with."
Nightshade slowly returned to her full height, expression stony and cold. "No."
No? Yang's eyes widened in disbelief. Okay, hello, so why tell me you found them? If anything, this switch in demeanor confirmed what Yang had already suspected – beyond her patience running out, Nightshade didn't actually have any interest in her. And with this realization came anger, anger for being such a fool, and anger because it was now obvious any previous kindness had, in fact, been the ancient vampire taking pity on her poor, weak source of food. Yang squared her shoulders and glared back, trying to recover even an ounce of her pride. "Why not?"
"Because I was going to take care of this," Nightshade hissed, stepping right up into Yang's space and forcing her to back down, and her bracer momentarily spiked with heat. "You're dealing with a coven of six and another ancient. You're going to die."
Yang threw her hands up in frustration. "Then what's the point of telling me anything, then, huh?!"
Nightshade observed Yang, then, furious yet calculating, and Yang couldn't help but shift her weight uncomfortably as she reassessed the situation. The ground under Nightshade's feet was so much darker, and shadowy wisps curled and floated from her shoulders and raven hair like black fire. It was still so terrifying, having never witnessed such visible power, and yet it was only a tiny hint of what this creature could do. Yang took an anxious step back.
Pyrrha is going to end up shooting her without waiting for my signal at this rate.
And maybe she'd be right to do so. Clearly, Yang's sense of self-preservation was dysfunctional.
Finally, Nightshade spoke. "You need to leave Vale. I refuse for you to be anywhere near here if it comes down to a fight. This is my warning."
Yang opened her mouth, ready to retort, but she closed it again and put her hands on her hips while she began pacing. She was fuming. There was only one reason left why Nightshade would care to warn Yang and have her leave Vale in these circumstances – because if Yang died, then that guaranteed Nightshade would eventually become an even more horrible monster.
Because there was no one else they knew who had blood like Yang's. Nightshade would have no way to feed if Yang died.
But Yang couldn't talk about that, not with Pyrrha listening.
…What if I ever so very discreetly fling my wire over the ledge?
She stopped pacing and faced Nightshade. "I can't leave Vale. I won't desert my teammates – so you can tell me where the coven is, or don't, but one way or another, we're going after them. Me included." She paused, mind racing, and when Nightshade said nothing, Yang added, "The ancient can control fire, right? That's no big deal anyway. We'll be ready."
"I don't think you understand." Nightshade took a step closer again, the foreboding heavy in her tone. "He is not the ancient. That vampire isn't even a century old. But he has this power because another, mucholder vampire gave it to him. The fire is the least of your concerns."
"…What?" Yang couldn't believe what she was hearing. A vampire capable of giving power to others? "How…how do you know that?"
"Because a vampire older than me gave me a power once."
"I don't… But how? That's…impossible."
"And yet, here we are. It isn't without a bit of sacrifice – we both end up with a weaker form of the ability afterwards. But it can be done." She crossed her arms, arched her eyebrows. "Although, I suppose if the original power is strong, the weaker variant won't seem that weak."
Oh. We're so fucked. It wasn't enough for ancient vampires to be powerful, apparently – they could share their abilities among themselves, too, in some capacity. It was becoming clear that Aurora didn't deal with ancients enough because the information they possessed on them was sorely lacking. Had they known about this, Yang was sure their tactics would be different. There was just no way a group of six enforcers would ever be able to take down Nightshade, who wasn't even aggressive towards them (at least…not quite yet) let alone a different ancient vampire who would actively be trying to harm them.
"So, then…are you saying…that this ancient is even older than you?"
Nightshade let her fury simmer, the tension and manifestations of her power receding, including the pressure on Yang's bracer. It didn't make her any less intimidating, though, and Yang kept her eyes on her warily. "They could very well be."
"But what about you? What if you die?" As soon as the question was out of her mouth, Yang knew how stupid it was. But she'd spoken without even realizing what she was saying. More than likely, Nightshade hoped to die. And why should Yang care? If anything, Nightshade's death would fix almost all of Yang's current problems.
