Chapter VI - Dusk Falls
Adam
The wind was whistling a tuneless song, and he had never been this uncertain.
Adam Taurus stood, alone, a dark silhouette on the cliff’s edge. He was rigid as he towered, overlooking the lands far below. He could see the red distant sea of Forever Fall, swallowed up by the dark gold of dusk shadows, and perhaps that was why he liked this place, because it served as a reminder of simpler times, of times where blood did not stain his hands and where he could solve his problems with a wave of a sword and a few kind words.
But he was no longer that little boy; he did not know himself, could not draw a line in the sand between who he was at heart and the person that lurked in his darker shadows, and from this vantage point, he did not regret his cruelty. Perhaps it should scare him, but he only felt a distant longing for more- a hunger within him that could not be sated.
The wind cut through his clothes, and he considered activating his semblance, if only for the warmth it would provide in this barren wasteland, but he discarded the idea as swiftly as it had come. Ayran would be displeased, think he was too accommodating to nomad wishes. He had to be austere with himself. As the highest ranking officer in his Elite, he had duties to uphold, and squandering his semblance for such a simple thing as warmth would speak of arrogance, selfishness, of greed.
Of weakness. That was something he could not afford. He had clawed his place to the top, alone, and he intended to keep it the same way: with his own two hands, nothing more.
However, it was looking out upon Forever Fall that he could not banish the mocking ghosts of his greatest failures, and of all those failures, his biggest demon was the fading image of a girl with black hair and haunted, fire-filled eyes that tortured him the most. Everything in his life was so tightly controlled, so carefully kept under reigns, but she— she had been inexorable.
Looking back, he couldn’t remember most of the detail of that day on the train; it had become like a string of film played too many times. Chunks were missing, pieces were blurred out. Had she been using her weapon as a gun or cleaver? Had she been on the offense or defense? Had she been wearing her bow, or leaving the Faunus part of herself that she despised open to the air? It was fading, chunks of memory breaking away, and for that, he was equally grateful and furious.
Blake; once his Bonded partner. Now, he didn’t know anything or anyone he hated more, except perhaps the humans— but no, she was worse, because she had betrayed her own kind. He felt a sharp anger, albeit a murderous kind, when he thought of her. The other feelings he had harbored had soured into bitterness and resent, because, dammit, she had left him without a moment’s hesitation, left their carefully constructed dreams for the future, abandoned his hopes like they were a burden, seeking her own liberation.
“I am not your absolution,” she had told him once, after waking from those nightmares that had always plagued her. “I am nobody’s obligation.”
He’d not known what that meant when she’d told him, saying it like she was telling him of his own destruction. Now he knew. And he was burning, always burning with hatred for her.
“You grow angry, do you not?”
He didn’t move as a voice— neutrally amused— observed his stiff posture and narrowed eyes. He merely brushed off imaginary dust from his clothes and responded, “I am young no longer, my lady, and I am not angry… merely contemplative.”
“Let us discard with the formality of titles.” He couldn’t suppress a shiver as Cinder Fall came to stand beside him. He didn’t like the huntress- didn't hate her, no, but she was... different in a way that spoke of ancient magic, old ways, deceit that ran as deep as the blood of the earth. She was as awful and beautiful as a dying season, her guise fraught with expectations and lies. The other Faunus, even Ayran, and even Torchwick, did not scare him. He didn’t get scared; it wasn’t like him. But she… she was something not entirely human, and he could not get any vibes of evil or good from her, just a careful, cool grayness, like static. That frightened him, even if he would not admit it to himself.
“You look out on their lands and envisage much,” she observed, “and what do you feel?”
“I need it,” he snarled— burning, always burning— “need to see the humans crumple under the weight of labor and inferiority as they have done to us for so long. Ayran understands that. Torchwick, in some ways, knows it too. Surely you must as well.”
Cinder’s eyes heated, like a lighter sputtering to life, going from amber to ember. “I will remember what you have deemed adequate for your Faunus, Adam Taurus, but do not delude yourself into thinking I would change my plans for you because you lust for a utopia that does not exist.” Her eyes were dangerous, cold amber-gold, hot copper, like a hawk, sensing any weakness. She was dangerous, he supposed, but it was a spontaneous danger that could snap at any whim: like a gas flame under glacier ice. “You lie. You are aware of what is coming. I would not have chosen a weak fool to work alongside. But Ayran… he is driven by foolish greed and no control of ruthlessness.”
