Hectic week coming up – and it's fanfiction this time. I have a new story set to release tomorrow and potentially a new story to release Thursday. I'm going to give people a chance to vote tomorrow (on my profile via a poll) on whether they want a new story Tues and Thurs, or whether they want the Tues story to be moved to Thursday, and to basically have Raise become the weekly Tuesday and the new story to become the weekly Thursday slot.
I suppose it's a heads up here, but I also don't think it's worth putting the poll up until people see tomorrow's new story. It might end up being something absolutely hated after all.
Cover Art: Kirire
Chapter 24
Jaune parked their borrowed boat like an old man – gingerly prodding the throttle on and off and taking about ten times as long as anyone with even the slightest experience would have. Blake knew she should have taken over, but she was too shaken, too distraught and too uncaring. She hung at the edge of the boat, her hands dangling over the edge and her fingers touching the water, staring down into the shallows with a broken expression. All this work, all this time, and they hadn't managed to save someone who so desperately needed saving. She was grateful for the waves breaking up her reflection, because she thought she might have cracked on seeing it.
"We're here," said Jaune, needlessly. He tossed the rope onto the dock and hopped off, then tied a bow around the metal hook. Blake couldn't even find it in herself to be disgusted about that. They'd paid for this boat. Let it float off for all she cared. "Blake. Blake, come on." He held out a hand, and when she didn't take it, he took her by the elbow and hauled her off. "You'll feel better with a night's rest. Trust me."
"Rest?" snapped Blake. "How can we rest? We need to find Anabelle's family, and then this Uncle Grass."
"The Albain brothers won't be awake at this hour, Blake, nor will Anabelle's family." The words made sense, but she didn't want to hear them. In truth, she wasn't sure she could sleep. It wasn't even nightmares; just the sure knowledge she'd be laid in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if she could have done better.
There was no fight in her as Jaune pulled her along the empty docks. It was early morning, gone midnight and closer to two, and fishermen would be out in another two or three hours to prep their ships and get ready for the early-morning catch. Those already out would be coming in soon as well, but they'd found the twilight hour of no activity, and Jaune carted her down and onto solid ground, then slowly toward the Belladonna manor.
"Tomorrow," said Jaune calmly. "You can go and tell Sienna and the Albain brothers tomorrow what we found. The mundane parts of it anyway."
She? Blake wanted to ask why he wouldn't be coming but lacked the energy. Maybe he wanted to avoid the perpetual racism. "And then we'll go looking for this Uncle Grass character?" asked Blake.
"Why would we do that?"
Blake's head snapped to his. "He helped abduct people!"
"I know that. I'm asking why we would go after him. He was White Fang according to Anabelle, and I doubt they'll take this kindly. They're the local authorities, and we should let them handle it."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing, nor what she was feeling. Blake tried hard not to let bitterness break out, but her voice was laced with it. "Are you saying we should just ignore what happened? Like it's none of our business?"
"Technically speaking, it is none of our business. We're ARC Corp. We investigate and take care of anomalies. We don't intervene in matters of state or law. We can't." He looked away from her. "Our work is busy enough already, and too important to put aside to take the law into our own hands."
"Are you being serious…?"
"It's the same as with that criminal auction and those crime bosses in Vale. We didn't intervene there. We didn't even think twice about it. Crime is for law enforcement to deal with; anomalies are for us to deal with. You shouldn't confuse the two."
Blake found her legs, her strength – fuelled by anger – and wriggled out his hold. She stood, backed away and looked at him as if she didn't recognise him. He was the same as ever; a little wet, a little tired, but stood before her in his expensive suit with his black gloves and dark blue eyes.
"He kidnapped children!"
"Those crime bosses probably did worse. You didn't argue there."
"That's not the same!" argued Blake, and deep inside she knew she was being hypocritical, but the crimes of those people hadn't been laid bare before her, and she hadn't held a dead child in her arms and listened to them. "He caused an anomaly!"
