Chapter Text
From the journal of Cinder Fall:
To say my first semester did not go as expected would be an understatement.
In many ways, it was better than I could have imagined. I have a cunning rival who tests my wits, a powerful mentor who sees my potential, and wonderful teammates. For the first time in my life, I have friends. I'm exactly where I want to be.
And yet… I am not who I want to be. My confidence wavers. My rage burns all I touch. I nearly failed my team when they needed me most, and Emerald paid the price. They must think I’m pathetic.
I've become as good a Huntress and leader as I can manage, for now. It's time I focused on being a good student and friend. I don't want to be seen as unstable and unreliable, and the last thing I want is to hurt my friends again. My destiny, my future, and my dreams lie with them. I don't deserve them, but one day I will.
Cinder closed the journal and packed it in with her other books. She sat back with a gentle sigh, the words captured in the journal weighing on her.
Rhodes looked at her with concern. “You don’t seem too happy. Anything in there I should know about?”
“None of your business,” Cinder snapped—perhaps a bit more sharply than she intended.
“I’m not trying to infringe your privacy,” Rhodes said gently. “I don’t want to assume I know the full picture, either. I can’t always tell what you’re going through, or if you need help, so I have to ask.”
“Sorry. I guess I am a bit testy.” Cinder sighed, looking down and rubbing her arms. “In fact, that’s what I was worried about.”
Rhodes regarded her thoughtfully. “Ah. It is true that you’ve made mistakes.” He rested a hand on her head. “Your regrets show you’ve learned better. That’s the point of school, isn’t it? No one expects you to get everything right on your first try.”
Cinder smiled. He often knew how to comfort her. “I’ll do better this time.”
“I know you will.” Rhodes pulled his hand back. “You’ll learn by living.”
Hazel Rainart woke up to the sound of gunfire. He threw himself out of bed immediately and took the most direct path to the sound, bursting through a wall in the process. In his backyard, Emerald and Mercury were fighting… Each other?
“What are you doing?” Both of them froze. Hazel continued in a disappointed tone. “Picking fights again. I thought you were over this.”
Mercury gestured for him to calm down. “Chill, big guy. We’re just training.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt to move anymore,” Emerald added. “Figured I may as well get some practice with Thief’s Respite.”
“I would have appreciated a warning,” Hazel said, resting his hands on his hips. “I thought Branwen had come to finish the job."
“Relax,” Mercury again insisted. “She's not stupid enough to attack with you around.”
“Relying on my Semblance got me stabbed," Emerald said. She avoided directly referring to Ruby. "I’ve got to branch out.”
Hazel nodded approvingly. “Well, don’t let me get in the way.”
His children returned to their sparring, Mercury and Emerald trading fired bullets at each other from across the yard. Mercury’s decision to house his weapons in his prosthetics had always baffled Hazel—was it not much more intuitive to hold a weapon in your hands? But somehow, he made it seem natural, even graceful. Emerald meanwhile held her weapon in twin revolver form, firing a barrage of projectiles—a much more sensible weapon, in his opinion. He folded his arms, watching the two of them go at it.
“This isn’t going to work!” Mercury shouted over the sound of gunfire. “I’ve got armoured legs and more durability. In an extended battle, you’ll lose by attrition.”
“That’s why I normally use my Semblance!” Emerald shouted. “You can’t hit what you can’t see. What else am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know! It’s your fighting style, not mine. Figure something out.”
Emerald’s injury had been a weight on all of their shoulders the past month. It revealed troublesome vulnerabilities. Emerald had been forced to confront physical vulnerability, something she’d been trying to avoid since the day he gave her a home. Mercury had been forced to realize how much he’d come to care for Emerald, even if he wouldn’t admit it. And Hazel was reminded of Gretchen. Of her death facing the Grimm.
“She would have chosen to be a hero under any circumstances,” Glynda had told him. She was a young adult at the time, yet to become Headmistress, but she already seemed wise beyond her years. As if she was born to be an old lady. “That’s simply who she was. The best I can do, when confronted with a student like that, is equip them as best I can. I can only hope it’s enough.”
Her words had a truth to them that Hazel couldn’t deny. Brothers above, he'd tried. So, with great effort, he prevented himself from blaming Beacon. And years later, when he adopted Emerald and later Mercury, he allowed them to pursue the path his sister had. It was their choice to make. A choice which lead them to a life of danger. He’d never stopped worrying that they’d leave him, too. While Goodwitch had earned his continued trust by taking responsibility, it was still her teachings that had lead Emerald to over-specialize in her Semblance to begin with. Beacon could yet fail his children, and they sought out trouble on their own....
Hazel hadn’t quite accepted that risk yet, but his children had made great progress with their own battles. He tore his attention back to the present. Emerald had shifted Thief’s Respite back to kusarigama form. She zigzagged across the field, approaching Mercury while dodging his fire. What was she trying to accomplish? She was no match for him in hand-to-hand, and taking bullets point-blank was hardly wise. Hazel watched as she approached, using her nimbleness to her advantage.
Mercury tried to punch her, but she blocked with her weapon. He then attempted a roundhouse kick, but Emerald jumped over his leg. His momentum threw him off-balance as Emerald fell, channeling the force of gravity into her kusarigamas. Mercury’s Aura flashed as he landed on the ground. Emerald then poked him with her weapons, seemingly just because she could.
“Not bad,” Mercury said as he pulled himself to his feet.
“Not bad? I beat you with a handicap!” Emerald taunted. “And in a single blow, no less!”
“I was holding back too,” Mercury retorted. “You must’ve noticed that I only used standard projectiles against you. No heat-seekers, no air blasts, no steam or smoke…”
“That makes us even, then,” Emerald said. “And yet here we are. You can’t always force your opponent to fight your way, you know. You’ve gotta get better at defending against melee weapons.”
“And you’ve still got a ways to go in using them,” Mercury said. “You didn’t have to go for a flashy gambit, you know. You coulda just kept me at a distance with your scythes. But nooooo, you had to be dramatic.”
Hazel smiled as they continued to bicker. They enjoyed teasing each other. It was strange, but at least they were having fun.
Ilia still wasn't sure what to make of Adam.
For a time she'd looked up to him. He'd once been an inspiration, a romantic rival, and a friend. Then an accused murderer, a boy growing more erratic and unstable by the day, a likely threat. Then he'd left her life entirely, only to reappear on another continent. He'd become a classmate, an unknown element, and a tentative ally. And now here he was, living in her apartment, working as her partner. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel about someone with that history, or if she could trust him, or how he'd made his way from Menagerie to Vale without a job, a home, or a single Lien to his name. All she knew was what it meant to be homeless, and that Adam didn't deserve it. Besides, with Blake on the loose, she needed all the help she could get.
Which brought her to her current task. "I'm sorry, Chieftess," Ilia said to her Scroll. "We've found nothing but dead ends."
Kali nodded solemnly. "She was hard enough to find before people were looking for her. No one expected you to single-handedly succeed where a national manhunt has failed."
"Nobody on that manhunt knows her the way we do," Adam said. "And none of her want to find her as badly. And yet here we are, leadless."
“Not entirely,” Ilia argued. “I am relatively certain Ruby is allied with her in some capacity. She attacked both of the teams involved in defeating the Children of Grimm, after all, and she spoke as if there was some higher purpose to her murders. If we can unravel the story of Team STRQ, it will lead us to her.”
"Sienna is still hunting the Tribe," Kali said. "I fear for what will happen if she finds them."
"She'll atone for Blake's mistake," Adam said. "She lowers herself in working with human criminals. Sienna will restore our honor by destroying them."
"If we take such direct military action, the White Fang will be one step away from becoming the Children of Grimm," Kali admonished. "Unless Sienna listens to reason and works with the authorities…"
"It won't come to that," Ilia assured her. "Raven has a brother. Qrow. When we track him down, he can lead us to Ruby, and we can follow her to Blake."
