Black and White
Low Town was not the nicest place in Atlas.
That almost felt like an overstatement to Rainbow Dash as she stood in the crater underneath Atlas for the first time in years. She hadn’t been back here for a while, but now that she was back, having parked The Bus on the flat ground just beyond the crater and walked with Blake the rest of the way, she found that her old home was coming back to her like a song.
A song that, while it didn’t compare to the sweeping grandeur of the number that was Atlas, was nevertheless not so bad as she remembered it.
Don’t get her wrong, Low Town was still not the nicest place in all of Atlas; in fact, it was definitely amongst the worst places in Atlas, and she only had to come back here to remember why. Atlas sat directly overhead, and not even that high either, kind of … not low exactly, maybe, but low enough that, combined with the crater walls that rose around Low Town on every side, it did a pretty good job of blocking out the sun. Low Town dwelt in perpetual twilight, an endless gloom blanketing these streets and houses, interrupted only by the true and absolute darkness of night. Atlas and the crater did combine to protect Low Town from the worst of the weather, no rain or snow fell directly down upon them, and they were protected from the worst blasts of tundra wind, but at the same time, it did rain in Low Town because water from Atlas drained down off the edges of the city to fall on the faunus settlement below.
The houses were cold, she remembered that from growing up; Low Town had a heating grid, which was the reason people could live here instead of freezing to death, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a cold and draughty place to live. The houses were … not very well-built; the ones around her now, the ones that lined the street down which Rainbow and Blake walked, they were put together out of breeze block and brick, with corrugated iron roofs and plywood fronts; a lot of them had been put together by the same people who lived in them, or by their parents or grandparents, and to say that they weren’t well-insulated was a bit of an understatement. Rainbow remembered having to run on the spot before bed so that she could warm herself up before leaping under the covers, curling up beneath the blanket, and hoping that she fell asleep before she cooled down again.
As they walked down the street, Rainbow could see that many of the windows had frost on the inside of the glass, a sign of the extent to which the cold crept in through doors and windows and inadequate walls.
The streets were plain dirt, earth flattened enough to be walked across without stumbling, although in the centre of the road, more corrugated iron and wooden boards had been laid out to ensure a surface that you wouldn’t sink into if a lot of water fell from Atlas.
Fires burned in metal drums upon the street corners, burning dust to keep the gloom at bay, casting flickering shadows upon the walls of the nearby houses, reflecting dimly upon the metal of the external taps — external taps! Some of these places didn’t even have indoor plumbing.
Yeah, it was not the best place in all of Atlas. Rainbow didn’t regret leaving here for a second. There wasn’t really anything about Low Town that she could say she missed. She didn’t miss how cold it got at nights, she didn’t miss the fact that it was never really warm, she didn’t miss the fact that the pipes were always freezing up or bursting, she didn’t miss the fact that the boiler didn’t work half the time, she didn’t miss the fact that their power was always getting cut off. She didn’t miss a thing, and she didn’t regret leaving.
Although she was starting to regret having left and not looked back, without a care for all the other people for whom living here hadn’t been a barrel of laughs either.
And as she walked down the street, Rainbow had to admit that there were a few things about Low Town that she had forgotten.
Mostly how clean it was. After just coming back from Mantle, which was filthy and only getting filthier, it was kind of a shock to Rainbow to rediscover that Low Town was so well taken care of. Those plywood fronts that folks had put up to cover the breeze block and brick frontages of their houses and stores, they were all painted in vibrant colours of red, yellow, blue, or green; some of them, and Rainbow guessed that these were the homes of families with children, didn’t have fronts painted in a single colour but collages, or patterns, works of art where kids had clearly been told to go nuts and decorate their home however they liked. They weren’t always good, but they always seemed to show a great deal of enthusiasm. And they were clean too; someone — many someones — had clearly worked hard keeping the dirt and the grime at bay. And Rainbow didn’t think it was a coincidence that while some of the bare walls, the sides or the rears, had graffiti on them, none of the painted fronts had been vandalised, and even the graffiti, while it might have been regarded as an eyesore in Atlas, had, in Low Town, a certain charm about it.
Possibly because the paint was luminous, and so, it gave off a kind of eerie glow in the darkness that was honestly pretty cool.
And while the insides of the windows were iced up, people had scratched patterns in the ice: snowflakes — although not the Schnee snowflake, obviously — stick figures, animals, grimm faces. Rainbow remembered doing that when she woke up, the same way that she remembered cleaning the sign above the shop door or helping Dad sweep up out front each morning.
It wasn’t a good life here, but people had tried to make the best of it, and it seemed like they were still trying now.
Judging by the thunderous look on Blake’s face, the way her ears were drooped down into her hair, the way her golden eyes were blazing especially bright in the permanent twilight, Rainbow thought it was safe to say she wasn’t feeling the same way.
“How?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the quiet. “How … how can people be left to live like this? With so much wealth so close by, how can this … how can it be justified?”
Rainbow didn’t have a good answer to that, and so she didn’t bother to give a bad one. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her dark blue sports jacket and said nothing.
Blake’s brow furrowed. “This … this is where you grew up?”
Rainbow shrugged, as best she could while wearing the Wings of Harmony strapped across her back and chest. “Born and raised,” she said.
“Then how…?” Blake trailed off for a moment. “Doesn’t this bother you?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, it bothers me, though … only really since I met you. Before that, and even after I met you, until more recently … I got out. I got out, and I didn’t look back, and I guess I told myself that that meant that anyone could get out if they wanted to. If they were willing to work hard and make the effort. Kind of insulting to everyone stuck down here, huh?”
“A little bit,” Blake murmured. “And now?”
“Now…” Rainbow said. “Now … I know it isn’t right, and I know that something has to be done, I just… I don’t know what yet. Maybe…”
“'Maybe'?”
“I don’t know, but we don’t really need the farmland up in Atlas,” Rainbow said. “Most of what we eat is grown in the domes on the ground or in the west, or shipped up from Mistral; we could build on the Atlas farmland, put more houses in, homes for the people who live here, and it’s not like Atlas would starve. I’m not sure people would even notice.”
“There’s some bad history around forcing faunus to leave their homes and move somewhere else,” Blake pointed out.
“I’m not talking about forcing anyone,” Rainbow replied. “They’d be given a choice. I just can’t imagine why anyone would choose not to move. Why would you want to live here when you could live in Atlas?”
“That’s a fair point,” Blake said. “But how would you make sure that those new homes went to the people down here in Low Town and didn’t get bought up by the people already living in Atlas?”
Rainbow opened her mouth, but no words came out. Blake made a good point: it wasn’t just about there being room in Atlas; it was about the people in Low Town being able to afford to move up there. “I guess … I guess the kingdom itself would have to build the homes and price them affordably.”
“Or not sell them at all, but give them to those who need them,” Blake suggested.
Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds kind of radical.”
“Giving homes to those who have nowhere decent to live is radical?”
“It is if they aren’t paying for it.”