And that was the difference, was it not? Cinder was subtle as a snake, or like the poison that lurks in one’s veins before it makes its deadly strike. Ayran was about as delicate as the blow of a hammer. To crush the opposition, you needed something far more advanced than a relentless tyrant.
“He is like my father,” Adam rumbled, uncomfortable, choosing his words carefully.
"Your true father,” Cinder Fall said with something like a purr in her voice, as soft and venomous as a spider’s fur, “was murdered by his hand.”
He turned away, looking out at the violet horizons that crested the mountains. The humans’ realm, he thought angrily. Not ours. Never ours… “My true father hardly knew I existed. I wasn’t sad when he died. But that he was murdered— you don’t know that.”
“No.” She came closer, slinking like a cat. Gas flame, glacier ice. Her dress glowed with flame-gilded etches, pulsing with danger and Dust. “I do know, more than you will ever dream of. And I suspect. And when I suspect, I do not hesitate.”
Adam laid a hand on Wilt, his back straightening as she made a half-turn behind him. “And what is it you suspect about me?”
“There are many keys to obtaining what I need,” she said. Need, not want, and perhaps that was what had swerved Adam’s loyalty between her and Ayran. “Many solutions. I suspect you are one of them.”
“I am.” He smiled. “So then we understand each other.”
“That,” she purred, and he could almost sense the coiling of muscles like a snake before it strikes, “I suppose we do.” She smiled; it was entirely devoid of humor or light, as cold and chilling as the eyes of a shark.
The air shimmered and rippled like fabric, and then she was gone.
Adam took a moment longer, a snarl marring his expression. He whirled, turning back to the jagged, serrated teeth of the mountains that jutted against the blackening sky. “You left me,” he hissed to the cool, beckoning air of the gathering dusk. “Now, I’m right here… hiding in silence. You turned your back on everything we worked for for a dream, and the real world isn’t full of fairy tales. You will pay in blood, Blake Belladonna, for what you have done. And may you never stop coming— never stop coming until we are face to face.”
Phase two, he thought out to the world that would soon burn, a world shattered to remnants, all of it crumbling to ashes for him, begins at last.
When he returned to the warehouse that served as the main base for White Fang operations, there was a thicker crowd of Faunus than usual, most of them with jeering looks on their cruel faces. He shoved through the coalesced crowd— they parted easily around him— to see Ayran lounged on his throne, eyes sharp with the graceful predatory guise that came right before a kill. A slender, bird-like Faunus girl was on her knees in front of him, flanked by two guards, and the crowd shouted at her— obscene, profane, throwing rocks and jeers. Vicious gashes scored her face, her arms, but her eyes burned with defiance as she spat blood out at Ayran’s throne.
He rose slowly, lazily, padding towards her with the lithe sinuous grace of a cat. He loomed above her, casting a sharp shadow; her eyes glared up at him with absolute hatred.
“Have you,” he said softly, danger in his voice, “any last words, my darling?”
She snarled a word that would have gotten her beaten for insubordination any other time. Now, Ayran just threw back his head and laughed, and the crowd followed suit, a cackling sneer rippling through the room. The girl’s face whitened, and she cast her eyes around desperately, perhaps realizing of the enormity of her situation, the gravity of her reality— and her eyes met Adam’s, a silent plea in them.
You can’t agree with this cruelty. Please… please help me.
Her eyes were amber, her hair dark… she looked like Blake, except the blood and bruises and the broken look were uniquely her own, and Adam bit back anger, deliberately turning his face away.
He heard when the death blow came, and he heard her cry out before it cut off abruptly with a gurgling noise, and he stood still, silent, chilled, as the room slowly filtered out, White Fang members filing out until it was devoid. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the air as Ayran’s heavy footfalls slowly cracked across the floor until the White Fang’s leader was standing by his lieutenant, a terrible look on his scarred face.
“She was a traitor,” Ayran growled heavily. Was it just Adam, or had a distinctive note of weariness entered his tone?
“Yes, Lord.” Adam fought the urge to rip off his mask; the air in the room was suddenly stifling, oppressively smothering.
“I see your doubt, Adam.” Ayran turned away, sitting on his throne and pulling off his own mask, revealing new lines creasing his eyes, but the eyes were the same— always the same— as cold and hard and unfeeling as gems. “Come. Sit with me.”
Adam sit gingerly on the dais as if it might explode, and he looked down at his hands, avoiding the limp corpse that slumped, head lolling, at the center of the room: an it now, not a she, killed on a whim. From this angle, her back arched and faced to them, it could have been the corpse of anyone. It could have been the body of Blake, blood slowly ebbing out from her neck, slashed to ribbons. Ayran didn’t look bothered at his kill; rather, he thoughtfully wiped his slick hand, coated in blood up to the wrist, on the throne, adding even more gruesome decor to the puzzling mazework of fused bones.