But the question made gold irises lock with lilac, intense and searching. "So what if I die, Yang?" she murmured, and the blonde swallowed hard. Nightshade could just decide to control her at will, knowing her name like that – to hell if she'd said she had no intention of doing it. She could just force her to leave Vale if it came down to it – and why she was even bothering to warn Yang if she could do just that anyway was beyond the enforcer. "Why does that matter to you?"
Yang clenched her teeth. That was exactly what she had been asking herself. And she still couldn't answer that question, not honestly. But she did say, "It matters because the city of Vale apparently needs you around to keep vampires in check, and without your help to apprehend or take down this other ancient, then you said it yourself – we're going to get ourselves killed." There, maybe using a bit of Nightshade's own logic against her would finally get them somewhere.
Nightshade was silent. And the longer she said nothing, just contemplating Yang with those gorgeous, damning eyes, the more Yang wanted to squirm in her own skin.
No relief from her misery came, though, because a scroll started vibrating. Who the fuck is calling after midnight? Frustrated, her hand went to her pocket, only to realize it wasn't her. Nightshade clenched her jaw and whipped out her own scroll, turning away from Yang and putting some distance between them for privacy.
"Mimic…hello. Now isn't a great time. I'm sorry."
…A vampire. A vampire calls after midnight.
It sounded like an unoriginal punchline to a joke.
Normally, Yang could hear things better than the average person thanks to her enhancements, but it was difficult to make out what the other woman on the line said because she spoke rather softly, and the wind wasn't helping. Whatever she said, though, was bad enough that it made Nightshade's shoulders visibly deflate. "We'll meet later and I'll tell you everything. I'm sorry, there's been a lot to do. I'll send you the time and place." A pause. "I won't. Goodnight, Mimic."
Nightshade put her scroll back into her pocket. She didn't turn to face Yang right away, and the blonde hoped Pyrrha wouldn't take advantage of the distraction to shoot. If there had ever been a time to do it, after all, it seemed to be now. Eventually, though, the vampire pivoted and laid her eyes on Yang without anything horrible happening – like her brains being blown out or something. It was as if all the fight had left her, replaced with that sheer exhaustion Yang had gotten the slightest glimpse of the fateful night of their first meeting. Nightshade took a single step closer, and her hand touched Yang's arm. "Why won't you listen to me?" she asked, quiet and tired.
There was that sadness again, too, creeping into the relaxing of her shoulders, the gaze breaking from Yang's and wandering to stare at the outline of Vale's city lights in the dark, like she was giving up, resigned to the consequences that were to come. It didn't look like she was faking or purposely trying to make Yang feel guilty – which made it so much worse for Yang to stand her ground.
She remembered they were supposed to be arguing, but she couldn't really stay angry like this, either. And she couldn't leave that question hanging. So, pretending there weren't more things she wanted to ask based on the call Nightshade had taken, she said, "Because I can't just not do my job…Blake." It was an offering at compromise, a show of not wanting to fight anymore, and Nightshade's eyes found Yang's again. Yang almost believed the care reflected back at her. "I'm not gonna pretend to be the most effective enforcerout there – I know I care too much, I hesitate when I shouldn't, and my partner has to make up for my failures. But I'm not going to abandon her when she needs me under fire. We've both made sacrifices to better protect the world from you monsters." Upon seeing the guilt and hurt flash in Blake's irises, Yang took a calming breath in and closed her eyes for a moment. She hadn't meant to say that…at least, not like that. "We can't go back to being normal people, Blake. Not anymore than you can."
"I gave up on that a long, long time ago," Blake muttered, but then she was quiet. She crossed her arms, but it only made her look like she was trying to hold herself together instead of angry. Far more vulnerable than any creature with such terrible powers should have seemed. It made Yang want to do...something, anything to comfort her, but there was no logical excuse behind the feelings and so nothing happened. Blake turned away from Yang, and the enforcer feared the vampire would leave soon. She didn't know why that made her sad. She shouldn't have been feeling that way.
