Qrow Branwen put his hands in his pockets as he approached the crime scene. A pair of watchmen stiffened as he neared. Doubly so as he pulled out his Scroll. They relaxed slightly when he showed them the digital copy of his huntsman license.
But not completely. They were on a knife's edge. He scowled while being waved through.
The outside of the railway had seen better days. Small signs of combat, such as upturned gravel and shell casings, littered the ground. None were more obvious than the partially toppled chain link fence that enclosed the area.
Leaning over, Qrow examined the buckled segment. There were tire marks from where a vehicle had run it over. The point of contact was on the inside.
Past the fence was the railway station. It was a low-key loading area with a faded red awning over a raised platform. The concrete island had a gradual ramp that allowed trucks to park with their rears facing an arriving train.
Around the station were several armored cars and a landed Bullhead. Individuals in white uniforms were combing the ground with hand-held devices. They appeared to be collecting evidence. The first person to approach Qrow, however, was not one of them.
In fact, it was not a person at all.
From his left, a black and red bulk on four legs waddled towards Qrow. There was a vaguely person-like center to it. In a less well-lit environment, the huntsman would have thought it were a Grimm. Out in the sunlight, though, he could discern its mechanical nature.
"Halt!" The robot ordered over hidden speakers. "Present identification!"
"Already did that up front." Qrow groused.
It paused to process the response before belting out. "Intruder detected! Security breach! Security breach!"
Those in the distance looked about in alarm. Qrow was too busy covering his ears to pay them mind. A hangover-induced headache threatened to evolve into a full-blown migraine.
"Tune it down, you bucket of bolts." One hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of Harbinger.
This was interpreted poorly. A pair of rotary gun arms emerged from the robot's torso to point at Qrow. Each of them was designed to fire thousands of rounds a minute. One alone would chew through Aura in a flash. Two were overkill.
"Release your weapon. You have ten seconds to comply."
Qrow flipped it the bird. "I ain't scared of you."
"You now have five seconds to comply." Two more arm-guns raised out of its back.
"Make me."
Its chest opened up. A long cannon extended out of the cavity. The crimson portions of the robot began to pulse as the Dust inside charged. The other four barrels spun, preparing to fire.
"I am now authorized to use deadly-"
"Spider Droid! Stand down!" A panicked voice shouted.
Immediately, the robot stood down. There was a whine as the Dust cannon powered down. Each weapon returned to a non-threatening position. It next turned to the issuer of the order: A man in a tan seersucker suit.
"Awaiting command, sir."
He breathed a long sigh of relief. Combing his mussy auburn hair and beard, he considered his words. Then he spoke in a much calmer tone.
"Return to your patrol. This one is authorized."
"Affirmative." The droid wandered off to the periphery.
Qrow kept his eyes on the killer machine until it was on the other side of the station. The skittering legs carried it down the railway. He hoped a passing train would run it over.
"Sorry about that!" The suit apologized. "The SDC lent us that Spider Droid for protection. It must have been programmed a bit overzealously. Though, I've never seen it get that aggressive with a friendly before."
"Don't worry about it." Qrow figured it was just more of his bad luck at play. "I could have taken whatever that rust bucket dished out."
The other man's eyebrows rose. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Some might say so." Qrow displayed his ID again.
"Ah, a huntsman. Qrow… Branwen?"
There was a tone of surprise. Not anger or fear. Recognition, as if putting the pieces together.
"There a problem?"
"Not at all. Just happy to finally put a face to the name. Name's Miller. Inspector General Miller."
Miller proceeded to share his own ID. It was a physical badge, but thankfully not for VPD. Rather, the bronze insignia denoted him as a part of Vale's Gendarmerie.
Whereas VPD were responsible for law enforcement in the city, the Gendarmerie were responsible for everything outside the walls. Despite the size of their jurisdiction, they were a small organization that stuck to targeted tasks such as extraditing captured criminals and investigating crimes against critical infrastructure.
Because of this, Qrow tended not to interact with them. Their responsibilities did not overlap. This did raise an uncomfortable question about how he was already known. When someone recognized the Branwen name, it usually foretold trouble.
Miller understood this as well and explained. "Before becoming IG, I was a detective in the VPD. My junior spoke well of you often."
It was then that Qrow understood. "You were Earnie's partner? Small world."
They shook hands at the shared connection. Miller led them further towards the station. Walking a little slower than expected, he spoke quietly to the huntsman.