“That’s nice, dear, but…” Kali hesitated. “This doesn’t have to be your mission anymore. The goal was to check on Blake and make sure she was okay. Then it was to stop her before it was too late. But she’s lost her way. I want to help her, but I…” Her voice cracked. “I’m not sure if we can.”
Ilia’s response was immediate and firm. “I’m not giving up on her.”
“This isn’t over yet,” Adam growled. “After everything she’s done—”
“Have you ever considered what you’ve done to her?” Kali asked.
There was a momentary pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Adam snarled. "I already told you, I didn't kill Ghira. Blake was wrong to turn on me."
Kali glared at him, unflinching. "Or perhaps her anger helped her see you for who you are."
“Stop it, both of you,” Ilia said. “I can’t just go home now. There’s a storm brewing in Vale. I have to see this through to the end.”
Adam nodded. “And I’ve got business at Beacon, so I may as well help her out while I’m in the neighbourhood.”
Kali sighed. “If you insist. I won’t claim to have all the answers. I don’t know what’s going on in my daughter’s head right now, and I can’t claim to have any idea what she’s planning. But it may be time to consider that this has evolved far past a family problem, past even a White Fang problem. If Ilia’s right, and Blake really is working with this Ruby Branwen, then you can’t stop her alone.”
“Maybe,” Ilia said, “but I can still be a part of it.”
“Take care of yourselves.” Kali signed off. Ilia gently sighed as she lowered the Scroll. Adam paced the room, unsettled by her words.
“This apartment’s barely big enough for one,” Ilia said. “You walking around in circles would make my life much harder. If you need to do something, pack up your stuff. We’re back to Beacon tomorrow.”
Adam complied. He spared a glance at his own Scroll to see if Lee—the Lieutenant—had contacted him. Still radio silent. Well, he could wait. When the time came, they’d be able to do great things together. Him, his loyal Lieutenant, and the Schnee kid would turn the world upside-down.
Whitley poked at his food. There was nothing wrong with it; quite the opposite, in fact. The steak had been seasoned perfectly, and the caviar was to die for. But it felt wrong to sit at an empty table. Winter had abandoned them all years ago. Weiss had followed in her footsteps while he was at Beacon. His mother had drunk herself into a stupor already, and his father… Well, he had better things to do. Whitley was the only person in the room, unless one counted the staff. The peace and quiet had gotten old rather quickly.
Klein, the head butler, interrupted his musings. “Master Whitley. I remind you that you are not to have dessert until you finish your dinner.” Klein’s eyes shifted from light brown to yellow. “I made you a cake!”
Whitley shook his head. “My apologies. I’m supposed to be eating healthier.”
His eyes returned to brown, which, as far as Whitley could tell, was the “default” personality. Or at least the one at the forefront much of the time. Whitley had never fully understood his… condition. “That’s why this one is sugar-free and low-fat.”
Hmm. Whitley finished off his caviar and handed the plate to one of the staff. “You’re trying to cheer me up. That’s never a good sign.”
Klein’s eyes turned red, signaling the arrival of the angry one. “The boss wants to see you after dinner. He says he wants a ‘performance review.’” His tone implied there was something wrong with that, but Whitley couldn’t understand why he was so frustrated.
After finishing his dinner and giving Klein his compliments on somehow making a healthy cake that tasted good, Whitley set off to his father’s study. Jacques Schnee was waiting in his office, fingers steepled. He gestured for Whitley to settle in the chair before his desk.
“Your performance thus far has been, on the whole, acceptable. Your combat progress is reaching passable levels, and you have attained a decent following. In comparison to Winter’s own studies, of course, you completely fail to measure up in almost every way.” Whitley cringed, but he couldn’t argue. “Your strange ability to gather public attention almost makes up for that, but then there’s the matter of your choice of employees.”
Whitley gulped. “I’m aware that they’re not the most… reputable followers. However—”
“I didn’t invite you to speak,” Jacques said coldly. “As I was saying. When given a moment of spotlight, two of your teammates opted to build their reputation as criminals and another denounced the Company. It’s a stroke of genius.”
Whitley blinked. What?
“What’s a hero without a villain? And why bother to seek out suitable nemeses when you can create them yourself? After graduation, the rest of your teammates will, of course, seek to use their skills for unsavoury purposes. You will be in a unique position to stop them. Battling against your former friends and allies… The press will eat it up. Well done.”
Does he believe this was my plan all along? Whitley thought. Or is he giving me a way to salvage this scenario? Either way, I have to play along. “Thank you, Father.”
“Why thank me? It’s your plan.”
Whitley froze, scrambling for a lie that would let him get away with the other. "For your approval, I mean."
Jacques nodded, and Whitley realized this had been another test. One he'd passed, thankfully. He'd always admired his father's ability to incorporate lessons into anything. Jacques had let him off the hook for losing control of his subordinates, but Whitley knew the failure would be held against him.
A threat written entirely between the lines. One day, he'd surpass his father in subtlety. Until then, he couldn't have asked for a better teacher.
"With that said, it's time to consider our next moves," Jacques said. "Remind me. Why did you choose to be a Huntsman?"
It's never a good sign when Father asks questions he knows the answer to, Whitley thought. He's trying to make a point. "To defend the Schnee name,” Whitley said. “When I inherit, it would be best if mine was a name the public already knew and trusted."
Jacques shook his head. "Foresight is admirable, but we have far more pressing concerns. We must act now if the company is to survive.”
If. That word echoed in Whitley’s brain. It made no sense. The SDC couldn’t fall. It just wasn’t possible. Unless… “Blake,” he whispered.
“I’m afraid so.” Jacques adjusted his tie. “The Faunus’ misplaced hatred has grown to concerning levels. The unfortunate passing of their former leader has not helped matters. They thirst for war—as you’ve seen firsthand.”
“How fortuitous, then, that I have White Fang contacts devoted to capturing Blake,” Whitley said. “If I could—”
“You will do nothing without my express permission!” Jacques slammed his desk. “The raid on the Amethyst Star should have remained an internal problem. In allying with Huntsmen and the White Fang, you showed weakness we cannot afford. Watts won’t shut up about the destroyed Paladins, the General questions if it’s worth purchasing weapons that can be destroyed by children, and the Belladonna woman keeps sending me ideas for ‘gestures of cooperation’. ‘What matters more, avoiding conflict or saving a few Lien?’ It should qualify as ransom!” He slammed his desk again. “And don’t get me STARTED on the union!”
Whitley withered in shame.
"You have a different task," Jacques continued. "Weiss has somehow made her way to Haven Academy."
She's safe. Thank the Brothers. Nobody had been willing to talk about her since he returned.
"When Winter left us, she did not become a threat. She fears confronting the Company, particularly because her boss is an old family friend. Weiss, on the other hand, is unstable. It’s only a matter of time before she turns against us."
"And you want me to stop her."
"Weiss and her team will be competing in the Vytal Festival. Use any means necessary to ensure your 'RVLT' crushes her rebellion. Ensure her disqualification, defeat her, get farther than her, win the whole tournament if you have to! Prove to the world that a Schnee who falls in line is superior to a Schnee who disregards her birthright. Prove that our way is better than her way. If you fail…"
"I understand," Whitley said. "We have a reputation to uphold. Failure is not an option."
"I'm glad you see it that way.” Jacques adjusted his posture. He did that when he considered a matter settled, Whitley knew; he wouldn’t take kindly to further discussion on that topic.
Jacques leaned forward. Whitley withered under his stare. “As I stated, you have done adequately. But that is no longer enough. You are now in direct competition with Weiss, and there is no room for error. Keep your subordinates in control. Keep the media on your side. Defeat her. Dismissed.”
