Chapter XIII - Ante Bellum
Yang
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
She shook Blake’s shoulder and was met with a grunt of protest before her partner rolled over, burying herself deeper in the sheets.
“I’m going to pull out an airhorn if you’re not up in the next ten seconds.” The words were light, but her heart still remembered the grim dream. “Come on, today’s the big crime-stopper-central day, remember? The one where we blatantly ignore the authority in our own heroic quest for goodness?”
Blake frowned as she disentangled herself from the sheets, eyes flickering open, darker than ever. “Ante bellum.”
“What does that mean?”
Her partner sat up, eyelashes casting angular shadows over her cheekbones. “Ante bellum — it means before war. And I have a feeling that… well, this is no small incident. It’s all connected, Yang.” There was a breathless undercurrent to her voice, like she was racing towards something. “All connected and we’re just missing the dots.”
Yang swore, reality crashing down. A bow on the top of her head couldn’t shield Blake from the weight of the past; an act and a lie could not change the truth. “You’ll be alone. How will you—”
“There’s a Faunus lackey that acts as a doorman, Yang. Besides getting a gross leer, he won’t look at me twice.” She didn’t look convinced. “The leering, I can handle. I don’t know about Ayr—” She broke off, biting her lip. “Never mind.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you.” She sat next to Blake. “Going back—“
“I’m going back, yes, but I do have one thing to hold on to. An anchor.” Blake looked at her hands, scarred, with slender pianist’s fingers. “I’m returning to you and to my team. And that’s all the incentive I need.”
Yang blinked, oddly touched, raising her head. The sun was at its zenith from outside the ajar window, and light poured down from the impossibly blue sky, striping highlights across the paneled floor. The cutting wind that swirled into their dorm smelled of ice and mint, stirring her hair in the gusts and blowing across her face.
Yang looked over as Blake shook her lightly.
“Xiao Long, that’s the third time I’ve said your name. I thought it was me that was supposed to be brooding. Are you all right?”
Yang offered a small smile, acquiescing Blake’s frown without comment. “Just got lost in my thoughts, I guess. Sorry.”
Blake reached over, brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes. Somehow her touch made Yang unbearably sad. “You disappear so completely in your head sometimes,” she murmured, eyes searching Yang’s face. “I wish I could follow you.”
You do, Yang wanted to say. You live in my thoughts all time. Instead, she turned her head to look out at the fierce beacon of the sun, squinting against the white glare, and Blake’s hand dropped with a little thud of finality. “We’ll be going soon,” she murmured. “As soon as Weiss and Ruby get back from breakfast. You aren’t even slightly worried?”
“Worrying won’t help,” Blake said. When Yang turned to give her a fierce look, she held up her hands in surrender and admitted, “Don’t give me that look. Okay— yes, I am. I’d be foolish not to be. Only an arrogant person wouldn’t be worried, and concern staves off recklessness and keeps you on your toes. Plus, I—“ Her eyes dropped to the side. “I’m not exactly eager to be going into the heart of the White Fang again. It’s been a long time.” She looked guarded once more, and Yang knew how hard it was for her to speak of them, that she was ashamed of her time with the White Fang, ashamed of her past.
But I would never judge you for that.
Yang’s breath hissed out between her teeth and she rubbed her hands together, raw and chafed from the chilly bite of the wind. Blake moved as if to lean against her, but she shrank back at the last second, eyes dark, and Yang wondered at why she’d done it. “You’ll be okay, Blake. You’re careful. And you’re strong.” Yang closed her eyes, and a vision of a small woman, bird-frail with sparking grey eyes and a sheer white cloak that flapped in the wind, swam against her eyelids. Summer Rose. Summer had been her mom, if not by blood, then by love. “I didn’t tell Ruby that the ‘friend’ I have over in the shadier area of Vale isn’t exactly a friend,” she confessed. “He’s— an accomplice. Named Junior. He knows a lot of stuff, and I think he’s a spy for Torchwick. But he’s obligated not to hurt me, in a way, because he’s scared. I’ve burned my way through his club singlehandedly, and I could do it again, and he knows it. But we’re far from friends.” That’s putting it lightly, she added silently. After I stormed in there and demanded answers about Raven before obliterating his club…
And Blake gave her the look that made her feel like someone had taken an apple corer to her heart, a mixture of vulnerability and a ferocious devotion. “If he hurts you—“
“You’ll be there to lick his bones clean, I know, I know.” Despite everything, she gave a small smile. “Don’t give me the whole ‘I’ll follow you into hell’ spiel again, Blake. It makes me feel like I’d really go there and you’d have to save my sorry ass.”