"I suspect it's not that small. Are you after the White Fang?"
Qrow hummed. "I was asked to look into them. How about you?"
"My position gives me leeway to oversee this investigation." He sighed, ruffling his bangs. "For all the good that is doing me. We don't have the resources for something like this."
"That why you're relying on the Schnee to provide security?"
"Not just security. These technicians are also with the Corp."
Sure enough, the searchers' uniforms had the outline of a snowflake on their lapels. "How'd that happen?"
"It was their shipment that was stolen. The choice was either to fight their presence or use them. I have to trust that they are as committed to getting to the bottom of this as I am."
That was not a bet Qrow was willing to take. The SDC being involved was not a great addition. Between them and VPD, he was not sure who he would rather have to deal with in terms of obtaining information on this robbery.
Uncharacteristically fortunate in this regard, Qrow had an in with Miller.
"Well, I'm committed. Mind giving me the rundown of what happened?"
"Sure. I'll even forward you updates, so long as you share back anything pertinent you find in your own inquiry."
The huntsman would not call what he was doing an 'inquiry.' It was damage mitigation. However, Ozpin had given Qrow free reign to look into Earnie's shooting. He might as well take advantage of that fact.
"You got it."
"Excellent. Now, it's still early, but I can get you the preliminaries on-"
There was a beep. Miller checked his Scroll. Then he stopped walking.
"Something up?"
"Not sure." He frowned. "There are reports of gunfire outside the walls of Vale. My people attempted to respond but were turned away. Our friends in blue are conducting a rather hush-hush police action."
That was strange. VPD were usually adamant about sticking to their turf. Criminals who escaped the city tended to be safe from pursuit.
Qrow was quite curious. "Wanna drop in on them?"
"I'm going to leave it for now. You should too. We don't want to catch the blame for their operation going south."
Qrow found Miller's point difficult to argue against. There was no guarantee this 'police action' had any connection to the White Fang anyway. Better to focus on what they knew and pick up the pieces later.
XIII. No Way Out?
What felt like an eternity passed before there was a break in the gunfire. Roman stuck his ghostly head out to glance around. The section of the tent they had crawled under had so many holes in it that the fabric was threatening to fall off.
He frowned at the teen covering a child with his body. The thief was not surprised by Jaune's reaction. What Roman did not understand was why a young girl was here at all.
"Are you alright?" Jaune asked first.
The devotchka slowly unfurled herself. They were on a bit of a timer here, but Jaune did not rush her. Still shaking, she looked up at them.
Her eyes widened. "You're-"
Roman took over from there. "Roman Torchwick, at your services. Who do I have the pleasure of making an acquaintance with?"
"Yori." She blushed.
"Okay, Yori. We can get up now, but you have to stay low. We don't want you to get hurt by the bad men out there."
"Is it the White Fang? I saw the news report. The one where you saved that man. You looked so cool… Are you doing that again?"
It sounded like they had a fan. Roman's opinion of Yori increased. Jaune was quick to seize on the framing she provided.
"Sorta. I'll do my best to keep them away, but you need to follow my instructions to the letter. Can you do that?"
There was a nod before she began shivering again. Jaune tried comforting her with a firm side hug. Slowly getting to his feet, he shuffled them closer to the open tent flap. Roman exited their shared body to scout out the route they should have taken to escape.
That opportunity had long since passed.
The tent was surrounded. Police cars had been arranged to create a circular perimeter. Officers - at least thirty of them - had their guns out and ready.
There was not a lot of space between sectors of the ring. Each vehicle was practically bumper to bumper. There was no obvious path out without obtaining several new orifices.
That VPD had mobilized so quickly was an indictment of their duplicity. This had been planned. The betrayal had been chambered and ready to fire the moment Roman and Jaune had walked into this slayground.
The spirit wondered if he was losing his magic touch. This was such an obvious trap. Even the boy had seen this coming.
To be fair to himself, they were working off incomplete information. Never in a million years would he have thought that Cinder could turn Nadder. Roman had become complacent. He had not considered that the ground underneath them had shifted so dramatically.
And after that whole speech he had given about 'lines in the sand,' too. He needed to follow his own advice. There were no givens in this life.
Just then, he faintly made out a feminine scream emanating from back in the tent. Roman was pretty sure it was not Jaune this time. Deciding there would be time for self-flagellation later, he flew back to those he had left behind.