“Don’t you think they’re already paying for it with every day they have to live down here, like this?” Blake demanded. “The fact is, I don’t believe that the faunus who live here are stuck down here because of a lack of space up in Atlas, and I don’t think that you believe it either. If that was all there was to it, then why is this a faunus community?”
Again, Rainbow had no good answer to that, although this time, she did venture to say, “Atlas isn’t perfect.”
“But it can be improved, I know. I’m not saying this to condemn it, I just…” Blake paused for a moment. “Just so long as you don’t accept this as something immutable, a status quo that can’t be upset.”
“Like I said: not since I met you,” Rainbow replied. “You … you’ve made me better on this stuff. I thought that I was going to change the way that you saw the world, but the truth is that you’ve changed the way I see things just as much. And together, I hope we can change places like this too.”
“By change, you mean—”
“Get rid of it, yeah,” Rainbow declared. “Move the people somewhere else. Because you’re right, it is … when Atlas is right up there … it’s wrong. I shouldn’t have had to sneak up to Atlas aboard a shuttle and happen to run into Twilight in order to get the chances that I did.”
“I’m a little surprised there was a way for you to get up to Atlas,” Blake observed.
“Where do you think any of the money comes from for this place?” Rainbow asked. “It’s the people who have jobs up in Atlas.”
“But they’re not allowed to live there.”
“No,” Rainbow agreed. “I’ve already talked to Councillor Cadence about it, but maybe after we’re done, we can think about some ways to get people out of here.” She paused for a moment. “But first, well, whoever is taking people is going to clear out Low Town all by themselves unless we stop them.”
“Right,” Blake agreed. “Any ideas?”
“I think I know where to start finding answers,” Rainbow said. “There’s a guy around here who knows everything. If he’s still alive.”
“'If'?”
“He was old when I was a kid,” Rainbow admitted. “But if he’s still around, he’ll know what’s up.”
She led Blake through the streets of Low Town, past the burning drums and the painted frontages, rattling over the corrugated iron or thumping on the boards that made up the roads.
They walked past signs asking people to please pick up their litter or dog muck, signs that seemed to be obeyed, judging by how empty of either the streets were. It was kind of weird; people here probably had less than the people who lived in Mantle, but they took much more care of it.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that weird.
They passed the place that Rainbow’s parents used to own, but it was a takeaway now, judging by the new sign above the door. Rainbow glanced at it as they went past, but she didn’t stop, and she didn’t say anything to Blake. What would have been the point? She was here to do a job, not get sentimental.
There wasn’t even anything to get sentimental about. So the store wasn’t there anymore, big whoop. Of course it wasn’t there anymore; who would have run it?
Rainbow brought Blake to Grampa’s, a bodega sitting at the back of a cul-de-sac on the far side of town from where they had landed. The name, Grampa’s Deli & Grocery, was painted in white upon a dark green background on a wooden board hung above the door, along with proclamations of the availability of sandwiches, breakfasts, cold cuts, and fresh meat.
On the outside of the shop window, someone had painted, in white, the words ‘HELP! I’M BEING HELD PRISONER AGAINST MY WILL!’
Blake frowned. “Should we—?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rainbow assured her. “It isn’t serious.”
“How—?” Blake began, but was interrupted as the door opened and Grampa Gruff emerged.
Grampa Gruff was old, and Rainbow meant old. He’d been old when she was a kid, and he hadn’t gotten any younger since. His skin was wrinkled and spotted with age, around his eyes were dark circles, and his cheeks drooped down in sagging jowls beneath his jawline. His hair remained dark, somehow, but while his eyebrows were thick and bushy, his hair was almost all gone, reduced to a tufty crown encircling his head, although most of his baldness was covered by the red fez he was wearing. One eye was dark, the other blind and milky; a scar descended towards that eye from his wrinkled forehead, then continued on beneath it down his sagging cheek. He was dressed in a long brown coat, with yellow bird claws emerging out of the sleeves instead of hands.
He walked out of the shop — a bell above the door announced his departure — and stared at the sign painted in the window.
“GALLUS!” he squawked. “Fetch a cloth!” He turned around and, for the first time, noticed Rainbow Dash and Blake.
“No!” he snapped, and then strode inside without another word.
Blake glanced at Rainbow, her eyebrows rising.
“Okay, so maybe I should have mentioned that I’m not very popular around here,” Rainbow conceded.
The door to the bodega opened again, and a young faunus, with blue wings emerging from out of the back of his outfit, emerged with a stained rag held in one hand. His hair was, for the most part, as blue as his wings, although it turned to yellow at the tips, and worn in spikes rising up above the forehead, while his eyes were a deeper ocean shade of blue. He was dressed in a chequered jacket over a puffer jacket over a white t-shirt — Rainbow didn’t blame him for layering up — and a pair of pants that looked warm but which, unfortunately, also looked as if they’d seen better days.
“Rainbow Dash, right?” he said, tossing the cloth between his hands.
“That’s right,” Rainbow said. “Gallus, right?”
“That’s me,” Gallus said. “Still here. I mean, who else would do this job?”
“Are you in any trouble?” Blake asked.
“Do I look like I’m in trouble?” Gallus asked. He paused. “Oh, wait, you’re serious! I mean yes, yes, I am in trouble; I’m in terrible trouble, and I really need a cute, quirky girl to—”
“No, he’s not in any trouble,” Rainbow said. “And how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m fifteen!” Gallus protested. “And I am in trouble! Life is passing me by, and I’m stuck here stacking shelves. So what are you doing back here, anyway? Did they kick you out of that fancy school?”
“I’m here about disappearances,” Rainbow said. “Do you know anything about that?”
Gallus’ face fell. “I … a little. Grampa won’t admit it, but he’s worried. Since people started going missing, he’s been closing up earlier, and he doesn’t have me out making deliveries at night any more. Which would be great, because I hate that bike he has me ride, but … well, you know.”
“Hear anything?” Rainbow asked. “See anything?”
“Seen? No,” Gallus said. “I might have heard something though.”
“What?” demanded Blake.
“I don’t know exactly,” Gallus admitted. “But a couple of nights ago, I thought I heard someone stomping around outside. They must have been pretty big; they were making a heck of a noise.”
“Thanks,” Rainbow murmured. “Blake and I are going to take care of this, whatever it is, but until we do, take care of yourself, okay?”
Gallus nodded. “Are you going to go talk to Grampa?”
“Yeah.”
“Good luck,” Gallus replied as he started wiping away the paint on the window.
Rainbow led the way inside, pushing open the door that led into the bodega. Low Town wasn’t exactly full of shops, and so Grampa’s provided pretty much everything that you could need down here, from food to kitchen utensils, toiletries, cigarettes, sweets, and he made some mean sandwiches too. The store was laid out in the old-fashioned way, with a counter running along three sides of the store and almost everything either on it or behind it so that Grampa Gruff had to get you everything himself — or, conversely, it was harder for you to steal from him. Near the door, stacked up on the counter, was a pyramid of tin cans without labels on them, and a sign sticking up above the pyramid encouraging shoppers to take a chance on an item full of mysterious promise. At the back of the store sat a coffee maker, a sandwich maker, and various fillings under a hot lamp, while above them on the wall were the options and prices available.