When Roman awoke, there was a claw pressed to his throat. Miltia Malachite and her sister, Melanie Malachite, stood above his bed, satisfied smirks on their lips. Damn. You’re getting sloppy, Torchwick, he thought to himself.
“Hello, ladies,” he said, meeting their smirk with one of his own. “Fancy meeting you here. I was under the impression that my door was locked?”
“The hotel manager was kind enough to let us in with a bit of persuading,” Miltia replied. “And to give us the key to your room.”
Stupid civilians. They were all too easily intimidated by anyone with a weapon. Roman scanned his surroundings; the hotel room that he and Neo had been staying at for the last week was just as he’d left it the night before—save for a lack of Neo.
Melanie giggled cruelly. “Wondering where your partner is? We sent her on a little goose chase. Don’t expect any help, this time around.”
Last night’s events flashed in Roman’s mind. He’d gotten drinks—illegally, at his age, but fake I.D.s were child’s play for a seasoned criminal like him—and let the night devolve into revelry and slurred words. Following his public announcement at the Schee Dust Company train heist, he'd established a bit of a blossoming fanbase. People loved a bad boy, and there were plenty of negative sentiments surrounding the White Fang to go around. Neo… Neo had left, soon after the drinks were poured. Something about frustration… it was all so fuzzy, now. She never leaves my side. How were they able to lure her away?
“I’m not nearly so fragile, girls,” Roman replied, mind racing for a way out. Neo was his shield, the reason he survived as often as he did. What could he do, without her? “I’ve got Aura now, and the knowhow to counter even a professional Hunter.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Beacon, schmeacon. You’re not the only one who’s beefed up over the months, Torchwick.” Her grin sharpened. “We’ve got Semblances now.”
Haven’t gotten any brains, though, Roman thought with a grin. For one, revealing that was a rookie mistake; any element of surprise they might have had with their secret upgrade had been completely eradicated with the admission. For another, Semblances just meant that their Aura would drain faster. Maybe Roman could make it without Neo.
There was a stinging sensation at Roman’s neck, and he winced. Miltia’s smirk grew. “Rose Prick. That spot, right there, will keep trying to hurt you, and your Aura will keep working to defend you. Slowly, it’ll drain away, without us having to lift a finger.”
Roman’s eyes widened. Constantly draining like this, I might as well have a Semblance of my own, weighing me down.
“Aww, look at him! He’s so scared,” Melanie cooed, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Ready for my Semblance, Roman?” She extended her own hand. It wasn’t outfitted with a weapon like Miltia’s was, but it was glowing white, which Roman figured was probably worse. “Snow Fall. With just a touch, you’ll fall asleep, for as long as I keep my Semblance working. You’ll sleep blissfully ignorant, until your Aura’s gone and we can finally, finally pay you back for what you did.”
This is bad. This is very very bad. I’ve gotten complacent—I considered these two just two ditzy fops, but—But they are ditzes. I can use that. “What precisely did I do to you, anyway?” Roman asked. “You can’t still be upset about the Capivara incident. I didn’t even want you to come along.”
“Bruh. You can’t be serious,” Miltia said incredulously. “Did you just forget the past, like, eighteen months? You left the Spiders, hurt our mother’s rep, survived our assassination attempt—”
“That was Neo’s fault,” Melanie corrected. “Can I put him to sleep yet? We’ve still gotta kill her after we’re done with him.”
“Hold on a sec,” Miltia said. “If this takes too long, my Semblance will kill him anyway. But Mel’s right, training Trivia to become the second biggest thorn in our side has got to be, like, the worst thing you’ve done. Ever.”
Roman shrugged nonchalantly, which paradoxically took a lot of effort in his current state. “If it helps, we never intended to take down your mother’s little conquest plan. It just… Happened. Really, if her plan was so easily foiled, you have to wonder if its creator is at least somewhat at fault—”
“Enough already!” Miltia tried to slash at Roman’s face, but he grabbed her wrist. She slammed her leg, stabbing her heel-knife into his leg. Roman felt his Aura further decay. He let go, scrambling to get some distance from the twins.
As he tried to form a plan, Roman heard a thudding sound. He glanced at the source, a tricolor blur bashing at the window. Relief flooded his chest.
Neopolitan smashed through the window, sending the two girls cringing back. The instant the girls were distracted, Roman grabbed his Melodic Cudgel and got to his feet, ready to send his would-be assassins home packing. “It was a nice try, ladies, but Neopolitan’s a bit smarter than you give her credit for.”
The expression on Neo’s face sent a wave of chills through Roman. She wasn’t happy—but not just with the twins, with him. No time to think about that, he decided, slamming his cane into Miltia. The Malachites retaliated in kind, Claws meeting Cudgel, bullets deflecting off Neo’s umbrella. Newly revitalized by the appearance of his partner, Roman struck forward, forcing Milta back with swing after swing.
He was instantly wrenched back. A wave of glassy light rolled over them, and he knew that they’d become invisible. Neo, still holding him by his coat jacket, leapt out the window she’d came through, Roman in tow. Her parasol opened, and the wind let them glide off into the night.
Roman grinned up at her. “You certainly know how to make an entrance. And with impeccable timing, too.”
Neo shot him an unimpressed glare.
He felt himself begin to sweat. “Er… so, what was this goose chase those two sent you on?”
She sighed, setting the two of them down on a nearby roof. As Roman patted down his coat, Neo pulled out her Scroll and held it up to him. There was a text sent from Roman's own Scroll with an address across town.
“…Ah,” he said after a moment. “And… what made you realize you’d been duped?”
She regarded him flatly, as if it were obvious. Roman reread the message. Ah. The twins had tried to imitate his typing style, but they'd left in a "u" where there should be a "you". He chuckled. "Saved by grammar... never thought I'd see the day."
Neo didn't seem as amused.
Roman didn’t like the looks she’d been giving him all night. “All's well that ends well, I suppose. We're both still in one piece, and now we’re one step ahead of those twins. What say you and I get a head start on our to-do list? We’re supposed to meet Whitley tomorrow, but I bet he’d appreciate his employees being extra punctual.”
Cinder opened her scroll and grinned at the message in her inbox. It was a picture of Emerald and Mercury, together on an airship nearly identical to the one Cinder currently rode in, Emerald’s arm around her brother’s shoulder. Despite the disgruntled expression on his face, his posture indicated he wasn’t about to pull away. They’d gotten closer, the two of them, after everything that had happened last year. For that, Cinder was proud.
But I’m not going to let anything like what we went through happen again, she thought to herself determinedly. She was their leader, and that meant taking responsibility. No more stunts, no more playing the reckless hero. Even today, she woke up to nightmares of that mansion, flames burning around her, a wicked scythe and a silver-eyed face staring down at her. Emerald’s blood coating her hands. She shivered instinctively. No, she wasn’t about to let her team come so close to death again. She and her teammates might have proven that they were anything but ordinary, but that didn’t mean they’d continue to play that part. They were students, going to school. It was long past time they live the same normal school life their classmates did. And Cinder was going to make certain it stayed that way.
She posed by the window of the airship, snapping a photo with her Scroll, before frowning at the image. Was this good? Should she take another one? Cinder had never taken a selfie before. Was there some sort of unspoken ruleset to it? Emerald made it look so easy. She seemed to understand so much that Cinder just had to try and mimic, hoping she got it right.
Feeling self-conscious, she took a few more pictures, before ultimately deciding on one she hoped would be least embarrassing. Then she sent it to Emerald, with the caption, “On my way to Beacon!”
There was a derisive snort. Cinder frowned, lowering her Scroll. Cardin Winchester whispered something to one of his idiot friends, and the group of them burst into laughter. Immediately Cinder felt her blood start to boil. She never had gotten to give these cretins some payback for their behaviour last semester.
“What are you chucklefucks laughing about?” She snapped.