Back inside, he found Jaune struggling with an officer. The girl had collapsed. Beside her was a pistol. By the time Roman reached them, the boy had overpowered their visitor and placed them into a standing rear-naked choke.
"What happened?" Roman asked.
"Tried to sneak up on us. Pulled a gun." Jaune panted before getting angry. "Scared the living daylights out of my new friend."
"I didn't know." The captured cop croaked under the assumption he was being spoken to.
Glancing over at Yori again, Roman saw that her chest was moving. She had merely fainted. That was regrettable.
He was not so much of a monster as to be upset that she had survived. But it would have made things easier if the cop had killed her. Jaune was going to insist that they bring her along. Honoring that request was going to be next to impossible without causing serious mayhem.
Another quick check outside revealed that the police were not about to stage a rescue. They were still laser focused on covering the tent with overwhelming firepower. There was a small window of opportunity to prepare.
Roman had to work fast.
He slipped back into the boy and spoke. "Welly well. Division came out in full force today. What made you decide to come after little ol' me?"
"I was just following orders!"
There was no denial. The officer did not even think to hide that it was Kingsnake's people that had surrounded them. Roman was sure that this was not missed by Jaune, who took in a quick draw of breath.
"What were those orders, exactly?"
"T-to capture you!"
"Was that why you all tried to perforate my back?"
"We were following protocol! It's… nothing personal!"
The pig was lying. VPD officers were not supposed to shoot unless they were threatened first. Melodic Cudgel was not even visible.
Before they could dig in further, there was a crackle outside preceding a booming voice. "There's nowhere to run Torchwick! We have you!"
They inched as a group over to the flap. Leaning to the side, they saw an officer on a megaphone. Since they were attempting a parlay, Roman felt he should reciprocate.
"Think so, huh?" He yelled, hoping the officers could hear him.
They did. "Come out with your hands up!"
Admittedly, Division did have them by the yarbles here. No chance to call for backup and no way out. But Roman was unwilling to concede.
Their captive spoke up then. "Give yourself up, man. I promise they won't hurt you. Or-or your friend."
Such talk was doing nothing for Roman. He had heard similar speeches before. Jaune, however, was losing faith. His hands were shaky, encouraging the cop to try and talk them down. The boy was more concerned about the girl than himself.
An idea came to the thief's mind. Something the pig had said was easily falsifiable. They just had to take a chance and test it.
"Push him out there."
"Hmm?" The teen quietly questioned the spirit within.
"Let's see if they really would let you surrender." Then Roman played his hand. "Alright! Hold your fire! I'm coming out!"
Before doing anything else, Roman took control of the arm that was not keeping the cop in place. He removed their hat from Jaune's head and placed it on their captive. The teen was confused but the Division lackey knew what was about to happen.
"No! You can't!" He begged.
"Now!"
The teen did as he was told and shoved. Their released man tripped out into the afternoon sun. He was far from happy with this newfound freedom.
He was downright terrified.
"Stop! It's me! Don't-"
An absolute wall of pops occurred. Bang after bang after bang. He spasmed before his bullet ridden body crumbled in on itself. As his head hit the ground, the bowler hat serendipitously popped off and rolled back to the duo.
There was no need to check. He was dead as a door nail.
In a tiny voice, Jaune said. "They killed him."
"Of course they did. Division is not here to arrest you. This is a hit squad."
To prove the point further, a couple of canisters came flying in. White clouds began dispersing. Despite just shooting one of their own, the other officers were upping the ante. Rather than wait, the Division sought to smoke them out.
Being non-corporeal, Roman was unaffected. Jaune was also safe. His Aura and handy-dandy filtering mask shielded his eyes and lungs, respectively. However, there was another person who had no such protection.
A cough brought Jaune back to Yori. She was still out like a light, but her body was aware enough to struggle for fresh air. It was a feeble attempt, as more of the fumes continued to choke her in her sleep.
Jaune did not even think twice. From his face, he tore off the mask to place on her. This, predictably, caused him to start coughing.
Roman huffed. "That won't do her much good if you end up incapacitated. Make no mistake, her body is going in the same shallow grave as yours."
"She didn't-" He hacked up some spittle. "Didn't do anything!"
"Like that matters. They are in clean up mode."
Whatever chance of letting Yori go was gone now that an officer was down. There could be no loose ends. Jaune was still living in denial of their current reality.
"What do we do!?"
"You know exactly what to do." Roman took over Jaune's hand once more.