Rainbow could smell the meatballs from here, and if she hadn’t been on the job, she would have relished one of Grampa Gruff’s meatball subs.
Unfortunately, he’d probably have spat in it.
Drawn by the sound of the bell, Grampa Gruff emerged from the back of his home.
“No,” he repeated, when he saw Rainbow Dash.
“Oh, come on, Grampa,” Rainbow said, as she walked across the open space in the middle of the shop.
“I have the right to refuse service to anyone for any reason I choose,” Grampa Gruff declared.
“Actually, you don’t; according to the Equality Act, you’re not allowed to discriminate on grounds of race, gender, sex, or sexuality,” Rainbow informed him.
“But I can still discriminate against sell-outs who leave their homes and never come back, right?” Grampa Gruff demanded. “Okay then, that’s you, get out!”
Rainbow sighed heavily. To Blake, she said, “If I was kind of cranky when you met me, stuff like this is why.”
“Oh boo hoo,” Grampa Gruff said mockingly. “Did you tell your friend how absolutely insufferable you were when you deigned to come around before you left for good? She spent some time in Atlas, and suddenly, she was too good for all of us peasants down here in Low Town, weren’t you?”
“Is this actually your grandfather?” Blake whispered.
“No, everyone just calls him Grampa,” Rainbow replied.
“Right,” Blake said softly. She walked forward, raising her voice. “Sir, regardless of what happened with Rainbow Dash in the past, we’re here to help, and we’re hoping that you can help us to—”
“Here to help? When is anyone from Atlas ever here to help us, huh?” Grampa Gruff demanded. “And who are you, another traitor?”
“Show some respect, Grampa,” Rainbow snapped. “This is Blake Belladonna, Ghira Belladonna’s daughter.”
Blake’s ears drooped a little, and she bowed her head as though she was embarrassed.
Grampa Gruff was quiet for a moment. “Is that true?” he asked. “You’re the Belladonna kid?”
Blake nodded silently.
“Well, your old man was a sellout too,” Grampa Gruff said. “Leaving us all behind to swan off to Menagerie.”
“Ugh, listen,” Rainbow said, striding forwards and putting her hands down heavily on the counter. “You can think what you like about me, Grampa; you can hate me if you want. I’ll even admit that I kind of deserve it for the way that I acted, and that’s on me. But if you want to hold onto that and not talk to me because I was a dumb kid when there are people disappearing out there on the streets and Gallus could be next … that’s on you.”
Grampa Gruff’s one good eye widened. “You know about the disappearances?”
“I didn’t come down here for the meatball sub, as good as it is,” Rainbow said. “I don’t know who’s doing this, but whoever they are, I think that me and Blake can stop them. But only if people will talk to us.” She grinned. “You still got the Saturday night special underneath the counter?”
Grampa Gruff reached beneath the counter and produced a double-barrelled sawn-off shotgun. “I’ve been keeping it loaded since all of this started.”
“That might do you some good,” Rainbow acknowledged. “But we’ll do you more. So come on, not for me, not for the Belladonnas, but for Low Town and for Gallus and yourself: Do you know anything that might help us stop this?”
Flash looked this way and that, his gaze emerging nervously out from beneath his crested helmet as he followed Weiss down the streets of the Low Town. “Everyone’s staring at us.”
Weiss rolled her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him. “I wonder why that could be?” she asked. She was glad that Flash had agreed to come and back her up on this business, and she understood why he was wearing his gilded, gleaming armour — here in the shadow of Atlas, where the great floating metropolis blocked out most of the sunlight and cast the world in a perpetual twilight, his armour gleamed a little less than usual, but nevertheless, it caught what little light still reached them here — with his gilded hoplon shield slung across his back and the blue crest in his helmet; it was his huntsman gear, after all, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to do without. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to waste time pretending that he didn’t stick out like a blister.
“And I’m sure the fact that you’re walking around with the Schnee Dust Company logo on your back has nothing whatsoever to do with it,” Flash said, matching her tone in its masterful infusion of sarcasm.
Weiss scowled as she stopped and turned around to face him in the middle of the street. She was not dressed in precisely the same outfit that she had worn for action at Beacon; rather, she was wearing a crisp white double-breasted jacket, with black buttons running down it like the coals on a snowman, and a skirt which, while only thigh length, had a number of layers of black petticoat for extra warmth. A pair of black tights embraced her legs, while white boots rose up higher than her knees.
And, yes, the jacket had the Schnee snowflake on its back, and, yes, that probably had as much to do with the way that every faunus in the street or in the doorways of the ramshackle shanties that lined either side of the same was staring at them with amazement and not a little bit of hostility, but that didn’t mean that she was going to let his comment pass uncontested.
“I am not wearing any company logo,” she declared proudly. “This is my family crest.”
He didn’t look as though he understood the distinction — incomprehension shone in those blue eyes — but he must have understood that it was important to her, because he said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay,” Weiss said stiffly. “Everyone does it.” And that, of course, was the really upsetting thing, but she wasn’t about to explain that to him.
I shouldn’t have gotten mad. It wasn’t his fault.
But if I don’t correct him, then he’ll never learn. He’s a good person; he won’t take offence. And he won’t forget it either.
He won’t refer to the Schnee snowflake as the corporate logo again.
Although he might not understand why he shouldn’t. Perhaps I should explain a little.
“It’s just … there’s more to being a Schnee than the company,” Weiss said. “I don’t wear this because I’m some corporate stooge. I wear it because it’s my birthright.”
“I get it,” Flash said, although Weiss wasn’t sure that he actually understood or just thought he did. It was, admittedly, a difficult thing to understand … unless, perhaps, you were a Mistralian aristocrat.
“Um,” the Seacole girl, who had given her name as Lavender, murmured from just up ahead of them. “Is everything okay?”
Weiss looked back at her. “Everything’s fine,” she said primly. “I’m sorry for the delay. Please, continue.”
The girl led them through the crowded, cramped, and warren-like streets of the undercity that dwelt beneath Atlas, in the literal shadow of the wealthiest, mightiest, and most advanced city in the world. Atlas dwelt amongst the clouds, yet here on the ground, all of its bright and shining brilliance was wholly absent. Down here, the best that could be managed was a kind of suburban townhouse that would have been thought a little small and cramped in Vale, while a great many people seemed to make do in lean-to huts, in crude apartment blocks thrown together with bricks and wood and corrugated iron. Weiss had never been down here amongst these sprawling favelas before, and to be perfectly honest, there was something nerve-inducing about them. She didn’t let it show, of course — she kept her chin up and her head held high throughout, although she also she kept one hand close to the hilt of Myrtenaster — but she felt it in her bones as the combination of the low light, the many eyes watching her in the street and out of the shadows, the fact that everyone around her was a faunus and Flash the only human in sight, perhaps for miles, all of it contrived to give her a chill feeling.