In an attempt to have her stick around for longer, Yang decided to ask – gently, understanding that it was a difficult subject, "Why can't you try to make up for the things you've done? Isn't that why you've been keeping things under control in Vale?"
Blake turned her head, just enough for Yang to trace the outlines of that soft nose and those rich-ridged lips over the faunus' shoulder, pale skin glowing faintly against the darker background of the city. The wind rustled their clothes, pulled at their hair, and then…died. There was a stillness, an impossible lack of sound, the whole of Vale holding its breath. Then Blake's voice cut through the night, low, shards of ice and bottomless black ocean filling the ravine between them. "Some were children," she whispered. "Sons and daughters orphaned in the span of a single night. Infants left alone, crying helpless in their cribs. Mothers. Fathers. Brothers and sisters. Entire villages bled of their residents, neighbors burning pyres of exsanguinated flesh and bones in my wake to avoid disease. And not one could ever stop me. I don't even have the decency to remember their faces."
And Yang –
Gods above.
She couldn't speak.
Could barely breathe.
Blake slowly faced Yang again. Her eyes were dull, cat ears flat against her head. The wind had started picking up again, and she almost seemed to blend into the darkness of night, ready to be swept away in it, ready to disappear entirely. "I cannot reach redemption. I cannot try." She smiled, small, defeated, and there was one-thousand-two-hundred years of slaughter etched in every plain and valley of her face. Ruinous. Beauty hiding fatal, impossible destruction. Ancient. "What would those ghosts say, I wonder, if I claimed to deserve that chance?" And then she stepped closer, close enough that her fingertips touched Yang's jaw. Blake's voice became a murmur as she finished, "What would you say, if I had taken everything from you?"
The ground was crumbling beneath Yang all over again. Her breath came shallow, her eyes widened, and her heart was racing, racing, racing. "But it wasn't you," she hissed, and she searched Blake's expression, desperately hoping for clarity. Even Blake had said she hadn't killed any mortals in over a millennium. It couldn't be. Yang balled her fists, turned away from Blake's hand. "It was a man. I remember. It wasn't you."
Blake creased her eyebrows. Her irises flicked back and forth, just as shocked and confused as Yang – for some reason. But then understanding or realization or something came to her, and she stepped back. Let out a bitter huff, barely a laugh. "No, it wasn't me. Not with regards to you. But you know what it's like. Stars, I'm sorry you know what it's like. Nobody deserves that."
She sounded so genuine. So torn. Devastated on Yang's behalf now that she knew the enforcer had experienced some form of loss because of vampires.
And yet there were the deaths. The cold savagery.
Yang's mind was still reeling. She clenched her jaw, something like anger tightening all her muscles. Mom! Dad! …Ruby – Ruby, no, don't look, no, no, no, stay outside, I – Mom? Mom? …Dad?
Heat behind her eyes, she finally answered Blake's question.
"You deserve to die." Yang set her glare on the ancient. "That's what I'd say."
Blake didn't even flinch. There was only calm acceptance there in her gaze. She nodded – a single, slow tilt of her chin. She said nothing.
It should have been left at that. It should have been the end of their conversation, of this encounter. It should have even been the moment Yang turned her back, walked away, and signaled Pyrrha to pull the trigger.
Because, maybe, it might have put an end to all of this, one way or another.
But then Yang let out a frustrated growl and blinked fiercely up at the sky before adding, "But if you've already paid for what you've done…" She sighed heavily. Moved closer to Blake, put a hand on the vampire's arm. Blake stared down at it a little like she'd been cut before snapping her eyes back to Yang's, searching and asking in their disbelief. Yang swallowed hard and repeated, lower, "But if you've already paid for what you've done, and you're still punishing yourself now…"
Gods, this is such a bad idea. She was risking way too much. Pyrrha was probably thinking of creative ways to wring her neck already. But there was something about how grave and deeply inconsolable Blake was – not just a moment ago, but in every other moment since they'd met – that urged Yang to offer comfort instead of threats. There was more to this than just another vampire going on a murderous power trip. There had to be.