"The one who caused Anabelle to become an anomaly died for it on that ship." Jaune sounded calm, too calm, so calm that it pissed her off just to hear it. "And I'm not arguing he isn't human scum who doesn't deserve a slow and painful death, Blake. I'm only saying we're not the ones who can deliver it. We can't take the law into our own hands. Let the White Fang handle it." His voice softened. "You know they're going to. It's not like they'll let him get away with this."
"And what if they would?" asked Blake slowly. "Or what if there was no law enforcement around to hand them off to? What if only we could stop them." She paused, then asked, "Would we stop them, Jaune? Or would it not be our business and we just let them walk away."
Jaune looked annoyed. "That's not the case here at all. The White Fang will get him."
"Hypothetically. If it was the other way around."
He sighed. "ARC Corp official policy is not to involve ourselves." He knew it was the wrong answer when Blake spun on her heel and began walking away. "We can't fix all of the world's ills, Blake," he shouted after her. "We can barely handle the shit we have to. If we take on every cause, every injustice, then the world will collapse under the weight of the anomalies we don't deal with. Be reasonable!"
Be reasonable. A child had been kidnapped, tortured and killed, then left trapped in a perpetual nightmare, all because of one greedy faunus who had lured them away from their homes and handed them over to slave traders. Blake's eyes burned and her jaw was locked shut. The very fact he asked her to be reasonable in such a situation disgusted her. Blake stormed away, back to her home, and refused to even look at him.
Somewhere along the way, Jaune stopped trying to talk to her.
/-/
"That's what we were able to find before the ship went down," said Blake. The story she had spun involved slave traders, a firefight, a loose dust round and the corpses of several faunus children, and one still alive who had succumbed to her wounds and the mistreatment. It was close enough to the truth to pass as it in a pinch, and it neatly avoided any issues that couldn't be safely explained away.
"Human traders," spat Sienna. "We expected as much but to even think this still exists." Her eyes snapped shut and she growled. "I hate humanity, but even I wouldn't believe many capable of this horror."
"There are human scum and then there are human scum," said Corsac.
"You mentioned a member of the White Fang involved," interrupted Fennec. "Did the child give you a name?"
"I didn't get a full name; she called him Uncle Grass. I'm not sure if that's a first or last name, but she seemed to be familiar with him."
"There are one or two people in the White Fang who could pass as that," said Sienna. "It doesn't narrow things down as well as I'd like. We will have to speak with her family and deliver the bad news."
"My brother and I can investigate any sudden spikes in wealth or spending," said Corsac. "The money must have been spent on something. An expensive gambling habit or drug addiction might be an angle, or just a new boat or house. Those with money itch to spend it."
"Can we do that now?" asked Blake. They looked to her, surprised for a moment, and she explained. "Anabelle died in my arms. Her last request was to see him brought to justice. I'm not going to be able to sleep easy unless I see this finished."
Sienna's expression was sympathetic. "You don't look like you've slept easily at all."
That was an understatement. Blake thumbed her left eye socket, rubbing the exhaustion away. If she'd been worried about not being able to sleep before, then getting rest when she was boiling with anger over Jaune's words hadn't helped any. As soon as the sun rose, she'd been out – alone – to come tell them the news. Her parents hadn't even been up, and Jaune was likely still in his room.
Hours spent in contemplation hadn't changed her mind any. While she could understand on an intellectual level that ARC Corp ought to focus on its job and leave others to do their own, she couldn't accept the cold way he'd said it. She wouldn't have begrudged him deciding to back off from a long investigation that looked like it would take weeks or months, but it wouldn't have taken much effort to try.
Sienna and the Albain brothers weren't against letting her tag along, and soon they were moving out from the White Fang's base of operations and into Kuo Kuana proper. Without Jaune by her side, no one looked at them oddly, and many in fact seemed supportive of Sienna and the uniforms, waving and raising their fists in salute. I forget it was like this, thought Blake. Here, the White Fang are respected heroes. No wonder Anabelle thought of Jaune in a uniform. The reminder of her partner had her lips dragging down. To hell with him and ARC Corp policy. I'm seeing this through to its end.