She couldn’t help but wonder if this had been a good idea.
I can’t turn back. I refuse to turn back. She was not her father. She was not the sort of person who would turn a blind eye to the problems of others simply because she could. And she wouldn’t run away just because she was being made to feel a little uncomfortable. She had to be brave, like her sister and grandfather.
She was not her father; she recognised her debts and repaid them.
Lavender led them through streets that were simple tracks carved into the earth, layered over at times by wooden boards or iron sheets. There were no robots here to pick up the litter, but somebody was clearly cleaning up, because there wasn’t nearly the amount of litter that Weiss would have expected to see in a neighbourhood like this one. In fact, there was hardly any at all that she could see, and now that she took a second look, the buildings, ramshackle though they often were, didn’t look so dirty either.
So, followed by the eyes of the faunus who dwelt beneath, Weiss and Flash followed their guide until she led them to what, in Vale, would have passed for a modest bungalow but seemed a kind of palace in this place, not least for the fact that it appeared to have been put up by a professional.
Did my father pay her so well before he fired her? Weiss wondered, before she remembered that Laberna Seacole had also been her mother’s nanny when she was very young. She found it much easier to believe that her grandfather had been generous with the woman who was almost raising his daughter. That made a lot more sense.
Weiss remembered that Laberna had used to laugh and say often that she could tell them stories about their mother, with the implication that they were stories that their mother might not want to be told. But she had never told them, out of respect for the mistress, out of fear that it would cause her to be dismissed, or perhaps simply out of affection for a woman whom she had once bathed as she had gone on to bathe her daughters in turn. Regardless, she had kept Willow Schnee’s childhood secrets; Weiss had never found out exactly what her mother had been like as a girl. Now, when she considered it, Weiss found that a great pity. Her mother couldn’t have always been the lonely, fading ghost who haunted the Schnee mansion like a phantom, who drank in the morning and went to bed in the afternoon, who was rarely seen — who was rarely allowed to be seen — amongst high society. The more she thought about it, the more Weiss regretted that she didn’t know anything about what her mother had been like when she was … when she was happy.
Lavender turned to them. “This is my grandma’s house. You should come in and say hello. I know that she’ll be happy to see you.”
“Would you like me to wait out here?” Flash asked softly.
“No,” Weiss said. Apart from anything, she wasn’t altogether sure that it would be safe to leave Flash all alone out here, nor — though she would never say so out loud — did she wish to go alone into an unfamiliar house like this. “I’m sure that Mrs. Seacole won’t mind you coming in.”
Lavender shook her head. “Of course not. The more the merrier, right? Come on in.” She seemed a little less nervous now as she opened the front door — it wasn’t locked, which seemed a little dangerous in a place like this — and disappeared into the darkened house. There were no lights on inside, and though the windows were open, the shadow of Atlas lay so heavily upon them that there was little illumination to be had. From what Weiss could make out, mostly shadows and shapes without much definition, the front room was a sparsely decorated place. A little light, candle light if she was any judge, peaked out from behind the curtain that acted as the barrier between one room and the next. Lavender pushed the curtain aside. “I’m back, Grandma, and I didn’t come back by myself.”
Laberna Seacole sat in a rocking chair, her legs and hands alike covered by a blanket. She had been an old woman when she had tended to Weiss, changed her diapers and given her baths, but now, by the light of the single candle burning in the room, she looked truly ancient. Her skin was wrinkled everywhere, her hair was not only white but thin too, gone in places revealing a spotty scalp to the world, even as hair sprouted out of her raccoon ears in tufts. When she opened her eyes, they were rheumy and pale; Weiss wondered if she could even see anymore.
How swiftly had she declined. Had living here been so bad for her health? How had she become thus so quickly?
“Miss Winter?” she croaked in a thin, hoarse voice; her gums were toothless, and her crinkled lips curled around them. “Is that you?”
“No,” Weiss said softly, as though she were confessing something. “It’s me, Weiss.”
“Miss Weiss?” Mrs. Seacole asked, sounding confused and a little disbelieving. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m a huntress,” Weiss said. She shifted uncomfortably. “Well, a huntress-in-training, at least, at—”
“Beacon,” Mrs. Seacole said. “I remember now. You going off all the way to Vale over the ocean, that made it into the news.”
“It did?”
“Sure it did. I always look out for anything about my girls,” Mrs. Seacole said. “I don’t see you no more, but I want to know how things are going. I’m so proud of both of you.”
Weiss frowned and looked away. “There’s not so much to be proud of.”
“Sure there is,” Mrs. Seacole said. “Your sister, Miss Winter, is a fine woman and an officer, and you, you’ve still got that voice like an angel; I should have recognised it the moment you opened your mouth, and you’ve got into Beacon, and you fought in that big battle in Vale not too long ago, and they say you even worked with the police to take down a terrorist. I’ll bet you're the best student in that whole place.”
Hardly, Weiss thought, with a little chagrin. “I… have done my best,” she muttered.
“If they were here, your grandma and grandpa would be so proud of both of you,” Mrs. Seacole said. “But since they ain’t, I guess I have to be proud for them. Miss Weiss?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to bring my granddaughter back home to me?”
Weiss stood up a little straighter, as much for her benefit as for that of Mrs. Seacole. “I will,” she said. “You have my word, upon my sacred honour.”
Mrs. Seacole nodded. “You hear that, Lavender? She gave her word. The word of a Schnee, just the way old Mister Nicholas would have said it. Prim’s as good as back with us already.”
“Is there anything that you can tell us?” Flash asked. “Where was she going when she … disappeared?”
“Who is this? Who are you, boy?”
“This is Flash Sentry,” Weiss explained. “He’s my partner at Beacon, and he’s agreed to help me, help us with this.”
Mrs. Seacole nodded. “Primrose … Primrose was on her way to Grampa Gruff’s. She came home from work, made dinner, and then went out to pick up a few things we were short of.”
“Where?” Weiss asked.
“It’s a little way from here,” Lavender said. “I can show you.”
“Thank you,” Weiss said softly. She hesitated for a moment. Apologies did not come naturally to her, especially when the apology was not for an offence committed by her. But in this case, it was necessary. “I’m sorry for the way my father treated you. It was uncalled for. It was … it was more than uncalled for, it was downright cruel, and it has … Laberna, how did you get like this? It hasn’t been so long, or are my memories so poor?”
Laberna let out a long sigh, or at least what sounded like a sigh. “I … I don’t rightly know, Miss Weiss. Sometimes, it feels like Time was just waiting in the shadows, lurking out of sight until I lost my job when he jumped out and loaded down all the surprises that he’d been holding for me. Like I’d been holding old age at bay for years, and then one day, it hit me like a truck. But that doesn’t really matter now. Primrose is what matters, my granddaughter; she’s the important one.”