He dove into the jacket to tug on the cane strapped inside. Melodic Cudgel came out easily enough. They had already loaded it with fresh new ammunition.
The explosive kind.
"You want me to-"
"Treat them like any huntsman would a Grimm."
"They're not Grimm."
"You're absolutely right." Roman laughed non-humorously. "They are worse than Grimm. Those monsters are driven by instinct. These beasts are driven by craven desire."
"But that's wrong! They are still people!"
Despite his forcefulness, Jaune was teetering. He was just in need of another push. That came in the form of another cylinder rolling into the tent. It bumped into Yori's foot. This slight collision caused her to whimper in her sleep.
"So what? Do you want to die with your morals intact? That going to be of any comfort to her family?"
Personally, Roman thought he was laying it on a bit thick. Yet Jaune appeared to be convinced. He breathed shallowly before pulling the girl along in one hand and readying their weapon with the other.
"What's the best way to do this?"
"All it will take is a few well-placed shots. And then-" Roman transformed Jaune's frown into a crooked smile. "Boom!"
/ / /
From his car, Officer Piper could see the riot gas escaping from the tent. He had expected their target to come running out. So far, though, nothing had happened.
He used his radio to page his squad leaders. "Code 2: Any movement?"
The responses came fast.
"Nada East."
"No movement in the North."
"West Clear."
"Got nothing South, Skipper."
Skipper. Piper liked the sound of that. He would not mind hearing that more often.
Nadder had made Piper the acting captain of this operation. Their benevolent Commissioner knew he was uniquely motivated to bring in Torchwick. He was still experiencing neck pains from their previous encounter.
This was a chance for justice. This was a chance for revenge. And, most of all, this was a chance for advancement.
To become a detective, Piper needed to catch a big fish. A high-level collar to make the case for promotion. Torchwick was going to be that for him.
Or so he thought. There had been a few hang-ups. Not everything had gone to plan.
His officers had deviated from orders. Instead of shooting on sight, they had foolishly tried to arrest Torchwick. Piper had heard the thief was a slippery fish, but his quick evasions had led to a near escape. It had been a close one, but now he was trapped.
Even a cornered rat was dangerous, though. Officer Sands had learned that the hard way. The junior patrolman had been sent in as a scout. Now he lay in a pool of his own blood.
This loss was likely to reflect poorly on Piper's command. On the bright side, there would be no charges of excessive force from Internal Affairs. They would be sure to place all the blame solely on Torchwick.
Though, as time marched on, a cover-up would become harder to implement. The longer this drew out, the more likely it was that non-Division officers or, Brothers forbid, a huntsman, would involve themselves. There could be no counter narrative.
The issue had to be pressed. They flooded Torchwick's hiding spot with noxious fumes. Now they were waiting for him to vacate the premises to pump him with lead.
Except, that was not happening. The thief was sticking it out. He wanted them to come in after him. Piper was unwilling. He got on his radio again.
"Let's burn him out. Anyone have a lighter?"
"Preston smokes. I'm sure he has one." Someone answered quickly.
The called-out officer jumped on. "No way. I'm not going in there! Jules can do it."
"Don't foist this on me!" The next person answered. "How about Skinner?"
The channel became crowded with a mess of voices. Everyone was arguing for another to take up the task. Piper had to put his foot down.
"I am ordering you to do this, Preston. Set some brush on fire outside and the gas will take care of the rest."
It was well known that their favorite method of crowd control was highly flammable. There had been a big scandal five years earlier after some protesters had been set ablaze outside city hall. Due to public pressure, VPD had been forced to phase the gas out.
But not immediately. The shells they were using were grandfathered in. Officers were allowed to use the remaining stockpile until they ran out. There was no point in wasting money on buying new equipment, after all.
"Fine." Preston growled. "But if you jackasses play around and get me killed, I will come back to personally haunt every person here."
"10-4." Everyone responded.
Piper slid out of his car to get ready. He spread the word to those standing around about what was going on. Soon there would be action.
This announcement got them all pumped. These were men-of-action. They trained for hours on the shooting range, dreaming of this kind of excitement. All of that was going to pay off.
"Ready yourselves. Things will happen very quick-" A loud boom went out.
Everyone was tense. No one had expected that sound. The gas was flammable. Not explosive.
Then there was another boom. And another. And another.