Sadly, that meant being there when Sienna delivered the bad news to Anabelle's parents. The two were distraught to put it lightly, weeping and clinging to one another when they heard the news. They must have known, deep inside, that they'd never see her again when she went missing along with the others, but to have confirmation of it… well, Blake had heard on news reports of people feeling "at peace" knowing their missing family were dead, but it didn't look anything like that here.
I'm sorry, thought Blake. I could have saved her if I'd done better.
"I am sorry," said Sienna, echoing Blake's thoughts. "If we had guarded our shores better, if we had suspected this or acted sooner, then there is a good chance this would not have happened. You have my assurances that we are doing everything we can to bring the ones responsible to justice."
"Your daughter also asked us to deliver a final farewell to her Uncle Grass," said Corsac, sounding so very natural as he pried for information. He was smiling comfortingly. "Might we ask who she was referring to, and where we might find him?"
"T-That would be Tedric," said Anabelle's father between sobs. "H-He's been there for us all this time, helping to s-search for her, and- and oh, I can't." He wiped at his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I can't."
"It's okay," said Fennec. "We will find Tedric and deliver the news to him ourselves. We're sorry to have been the bearers of bad news to you today. We wish it could be otherwise. If you need anything, know that the White Fang will do its best to support. You need only ask at one of our camps."
Blake was too relieved to be away from them, and even more grateful that she hadn't been invited inside where she might have seen pictures or evidence of Anabelle as a normal girl. It would have broken her. The parents went back inside, still crying loudly, and it was only once they were all well out of range that Sienna snarled out. "He comforted them. He was there for them. This rat-bastard took advantage of their grief and mocked them for their loss. Tedric Grass. Who is he?"
"Tedric Grass," recited Corsac, reading from his scroll. "He's been a part of the White Fang for eight years – reservist. He was injured on a single mission under Adam Taurus. He came back alive, and the injury was hardly debilitating. He has medical notes saying he is mostly recovered, but another here saying he claims to still feel the pain and that he is unable to walk properly or fight. I believe the doctor is implying that he puts it on."
"Likely to farm sympathy while avoiding being asked to fight," said Fennec. "We have far too many of them. They like to sit back, do nothing and bathe in the glory of being a so-called White Fang veteran wounded in the line of duty."
"I don't care about that," said Sienna. "Do you have his place of residence?"
"Yes."
"Take us there. Now."
It was a simple-looking home that Tedric Grass lived in. Small, with a front garden and a window overlooking the pathway beyond. The front door was unlocked, and, after a minute of knocking, Sienna let herself in. The Albain brothers and Blake filed in behind. The interior was comfortably expensive, with nice furniture and a well-stocked kitchen. It was clean, implying he still lived here, and the shoes by the door were further proof of that. There was even an uncleaned plate in the sink, propped up by a bag of take-out.
No evidence of him making a run for it. That was good. Blake wondered if he'd not realised something had happened to his slaver friends; he might have thought the long absence was because they had a full cargo and had gone back to sell them. Fennec was already rifling through the man's mail, brazenly opening and reading them. Nothing looked suspicious, but he took one and flashed it at Sienna. Blake looked around the woman's arm to read what turned out to be a bank statement.
The White Fang actually did pay its members. That was a little unknown fact that most people didn't realise. It wasn't a wage because it wasn't a job, but it was a stipend to allow people to afford the necessities to live and some comfort on top. It was mostly funded by donations from faunus. The payment came through shell companies under fake names, and sometimes even disguised as charities. Blake recognised one on the man's statement, but there was also another that had paid a whopping thirty thousand lien just the last month.