Cardin jumped, masking his fear a moment later. Clearly he’d never been confident enough to try and target her; there was a reason so few of his stunts had happened before her eyes. Should’ve been smarter than to make fun of me in earshot.
“So what, a guy and his pals can’t laugh now?” Cardin replied. She had to hand it to him; he stood his ground when confronted. At least, to start.
For anyone else, she might’ve given the benefit of the doubt. But she knew CRDL too well. They seemed desperate to find something to make fun of in everyone they met. Her awkwardness with selfie-taking would’ve been the perfect target. Cinder raised a hand, a glass dagger forming there, perched in her fingertips. She grinned in what she hoped was an intimidating way. “I've fought people scarier than the lot of you put together. With all I've seen, do you really think I'd be intimidated by garden-variety bullies? Better yet, do you think it's wise to mess with someone like me?”
Cardin’s scowl deepened, but his lackeys seemed cowed. They shuffled off to the other end of the airship, and their leader reluctantly followed, leaving Cinder be. She grinned to herself in self-satisfaction. This was why she trained. To make people like them, people who pushed others around and made them feel lesser, understand just how small they are.
The airship began to descend. Glancing out the window, Cinder could see familiar Beacon before her, its spires and towers soaring high and proud. She felt a similar feeling take up residence in her heart; the break had been fine, a chance to get some tune-ups on what she’d learned at school from Rhodes; but this, this was what she lived for now.
They landed, and Cinder was the first out onto the landing pad. Other airships were arriving alongside them; they’d be from all across Vale, picking up students and delivering them home. Cinder scanned each of their bay doors, and—there. Sure enough, Emerald Rainart and Mercury Black had come right on time. Cinder broke into a grin as Emerald ran up to her, her brother trailing behind her.
“Cinder! Hey!” Emerald rushed ahead of her brother.
Cinder beamed. “It’s my favourite siblings. How have you been?”
Emerald shrugged. “Mercury decided he wanted to beef me up ever since last year. The break was the best place for it, so, consider me beefed.” She patted her arms—they didn’t look any more muscular to Cinder, but she supposed bodies worked weird sometimes. Besides, Aura had a way of hijacking bodily exercise for its own growth. Emerald grinned. “Otherwise, it’s been good. Hazel’s still same-old, and Mercury’s not the worst most of the time. You?”
Cinder shrugged, looking away. “It was fine.” She still found the idea of telling the others about her home life, her past, discomforting. She knew it probably wasn’t fair to keep it a secret at this point, but that didn’t stop her from evading any attempts from the others to broach the topic. “But it’s much better now.” She grinned, setting her hands on her hips and craning her neck to stare up at the majestic school before her. “Hello, Beacon. It’s good to be back.”
Emerald snickered. “Seriously? It’s a building, Cinder. It can’t hear you.”
“A lot of buildings, actually. Practically a district,” Mercury corrected, having finally caught up to his eager sister. “But yeah, I don’t see the point in your need for dramatic statements.”
“There’s nothing wrong with adding a little gravitas,” Cinder said defensively. “Important moments deserve some flair.”
“Y’know,” Emerald said, “for someone with souped-up legs, you sure are slow sometimes, Merc.”
He rolled his eyes. “It isn’t like she was going anywhere.” He met Cinder’s eyes, and there was almost a smile on his lips. “…Good to see you again. Though.”
“You too,” she replied with a small grin. Last semester hadn’t been the smoothest between the two of them, but Cinder was proud of how far she and Mercury had come. Even if neither of them was very good at showing it.
Emerald kept glancing between the two of them, a wide grin on her lips. Cinder frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Emerald replied with a dismissive hand-wave. “You two are just adorable. C’mon, I think I see Ilia!”
Cinder glanced in the direction Emerald was walking. Sure enough, Ilia Amitola, the spy from the White Fang and their firm friend, was standing there. Cinder smiled. She’d missed all her teammates across the summer break, and Ilia was no exception. She had scars, and secrets, but Cinder knew all too well what it was like to have those. It didn’t matter to her. Ilia had proven herself loyal, devoted, and smart. She was as good a teammate as Cinder could hope to have. In a way, it was almost a miracle she was still around. With her cover blown, she had no real reason to stay at Beacon, to Cinder’s knowledge. Yet she remained. Cinder was grateful for that. She wanted to graduate alongside all of her friends if she could help it.
At Ilia’s side, Cinder spied Adam Taurus. She knew less about him. The two seemed to have some history, some connection from their past that she wasn’t privy to. In her opinion, Adam didn’t seem like the nicest person around, not exactly Huntsman material—but then, she’d had her own slipups in the kindness department before. Besides, anyone who opposed Cardin and his goons was okay in her book.
The two seemed to part ways, and there was a smile on Ilia’s lips as she met Emerald in a hug. Huh. Why didn’t I get one of those?
“Hey, you guys,” Ilia greeted. Smiles weren’t the most common from her. It was nice to see her genuinely enjoying being around her team.
“Ilia,” Cinder grinned. “Had a good break?”
She shrugged. “I’ll tell you about it later.” When she glanced up, her eyes had met Mercury’s. They shared what Cinder could only describe as a respectful exchange. Even now, she didn’t fully get their strange friendship. “Nice job not getting killed over the break, Light.”
He grinned. “Right back at you, Yin.”
Cinder grinned. “The gang’s back together. Are you guys ready to make semester two even better than the last?”
Mercury rolled his eyes. “Not like it’ll be that hard, seeing as one of us almost died last year.”
Cinder waved a hand. “No raining on this parade. It’s time for FLYT to prove to Beacon just how ordinary we can be.”
Adam watched Ilia meet up with her team. Even from a distance, he could see the smile on her face, the way she lit up around them. He felt a thunder cloud roll in inside of him, a quiet anger at the sight. Why was it that she seemed to get along so well with those losers? He’d studied them before; they were nothing special. An arrogant control freak, a self-important dick, and a class clown. Yet from what he could tell, Ilia seemed to actually like being with them. He didn’t get it.
Memories flashed through his mind. When he and Blake and Ilia would trade jokes and laugh together in the streets of Menagerie. It felt unfair that he, who had been able to bring out Ilia’s smile so often back then, should now only see it from afar, when she gave it to others. Blake might have rejected me outright, but she’s doing it all the same, just more subtly. It made his blood boil. What was so good about them; what did they have that he didn’t?
He felt like cutting something to pieces with Wilt. Instead, he turned away from Ilia and her team, determined to not let her control his mind any further. Fine. Let her choose her friends. He had something, someone more important than her to focus on. Blake needed help, needed to be brought in. She may have rejected him, yes, but that didn’t stop him from caring about her. He wouldn’t idly stand by and let the girl he loved destroy herself. And maybe, at the end of this, she’ll get over her grief, and things will finally go back to how they were. She’d love him again.
Another airship touched down—but this one wasn’t the standard Beacon grey. White, it was labelled with a familiar logo: one belonging to the Schnee Dust Company. Instinctively Adam felt his anger rear its head again, but he tamped it down. There would be a time and a place to let that rage out. He knew what this airship was here for.
The landing bay opened, and Whitley Schnee stepped out onto Beacon’s grounds. Behind him were Roman Torchwick and Neopolitan—his goons. Neo was silent, which suited Adam just fine, but Roman had the opposite problem. He seemed to be obsessed with the sound of his own voice, and never had anything to say that wasn’t flattering himself and mocking others. Not to mention that he’s more casually racist than most people I’ve met. Under any other circumstance, Adam would have killed the foppish boy long ago. But he’d tolerate Roman’s self-absorption if it meant pursuing his greater goals.