And, maybe, comfort was all Blake needed to give in.
Yang pulled her into a hug.
She imagined taking a marble statue into her arms would feel the same. Blake had become so rigid. But Yang didn't let that dissuade her. She was willing to bet the ancient didn't get hugs often. Except, just as she was about to bring her arms further around Blake's back, a pair of hands instead came up between their bodies and connected with Yang's torso.
And shoved.
Yang was thrown back several feet, colliding with the cement parapet further off so hard that it fragmented and crumbled partially. The breath got knocked out of her before she could even realize the momentum would send her over the edge. Instinct kicked in and her hands shot out, just in time to dig into the cement and stop herself from plummeting to the ground. She gasped for air, heart pounding, desperately trying to breathe while also doing her best not to focus on the view below. Enhancements or none, a fall from this height wouldn't be pretty.
Her reaction time would mean everything between life and death. She immediately pulled herself over the ledge, looking up just in time to see blazing blood red eyes and black horns, and a once hauntingly beautiful face now disfigured by a wicked grimace, fangs bared. Nightshade was quickly approaching. Shit!
With a kick and pulse of strength, Yang swung herself over and onto her feet, but barely had time to reach for her gun before something impacted Nightshade's shoulder, a spray of inky, thick liquid appearing on her collar and on the side of her face. The ancient cried out, twisting around while clutching the now smoking and burning UV-C bullet wound.
The next one went straight through her chest and out her back, leaving a glowing purple hole the size of a small golf ball.
Nightshade let out an unnatural shriek that tore through the night, so loud Yang had to cover her ears because it felt like her brain was ripping apart inside her own skull. Before Nightshade could be shot again, the vampire exploded into flames and claws of shadows, becoming an immaterial beast of death. Another bullet whizzed through, piercing a trail of light in its wake through the wisps of black. The vaguely gargoyle-shaped cloud then sunk into the roof and vanished altogether.
Yang unholstered her gun and stayed on high alert, breathing hard and heart in her throat, checking for the slightest sign of Nightshade reappearing.
About a second later, a grapple hooked on the ledge of the roof farther off to Yang's left, and the metal wire went taught. It took less than ten seconds for Pyrrha to rappel down from her vantage point using her silver spear, joining Yang on the library's roof with a swing and jump and perfect landing once she was near enough to the building. She sheathed the spear and unholstered her gun in one smooth flourish, the sniper now on her back, and they both waited for a moment longer, ensuring that Nightshade was truly gone.
When it seemed like it was only them and the wind left on the roof, Pyrrha let out a puff of air and came closer, eyes scanning over Yang's body. "Are you okay?"
Yang huffed, too, and passed her hand through her hair. "Yeah. Just got the breath knocked from me. Might have some bruises on my back. We should go."
"Agreed."
The duo didn't waste any more time. They hurried to the stairwell, and once they were finally at ground level, Pyrrha motioned for Yang to follow her. The warrior guided Yang around the back of the library, taking an alleyway and hopping over a chain-link fence to reach a quiet one-way street. One of the streetlamps flickered, and with their nerves shot as they were, Pyrrha and Yang advanced more carefully towards the sedan parked near the curb, still keeping their eyes on their surroundings.
They made it into the vehicle without incident, and once the sniper was put on the backseat, Yang allowed herself to relax, even if just marginally. Pyrrha started the engine and then drove off, hands tight on the steering wheel.
It was only once they had put some distance between themselves and the library that Pyrrha finally asked, "Do you mind telling me what in the world you were thinking?" She was beginning to drive over the speed limit, and her tone was angrier than Yang had expected. Pyrrha did not get angry like this often.