Blake’s smile was sharp and angular, barely flashing the edge of a glittering white incisor before it was gone. She laughed, quick and fleeting. “Don’t you know it.”
“Hey, you guys!”
Yang and Blake jumped apart as if a bolt of lightning had speared down between them, and Ruby trotted out from the wide double doors, Weiss following at a more leisurely pace behind her. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Blake sounded bored and cool, the softness fled from her voice. “We may as well hurry along with it.” It made Yang wonder if she’d only ever show her vulnerability to her partner; made her wonder what had made Blake single her out as worthy of that sort of trust.
“Yeah!”
Yang’s head snapped around as a faint cheery voice echoed into the room. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Sun, grinning manically as he hung upside down outside the window, his arms dangling; he swayed like a pendulum in the wind. A pendulum, she thought sourly, aware that she was being petty, of arrogant boy. Get lost, Wukong.
He promptly swung himself into the room with a thud, and the rest of the team gaped at him as he brushed curling tufts of sun-bleached hair from his eyes and cocked his head with a languid smile. “Are you guys, like, finally getting back at that asshat of a criminal? That Torchwick guy?”
“Asshat’s a word?” Yang said in confusion, simultaneously with Weiss’s angry, “No swearing in the dorm! We have manners here!”
Blake finally found her voice, rising and raising an eyebrow at him. “Yes, we are.” She pursed her lips. “As a team.”
“Sorry, Sun,” Ruby said apologetically as Yang and Blake shared a glance of amusement. “We don’t want to get friends involved if we don’t have to.”
He waved a hand nonchalantly. “Psh, that’s dumb. You should always get friends involved! That’s why I brought Neptune!”
Collectively, they poked their heads out of the window. Neptune was hugging the wall for dear life, looking terrified at the spinning heights that plunged away below him. “Hey,” he said tremulously, wind gusting across the precarious ledge. “Um, it’s really good to see you guys and all, but please, can I come in? We’re really high up right now.”
“Heh,” Yang said, reaching out and poking him. He yelped and wobbled, hands gouging against the wall. “Not cool as a cat anymore, are ya?”
“If that’s an insult, Yang,” Blake’s voice drifted out from behind her, “I don’t appreciate it.”
“Sorry, kitten.”
Ruby reached out and helped Neptune edge along into the room, where he promptly collapsed on the rug with a gusty sigh of relief before twisting and glaring at Sun. “Insane, man. You’re insane.”
Sun flicked his tail over Neptune’s nose, and he puffed out his chest. “I prefer astonishingly brave and stunningly handsome warrior, thank you.”
“You’re just a trash boy from Vacuo,” Neptune grumbled, but Ruby intervened before Sun could retaliate.
“Sun, you can go with Blake. Neptune, you can go with Yang ‘cause she doesn’t have a partner. Okay?”
Yang shot a disheartened look to Blake, who was frowning, her eyes clouded as if her thoughts were far away. She wished she could go with Blake— wished she could help her through this— but Sun had been with her before on a mission, and it was for the best. Squashing down her doubts and fears, Yang moved over to Blake, gave her a reluctant half grin, muffling a noise at the back of her throat. She gave Blake’s hand a light squeeze, tapping her once on the arm. “Be safe, okay? I don’t want to have to come scrape you off the ground.”
Blake raised her eyebrows at her open affection— she was always stiffer, more guarded when they were in the presence of others— but accepted it without comment. “Of course,” she said, “that would be inconvenient to clean,” and then she was gone, whirling around and diving out the window after Sun. Yang tried to discreetly look to see where’d she gone, if she’d dropped all the way to the ground, but it was as if the air had swallowed her whole.
Weiss looked down her nose at Yang and sniffed. “You’re really all too obvious, Yang,” she said, though not unkindly, eyes darting from her to the place where Blake had disappeared. Yang defiantly stuck her tongue out at her as she walked away and out the door with Ruby.
“So are you, heiress!” she shouted as Weiss and Ruby disappeared. Asshole, she thought mutinously. I need to give her the Talk about Ruby, and soon.
“So, I guess it’s you and me now,” Neptune said, giving her an uncertain smile. She could see he was unsure of how to approach her, but she didn’t fault him for it; they might well need humor tonight, for how dangerous it could get.
“I’m delighted. Just so long as you don’t try your dearest partner’s horrid flirting tactics, and aren’t seized by a crippling penchant to show off your abs to the world, we’ll be good,” she grumbled, and his grin broadened, relief flickering over his face. “Let’s go.”
The city came alive at night, lights glowing like swarms of fireflies, and Yang could catch snatches of laughter and music as doors slammed in the darkness. The motorcycle billowed smoke under her feet, rattling through her bones, and she grinned against the fierce wind at Neptune’s terrified yelp as she rounded a corner with a sparking, screeching squeal, roaring down the avenue.