“How do you feel about the progress we are making?” Ayran’s question— carefully guarded, demanding— didn’t invite honesty, and yet, Adam answered to him the same as he had answered to Cinder, with the same burning, the same ruthless recklessness.
“I hate it.” Adam couldn’t help that the words came out as a hiss, snakes coiling over his tongue. He was almost surprised Ayran couldn’t see them writhing there, as nothing escaped his jaded amber-green eyes— but then again, perhaps he could. “I hate it, how we can’t change anything, how the humans look at us… the fear, the terror, the hatred…” And then we go and wage war because their pettiness has kept us inferior for years.
“Are you sure you do not enjoy it, just a little?” Ayran’s voice was soft, amused, never bothered, always as calm and controlled as a predator. “The humans fear you, of course; you’re a Faunus. They write you off as a monster. But these other Faunus of the White Fang… they respect you with their fear, too, Commander of my Elite, as good as my son. Does it not thrill you? Humans completely at your whim, White Fang members clay in your hands to be molded, to do with as you please… that never excites you, never makes your pulse race with the possibilities laid out before you?”
Adam had never liked weakness, never appreciated it, despite his origins, and a shiver of disgust rolled down his spine. “No, Lord.”
Ayran’s fangs flashed menacingly as he smiled. “That is why I trust you, Taurus, more than anyone else. You do not take pleasure in the weakness of others, and you do not enjoy breaking those who do not obey.” He waved a disparaging hand at the crumpled corpse on the floor. “All tests, of course. I watched you carefully after you returned from Forever Fall. You performed admirably, unlike your partner—“
“She’s not my partner,” he growled, the words out before he could even consider them. “She’s dead to me.”
Ayran threw his head back and laughed, a bone-chilling laugh that sent ice splintering into Adam’s blood. “You really are in poor spirits tonight, aren’t you?” His eyes fell back onto Adam, abruptly frosting over again. “You know that many of our own betray us: Tukson, Khione, Brian, Maria, and lastly, Blake. She, the little pet, was an experiment, Adam, and she failed. I had hopes for her, and she dashed them spectacularly, as was customary— both her mother, and her father, betrayed me as well. I knew she’d leave eventually. As did you, even if you denied it to yourself.” His face turned towards Adam’s; in the dim light, the craters of scars were more pronounced, the rugged skin like scales. “The question is, what do you think?”
“I will kill her, like you killed her parents,” he hissed, and Ayran’s mouth thinned to a gruesome smile, dipped at the edges where the tips of his fangs showed.
“Of course, to be sure. They’ll all pay in blood for what they have done, come a day. And you will be at the forefront of the charge. Only one has ever escaped the wrath of the White Fang. Only one.” His eyes darkened. “There is always a deviant, of course, there always is. One Faunus, the sister of Brian Belladonna, Blake’s father. She… escaped.” The words were measured, bleak with fury.
Adam’s hand rested on Wilt, the hilt cold to the touch. “Is that so? What was her name?”
“Do not jest with me, Taurus. Blake’s father had foolish plans to crumple my own dreams, and so he died, as did his wife; he was a traitor to his kind. But his sister? She was a lowly Faunus, too, and a coward who refused to fight in the Great War. Her name was Khione Belladonna.”
“I have not heard of that name before.”
“And now, you must forget it. I’m sure she’s dead, or living with regret, wherever she is.” He turned away, austere, cultured, and disciplined once more, and strode off. At the square of light, the doorway, he paused and looked over his shoulder, eyes glittering, hard as jade. “And, Taurus?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Get rid,” he said, throwing a disgusted hand at the corpse, which was slowly attracting a cloud of flies as the blood dried to a cloying pool of rust-red congealment, “of that.”
He stood alone, the shattered light of the moon shedding silver glory down around him, but not touching him, never touching him. The night sounds left a bitter, bleak taste in his mouth.
“Good-bye,” Blake says, before her and her twinkling eyes disappear into the night.
Adam waited a moment longer, as if expecting, faintly, in the part of him that was not a monster through and through, for some absolution to come from the cold moon. But it did not, and he listened for the sound of receding feet in the halls before he moved back to his own cot. He curled up, pressing up against himself as if he could fold himself up into a little box and vanish, closed his eyes, and readied himself to fall into his own nightmares again.
Perhaps it was a fitting punishment, for in the morning, he would create them.