Weiss nodded. “I, we, will bring your granddaughter back. I promise.”
“Thank you, Miss Weiss,” Mrs. Seacole said. “And you … you take care of my Lavender too, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Weiss said softly.
“I’d go with you myself, but I…” She sighed. “I’m so tired now.”
“You should get some rest; your family will be home soon,” Weiss said. “And … thank you.”
“For what, child?”
“For … for everything,” Weiss said. “For being there, when my parents weren’t. For being… for helping me to become who I am today.” I only hope that who I am today can help repay the debt I owe to you. To Lavender she added, “Please, lead the way.”
“Right,” Lavender said. “Goodbye, grandma. I’ll … we’ll both be home soon, me and Prim.”
“I hope so,” Laberna said. “I’ll be waiting … for you both.”
The old woman closed her eyes and leaned back in her rocking chair as one spotted hand emerged from underneath the blanket to pull it a little higher up above her waist.
“How is she?” Weiss whispered.
Lavender glanced at her grandmother across the shadowy room. “Tired all the time. She doesn’t get up much; she can’t.”
“And your parents?” Flash asked.
“It’s just me, my grandma, and Prim,” Lavender said. “We have to find her. We will find her, won’t we? You meant what you said to Grandma?”
“I never say things that I don’t mean,” Weiss declared. “Come on, show us the way that your sister would have taken to this store.”
Lavender led them back outside the house the way that they had come. Immediately after they had exited, however, they found themselves confronted by a small mob.
It seemed that the faunus — some of them, at least — who had watched them with sharp and wary eyes as they made their way here had found their courage after Weiss and Flash had gone into the house. They were gathered outside of the Seacole’s front door, and though Weiss saw very few weapons in evidence — she could see only two guns, and a few more knives and sticks — they looked angry, upset, and ready for trouble.
Weiss was not afraid. She was wary, but she was not afraid. She had faced the White Fang and the creatures of grimm, and a few angry faunus didn’t frighten her. But she was conscious of the fact that she couldn’t just tackle them head on like she could have the White Fang — there were probably a few White Fang members, or at least sympathisers, amongst this crowd, but that was almost beside the point in this situation — or the grimm. She had promised to help find Primrose Seacole and get to the bottom of these disappearances, and she couldn’t do that if she managed to rouse the entire district to a rage against her.
The mob was led by a young dog faunus with terrier ears, someone about her age or maybe a couple of years older, who was one of the couple of people in the crowd who had a gun, specifically a pistol similar to the sort used as sidearms by the military. As he talked, he waved said pistol in their faces with such wild abandon that Weiss felt rather glad he still had the safety catch on, even as she wondered if he realised that it was on.
“What have we here?” he demanded. “You people are getting real cocky, aren’t you? You think you can just kidnap people in broad daylight now?”
Lavender waved her hands in front of her. “It’s not like that, this is—”
“Lav, this ain’t your business,” the young man growled. “Why don’t you get back inside the house, and we’ll take care of this.”
“I don’t know what you think is going on here,” Weiss said, “but we’re here to help find this girl’s sister and—”
“Oh, I’m sure that you already know exactly where Prim is, seeing as how you’re the ones who took her!” the young man shouted, to mutters of agreement and encouragement from the crowd behind him. “Everyone knows that the humans and the SDC are behind all these folks going missing.”
“Really? How do you figure that?” Flash asked.
“Because it’s always the humans and the SDC!” the young man replied. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming around here wearing that snowflake.”
“Why thank you,” Weiss said. “It’s always good to know that my courage is recognised and appreciated.”
Silence descended on the crowd. Lavender looked as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Flash looked as though he didn’t know whether to boggle or laugh. The face of the young faunus turned a shade of purple.
“What?” he snapped. “What did you say to me?”
“You praised my nerve; I thanked you for the compliment,” Weiss said.
“I never gave you no compliment!”
“I disagree,” Weiss replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”
“You ain’t going nowhere!” he yelled. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing with all the people you’ve snatched!”
“We didn’t do it,” Flash said. “Listen, buddy, if we were kidnapping people, then why would we come down here to try and find them?”
“So you can lord it over us, probably,” he said. “So that you can laugh at us for being so stupid as to trust you.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Flash said. “We’re just trying to help.”
“We don’t need your help; we take care of our problems around here.”
“Because you’re doing such a good job, clearly,” Weiss snapped. She affixed him with a look full of patrician hauteur, tilting her chin up to give the impression that she was looking down on him even as he remained noticeably taller than she was. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care, but you and your gun don’t frighten me, and you won’t stop me from doing what I came here to do. So stand aside.”
The young man swallowed, and looked as though he was stiffening up his courage, or trying to. “Or what?” he demanded.
“Let’s not get into ‘or what’ if we don’t have to, yeah?”
The voice was coming from on top of the Seacoles’ roof and belonged to Rainbow Dash, the leader of Team RSPT. She was not someone whom Weiss had expected to see here, and yet here she was, perched on top of the roof, looking down upon the scene. She was wearing those wings of hers strapped across her shoulders and chest, and she was wearing a dark blue sports jacket with a light blue streak down the middle, covering the zipper, and another streak of red, yellow, and green across her midriff and her sleeves around the elbow. Her trousers were indigo, with light blue stripes running up the seams.
With her was none other than Blake Belladonna, once of the White Fang, now a friend of Atlas, if not quite the hero of the north kingdom the public believed.
The eyes of the mob turned upwards towards them.
“Rainbow Dash!” someone exclaimed from out of the crowd.
“That’s right,” Rainbow Dash said. “You remember me, huh?”
“We remember how you ditched the neighbourhood,” the young man said. “What are you doing back here?”
“I heard you were having some trouble,” Rainbow replied. “We’re here to help.”
“We don’t need it! Not from these two, not from you, not from anyone who’s causing people to go missing!”
“Atlas isn’t doing this,” Rainbow replied. “Atlas … Atlas doesn’t do stuff like this.”
“And why should I believe that? Why should any of us believe that? Because you say so?”
“Because it doesn’t make any sense,” Blake said, as she leapt down off the roof to land not far away from Weiss. “Why would Atlas, or the military, or the SDC suddenly start kidnapping people in the middle of the night? What does it get them that they don’t already have?”
“Who are you?” someone demanded from out of the crowd.
“I’m…” Blake hesitated for a moment. “My name is Blake Belladonna. And my father is Ghira Belladonna, former High Leader of the White Fang. How many people have heard of him?”
Some, mostly the older members of the crowd, nodded or murmured that they had, or even that they remembered him.
“I understand that you’re angry,” Blake said. “I understand that you’re upset, and I understand that you’re worried about all your friends and relatives and neighbours who have gone missing. But taking that anger out on those who only want to help isn’t going to bring those people back—”
“We can handle this on our own—”
“No, you can’t!” Blake snapped so fiercely that the young man stumbled backwards away from her with a startled yelp. “You may want that to be true, but it isn’t, and you know it isn’t, because you know that you’re not strong enough. That’s not a bad thing. You shouldn’t be ashamed of not having power … but there’s nothing wrong with asking for help either, with admitting that you can’t do this on your own. I’m here to help you. We’re here to help you, and we’re not going to stop until we find these missing people. I promise that Atlas did not do this but that we are going to find out who actually did.”