A purring nightclub alive with whirring lights towered ahead of her, at the end of the street. In swooping letters, the club’s name was emblazoned across a dark beam parallel to the threshold. She flicked her eyes over the glowing words, familiar to her as the backs of her hands— THE BLACK SOL— before revving the motorcycle into a decrepit parking lot, slowing to a stop and jerking the cycle into a stop.
“Come on, the rat’s in here,” Yang said over her shoulder. Neptune was trembling, his knuckles white and stiff on the cracked leather of the seat. She twisted her helmet off and hooked it over the handlebar before turning and staring up at the club; tonight, the air was heavy with oncoming rain and the damp humidity of late fall. A large, dark bird soared overhead, roosting on the letter ‘B’ in THE BLACK SOL, turning a beady eye that was smeared with light onto her.
It was a raven. Thinking of her dream, a shiver went through Yang; before she could throw a stone to scare it off, her Scroll buzzed. She flipped it open, brow furrowing, and saw a notification for a new message bouncing in her inbox.
6:17 PM - Blake: Have you gotten anything worthwhile from the rat?
A reply couldn’t hurt. Fingers shaking, she shot a message back.
6:17 PM - Yang: No. Not yet. other than the fact that neptune screams like a little girl when on a motorcycle, nothing yet. i think he went out of frequency range tbh
6:17 PM - Yang: on a more serious note… Junior ought to play nice. he doesn’t usually say anything important, ill be ok… things seem off, though… kinda weird tonight. i feel iffy
6:18 PM - Blake: How so?
6:18 PM - Yang: there’s tension in the air. it’s weird. can’t u feel it?
6:18 PM - Blake: …Now that you mention it, I can.
6:19 PM - Yang: doesn’t matter tho. you’ve got the most dangerous task of all of us. have u reached the place yet?
6:19 PM - Blake: Much as I would like for us to have not arrived, we have, yes. Sun seems disconcerted as well, but it’s hard not to with this chill in the air. I can see it in the distance. And there’s a lot of Faunus… more than I would expect. Misguided, but that sort of direction can be lethal.
6:20 PM - Yang: what abt you? are you ok?
6:20 PM - Blake: I’ll be fine, but I must go. Good luck.
6:20 PM - Yang: be careful. i don’t want you getting hurt tonight
6:21 PM - Blake: Ditto. Tonight won’t be a repeat of the shipyard. I promise. Yang, be safe.
“I get that texting must be very entrancing in the face of our imminent doom, Yang, but can it wait? It’s starting to drizzle.”
Yang gave Neptune a funny look as he stared in dread up at the sky. “Dude, you realize you’re named after the Latin god of the sea, right?”
Neptune flushed. “I — you — shut up, let’s just go in.”
She snickered as they trotted along, mounting the stairs. She yanked open the heavy, brass-studded doors, preparing for the hurricane of energy that would seethe over her.
Within, it was a warm cocoon of music and senseless oblivion. A blast of music broke over her, strobe lights fanning out in the floor: bright gold, acid green, a vicious and bruised purple. She blinked, the world swimming dizzyingly as she tried to gather her senses. A deep bass note throbbed through the floor, thrumming through her bones and jarring her ears.
However, before she could open her mouth to speak, a hum of clicks went through the air, and she peeled open her eyes to stare into the dark mouths of twenty gun barrels.
The smile slid from her face like butter from a hot knife; replaced by a snarl. Neptune whispered something she didn’t catch, but it sounded like a whimper or a curse.
“Define friend for me,” he hissed in her ear, “because as much as you like an edgy life, this really isn’t cutting it for me.”
“Stop!” A panicky voice cut through the hum of the guns and Yang’s lips thinned from anger to displeasure. “Stop, stop, you idiots, nobody shoot!”
Junior’s heavily scarred face appeared through the crowd, his beard scraggly and his narrow eyes cold as glaciers under the rapidly flashing lights. “Blondie,” he growled. “You’re here. Again. Why…?”
“You,” she said sweetly, voice concealing a threat, “still owe me a drink.”
“I told you, I don’t know. I don’t keep a record of every mafia-looking ginger who swaggers in here like he owns the place, darling, or I’d run out of paper before the week was up.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Yang snarled, hand curling in a fist as she locked gazes with Junior. He was the first to look away. “Let’s go over this again, honey. I came in and saw him take your men. Then, I blew my way through this pathetic hole of a club— don’t look like that, it’s true, we all know it— and he left. Has he come back? Did he drink anything, and let information slip? Did he tell you where he was going or what he was doing with your men?”