There was smoke. However, it was not coming from the tent. Dark clouds were rising around it. Something had gone wrong. Piper ran back to his patrol car to find out what had happened. Opening the door, he was assaulted by the yells coming over the radio.
"10-80! 10-80!"
"We need immediate-"
"-gone! Preston's gone!"
"Hello! Hello!" Piper added his own voice. "What's your status! Report!"
It was madness. Nobody was responding in a manner that could be easily interpreted. Panic had set in. The acting captain was in the dark about what had caused this turn of events.
And then he learned.
There were a series of bright lights to his left. The blinding intensity caused Piper to close his eyes. His patrol car violently rocked as a shockwave hit it. The force was so great that the driver's side window blew inward.
Unprepared for this, he hit his face against a hard surface. He felt his nose break again. Red liquid ran down his chin and onto the floor mats.
Crawling out of the vehicle on his hands and knees, he found chaos. Two cars were overturned and on fire. The men he had just been bucking up were all down.
Several were screaming for help. Others were whimpering. One was not moving at all.
Further away, Piper saw a man in a white coat leave the tent and make a break for it through the debris field. As the last man standing, he took it upon himself to pursue. He unholstered his gun to follow the fleeing felon.
Through the winding maze of stalls, the officer kept catching glimpses of the thief. Though injured, Piper was gaining ground. After weaving in and out several more times, he finally got a bead on his foe. They rushed through an empty combination petting zoo and stable.
"Torchwick!" Piper yelled, crouching beside several bales of hay.
The other man paid him no heed. He kept on running. Piper fired into the air. That got Torchwick to stop, yet he would not turn around. There was something in his arms weighing him down. Possibly the weapon he had used to decimate the rest of the policemen.
"Won't face me? Fine!"
He pulled the trigger. Over and over again. Each blast was cathartic.
Roman hunched over to make himself a smaller target. It did not matter. Piper had practiced these types of shots a thousand times. Every one of them was a direct hit.
Yet, when Piper had run out of bullets, Torchwick was still upright. The thief had shrugged off the rounds. He squared his shoulders and turned.
What Piper saw there chilled him. There was a surprisingly young-looking face glaring back at him with pure murderous rage. Slung in one arm was a small body. Almost like a child. In the other was a cane which rose to point threateningly at the officer.
On instinct, Piper dived.
There was a flash of intense heat. But he lived. The projectile had gone wide and landed directly in the blocks of straw.
Then there was a big boom.
Piper rolled onto his back. He watched as the haystacks launched high into the air. The solid mass of fire arched before falling back down to Remnant. All the policemen could do was scream as the fiery debris landed on top of him.
/ / /
Cinder Fall was startled from a nap when her Scroll rang unexpectedly.
She was far from proud of this reaction. It was a reflex. Thankfully, no one had been around to see the slip.
Her focus had been on a stack of printed news stories. After learning of Roman Torchwick's supposed survival, she had cloistered away to a small room. Inside, she devoted herself to reviewing every scrap of information she had available.
After days and nights of examination, her opinion remained unchanged. Roman was dead. There was a copycat. Neopolitan had to be helping them.
Beyond that though, the trail was cold.
One idea she had bandied about was sending Mercury and Emerald to talk to witnesses of Roman's resurrection. Perhaps they could pull more information out of them. Then she remembered that they were ill suited for such a task. So, to give herself space to think, Cinder had lent them to the White Fang.
Then she was considering asking her contact in VPD before falling asleep. This was why she did a double take when checking her Scroll. The newly installed Commissioner was calling her. Quickly fixing her hair and slipping on a nearby domino mask, she answered.
On the other end was indeed the so-called Kingsnake. "Cinder. I'm glad I could reach you."
He tilted his head in deference. Even a king knew when to show courtesy to a queen. She returned the gesture gracefully.
"Good to hear from you, Erv. Congratulations are in order for your recent promotion."
He beamed widely. "I cannot even begin to express my gratitude. Truly. Which is why I feel shame asking for another favor so soon."
This admission had her chuckling lightly. "Nonsense. There is no need for such ill feelings between allies."
Technically, he was owed a favor anyway. The Commissionership was supposed to be a gift. Receiving the Dust shipping manifest had been a boon to her. But, if he forgot, she was not one to miss an opportunity to appear magnanimous.
"Thank you. This will hopefully not require much on your part but will mean everything to me."
"Oh?" Cinder asked, interested in the proposition.