Greater goals like what, Adam? Blake he was certain about—she needed to be brought in, if only so she could stop for a second and change her mind about him. But Whitley, that was still ambiguous in Adam’s brain. His original plan had long since gone out the window—and now, he’d agreed to be friends with the boy. To what end, he still didn’t know. Influence him to get the Schnee Dust Company to change its labour policies? Would that even be possible? Whitley wanted to be better than his father, but in business, not morals. Though Adam didn’t like to acknowledge it, it was almost like he was stalling. Hoping for a cleaner solution to this entire situation. Waiting things out until an opportunity he couldn’t resist came along.
He dismissed those thoughts. Things would work out, eventually. Whitley was naive and trusting, and that made him Adam’s tool. So long as he was at the boy’s side, everything would turn out how Adam wanted them to, sooner or later.
Whitley smiled as he approached. “Hello, Adam. How was your break?”
“Productive,” he replied ambiguously. There was no need to tell Whitley all about his Blake-hunting missions with Ilia. “And yours?”
“A… refreshing change of pace,” Whitley replied, though Adam could tell the words were a placation, masking the truth. The Schnee boy was good at those. “But it’s good to be back at Beacon. Making an impact on the world.”
Adam grinned. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Blade clashed against metal, sparks flying at the connection. Bullets cracked through the air, deflected by the glass swords, and at the sidelines, two girls jeered and shouted. Mercury grinned as he landed on both feet from his cartwheel back, fists raised defensively. “You’re one of the strangest people I’ve ever sparred against.”
Cinder returned his grin. “That’s almost a compliment, coming from you.”
He launched into another ducking, rolling attack, legs seeking to sweep hers out from under her. Cinder danced back, reflexes quick. He sent a few warning shots her way. “Your techniques have good underlying training, but you don’t fight strategically. It’s like you fight through sheer passion alone. Using your willpower to win fights, rather than sheer tactics.”
She shrugged. “What’s the point if you aren’t putting your heart and soul into a fight?”
“Oh my god,” came the voice of Emerald. She lounged back on the bleachers in the sparring room, Ilia at her side. “If you wanted to fight each other so bad that it's literally the first thing you do when we get here, why aren't you actually, you know, fighting?”
Mercury rolled his eyes. “We're trying to improve ourselves, not just bash each others' skulls in. If we just blindly fought, we’d only be doing the bare minimum. We need to notice how we each fight, and where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”
Emerald folded her arms. “Pbbt. Boring.”
“Says the history nerd,” Ilia smirked, elbowing her.
“History’s interesting!” Emerald protested. “But I wouldn’t mix it with sparring, of all things.”
“You should give it a try one time,” Mercury said. “Velvet and I study both fighting techniques and historical facts at the same time, and it’s paid off.”
Cinder cleared her throat. “Uh, did you forget about the fight we’re having?”
He cracked a grin, raising his fists again. “Don’t let me stop you from trying to beat me.”
She wasted no time. Bending down, she burst into a dash, blades slashing and swinging at him. Mercury wasn’t so easily beaten, however, and gracefully dodged back from each attack. Cinder might have raw unbridled emotion to push her through a fight, but Mercury had the training of an assassin. Ilia had met few fighters on his level. Adam had the raw power, Mercury the raw skill. It’s sort of sad… he’s so strong, but the only reason he could get as strong as he is is because his father was a horrible person. But wasn’t that the way of life? You pulled strength out of blood and tears and pain. Everyone she’d met at Beacon, everyone she knew in Menagerie, they all shouldered something.
Cinder leapt into the air, Magma Dust igniting and sending her blades into a fiery whirlwind. Mercury hissed at the heat, leaping back—but Cinder didn’t let up. She kept coming, flame lighting her face up in tones that almost looked ominous. She was a force to be reckoned with. Emerald didn’t remember much from that night last year when she’d been stabbed and nearly bled out, but that image, of Cinder singlehandedly dominating Ruby, ablaze with fire and rage, stuck distinctly in her mind. It was terrifying, yes, but strangely thrilling as she recalled it. More and more Emerald found herself respecting Cinder deeply.
The two continued to clash, trading well-timed blows. As they began to tire out, Whitley and Adam entered the room.
"I thought I'd be able to find my competition here," Whitley said. "I assume you qualified for the tournament as well?"
"As if I'd miss that opportunity," Cinder said. "I've watched the past three tournaments all the way through- some of it live. To actually compete in one.."
"You say that as if we haven't done far more impressive stuff," Emerald teased.
"We've had some tough fights, sure, but never under controlled circumstances," Mercury said. "This is a test of pure skill. No stakes. No risk. Just us and our opponents."
"What about you, Whitley?" Cinder asked. "Excited for the fight ahead?:
Whitley shook his head. "I was obligated to watch Winter’s matches in both of her tournaments. It was hard to sit through. Seeing so many cheer for a bloodsport turned my stomach."
"You've moved past such squeamishness, I hope," Cinder said. "You've seen real action. This is just playacting."
"That's different," Whitley protested. "Everything I've done was for a purpose, even if that purpose was just training."
Mercury "What better training is there than to test yourself against the best teams the Academies can muster?"
"Then they should exchange teachers," Whitley said. "Expose the students to a broader pool of knowledge, instead of sending a select few to learn from each other. Save the sparring for the classroom, not the arena."
Mercury considered that for a moment. "Can't argue with that."
"What's wrong with a little spectacle?" Emerald interrupted. "It's all just for fun, anyway. And the real Hunters are too busy with real missions, so we're the best combatants the average person will ever see."
"Nothing can be 'just fun' when so many eyes are on it," Whitley said. "This tournament is about fame. Glory. Status. It's perfectly fine to reach for such things, but to fight for them is simply barbaric."
"Then why are you in the tournament?" Cinder asked pointedly.
Whitley hesitated, but for only a moment. "My personal feelings on the matter are irrelevant. I've chosen this barbaric profession, so I am obligated to be an excellent barbarian. That doesn't mean I have to like it."
Cinder glared at him.
"Be careful calling people uncivilized," Ilia warned. "Some of us are really tired of hearing that."
"Combat may seem unnecessary to you, but you have the privilege of other options," Adam said. "Most aren't so lucky."
"Ah." Whitley carefully reconsidered everything he'd just said. "Yes, I suppose that does come off as insulting. My apologies."
"In a strange way, opinions like yours are what we fight for," Cinder said. "A Hunter's purpose is to allow others to live in peace. Now that you're one of us, you get to see the work that comes into maintaining the peace most take for granted."
"Are we skipping past the part where Adam talked?" Emerald said. "Because I'm pretty sure this is the first time he's willingly spoken in front of us, train heist notwithstanding."
Adam shrugged. "I never had anything to say to you before."
Ilia smiled. It was good to see him coming out of his shell again. Over the break, he'd started sounding more and more like the Adam she knew. "Well, what do you think about the tournament?"
"Whitley's almost right," Adam said. "It's all a performance. He just doesn't understand its purpose. They say strong fences make strong neighbours. Well, every two years, we get to see exactly how strong those fences are. Seeing what the students are capable of makes one wonder, 'what can their true Hunters do? Do I want to find out?' The tournament is a threat."
"Well, yeah, but you've gotta look at it in its historical context," Emerald said. "The Vytal Festival celebrates peace, cooperation, and unity for all Kingdoms. Sure, it helps to show everyone how great peace is. But that message is a lot more powerful when paired with a different reason not to go starting any wars. It's a one-two punch, a promise and a threat."
"I'm not talking about the kingdoms," Adam rebutted. "It's a threat from Hunters to the rest of the world. Why else would they fight in an arena in the sky?"
"Amity Arena was built by all four Kingdoms working in tandem," Cinder said. "It is a place owned by no government, but which belongs to all people. That is what Hunters should be. Even Mantle is realizing that now."
"They could have picked any number of neutral locations," Adam argued. "They could have built different arenas in each kingdom. Would probably have been cheaper than making it fly. No, this is all a power play. It allows the Hunters to literally look down on the rest of the world."