The young man picked himself up off the ground. “Belladonna, huh? So your dad, he’s the big guy down on Menagerie?”
Blake nodded sharply. “That’s right,” she said.
The young dog faunus nodded his head. “My folks live down there. They say he’s a good guy. But they say you’re some kind of Atlesian hero, special ops or somethin’, so how do we know you haven’t sold out like Rainbow Dash here?”
“Rainbow hasn’t sold out, and neither have I,” Blake declared. “As for my reputation … sometimes, a lie makes people more comfortable than the truth, but the truth is, I have always fought for justice, and I have always fought for our people, and that is something that will never change.”
The young faunus half nodded. “From the Belladonna kid … I guess I can believe that. You really think that you can rescue everybody?”
Blake’s mouth tightened. “I can’t promise you that they’re all still okay,” she admitted. “But I can guarantee that I’ll get to the bottom of what happened to them.”
That, and the magic of the Belladonna name — and Blake’s parents had not only led the White Fang, but were now ruling over the faunus on Menagerie? How did that happen? — seemed to be enough for the faunus, who began to disperse until, besides Weiss, Flash, Rainbow, and Blake, only Lavender Seacole remained, looking a little confused about what had just happened.
As Rainbow dropped down into the street, Blake turned to face Weiss and Flash. “So,” she said, “what brings you two down here?”
“I asked for their help, sort of,” Lavender murmured.
“Her grandmother was…” Weiss paused; for some reason, the idea of telling Blake Belladonna that she had had a faunus nanny made her feel rather self-conscious. But, since she couldn’t actually explain why she felt that way, she pushed past the feeling and told her anyway. “She was my nanny.”
“Of course she was,” Blake murmured.
Weiss exhaled forcibly through her nostrils. “I could just as easily ask what brings you here?”
“I was asked to take a look at this too,” Rainbow said. “A friend got in touch with me, and because the police … let’s just say that General Ironwood appreciated that the police might not be the best people to take care of this and agreed to let me run point, for now anyway. I asked Blake to help me out.” She paused for a moment. “Miss… Weiss, I hate to ask you this, but are you sure that the SDC isn’t behind these disappearances?”
“Yes!” Weiss cried, taking a step backwards in surprise. “How … how can you say something like that, just because the company has a certain reputation—”
“It isn’t the reputation of the SDC that concerns me,” Rainbow murmured. “We’ve seen things that aren’t part of the SDC’s reputation.”
Weiss glanced between Rainbow and Blake. They must know about the brand on that terrorist’s face. It was the only thing that she could think of, although there was always the possibility that they knew other things that she was as yet ignorant of.
She rather hoped that that was not the case.
“Rainbow?” Flash said. “What are you talking about?”
“There are things that the SDC has done of which it would prefer to keep the public ignorant,” Weiss admitted, her voice quiet and brittle, like glass. “Physical … mistreatment of workers.”
“They brand their faces like cattle,” Rainbow said sharply.
“Not all of them,” Weiss replied.
“You knew?” Blake demanded.
Weiss took a deep breath. “Sunset told me about her encounter with the White Fang leader. I presume that’s when Rainbow Dash found out about it as well.”
“Gods,” Flash murmured.
“You knew?” Blake repeated. “You knew, and what, you didn’t do anything about it?”
“What was I supposed to do about it?” Weiss responded. “It’s my family company, but I have no power within it; I can’t stop it from happening; I can’t even investigate how or why.”
“You…” Blake trailed off. She was silent for a few moments. “I … I don’t believe the SDC is involved with these disappearances.”
“No?” Rainbow asked.
“You don’t?” said Weiss.
“No,” Blake agreed. “Because why start now? What would suddenly force the SDC to use this method to acquire labour, when they’ve never needed to do this before? These disappearances are novel — that’s why people reached out to us for help — now what would force the SDC to suddenly take this tack? Nothing, as far as I can tell.”
“Nor I,” Weiss agreed, hoping that that would draw a line beneath the matter.
Instead, it seemed to lead to an uncomfortable silence between them that stretched out for longer than Weiss would have liked … and yet, she could not think of any way to end it.
“Since we both want the same thing,” Blake said, finally ending the silence herself, “it makes sense for us to combine our forces.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Flash said. “People around here don’t seem to like us very much. They might be more willing to speak to a faunus.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Blake said. “They might be wrong about Atlas being behind these disappearances, but people in places like this have good reasons to be mistrustful of outsiders.”
Rainbow nodded. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up, so let’s mix up the groups? Flash, Blake, you’ve worked together before—”
“Actually,” Weiss said, “why don’t you take Flash, and I’ll go with Blake, and we’ll meet back up later and compare notes on what we’ve found out?” Rainbow seemed just as upset with the SDC as Blake was, but at least Blake had given her the benefit of the doubt and suggested that the SDC was not responsible for these disappearances. Besides, when Flash and Blake had worked together before, they’d ended up getting captured, and Flash had almost been shot.
Rainbow blinked. “Um … Blake, is that-?”
“I’m okay with that,” Blake said, in a voice that was calm and quiet. “Whatever helps these people the most, I’ll do it.”
Rainbow nodded, before looking down at Lavender Seacole who had been listening to all of this with an open mouth and wide eyes. “Hey, kid, where were you about to take these two?”
“Uh, to Grampa’s; it’s where my sister was going when… when…”
“She made it there,” Rainbow said. “So they must have picked her up on the way back.”
“You’ve been to the store already?” Flash asked.
“That’s right; I hoped that Grampa might know something,” Rainbow replied. “He told us that Primrose Seacole made it to the store just as he was shutting up, but he let her in and served her anyway. She left … but she didn’t make it back home. We were just about to speak to the family when we ran into you.”
“I see,” Weiss murmured. She turned to Lavender Seacole, getting down on her knees in front of her. “I think that you’ve helped us as much as you can, young lady. You should go back inside and take care of your grandmother. Now that I know where to find you, I’ll bring your sister back as soon as you can.”
“Are … are you sure?”
“Very sure,” Weiss said. “It will be safer that way. I promise that my friends and I can handle this. After all, this is what we train for.”
Lavender nodded. “G-good luck,” she stammered, before heading back inside the house.
She closed the door behind her, although Weiss would have been more reassured to have heard the click of a lock.
“Why don’t you and Flash go north, while we head south?” Weiss suggested. “We should meet back here in a few hours to share what we’ve found out.”
“Fine,” Rainbow said.
“Don’t be late,” Flash murmured.
“I regard punctuality as a virtue,” she replied. To Blake, she asked, “Are you ready?”
“Of course.” Blake said. “Let’s go.”