Yang sunk into her seat and closed her eyes. "Which part?" she muttered. She knew she hadn't handled that conversation well. She knew it was her fault it had ended so…violently. And she especially knew Pyrrha would have a lot to say to her. Definitely warranted, too.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the part where you flirted with her and ate the food she gave you, or the part where you let her dictate the flow of conversation, or the part where you baited her into anger, or maybe even the part where you stupidly hugged her?"
"So, all of it?" Yang bashed her head back on the headrest. "I don't know, Pyrrha." She didn't have the energy to argue or justify herself. Not that any of her reasons were proper justifications anyway. The meeting had been a total failure, and it was clearer than ever that Nightshade had to be killed and that Yang was just being played, strung along in exchange for her blood.
And she knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that if Ruby had been the one sniping, Nightshade could have very well died there on the roof tonight. It would have been that easy.
Even as it was, Yang was experiencing a lot of confusion now that the adrenaline was fading because she found herself worrying about Nightshade and the injuries she had sustained. The vampire had still gotten shot in the shoulder and chest with a significant dosage of UV-C liquid light. Would she heal from that, or was she slowly dying somewhere out there?
Stop caring about her. Nightshade doesn't care about you. If she's dying, then good.
Pyrrha glanced at Yang from the corner of her eye. It seemed like she wanted to push Yang on the matter, but she instead took pity on her partner and just focused on the road. Yang knew that wasn't going to be the last she heard of this, though. Pyrrha had heard and seen a lot – there was no way she didn't have more questions and suspicions.
But, just for now, it was a relief to be allowed to ruminate and blame herself in silence. She didn't understand what had happened, why Blake had reacted that way. It just seemed so incredibly excessive for a simple hug. But Yang had to keep forever reminding herself that Blake was over three-thousand years old, and that the likelihood of anything reasonable having to do with it was next to zero. How would she ever know what was going on in the ancient's head? The only possible thing Yang could take a wild guess at was that she had severely crossed a boundary and gotten appropriately punished for it. And it certainly confirmed that Blake wasn't interested in getting closer to Yang like that.
You're such an idiot.
When Pyrrha pulled into the driveaway of the duplex, she killed the engine, plunging them in the night's darkness, but didn't immediately get out. Instead, she looked over at Yang. "You have a report to write. And I do, too."
Yang let out a long sigh. Aurora would most likely dish out some consequences for this. But Pyrrha shouldn't have to bear any of it. "You're right. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm on it."
"Good. We'll do it together." Pyrrha shook her head, and then her shoulders sagged. "I'm glad you're safe, Yang. But I think it's time we stopped flirting with death. Nightshade knows things that could help us save people's lives but refused to divulge that information. I think that says enough about her motives."
She just doesn't want her source of food to die. Because if Blake couldn't feed, then she was the one who became an inevitable threat. But put into perspective, this reason was becoming more and more invalid, if not outright unacceptable. Yang, Pyrrha, other enforcers – even the people of Vale – none of them were mindless puppets. Ancient and powerful or not, the world was not a set of strings for Blake to pull as she pleased, and it was time Yang started seeing the god-complex for what it was.
And yet something still didn't sit right with her, but that feeling made a fresh wave of anger ripple through Yang. She pushed it away. Listening to that feeling was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She had to stop letting it influence her decisions. "I just need to get some sleep," Yang muttered, and then opened the door.
Pyrrha exited the vehicle, too, and got the sniper out of the backseat. They went inside, quietly, and said goodnight to each other before retreating to their respective bedrooms.
But Yang just stood there in her room for a moment, staring at the floor. She was so tired. So angry. Everything felt wrong. Nightshade making her appearance at the beginning of this investigation fucked it all up, forced Yang to question so many things about what she thought she knew. She slowly sat on the edge of her bed, leaning forward and holding her head in her hands, fingers digging through her hair.