“I didn’t ask,” Junior spat, the scars on his face rippling unpleasantly, like snakes. “Lots of people come to hire my boys; s’what keeps me in business — none of them ever come back, but spots fill up like lightning. Not my duty to know what they’re doing with the pathetic brats, you know? If I pried into every client’s motives they hired from me, I’d be shot before the sun went down.”
Yang narrowed her eyes. “And that’s all you can tell me?”
“That,” he said, knocking back a glittering, wine-gold shot with a neat flip of his wrist before looking at her with a dark amusement, “and perhaps a bit of advice, girl.”
Yang’s jaw set and Neptune’s eyes flickered between them like he was watching an intense game of tennis. Yang turned to Neptune and made a decision. “Neptune, why don’t you go wait by the motorcycle.”
“But you, I—“
“Go,” she snapped as he frowned. “You’re not helpless. I’ll come if anything funny happens.”
Looking hurt, he turned and vanished into the crowd, and Yang whirled back to Junior. “Talk, old man. I’m not in the mood for games.”
“You came here months and months ago, looking for Raven,” Junior said, a smile flickering over his lips; it was devoid of benevolence. “Despite what I said, your mother did come here once. Her, and her whole team: a frail girl in white; a tall boy who must’ve been her brother, they looked so damn alike; a boy in all white and gold. But she alone approached me. And this, I can see, is the same with you: she had a destructive power that lay within her. Perhaps it was latent, perhaps not, but something ruled that girl. Some people are ticking time bombs: all you have is your fire, girl, but I can see you are her daughter. In the way you walk, maybe. Like nothing can touch you. But we all have some inner demon. Nobody comes to this place without a secret they’re trying to forget.”
“That’s your advice?” Cold rage took hold of Yang. “You lied to me about my mother, you—“ She struggled, but no insult seemed adequate enough. “I beat your ass once, Junior. Maybe I should—“
“Hold your horses, sweetheart. My advice is this.” He leaned forward on his elbows, his wine-dark eyes resting on her. “There’s a power with truth. But there is also a power in lies. It’s the one that you choose that defines you. I hear things in the air, running this place. People say thing in drunken stupors. But this I’ve gathered; the peace in Remnant has always been an hourglass, and we’re nearing the time when the sands run out and war will break out again. The choice you need to be sure of is who’s side you’ll fight for when that time comes.” He sat back up, looking tired once more. “Now go on. Get out of here.”
“What do you mean, who will I fight for? Isn’t that obvious? Do I look like I’d be a herald of evil to you?”
“If someone close to you was on the wrong side, would you have the courage to bear arms against them?” His eyes narrowed, looking like the grooved edges of glinting coins, and with a jolt, Yang realized she didn’t know if he was speaking of Raven — or of Blake.
By the time she’d come back to herself, he had gone to the other end of the bar and begun polishing glasses, clearly signaling the conversation was over. Yang growled, but menace would not come under her own pressing sense of dread, and she turned and shoved back through the pulsing crowd, a chill in her heart.
Blake
“I don’t like it here,” Sun whispered as Blake pocketed her Scroll. He was rubbing his arms, looking fearfully at the warehouse; the only amusing thing about his alarm was that it had unnerved him so much he’d finally buttoned his shirt. “It’s so… this isn’t what the Faunus should be like. It’s unnatural. How—"
“Did I stay here for so long?” Blake’s look was one of hatred as she stared at the familiar walls. “I’ve been asking myself the same question for years.”
Sun narrowed his eyes at the stream of wide-eyed, determined Faunus streaming in, with no idea what hell they were voluntarily walking into. “We’d better get it over with.”
“Much as I don’t want to.” She followed him down the cliff, like a shadow come to life, and they seamlessly merged with the crowd, keeping their eyes blank and inconspicuous. A feeling like ice crawled over her skin as the doorman’s gaze cut through her like a knife, glancing over her ears and Sun’s tail, before he shoved two masks at them and waved them through.
When she put them on, she was winded by the heavy weight of memory—
looking through twin slits as she murdered, lied, stole, as Adam assured her it all was all right, it was good, they were justice-fighters—
“This is so uncomfortable,” Sun said, looking as out of place as a poodle shoved into a ring of Dobermans as they slunk down the hall. “Why do they wear these things?”
“The masks are a symbol,” Blake said, longing to tear hers off, knowing that if she did, she’d be inviting an attack. “Humanity wanted— wants— to make monsters out of us. So the White Fang chose to don the faces of monsters. I—“
“Grimm masks,” he said, touching his with a newly woken shock in his eyes, all amusement fled. “That’s dark.”
“So was the leader who started it,” she said shortly, almost feeling the glare of jade-colored eyes knifing into her skull.