"An arena in the sky is held to a higher standard," Cinder argued. "As Hunters should be."
"There's that word again," Adam said. "'Higher.' Better, you mean. Amity's little more than a symbol of power. If you want to protect people, you should understand them. Speak for them. Instead, you place yourselves so high above everyone else, like you're untouchable."
"'Should' isn't a word I hear much from your team," Emerald noted. "You look like a cynical prick, but you're really a bleeding heart like Ilia. No wonder she likes you."
"Ahem," Whitley said. "What does that imply about me?"
“She's mostly talking about Roman," Cinder said. She noticed only half of team RVLT was present. "Where is he, anyway?"
Whitley grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”
Neo checked her nails. Damn. Still perfect, like always. She couldn’t even entertain herself by fixing them up. Sighing, she refolded her legs and glanced at Roman beside her on the park bench. His eyes were narrowed, unmoving, at the building across the street. Richard Street Bank, one of the most popular banks in Vale.
They’d been sitting here the last hour. Precious, limited free time. There would be weekends, of course. And as far as Neo was concerned, self-study was just an opportunity for her and Roman to skip class and do whatever they wanted. It was Whitley who needed the practice, after all, and now that he and Adam were all buddy-buddy she and Roman didn't need to help the twerp figure out how to not fall on his ass whenever a light breeze came his way. Still, that left her confined to a schedule for far more hours of her day than she'd like. Outside taking some time to unpack her few possessions, this day was open for her to do whatever she wanted.
And what did she do with this free time?
Sit. On park benches. Doing absolutely nothing.
“C’mon…” Roman murmured under his breath. “C’mon c’mon c’mon…”
Biting back a sigh, she elbowed him. He frowned in confusion at her. She, in turn, gestured her thoughts. How much longer was he going to keep this up?
“As long as it takes,” he replied. “Apparently the goodie-two-shoes citizens of Vale are a bit too cowardly to take a crack at the local banks.” He snorted.
Neo rolled her eyes.
“Look, I get that it’s boring. But it isn’t like we have much of an alternative. In case you hadn’t noticed, Goodwitch has her eye on us. Catching crooks is the only way we’re going to see action.”
Neo stared at him flatly, then pulled out Hush pointedly.
“The only way we’re going to see action with plausible deniability,” Roman corrected. “Even with your illusions covering us we can’t be certain the events won’t be traced back to us. If Goodwitch catches us breaking her precious little rules again at least we can play it off like we were trying to be heroic.”
Gritting her teeth, Neo met his eyes.
“Look, you let me know once you have a better idea.”
Maybe she would. She stood suddenly, leaping into the air and gliding away, Hush catching the breeze. Roman gawked before he got to his feet. “Neo! Where are you going?” He cursed. “This plan doesn’t work without you!”
It never did, did it? When push came to shove it was her Semblance, her manpower, fueling everything he did. She gave him a cursory wave, her illusions turning her completely invisible. Perhaps it was a rude thing to do, but right now she found herself not caring particularly. Besides, she was Neopolitan, and rudeness was part of who she was. She didn’t give a damn about anyone.
She’d thought he was different.
She floated on the wind for some time, forgetting for a moment everything about Beacon, her team, her life. Just sensation. Warm sun, cool air, nothing beneath her feet. She found her mind wandering, back to those days, days when she wasn’t really herself. Parents who kept her locked up, less than human. She’d killed them. Beat, who had taught her to segment herself, be herself. She’d left her, in the end. And Roman. Stupid, loveable Roman.
Stupid Roman.
She touched down, somewhere deep in the city. She didn’t know where. She didn’t care. People walked past her on the sidewalk, oblivious. As she began to walk, her illusion shed—replaced by the image of a Vale police officer. Someone who others would respect, defer to. She soaked up their reactions. They bent to authority. They bent to her.
It felt good. When was the last time she’d felt good like this?
She passed an alleyway. It was dark, and thin, and the other pedestrians didn’t even seem to notice it. Deep down it, Neo could see the shadowy figure of a person. Without a second thought, she ventured in, shoes squelching on the muddy ground. The homeless man at the end of the alleyway glanced up at her approach—he was bearded, with a thick coat.
“Huh? Oh, officer, I—”
She didn’t give him a chance to finish that thought. Winding back, she slammed her leg into his stomach. He wheezed in pain, curling over, and she kept kicking. Over, and over, and over. Her lips curled up into a manic grin. This was what she’d been missing. The ability to hurt people. To prove she could. To prove she was above them, she had power over them.
Blood splattered and mixed with the mud.
Whitley held up the dark blue waistcoat, its glittery texture glinting in the light of the window. He narrowed his eyes, studying the article. “Hm. Too much?”
“Little bit,” Adam replied, lounging on his bed. “Besides, I don’t know if there’s ever a case where glitter works.”
“You should see my sister,” Whitley said absently, putting the waistcoat back in his drawer and continuing to dig around. Maybe he should abandon the idea of a waistcoat entirely. Did people at parties even wear three pieces? How casual was this supposed to be? Did he even have anything that could be described as casual? A lifetime of growing up in Mantle didn’t exactly leave him with many outfits that weren’t formalwear.
“Why are you even trying to decide on your dance outfit so early?” Adam asked. “The Vytal Festival hasn’t even started yet.”
“When it does, it will bring many social obligations,” Whitley replied. “Not least of which being the dance. It never hurts to be prepared.” He stroked his chin. Maybe a leather jacket? Could he pull that off?
Adam snorted, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “Gonna be honest, Whitley, I don’t think you and parties mix.”
“For your information, I went to plenty of parties back in Mantle. It was practically part of my job.”
Adam shook his head. “Those weren’t parties, Whitley. Those were ‘social gatherings’. An excuse for rich people to make alliances and show off to each other. This'll be an actual party, composed predominantly of, y’know, kids.”
Whitley hesitated. Logically, he knew that. But what did that mean? What would a party like this look like, what would he be expected to do there? All of the rules he knew from Mantle wouldn’t apply here. He needed to learn them, and quick.
"And you?" Whitley asked. "I can't imagine you at a party."
"I haven't chosen to be social since arriving at Vale, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable," Adam replied. "Life on Menagerie wasn't all White Fang business. I used to go to metal concerts and headbang in the mosh pit."
"Now you're just making up words."
Adam smirked, as if delighted to find a limit to Whitley's vocabulary. "That's how I met Trifa, actually. She was the drummer of a postmodern grunge group."
Whitley's jaw dropped. "The spider faunus from the train?"
Adam nodded.
Whitley knew he had history with some of the Children of Grimm, but he'd never fully considered the implications. "Did you know Perry?"
"No, he's new," Adam said. "I did know Yuma, though. We used to go to church together."
Adam's religious? Whitley thought. Why didn't I know that until now? At times like this, Whitley was reminded how little he really knew about Adam Taurus.
The door to their dorm opened suddenly, and Roman entered. Whitley frowned. Where was Neo? The two were never apart, and seeing him on his own almost felt wrong. Roman himself seemed to be in a sour mood. Whitley exchanged a look with Adam, who also seemed to be confused.
“Welcome back,” Adam snarked. “What happened, you and your mime friend break up?”
Roman glowered at him. “Oh, very amusing. And her name is Neo, thank you very much.”
“What’s got you down?” Whitley asked. “And where is she?”
“None of your business.” Roman sighed, flopping backward onto his bed. “Neo doesn't like feeling constrained. Sometimes she runs off to do who knows what. That's just how it is.” There almost seemed bitterness in those words.
Adam and Whitley shared another look as Roman tipped his hat over his forehead, shutting his eyes. This was unlike Roman, and more importantly, unlike him and Neo. Whitley hadn't known them for very long, but still, never once had he seen the two apart. Roman didn't seem to happy about it, either. He tried to hide it behind his panache and style, but the boy was petulant when things didn’t go his way. There, lying on his bed and pretending to sleep, he looked sulkier than Weiss. If it's not a big deal, why does it bother you so much?