"Soon there shall be reports of an… incident all over the news. If you will, ask your other clients to claim responsibility."
She tilted her head. "How would you like them to do so?"
"The means do not matter. They can issue a statement to VNN. They could release a video on a file share service. Hell, they could even send a diss track to VPD headquarters. I just need them to confirm that they were involved!"
His tone was rather terse. If he were not so obviously distressed, she would have been rather put out by the demand. In its place, she tried to be reassuring.
"Before I agree, may I ask a question?" He gestured for her to do so. "Will this 'incident' place them in a bad light among their people?"
Even terrorists cared about their image. They relied on tacit support to operate. Anything that undermined them in the faunus community would be unacceptable.
"No. If anything, this may raise their profile. They will have struck a blow for their cause without lifting a finger. Initial reports may already be circulating. Check now. You'll know when you see it."
Titillated, she pulled up a local news aggregator website on her research tablet. There now was a 'breaking news' banner. Clicking it revealed an item from VNN.
Scanning the story, she got the gist of what was currently known: Outer wall disturbance. Multiple casualties. Police involved. Speculation on connection to a narrowly avoided Grimm incursion near Beacon Academy.
On the last bit, Cinder bookmarked for later. She had missed that news story. But knowing a bit more about Nadder's situation, she agreed with his characterization.
"My. What a mess. I shall speak with them at once."
"Will they agree? I would like to get a story out to my people in the media before anyone looks too closely."
An interesting tidbit. Cinder would need to figure out who the Division's media person was. That information could come in handy. To his question though, she answered truthfully.
"I see no reason for them to refuse."
His shoulders sank. "Thank you."
"Of course." She accepted the gratitude. "I am curious though. Could this not be handled internally?"
"Not in a way that would allow me to save face with the Council. The root of the problem was that we failed to apprehend a criminal."
For a law enforcement agency, that was an embarrassing mistake. Less so was being outgunned by an interkingdom terrorist organization. One that even the mighty Atlas struggled to contain.
However, this in itself raised an interesting question.
"Who was this criminal?" They may have been worth recruiting.
"I'll tell you, but first, I have my own question: Do you have any other clients besides the one I know about?"
It was an abrupt change in topics. "No. We can only handle a few at a time."
"How about former clients? Or those that know about your services?"
Now she was losing her patience. "What is this about?"
"The one who caused this issue was an old acquaintance of mine. They had been troubling my officers, so I decided to excise them. They did not go quietly. In fact, they spoke vociferously. Your name came up."
"Me? How would-" She stood up. "Roman."
"So you do know him? He came around asking — pleading — for me to-"
Cinder tuned out the Kingsnake. She could not help it. Blood pumped around her ears, quieting everything else.
She ran the events of that night over and over again in her head. She could see the scene so perfectly. The stab. The fire. The fall. The triumph.
Roman Torchwick was dead. Dead by her hands. Dead as can be.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
Yet, a treacherous whisper reminded her that a body had not been discovered. Despite the corpse falling into the middle of the city, no one had come forward to report it. She had been the only observer to the gentleman thief's demise.
Could she be wrong?
"Are you… positive it was him?" Cinder asked abruptly to end his diatribe.
He looked perturbed at the interruption. "What do you mean? I've known Torchwick for nearly a decade. I'm sure it was him."
That was impossible, she wanted to scream. Cinder held her tongue. Losing her temper would be counterproductive.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Her voice sounded monotoned, even to herself. "I will resolve the first matter immediately. The second will require more consideration. We will talk again soon."
The Commissioner, sensing he would get no further, acquiesced. "I look forward to it."
Hanging up, she paced. The room spun. All certainty had flown out the window.
Stumbling in a stupor, Cinder entered a side bathroom. Everything was spinning. She clutched the porcelain sink to gaze upon a vanity mirror above the faucet. The reflection she saw was not her own.
Staring back was the visage of another fool who stubbornly clung to life. It was a woman, a little older than herself, with a scarred face. Her brown eyes were accusatory. Flames leaked from the brows like a fiery mascara.
Cinder blinked.
The previous maiden disappeared. What was left was Cinder's own face. Her own power.
The fire returned to where it belonged. She turned on the faucet and splashed herself with water. After a few more doses of cold truth, she turned to another of the crochet affirmations that hung from the walls of their hideout.
'Trust that the right things will come my way at the right time.'
She blew on an errant strand of wet hair. Then she returned to her Scroll. There were some calls to make.