He grumbled something as they filtered into the room, but she didn’t hear it: her heart thumped loud in her ears, blood rushing to her head. She felt too hot all over, like a thin veil of fire seethed over her skin, but her hands shook and her heart was cold. Perhaps only a week ago, she could not have walked in here without hyperventilating; now, she was gripped with a cold, purposeful sense of vengeance and hatred.
As they were pressed in the center of a crowd— all of them misguided, that was all she saw, for these people were not killers, merely cheated out of a better life— Blake’s hand lay on her weapon.
Her hand clenched as the curtain shivered and a dark, hulking form padded out.
She had expected to see him, of course, when he walked out in that confident pace, like a panther on the lookout for prey. The months, years, had not changed Ayran. His corded, scarred arms were still laced with tattoos of curling writing in old languages. His coppery-dark hair still curled close to his neck, ribboned with lighter strands, and his mask still bore a feral brutality, his eyes glowing like coals through the slats. They moved over the crowd with a hunger and amusement all at once, and she froze, head bowed.
“Thank you all for coming.” His voice rang out, rumbling like a storm, laced with a darkness she had never, never been able to escape. “I assure you that your… decisions… in joining our cause— a force of revolution— will be beneficial, to both you, and to us.”
A low cheer went up from the members; with a sickening realization, she realized they were chanting a single phrase.
Eliminate the humans. Eliminate the humans.
Ayran grinned; it was more the grin of a wolf before it leaped forward and tore out your throat, than anything. “For those of you who are joining us for the first time tonight, allow me to introduce a long-trusted comrade of mine. Of ours. He is the a piece in the puzzle we need to obtain what we have fought for all our lives.”
Blake’s breath caught in her throat, but it was not with surprise, because Ayran had long ceased to surprise her with the lengths he would go to to attain what he wanted. He would see the world go up in flames, as long as he could reap a reward from it.
As Roman Torchwick strode out onto the stage, met with yowls of anger and mingled growling, he waved mockingly. But Blake’s eyes drifted past him: behind Torchwick was a young girl, her plaited hair the color of earth and pink roses, her eyes as cold as flint. The sight of her sent a chill up Blake’s spine, though she couldn’t have explained why; perhaps it was the stone-look of her face, a ruthless cunning that she had long since learned to fear.
A howl of anger wailed up behind Blake. “What’s a human doing here?”
Roman’s eyes flared with anger, but his cool, catlike grin remained fixed. “Glad you asked, dearest.” He turned and addressed the crowd, Ayran watching him with a look of contained hatred, and Blake realized his praising words had been all false, all unbelieved by him. But the White Fang’s leader and his silver speeches were his one trait: He and Torchwick are allies who would stab each other through the heart if they didn’t require the other’s advantages, Blake thought. That doesn’t surprise me one bit. Just as I thought, Ayran would never work with a human… unless he was being forced.
“Now,” Torchwick said, “I’ll be the first to admit… humans are the worse.” He saluted to himself, still smiling. “Case in point. So, I can understand why you would love to see us all locked away, or better yet, killed!”
Sun leaned over and hissed in her ear, though he sounded worried. “Is he going somewhere with the self-depreciation?”
“Before the claws come out, however, there is a simple fact that you and I share in common. We all have the same enemy — the corrupted humans in charge, the humans who run our kingdoms with iron fists.” He smirked as the crowd started chanting in agreement. “Government. Military. Leaders. Even the schools. They’re all to blame for your lot in life!”
That’s not so. The corruption lies within us all, and so does the fight… but it’s your choice to fight for good or evil, can’t they see that? Blake’s hands curled into fists. No. Why should they? Because I was fooled by these empty promises once, too.
Torchwick’s voice rose to a crescendo, gleeful, full of mirth. “And they're all pests that need to be dealt with! Fortunately, I'm the best exterminator around.” He snapped his fingers, and with barely a whispering ruffle, the curtain, a splash of gray against darkness, swept to the ground. The sounds of the room faded away to Blake, as if a screen of water had descended between her and the rest of the room, as she saw the hulking mass of the Atlesian Paladin, the crimson emblem of the White Fang blazed on one arm.
And all she could think was: this is Adam’s doing.
“That’s a damn big robot,” Sun breathed, and Blake met his gaze in disbelief, her words just as incredulous. “How did he get that?”
“As some of you might have heard, this right here,” Roman grinned, leaning against the glimmering metal, “is Atlas’s newest defense against all the scary things in the world. And thanks to my… ah… employer, we've managed to snag a few before they hit the shelves, so to speak.” Blake jotted down the thought that there must be a turncoat within the higher rankings of Atlas’s government before she returned her attention to Roman’s spiel. “Now, many of your brothers have already moved down to our new operation in the southeast.” Sun stiffened, and Blake knew he was memorizing it as well. “If you'd rather stay within the city, that's fine... but if you're truly ready to fight for what you believe in, this is the arsenal I can provide you. Any questions?”