"Someone is paying him," said Sienna, handing it back. "I trust the two of you can trace this back and find his backers. I want to know if anyone else is taking money from them on the island, and I want them brought before me."
"Of course. We'll see to it after we have dealt with Tedric here."
Sienna marched into the centre of the house and shouted, "Tedric Grass! This is Sienna Khan with a special task for you. Make yourself presentable immediately."
They waited, and they waited for a long while without sound or response. It was early, and the man apparently didn't work, so it wasn't likely he had gone out. Sienna tried shouting again, masking her rage so as not to tip him off, but there was still no response. Frowning, she motioned for Blake and the Albain brothers to follow her and made her way to the wooden staircase at the back, ascending it slowly and with her aura up.
It was on the second floor that Blake's nostrils twitched. There was an acrid, smoky scent that had her coughing faintly. "Ash," said Fennec, having caught it at the same time and placed it. "Something is burning. Or has burnt."
"Too strong to be cigarette smoke," said Sienna. "And it's too hot to need to light a fire."
A moment of silence stretched out and then they were moving on, quickly this time. The smell grew in intensity, grew choking and overpowering, and the closed door ahead was blackened and charred. Blake suspected what they would see before they did, but Sienna wrenched the wooden door away anyway, breaking it off its hinges and tossing it back down the corridor.
The room within was black and ashen, furniture reduced to ash and blasted away as if a bomb had gone off, except that it clearly hadn't because while the walls were flash burned, they weren't structurally damaged in any way. There, at the back, upon the remains of a bed, was a broken, twisted and charred figure all but unrecognisable. The figure's hands were twisted up, as if they'd been grasping something above them, but the flesh and muscle had been burned. He wasn't a skeleton, for his body had rendered, melted and caramelised – and that thought had Blake cringing – into something akin to a dried out, scorched mummification.
"He's dead," said Fennec. He closed his eyes, annoyed with himself for even having felt the need to say it. "Well, the matter has resolved itself I see. Who could have done this? I'm not aware of any within the White Fang with a Semblance based around fire."
Blake was.
Though it wasn't a Semblance.
"I don't care," said Sienna. "Tedric is dealt with. Good riddance to him. Look into the names and bank balances and find out if we have any other treacherous scum among our ranks. If so, I want them found, rounded up and brought to me."
"As you wish, Sienna." Fennec bowed, and then turned to Blake to ask, "Is this enough for your purposes, Miss Belladonna? I'm sure you would have preferred to see justice done with your own eyes, as we would as well, but the perpetrator is very much dead. And it does look like he suffered."
"I… Yes…" Blake braved the moment to step close and look over Tedric's body. She doubted anyone else would notice, because they wouldn't think to look for it, but the degree of the burns over his face had little patches where they were more burned than the others, as if the heat had originated from thin bands pressed against his flesh.
Or fingers.
"Yes," said Blake, turning away, confused and lost. "I've seen what I need to."
/-/
Jaune was in his room when she returned. He looked calm, quiet, and tired, as if he hadn't slept any better than she had. Or as if he'd been out and about and had not had the time to rest. Blake stepped into his room, closed the door and leaned back against it to keep it shut. Her eyes met his, and she saw nothing in him. He didn't look worried, upset, angry, victorious, smug or anything in between.
He just looked like normal.
"Why did you do it?" asked Blake.
He cocked his head to the side. "Do what?"
"Tedric Grass."
"Who?"
"The man who tricked Anabelle." It was annoying that he was making her say it. "We found him today burned to a crisp, literally incinerated in his bedroom while the rest of the house had no evidence of fire damage."
"Maybe his scroll battery burst," said Jaune. "I've read news stories about that."
"I'm surprised your first instinct wasn't to say it might be anomalous," pointed out Blake. He froze, but only for a moment. He shrugged and stayed seated on the edge of his bed, moving his head from left to right to ease his neck.