The tense silence grew. Adam stood up, leaving without a word.
Whitley frowned. “Hold on. What’s this?”
“Personal business,” Adam replied shortly, making towards the door.
Whitley grabbed his arm. “You’re not getting away that easily. Remember our promise. No lies.”
His visor as always made it hard to tell his expression, but with the way his jaw tightened, Whitley could tell Adam was frustrated. He had anger issues, bubbling just below the surface. It didn’t bode well for the deal that they had made. Whitley was still wary of Adam, despite the occasional moments of comradery they seemed to share. He had good intentions… he hoped. But behind that visor, so much of what went on in Adam’s head was still an enigma. Maybe it was foolish of Whitley to keep trying to make things better between them. But he could see the potential in Adam, not just as a teammate, but as a friend. What sort of Schnee would he be if he didn’t take risks?
At last, Adam sighed. “I wanted to check in with Ilia.”
Whitley smiled. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” Whatever unknown history Adam had on Menagerie, Ilia was a big part of it. The only part Whitley had met that didn't want him dead, in fact. It was nice to see them on speaking terms.
Adam shrugged away from Whitley’s hand at his arm. “If that’s everything, I’m off.”
The room fell into silence as Adam left, Roman returned to sleeping, Neo still absent. Whitley couldn’t help but feel small, alone. Team FLYT always looks so close. Why does it feel like our team is more divided than ever?
Slam. His foot connected with the training dummy. Rat-tat-tat! Bullets bit into its wooden form. Smack, thwack, thud. Fist. Heel of palm. Dropkick. The wooden dummy cracked internally, beaten and bruised by his relentless attack. Mercury stepped back, wiping his brow. He checked his Scroll. 180 BPM. That was a high heart rate—one of his higher ones. He was working himself hard, harder than normal. Good, Mercury thought. We’re going to need it. For what, he didn’t know specifically. But they’d had too many close calls for him to sit idle.
He took a swig from his water bottle and glanced at the doorway as it opened. Velvet Scarlatina entered the empty classroom, papers under her arm. Likely from her TA duties. She gave him a polite wave, stepping over gingerly.
He rolled his shoulder, grinning. “Ready to get this semester’s training underway?” Last year, he and Velvet had shared a special bond, training each other to physical and mental perfection. He didn’t admit it, but it had been one of the more fulfilling aspects of his time at Beacon so far. Velvet wasn’t a part of his team, but he still wanted to see her grow.
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about…” She looked down as she approached.
"Problems with your team again?" Mercury guessed.
"No, no, not at all!" Velvet said emphatically. "They're putting real effort into including me. We're all training together now. Coco's a cruel taskmaster, but Fox is keeping her in check."
"And you?" Mercury asked. "Still advocating for yourself, I hope."
"Yeah," Velvet said awkwardly. "That's a thing I do now." She paused. "On that note, I- I have to put our training on pause for a while.”
He blinked, freezing. “…What?”
“It’s… It’s the Vytal Festival. Coco put together a whole regimen over break to prepare us for it. There's only so much exercise I can take, and besides, we’ll be on opposing teams… it’s probably not a good idea for us to train together, anyway.”
Mercury shook his head. “This isn’t Coco deciding things for you again, is it?”
Velvet nailed him with a pained look. “No, Mercury. This is our chance to test ourselves against teams from across the world. I want to see what Team CFVY is made of. Look, it doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. You and I can visit each other during lunch. We just need to postpone our training til after the Festival’s over.”
Frustration bubbled up in Mercury’s stomach. He kicked at the ground… then nodded. “Right. Of course.” He put on a smile. “Train hard. If we're to fight, it'd better be a good one.”
She gave him a grin. “May the best team win. ” She punched him lightly on the arm, then gave him a wave as she departed. “See you around, Mercury.”
He gave a halfhearted wave back, and felt the silence of the room overtake him, his heartbeat gradually slowing to its normal pace. As soon as he knew she was far enough away, he let out a furious shout, slamming his foot into the dummy. It snapped at the base, flying across the room. The rest of the room- the other students' shock and concern and confusion- barely registered to him.
Stupid. It was stupid. Stupid emotions. Velvet could do what she wanted. He knew that. He more than anyone else understood the importance of agency- of not letting anyone tell you who you were. What did it matter to him that their training was being put on hold? She had a life, outside of him. And besides, he had his own team to focus on.
He couldn’t let himself dwell on this. Back to the mission. The mission. He pulled another training dummy from the back of the room, setting it up and getting into an offensive stance. Kick. Duck. Palm-strike. Flip back, retaliate with a rocket from his heel. Lose himself in the dance, the motion of the fight. Don’t think. Just do.
He barely noticed when the sun set, the orange glow that had been streaming through the classroom windows being replaced by dull darkness. It was only when a knock came at the door that he jolted out of the trance he found himself in.
Professor Ozpin stood there, coffee in hand. “I know we keep the classrooms open at all hours for the students to use at their leisure, but staying this late is a new one.” He grinned. “Except for exam season, of course…”
Mercury frowned. “Are you kicking me out?”
He put up his hand disarmingly. “Like I said, the classrooms are open all hours. I’m just a friendly face, checking in.”
Mercury wiped a rag across his forehead. “That’s what you did last time, and I almost died.”
“Hm, yes, because it was definitely my fault that you expressly ignored my suggestion and went off Grimm hunting.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he sipped his coffee. “So, what’s troubling you this time?”
Mercury frowned. “Does there always need to be something troubling me?”
“You tell me.”
Stupid professor. Why couldn’t he ever just say what he meant? “Everything’s fine.”
Ozpin raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if that’s the tone of voice of someone who’s doing ‘fine’.”
Mercury shouldered his pack, took a swig from his water bottle, and shoved past Ozpin. “I’m fine.” He didn’t have the patience for the man’s riddles, and besides, it was late enough that he should be getting back to the dorms. He stomped through the halls, all empty. How late did I stay up training? There were usually a stray handful of students lingering behind when he eventually left training with Velvet normally. Yet now, the halls were quickly darkening, completely vacant.
“That didn’t sound good.”
He jumped back a few feet, automatically assuming an offensive stance. Emerald raised her hands non-threateningly. “Whoa, there. Someone’s jumpy. It’s just me.”
Mercury blinked… then sighed. “Sorry. I… I’m not sure what’s going on with me.” His brow furrowed. “What were you doing out here?”
“Checking up on you, moron.” She gave him a grin. “We've got suitcases to unpack and bedrooms to move back into, unless you plan on sleeping in the gym.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. The time sort of slipped away from me.”
Emerald nodded, glancing in the direction of the classroom. “When you start something, you never stop, do you? You just keep going and going. Just as annoyingly persistent as Dad."
"Hazel literally can't feel pain," Mercury said. "That's cheating."
"It's burned him a time or two." Emerald grimaced. "And I mean literally burned him. I've taken care of him long enough that I could look out for you, but don't make me do that. It'd be really annoying."
"I'll try not to make a habit of disappearing for hours at a time, then," Mercury said. "I'm pretty sure Ilia has it trademarked, anyway."
Ilia sighed, staring out over Beacon’s grounds, legs hanging over the edge of the rooftop. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself she was still a spy. Not only had her cover been blown months ago, but now she was taking on the task of bringing in Blake all by herself. Well, herself and Adam—but the point was, she had none of the backup of the rest of the White Fang. She was used to doing jobs alone, yes, but that was because of the nature of spy missions. With takedowns, she typically had an entire team at her back, her fellow White Fang brethren. Over the course of the break, however, she and Adam had been the only two who could rely on each other.