“We need to get out of here,” Blake hissed as she saw Ayran’s gaze sweep more carefully over the crowd, cold and calculating, before he stepped forward, shouldering Roman out of the way with a dark glare.
“All new recruits,” he yowled, muscles rippling under dark lines and scars, “please come forward!”
“What are we going to do?” Sun swore under his breath as the line surged forward eagerly, carrying them with it. “Blake—”
“I’m thinking!” Her eyes darted around the room; somehow, this warehouse had never looked so small and imposing. Once it had been a prison she’d chosen to escape, and now, it was ensnaring them again: her heart crawled to her throat. Perhaps she’d never escaped. Perhaps—
“He sees us,” snarled Sun in furious desperation, eyes glittering wide and white in the dark.
And then she realized it, as suddenly as she had realized one night that she had to leave Adam, leave life itself. “The junction box. He can’t see in the dark.”
Whatever Sun said in response, Blake didn't hear it. She was doing a slow pivot in place, her eyes focused on the warehouse’s walls. Her Faunus abilities that gave her excellent sight kicked in, the grooved walls coming into better focus: She could see their glinting edges, their whorls and knots, the black squares of windows. But they were breakable. They'd endured battering storms and rebellions and sanctioned fights; after so many beatings, they couldn’t hold the strength of her wrath, of two Faunus smashing into it at once. She flexed her fingers, taking deep, slow, controlled breaths, just as Adam had once taught her. In her mind's eye she saw herself leaping, soaring, catching hold of the wall with ease and swinging herself through the window with a swift kick. She was light, she told herself, light as an arrow, winging its way easily through the air, swift and unstoppable. It would be easy, she told herself. Easy.
"I am free from this,” Blake whispered. "Whether they know it or not."
And she shot the gun.
Darkness enveloped her instantly with a bang as she seized Sun’s arm and jerked him; he coughed out something out like go, I’ll be there, before she thrust off with her feet, punched someone in the face, felt blood and a breaking nose and she caught the wall. She heard Torchwick shriek in fury — heard Ayran roar out her name with a horrible glee — heard the crowd surge towards her as she beat against the window. Sun propelled himself out from the screeching fray and together they kicked the window open before soaring out and breaking into flight.
The moon floated above in a sea of stars and wind screamed in her ears as she mechanically ran, feeling the thrill of the chase sing in her blood; she was free. Shingles broke out under her feet as she flung herself from one turret to the next, eyes burning as if from sand or salt spray — it had been hell to be in that place, constantly thinking she saw Adam in every low voice, every narrowed glance, every flash of eyes…
“Blake!” Sun yelled, feet cracking against the rooftops as they ran into the night. She heard the loud metal of the Atlesian Paladin behind them. Dammit! We’re being pursued. “So you wouldn’t happen to have — I don’t know — some form of backup, for the love of God?”
She slowed, but still wind tore at her face as she clawed her Scroll from her pocket and pressed the emergency dial that went straight out to her team. Seeing the glow of their faces filled her with determination. I will not let him do this.
“Everyone!” she cried as they both soared down to the street and began running faster, breath hot in her lungs, as the Atlesian swerved around a corner and tore after them, “if you can hear me, we need backup!”
Sun swore loudly as the Atlesian picked up pace and she winced, hoping that the Scroll hadn’t picked up on it. “They have a robot and it’s big, really big — and he’s like— he’s in it, but not like, it didn’t eat him— he’s freaking controlling it or something—“
Yang’s voice came through, clear and sharp and commanding and Blake’s heart gave a painful thump against her chest. “Where are you guys?”
Sun shrieked as the Atlesian sprinted harder and they dashed past a dark alley. “Don’t know! Kinda busy! Running for our lives!”
Blake heard the roar of a motorcycle— could it be?— over the crash of metal, and then Ruby and Weiss replied back with urgent confirmations that they were coming as fast as they could. Blake stuffed the Scroll away as the end of the street loomed ahead of them, giving way to a busy highway, the roaring and lights flashing below.
“DAMMIT!” Sun shouted hoarsely as the red light of the robot flared brightly over them. “Blake, what are we gonna—”
But then she saw the cliff, the undulating sea of darkness expanding away from it. Lights shot through the dimness below, and the clatter of metal was ever-increasing. Jumping from such a height— it was a gamble. A crazy, insane, horrible risk.
But her life was a risk in the making. She met Sun’s eyes and they filled with dread, but perhaps a bit of thrill, too, as they both turned and dove for the ledge.