And she walked away, leveraging her longer legs to move at a pace Weiss would have to run in order to match. It felt, to be honest, just a little ungrateful. Weiss had done nothing but be courteous and considerate to Blake, and yet, here she was, not only taking the lead — of the two of them, Weiss was the one who was still a team leader — but also acting as though she had some reason to take a proud and haughty line with Weiss.
Weiss hurried after her — without trying to make it seem as though she was hurrying — until she drew level with the other, unfortunately taller girl and, through determined effort, kept pace with her as they walked southwards away from the Seacole house. Even if it meant having to take one and a half steps for every step of Blake’s, Weiss was not going to be led by her.
She didn’t dislike Blake, but one had to have some standards. She was a Schnee, and a Schnee did not walk behind.
If Blake noticed what Weiss was doing, she didn’t comment on it; she simply kept on walking, and together, they moved through Low Town and began to get to work.
Said work mostly consisted of knocking on doors — or else approaching those who were hanging around outside of their homes or in the street — and asking them if they had seen anything, if they had heard anything, if they knew anything at all that might help explain these disappearances that had been terrorising the neighbourhood.
These faunus might have been too proud or too stupid — or both — to go the authorities, but they knew quite a bit. Although no one had been lucky, or unlucky, to actually catch sight of the kidnapper or kidnappers at work, plenty of them had heard something or seen something or knew something, even if it wasn’t entirely clear what it all added up to.
One ageing goat faunus, with horns on either side of his head and a knife at his belt, who looked at Weiss as though he couldn’t decide if she were predator or prey, informed them that his dog — a ferocious-looking black pitbull chained up outside the front door — had woken him up with barking on the night that a young man had disappeared.
“I get up to tell that damn dog to shut up, and I hear these clanking noises outside.”
“'Clanking'? You mean like a robot?” Blake asked.
“Yeah, just like a robot,” the goat faunus said. “Like the robots that they use.” He gestured at Weiss with one hand. “I bet it’s them that have been taking all those kids.”
Weiss snorted. “That’s utterly ridiculous.”
“What, you think I’m too stupid to know what a robot sounds like?”
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Weiss said.
“You said kids,” Blake said hastily. “Are all the victims children?”
“Maybe not children,” he said. “Although they all look like it to me, you know what I mean? They’re all … kind of your age. Some a few years younger, some a few years older. Nobody as old as me has been taken, I’ll tell you that. I think it’s disgusting.”
If he meant what she thought he meant, then Weiss couldn’t help but agree with him.
“Are they … all girls?” Blake asked, in a tone that suggested that she didn’t really want to know the answer but felt obliged to ask.
The goat shook his head. “Nah. Boys too. But that don’t mean nothing. Those Schnees … and they call us the animals.”
Weiss sputtered with incoherent outrage, but before she could get her tongue around the anger that was stopping up her throat like a jawbreaker, Blake had already thanked the man and ushered him back into his home.
“What … what are you doing?” Weiss demanded, as Blake leapt away from the dog in a manner that suggested that being so near to it for so long had been a sore trial for her. “I can’t just let him say things like that!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Blake said.
“It matters to me!” Weiss replied.
“What matters to me is finding these people,” Blake retorted. “I’m not here to salve your pride or your ego. If you don’t want to help, then go home, but if you’re going to stay, then come with me. We’ve got work to do.” She led the way, leaving Weiss to hurry to catch up once again.
“If they were saying such things about the Belladonnas, would you still say that?” Weiss demanded to know, her tone as hot … as a branding iron. No, she didn’t want to think about that.
Or about how little she had done about it.
Blake paused for just a moment, allowing Weiss to catch up. “I would hope that I would,” she said. “My pride doesn’t matter here either. All that matters is saving people.”
She continued on, voluminous black hair bouncing slightly, but this time, Weiss managed to keep pace. It still took a bit of effort on her part.
A woman described how her son always stayed late at the pawnshop where he worked, but he always came straight home after locking up — until one night, he hadn’t. Another — younger, but outside of the age range given by the goat faunus — woman described seeing a pair of green eyes staring at her from out of the dark as she was on her way home; the eyes had watched her, but she had otherwise been unmolested as she ran the rest of the way back to her house. Several others described hearing the same robotic noises in the night as the goat had heard, and he wasn’t the only one to attribute them to either military or SDC androids.
“This is ridiculous!” Weiss declared as the door closed on yet another person who believed that the military-industrial complex was abducting Atlesian citizens for nefarious purposes. “Do people really believe that Atlas would do something like that? To its own people?”
“Look around,” Blake said. “Do you think that these people really feel like citizens of Atlas?”
Weiss bit her lip as she cast her eyes around the favela in which she and Blake stood: the corrugated iron roofs, the walls made of cracked and crumbling breeze blocks stacked haphazardly one on top of the other; the wooden shanties and the unstable-looking lean-tos; the exposed wires and cables trailing down the walls like creepers or strung across the street for the pigeons to sit on; the way the buildings rose unsteadily upwards, teetering inwards until they almost enclosed the street at times, blocking off even more of the light than the looming city up above; the rats darting across the unpaved street. It seemed as remote from the glittering spires of Atlas up above as the moon; she couldn’t understand how anyone could live like this, or why they would.
Because they are forced to, I suppose. Forced to by … by people like my father.
“Atlas is two nations, not one,” Blake said. She turned away, bowing her head even as she brushed her hair back over her shoulder so that it didn’t fall across her face. “Two nations that have no sympathy for one another; that don’t care to learn anything about one another; who barely imagine how the other thinks, feels, lives; who live by different laws and customs. To these people, Atlas might as well be on another planet.”
Weiss’ brow furrowed. “You’re being rather bleak.”
“Am I?” Blake said. “This place has been right below your feet all this time, and yet you had no idea until today, did you?”
Weiss hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted.
“No,” Blake repeated. “Because you live in the clouds, in a place where these faunus can only dream of living.”
“Now you’re definitely exaggerating,” Weiss said. “What about Rainbow Dash? She’s made it to Atlas.”
Blake rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rainbow Dash got out, but even she would admit by now that pointing to one faunus who managed to claw her way up the ladder doesn’t invalidate the discrimination that the rest have to deal with. The discrimination that your family plays a big part in maintaining.”
Weiss was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as eyes and as sharp as the point on Myrtenaster. “Don’t say ‘my family’ when what you really mean is my father.”
The name of Schnee did not begin with my father, it will not end with my father, so why is my father the first and only thing that anyone seems to think about when it comes to the family or the company?
Blake curled up the fingers on her right hand one by one. “I … I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, although her tone made it clear that she didn’t understand what it was that she had actually said to upset Weiss.
“I told you once that I knew what my father is,” Weiss said, even as she turned away from Blake. “I know my father better than most people, I think, and that familiarity has not … it does not breed sympathy in me, take that as you will. I am not blind, I am no fool, I am aware of all the shameful things he does and of those things I … I am ashamed. But you have no idea at all how it feels to have people talk about my father as though he is the quintessential Schnee, the exemplar of everything that this family — that my family — means or is or stands for. As though he’s the only Schnee that matters and every other Schnee must either have been or will be just like him.