What did she make of the other things she had found out, though? She couldn't just ignore those. Blake, keeping vampires in check in Vale since the city's founding – protecting mortals, as it were, even shielding Vale from the world with her power for a time. Blake, who had donated so many books and artifacts from her own collection without being stringent so that everyone had access to that history and knowledge. Blake, the financial benefactor of the Beryl family, the one ensuring fundraisers and charities were hosted for the homeless and the orphanages in the city. Blake, who had kept her identity secret from the other enforcers solely for Yang's sake. Blake, who had yet to force a feeding on Yang or command her using her name.
And…Blake, who had attempted to weaken herself in the only way she knew how so that someone might finally end her – because even after all the good she'd done, she believed death was all she deserved.
And, for all intents and purposes, it was.
But the sheer amount of regret, of sorrow, of care that Blake seemed to have – such a vast contrast to the pitiless monster she said she'd been – painted an entirely different picture, something a lot more beautiful and tragic than ugly and vicious.
And Yang wasn't so sure this particular art piece's interpretation could be left to the viewer.
But maybe it didn't have to be one or the other. Maybe it could be both. Maybe it was both.
Yang rubbed her face and then took out her scroll. She pulled up Blake's last message to her and stared at it. And kept staring.
Vale's my city. I don't like a mess.
Finally, Yang frowned. Well, a mess was what they had gotten. And things sure seemed like they were going to get even messier. This is all my fault. She should have just killed Nightshade that first night they met, when the ancient was fully at her mercy and it was all she had kept asking for.
Upset, Yang swiped away from the messages and accessed her account in the SRO database. She opened Nightshade's almost-empty vampire profile, and started inputting the information:
Name: Blake Belladonna
Alias: Nightshade
Gender: Female
Race: Faunus (feline)
Age: Ancient. 3000+
Death count: 200 000+
Physical description: Height ~5'6", lithe, cat ears and long black hair, gold eyes
Status: N/A
Standing: Neutral/aggressive
Affiliations: Cryolife, Vale's Historic Library and Museum, Beryl family, Mimic (?)
Last known location: Vale
Known abilities: Shadow/darkness creation, manipulation, and traveling; shapeshifting; passive charm (unknown effect); voice projection; power transmission (?); likely more
Additional information:
Here, Yang stopped. She wondered if it was possible to drill a hole through her scroll with her stare. It didn't feel good to do this. It never had, really, but this seemed worse.
But then she realized it might make it too easy for Aurora to find out Yang's closeness to Nightshade if Yang revealed the vampire's real name on the profile. She deleted it. Then deleted Blake's age and death count, because how would Yang have gotten that info? Her eyes went back to the 'Status' field, and Yang frowned. What if Nightshade had died out there? She probably hadn't – if she had been able to escape, then chances were that she had been able to heal, too. And yet Yang still couldn't stop herself from worrying despite significant evidence suggesting she was a twice-damned idiot for doing so.
Why do you feel like this about her, Yang? It wasn't like they had interacted sufficiently for any kind of deep attachment to form. They barely even knew anything meaningful about each other, and their encounters had so far been professional (although, that word didn't feel quite right…) in nature, or for Blake to feed. It was insane, is what it was.
Yang groaned and pulled up Nightshade's messages again. Her fingers hovered for what felt like an eternity while the battle of a lifetime warred within her, but then she finally typed out a text, one letter at a time, and hit send.
Yang: Hey u alive out there? If u r, wtf happened on the roof?
For some dumb reason, Yang expected a reply right away. But none came. So, with a grunt, she decided she really needed sleep, put her scroll on the nightstand, and stood to get out of her enforcer gear. It was past two in the morning. This couldn't become a habit.
She had to stop caring. She had to.
But even the next morning, there was no answer from Blake.
Chapter 7 is like, 90 percent done. Will hopefully be posting it soon!
Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. See you in the chapter!