And then all was darkness, and she was weightless.
Yang
They crashed onto the highway, burning rubber beneath, and Neptune shrieked as they went up on two wheels. Yang grinned against the wind before it abruptly dropped and she swore, loud enough to be heard against the noise.
The Atlesian was there, cars spinning away, a din of honking and screeches blazing up in its wake. She spun through the wreckage, barely sparing a glance, but her heart ached as she heard the screams of those in the cars. So much death and pain.
“We need to slow it down!” she shouted at Neptune, voice slicing through the wind. Everything had a dark tint through her helmet, and she cursed again.
Neptune perched on the back, yelled an agreement, before the blue light from his trident flared over her: even in the midst of the chaos, she rolled her eyes. If he’s Neptune and fits the theme, does that make Nora Jupiter, or Zeus?
He leapt from the motorcycle with a defiant scream, flipping in the air and stabbing the Atlesian in the back. Crackling blue lights arced out, wrapping in a web of electric energy around the metal. Yang spurred the motorcycle forward, seeing Blake way up in the distance, atop of a car, her hair flying darkly around her. Her eyes were bright with hatred as she stared at the robot, and Yang’s eyes narrowed as Sun’s semblance made an appearance: he shouted at Neptune before two shimmering, iridescent copies of himself ran through the wreckage, flinging themselves against the robot and disappearing in sparks of sparking gold. Then he himself was up, soaring through the air like his namesake, landing on the back of the robot and battering it fiercely: it swung a punch before they both were flung off, disappearing from sight as they plummeted into the darkness. They hadn’t dealt much damage; the bulk of the destruction was up to them, now. Yang felt her Scroll shudder as Weiss’s voice rang through.
‘Blake, I’m in position!’
Yang abandoned her motorcycle, swerving it into a recess on the bridge where it sputtered to silence as Weiss appeared, a sheet of glimmering ice exploding out from her rapier as she plunged it earthward; she dropped into a compact bow as the Torchwick ran the Atlesian onto the vast expanse of white, and it spun out of control, smashing through an energy barrier and falling out of view. The barrier flickered and died, and the darkness loomed beckoningly.
Ruby appeared in a flurry of rose petals as Torchwick toppled out of sight, leaping without hesitation over the side. Blake followed after, with a controlled grace, Weiss going then, her hair flapping and snapping like a silvery flag, and then Yang, wind screeching in her ears.
She thumped to the ground, her team and family following suit: Weiss with snap of her rapier, her blue eyes blazing with contained fire, Ruby, anger on her face, Blake, jaw set in stone. Yang landed in a shallow crouch, eyes sweeping the area; storm clouds ribbed the sky like dark arms, the stars dead, cold wind blowing off the sea and breathing ice into the air. In that moment, she knew she would follow them wherever they went, because some bonds went deeper than blood. She couldn’t imagine losing any of them anymore than she could imagine losing a limb: perhaps they had all had qualms in the beginning, but now she knew any of them was willing to risk their life for the others.
An unspoken word ran through them as the Atlesian-Paladin stumbled to its feet, the bloody wolf shimmering the moonlight. We attack together.
“Freezer burn!” Ruby called.
Yang shot out a round from her gauntlets with a snarling sort of grin, fire exploding out into the air as Weiss spun and plunged Myrtenaster into the ground, a shroud of mist instantly filling her vision, everything turning to white. But, hopefully, Torchwick is blinded, too, she thought, backflipping off of the ice. This has to be the craziest thing we’ve ever done…
As she circled back around, adrenaline thrilling through her, a firing shot from the robot exploded behind her, and Ruby flew from the epicenter with a defiant yowl, hitting the Paladin with a clang.
The fight was vicious, through a cycle of team attacks and Roman dodging them with seconds to spare. Yang felt sweat stinging at her eyes as the team attacks went on; she dropped into a shallow crouch as Ruby and Blake fell upon the robot from the light of the moon, slicing the left arm off in a flurry of crashing metal. She capitalized on the moment, running forward and throwing herself upon the robot with a defiant cry. She pummeled the metal, feeling it bend and contort, before it arched violently underneath her— and it bucked her off savagely.
She flew back, air screeching in her ears, knowing things had gone wrong, that she had messed up. She saw the dark Paladin fist arcing towards her, almost in slow motion, aware of every second of silence between the beats of heart. He’s going to kill me, my Aura conduit isn’t enough, she thought, distantly as a fading echo, before, for the second time in her life, a shadow passed between her and destruction.
It was Blake.