I know it was you, Blake wanted to say. She'd seen the fingerprints, the marks, and the evidence all stacked up. Only Jaune would know about Anabelle, and only he would have reason to go after her. He looed sore as well, sorer than the night before. He wasn't much of a fighter, and retired or not, Tedric would have had some training.
Blake wanted to ask why he would say one thing and do another; she wanted to ask why he would leave her in doubt as to Grass' fate and then go out and sort it out himself; she wanted to know why he took all the abuse and hate from her, if he planned to do what she was complaining about anyway. More than anything, she wanted to ask why he'd bothered to lie when she would have kept his secret.
"Is your neck hurting?" she asked instead.
Jaune stilled, gloved hand to his neck, and then said, "A little."
"Let me help." Blake moved over to the bed and knelt behind him, pulling his gloved hand away and setting it down beside him. He was tense, likely as much because of her as stress, and when she set her hands on his shoulders, he didn't get any looser. "It's fine," she said. "I'm wearing gloves. There's no risk."
He released a breath at that and softened under her touch. She had her full suit on, black gloves much like his over her hands. It wasn't skin to skin and a lot of massage, the masseur had told her, was about skin to skin contact. The body heat and friction helped work temperature into muscles and loosen them. That was lost here. Still, she was able to work her fingers down and into his muscles, breaking apart the tension with sheer force. Jaune didn't seem to mind the rough treatment.
"I wanted to-"
"I need to-"
They spoke in unison, cut off in unison, and then said – in unison again – "You first."
Blake cringed and felt like a ten-year-old again. "I'll go first," she said, before it could get any worse. "I wanted to apologise for how I acted last night. I was angry because of Anabelle and everything that happened, and I guess I took it out on you. You didn't deserve it."
"No." said Jaune. "I need to apologise as well. I was cold and uncaring. I knew how you felt – I felt it as well – and yet I bombarded you with policy and rules instead of talking to you as a person. I'm not used to having someone with me on these things. I'm used to doing all this alone."
"I can't imagine having to," said Blake, pulling his left arm out and moving her hands down it, squeezing and pushing. She could feel the moment she went from normal skin to anomaly, because it was harder and hot even through his sleeve. Jaune tensed, but she clutched his arm tightly. "Don't. I'm not touching it. It's fine. Lay down on your front."
"Blake, you don't need-"
Blake growled and shoved him hard, pushing him over and then crawling over his rear end to sit on the back of his hips. The position kept him down and went to work on his arm before he could complain. It felt odd, wrong, like she could tell it was inhuman and it was making her body feel repulsed, and yet she gritted her teeth and worked through it. I don't care how it feels; I brought him here to relax, and all we've done is stress out more. He's getting a massage whether he – or my body – likes it. Somewhere along the way, once he realised he wasn't going to be able to break free, Jaune relaxed and lay still, and then turned to mush under her.
He hadn't complained before, but it was all too obvious how stressed he was. How could he not be, given the shit he had to put up with? Blake hadn't been working at ARC Corp for long and she already had more issues than any one therapist could deal with. Jaune had probably dealt with so many more over his years, and she couldn't imagine a life raised, groomed and put through all this.
"I'm sorry this wasn't the holiday I thought it would be."
"That's fine," slurred Jaune, too relaxed to speak the words properly. "These things, ah, they happen. Better we deal with this than more people suffer."
"I know. It's just… when do we get time off? When is it our turn not to suffer?"
"I'll tell you when I figure that out. This is why we pay so much. We, hm, understand it's a shit job. There's, ah, a reason I tried to keep you out of this, Blake. It wasn't just to keep our secrets. It's the same reason I try and keep Ruby out. This isn't the kind of career someone should want to have."
She knew that now. There were times she wondered if she shouldn't have taken the chance to leave when she had it but knowing what she did now – and knowing how many people like Anabelle couldn't be helped by anyone else – she wasn't sure she could leave. Not if it meant forcing Jaune and his crazy family do deal with all the world's ills alone.