But I can’t give up. That much was certain. Blake was still out there, still delusional, and though most of her followers had been locked up, she remained elusive—and Ilia wasn’t going to rest until she knew that Blake was stopped, and given the chance to stop and take a look at her actions. It’s grief. It’s grief and heartache and desperation mixing into something nasty, but I know that she can work her way past it as soon as she’s safe under the White Fang’s protection, under our protection. Or, well, the Menagerie branch. Vale was still, as far as Kali knew, unreliable. For all they knew, Blake was being harboured by them. Which was a big part of why Ilia had to do this alone. The White Fang in Vale was compromised, and relying on them wasn’t an option.
“Is it the Festival?”
For a moment, Ilia thought it was Adam—but as she turned her head, she saw Mercury standing there beside her on the roof. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”
"What's keeping you up at night. I've heard it's normal to struggle to sleep before a holiday. Especially if it's their first one away from home."
“Right. The Vytal Festival.” With her duties taking up most of her brainspace, she’d completely forgotten there was an entire biannual global holiday season starting soon. “Vytal isn't as big in Menagerie. Mostly because they left us out of it.”
“Figures.” He grinned at her. “You made a habit of hanging out on roofs long before the Festival.”
He wasn’t digging for answers, not exactly. Just curious, and who could blame him? She’d been evasive about what she’d been doing over the break, and despite her team’s help on the SDC train, she didn’t feel comfortable telling them about what she’d been up to. Not because she didn’t trust them—if there was one thing that had surprised her going into Beacon, it was how much she’d grown to care about her team—no, it was because, if she told them, they’d want to help. And Cinder was so keen on experiencing a normal student life this semester. Ilia wasn’t about to ruin that, especially when the last time something action-packed happened to them, they'd barely survived. Emerald had the scars to prove it. No, Ilia would keep them out of this. It was White Fang business—more than that, it was personal. Blake was Ilia’s friend. The events that had led her down this path were deeply personal, deeply emotional. She didn’t need to drag her friends into that drama.
She managed a smile for Mercury. “Lets me clear my mind, I guess.”
Mercury nodded, his eyes on the horizon. “Cinder wants us to have a ‘normal school life’, whatever that means. I keep thinking that we’re anything but normal. What use is there in trying to pretend otherwise?”
“She just wants to protect us,” Ilia replied softly. “You saw how she was when Emerald… when Emerald was in the hospital. She doesn’t want us hurt again. Or expelled.” Besides, Ilia thought to herself. A normal life sounds real nice right now. What Ilia wouldn’t give to go back to those days, laughing with Blake and Adam, joking about whatever was on TV. All the more reason to not give up the search for Blake.
Mercury shrugged. “She’ll protect us her way, I’ll protect us mine. Emerald could probably still use some more personal training… but she’s better than she was. Can hold her own a lot better, now.” His gaze rose to the colosseum in the sky. “The Vytal Festival is soon. Our skills will be tested harder than ever. We all need to be giving it our all, training hard.”
Ilia’s smile was slight. It was always about progress and training with him, wasn’t it… “We’ll see,” she replied dubiously.
He glanced at her. His mouth opened, but before he could respond, there was a sound from the other end of the roof. Ilia and Mercury both turned to it; Adam stood there, hand reflexively gone to Wilt at his side.
Mercury raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
“I could say the same about you,” Adam replied icily. “Is he a part of this, now?”
“A part of what?” Mercury asked, folding his arms.
He should figure out that Mercury has no idea we’re continuing the search, Ilia thought. But It won’t be easy to pivot to another topic.
“This was our ritual,” Adam growled. “On sleepless nights, we’d go up high, where no one could find us. No one except each other.”
Mercury shrugged. “She never mentioned that. And I did ask if she minded me interrupting.” He bit back an “unlike you”.
“Is that so?” Adam glared at Ilia. “Have you replaced us already?”
“Of course not!” Ilia said, scandalized. Turning her back on her past, her people, her home? The thought turned her stomach. “You have no need for concern. My new friends have no impact on our relationship.”
Adam smiled. “I’m glad your priorities are in order.” He left as suddenly as he arrived, as if fading into the night.
Mercury took a moment to process that encounter. “Maybe you should go after him,” he said at last. “I don’t want to get in the way of whatever coded conversation you were having.”
“It’s fine,” Ilia said. “If he had something important to say, he would’ve kicked you out.”
Mercury nodded. “And…. You two are supposed to be friends?”
Ilia sighed. “He's not usually like that. When you’ve lost as much as he has, you’ll hold on tight to whatever’s left.”
“Clinginess I understand,” Mercury said. “I live with Emerald, remember? But what kind of person gets upset with their friends having other friends?” His bitterness erupted. “I mean, it’s none of their business. You’d have to be some sick, possessive, controlling-”
“We’re not talking about Adam anymore, are we?” Ilia said pointedly. "What's keeping you awake?"
He grimaced. Damn it all, he thought. Why did she have to care about him so much? And why did he care so much back? He sighed. “Velvet put a pause on our training. For the Vytal Festival. She’ll be training with her team, won’t have time for me. Each match is team vs team, so it only makes tactical sense to focus on learning to fight alongside her teammates.” He put his hands in his pockets. “It's no big deal. This is what we were working towards. I didn't want her talents to be wasted, and she wanted her teammates to see her as a capable fighter. This is a good thing."
Ilia eyed him. “But that’s not how you feel, is it.”
He glanced at her. She always was too good at reading me. “Feelings aren’t exactly my forte.”
Ilia rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe you should make them a priority, then. After all, wouldn’t ‘tactical sense’ dictate you improve your weak points?”
Mercury raised an eyebrow at her. “Touche.” He’d never had to care about feelings before. It had always been about training, the mission, getting better. It still was, really. But now he had people. People he cared about, though he’d never admit it. And with people, with caring, came feelings. Complicated, troublesome, enigmatic. He was supposed to be a Huntsman-in-training, a force of strength. Not some mushy, squishy bundle of emotion. “I don’t know. I guess I… I guess I wanted to give her what I never had. A teacher better than my old man. A chance to explore herself, to define herself instead of letting anyone decide who she should be. And watching her grow, it filled me with pride. Like her accomplishments were my own."
“You care about her,” Ilia said softly.
He gave a slow nod. “And… and I guess she’s right. We’ll still be friends. We’ll still see each other every day. Why should this upset me so much? Did I want what was best for her, or did I just see her as an extension of myself? As something to control?”
Ilia smiled at him, the expression tinged with sadness. “You never expected her to stand up to you. You're used to being her teacher, and you're afraid that if she doesn't need you, she won't make time for you. And that makes you sad. Because you like spending time with her.” She nudged her shoulder against his. “Because you like her. As a friend, not a parent, and certainly not the type of parent your father was. You look up to her, not down at her. Otherwise, you wouldn't be asking these questions. You certainly wouldn't be so upset with yourself.”
“I… yeah.” He stared at the floor as he walked. “Nailed it on the head.” He gave her a half grin. “Who gave you permission to x-ray scan my heart?”
“Didn’t need it,” she returned his grin. “You’re as readable as a book, Light.”
He chuckled softly. “Guess I really do have to shore up that weak point you mentioned.”
“As long as you do so not by putting up walls around your heart, but by better learning to read it,” she said, eyeing him firmly.
“Turns out not caring about anyone sucked. Not particularly interested in going back.” He poked her teasingly. "And you're one to talk. You played the mysterious, aloof, and silent card for months."
Ilia ignored that last comment. “We should head back to the dorms. If we wait much longer, Cinder’s brain might implode with the pressure she puts on herself to keep track of all of us twenty-four/seven.”
Right. Cinder. If Coco was able to put together a training regimen over break, FLYT's plan-obsessed leader had almost certainly made an entire itinerary. Mercury decided to go to sleep as soon as he got back; he'd need strength for what came next.