Time returned to normal. There wasn’t even time to cry out before the glinting fist smashed into Blake with the force of a monster truck, catching her straight in the chest. She flew through the air with an awful cry of pain before hitting a pillar with a loud crack, sliding down to the plinth, where she crumpled, eerily still. Her limbs were flung to the side, and once she slumped to the street, she didn’t move again.
“Blake!” Yang screamed, but she was forced to move as the robotic arm swung at her once more with lethal intent, Torchwick’s menacing laugh spiraling up into the night. He hurt Blake. He tried to kill her. Rage as hot as live wires twisted through her veins. I’ll kill him for that. A low growl rumbling in her throat, bloody redness hazing her sight, she felt the familiar heat burst into flame within her veins, and a halo of fire rose up like an angel’s wings behind her.
Her semblance had arrived, and she was pissed.
Later, Ruby would tell her that her eyes had glowed with more rage then she had ever seen before, that the sight could strike fear into anyone. All that Yang could feel in the moment was an anger more bitter and deep than she had ever known.
She threw herself at the Paladin with a howl of anger and Ruby and Weiss followed behind her with similar battle-cries, shooting spikes of ice at the Atlesian as Yang raised her fist. Her fingers clenched as she poured all her emotion — all her bitterness and shock and fear of the night— of seeing Blake fall to the ground in a motionless heap — into the punch, skin connecting solidly with the metal with a grating yell.
Metal inverted on itself, a loud crack ringing into the night. The robot shuddered once before it unraveled, bolts and rivets tearing free from their moorings and surging apart with crunching noises. It tumbled backward, screeching across the road as Roman threw himself free from the remains of the ruin, before it started smoking.
Yang’s teeth ground together, fury flaming through her veins. She belted out a bullet into the air, a spinning orb of flame whisking its way towards Torchwick— and then a flash of darkness intercepted it, and it billowed out in smoke and webbed gold.
Yang’s snarl drew back into a grimace of confusion as she saw a diminutive girl standing in front of the thief, a dancing, mocking grin on her face as she curtsied to Yang. She didn’t hear Roman’s taunting words over the roar in her ears; she was sprinting forward, hand drawing back, smashing against that delicate, fine-boned face—
and it shattered. Glass imploded around Yang, clinking against the concrete. Bewildered, she tossed her head back to see an aircraft rising in the night, Torchwick and his accomplice within the square of black.
Yang didn’t even remain to see the Bullhead glide away into the night, blotting out the stars; as soon as the illusion shattered, she turned and ran through the smoking rubble to where her partner lay, motionless. The moonlight lent an eerie silveriness to everything. Dimly, as if through a screen of water, she was aware of Weiss and Ruby following hurriedly after her, of Weiss dialing the Beacon infirmary on her Scroll, but she had tuned out.
She crouched beside Blake, a choking feeling threatening to swallow her whole. As she saw the faint— but steady— pulse in Blake’s neck, a wave of relief swamped her. There was a gash disappearing into her clothes, but it wasn’t bleeding heavily, save for an angry line of red. She appeared to be unconscious. Not dead, not dead, not dead, her heart pounded.
Ruby fell down next to her, eyes huge and shocked. “Is she—”
“Alive. She’s okay.” Yang swallowed back the lump in her throat, eyes stinging. She was— is— so fragile, she thought, so breakable. “She took that hit without the strength I had— God, she can’t wake up, but the pain— the pain must be incredible,” Yang whispered, gathering her up into her arms and rising, seeing Weiss come towards them with large blue eyes, filled with fear. “We have to get her help. Now. Right now.”
“An airship is on its way,” Weiss said quickly, blinking in horror at Blake’s prone form. “She’s—?”
“Her heart’s beating.” Yang shifted, cradling Blake closer. Already, bruises were forming, an angry purplish red wreath across her shoulders. “God, I should have known not telling her about my semblance would have rebounded.” A weak laugh bubbled up from her throat. “What a price to pay.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “And you were supposed to know that a mafia-boss ex-thief was gonna pull such a jerk move, like attacking Blake, how…?”
“Mafia-boss ex-thief. Well, now that’s another name to add to the ever-growing list of what we call him,” Yang muttered sourly. “Though I’ll stick with ‘ginger-haired asshole’, myself.”
Weiss looked back over the debris, the rubble, and frowned. “Wait a moment, where did Neptune and Sun go?”
“I don’t have the energy to care right now,” Yang exhaled, and Ruby grinned up at her.
“Hey, at least tonight was a partial success. Crime-stopping-central. We got some information.”
“Honestly,” Yang said, grinning at her sister, “a near death and that’s all you can think about?”
Ruby touched Yang’s hand lightly; it came away dark with blood. “You’re hurt, too.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Yang shifted Blake’s weight and a grim determination flooded her. “It would have been worth more to keep her safe.”