"It's too late now. I'm part of ARC Corp." Blake leaned down and released his left hand, then started to work on his right shoulder, repeating the process. "What's going to be out next plan then? Back to Vale?"
"Hmm." Jaune hummed contentedly. "I was thinking a stop in Atlas."
"Atlas? Why? Won't the Schnee be an issue."
"Not if we're visiting. I want to talk with one of my sisters. Coral. About what's been happening. The teacher in Vale, the tech guy in Atlas and now this. All these people becoming anomalies. Coral is… a researcher."
Blake knew him well enough to say, "You hesitated for a second there."
"With good reason. Coral is a researcher in the same way a mad doctor is a medical practitioner. She runs the Secrets Office. You'd think that means keeping anomalies secret, but it doesn't. Her whole focus, her ambition, is to crack into what makes anomalies anomalous, and to understand how they work."
To figure out their secrets, rather than keep them a secret. Blake had assumed the other version when she heard the name, but Jaune made a good point. If ARC Corp was already about keeping the secrecy as standard, then they wouldn't need an office named the Secrets Office. "That doesn't strike me as something Saphron would be very happy with."
Jaune snorted. "You've got that right. Coral is something of an outcast among us. She's still ARC Corp, and she still goes out and hunts down anomalies to protect people, but curiosity is her driving force. Saphron destroys, I contain, and Coral… Coral collects. Collects, experiments and plays with anomalies as if they're toys."
He didn't approve. Blake could tell from the way he said it, and she'd always known he sided with his family. Jaune might have been considered unusual in wanting to let anomalies live, but he wasn't a black sheep per se. He still accepted and took actions to destroy those that needed to be, and he was committed and loyal to the cause.
"Coral's eccentricities are part of why she runs the Atlas office," said Jaune. "The Schnee have more control than we do in Atlas, and they usually run us out every time we try and establish a presence. With Coral…" He sighed. "She and Willow have tea parties every month to discuss anomalies, their findings and share notes."
"Ugh." Blake didn't like the sound of that at all. "Are you sure she's… uh… loyal?"
"Honestly, no. It was an Arc that betrayed us and formed the Schnee, and dad has been keeping an eye on Coral for years now. Saphron too. Coral is loyal for now however, and she claims she's not interested in selling anomalies. That'd go against her wish to collect and research them."
Blake wasn't sure how much she accepted that, but she supposed she'd have to wait and meet Coral for herself. "We're going to ask her to look into these cases of people turning into anomalies, I take it?"
"Yes. If anyone can find out what is going on then it'll be her."
"That will mean leaving the Containments Office in Ruby's hands even longer."
"She hasn't called," said Jaune. He sounded all too relaxed, half-asleep, and he mumbled into the sheets as Blake worked her fingers into his anomalous arms. "I'm assuming that means nothing too exciting is going on over there."
/-/
Ruby stood and stared with wide eyes, her sister no better than she, at the inside of a dingy bar filled with people who, no matter how much she wanted to think otherwise, didn't look much like people at all. To say they looked like faunus would have been an insult to faunus, because the man working behind the bar had translucent wings behind him and a tiny eye between his two human ones, and one of the men sat on a bar stool had three legs coming down the sides and one in front, and another was cupping a large glass delicately in one of his two crab-like pincer claws.
"What the hell is this!?" shrieked Yang, drawing every gaze in the bar.
Ruby winced. "I-I can explain…?"
"You better be able to," said Qrow, pulling away from the bar and toward them. He was frowning harshly and glaring at both her and her sister. "This isn't the kind of place girls like you should be visiting."
"Oh, that's fine," said Ruby, possibly not quite thinking straight. "I'm with ARC Corp."
The bar erupted into chaos.
Nice work, Ruby. Real stellar moment there. "Don't worry, anomalies. I'm with the anti-anomaly police. You can remain calm."
This is why Jaune doesn't go on holidays…
Next Chapter: 10th October
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