“Did you even know that it was my grandfather who founded the Schnee Dust Company?”
“No,” Blake admitted. “I can’t say I did.”
“He was a miner, a huntsman, an engineer, a surveyor, a prospector, and a leader of men,” Weiss said. “He personally discovered the dust deposits that made my family what it is today. The greatness of Atlas was built upon my grandfather’s back, and yet, today, almost no one remembers his name.
“My grandmother was a huntress; grandfather met her when she accepted a mission to protect his first prospecting expedition. They fell in love on the journey; without her, he would have died half a dozen times, and yet, no one outside the family remembers her at all.”
Blake was silent for a moment. “Your grandfather … he sounds as though he was an accomplished man,” she said, in a neutral tone. “And your grandmother must have been brave.”
“And my father was not even born a Schnee,” Weiss said, rounding on the other girl. “He took the name when he married my mother.”
Blake said nothing. She didn’t seem to see the relevance.
“The point is,” Weiss began. “The point is that the Schnee name did not begin with my father, and he does not get to define a name that wasn’t even his to begin with! Or at least … he shouldn’t, even though he has.”
“He has,” Blake agreed. “But he won’t be around forever, and in time … he’ll be forgotten, just like—”
“Like my grandparents?”
Blake cringed a little. “I just meant … you can write your own story, and in time, that will be what it means to be a Schnee, not your father. For as long as you’re alive, at least.
“The White Fang was founded as a peaceful movement, to achieve equality through protest and debate. But does anyone remember that now? Do you? You think the White Fang is just a terrorist group — everyone thinks that — because … because we’re defined by our present, not our past. We’re judged by what we do, not remembered for where we came from.” Blake paused. “And, honestly … I think that’s a good thing.”
Weiss raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”
“Because our present is always changing,” Blake explained. “And so we always have the chance to change too, unburdened by our pasts. You said that my description was bleak, but if I thought that was the end of it, why would I even be here? I’m here because I believe that things can be different, be better, for Atlas, for the faunus … why not for the SDC as well?
“I’m here, as arrogant as it might seem to say so, because I want to change the world, and I believe it can be done. I believe that we can leave the bloodshed of the past behind and not be defined by it. Because we are defined by our present, not our past—”
“Then all that matters is what we do next,” Weiss murmured.
Blake smiled slightly. “Something like that.”
“That’s a very Atlesian attitude to have,” Weiss noted, a faint smile coming to her lips.
Blake seemed taken aback for a moment, but then smiled herself. “Thank you.”
“‘Thank you,’” Weiss quoted with clear amusement. “As I recall, the last time we had a serious conversation, you claimed that you didn’t hate Atlas, just what it stood for and the institutions it upheld.”
“Yes, well … we are defined by our present,” Blake repeated somewhat sheepishly. “I suppose I have flipped my position a bit. Can you blame me, though? Until I got here, I would have been hard-pressed to find a single Atlesian who didn’t espouse great ideals and at least try to live up to them, even if they didn’t always succeed. Maybe that’s why this whole town is so offensive. The idea that the greatest kingdom on Remnant would—”
“Forget that this place even exists?” Weiss interrupted, finishing Blake’s thoughts with a bit of her own.
She really should have come down here earlier. She should have visited Mrs. Seacole earlier. She should have done a lot of things that she should have but didn’t because she just hadn’t known that this place existed. She could have known though, she should have known.
“Yes,” Blake said, confirming what Weiss had said. “So, I think it’s time that someone… reminded them. I’m sure that… even if I can’t say that that the right thing will be done, I’m sure that good people will do all they can, always provided they can work out what the best thing to do is.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in this kingdom,” Weiss murmured.
“How can I not?” Blake asked. “After all, where else on Remnant could a poor faunus girl from Menagerie talk to one of the future ruling elite? Someone who’s basically a princess?”
“Didn’t I just say that my family are supposed to be miners and huntsmen?” Weiss demanded lightly. “Your family rules Menagerie; you’re more of a princess than I am.”
“Even if you assume that logic you’d have to accept that I’ve effectively abdicated my privileges along with my responsibilities,” Blake said somewhat defensively. “Can I really be considered a princess when I go to the literal other side of the planet instead of taking up the throne?”
“So you intend … what?” Weiss asked. “To lead Atlas and transform it from within?”
Blake hesitated for a moment. “I … I keep telling people that I haven’t made up my mind yet but the truth is … yes. Yes, that is what I intend. Or, if not me, then at least someone who shares my goals. Someone in whose ear I can whisper, and who I can keep honest.”
Weiss chuckled. “That is what I intend also, with the SDC, although I must say, you’re pursuing it more methodically than I am. But, if our ambitions do come true, then I think it will be a pleasure to work with you.”
Blake bowed her head. “Likewise.”
The heir to Menagerie held out her hand, and the heir to the Schnee Dust Company took it, her small, pale hand enfolded in Blake’s grasp.
Blake’s scroll went off, and Blake withdrew her hand to produce the device from out of her long white jacket.
It was Rainbow Dash. “Hey,” she said. “You two might want to get up here; we think we’ve found something.”
Blake and Weiss hastened north, where they found Rainbow and Flash just beyond the edge of Low Town, where the buildings ceased and there was nothing but barren earth, grey and dark, rolling — gently at first, and then with increasing steepness — up to form the crater that surrounded the settlement.
Where Rainbow and Flash were, where Weiss and Blake found them, was still basically flat ground, ground that could have been built on except that, presumably, there was no one to live here.
However, the absence of anything here — Low Town was behind them now, if not very far behind — made Weiss wonder why they had been called here.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, “but … what are we supposed to be looking at?”
“Blake,” Rainbow said, “did anyone mention robots to you?”
“You heard that too?” Blake asked.
“And people in those houses nearby said that they’ve heard airships in the night,” Flash added.
“Airships don’t make that much noise,” Weiss murmured. “So they wouldn’t hear them unless—”
“Unless they were coming in very low,” Blake said softly. “Low enough to land, perhaps.”
“And we think we know where they’re landing,” Rainbow declared.
Weiss blinked. “I … I’m sorry, I still don’t see what makes this any different than anywhere else around here. Yes, the sound is a factor, but—”
“The ground is flat,” Rainbow pointed out.
“So?”
“No, I mean it’s really flat,” Rainbow said, reaching out and brushing her fingers against the earth in front of her. “Ground isn’t that flat naturally, even what we call flat ground; it’s been packed flat, like by something heavy landing on it, a lot.”
Now that her attention had been drawn to it, Weiss could see what she meant: a rectangle of earth, levelled and flattened, while all around it, the ground was, while not sloping, possessed of the usual unevenness of ground, slight rises and falls, barely noticeable, but there all the same.
Except within this rectangle.
“A pilot would not land in the same place twice,” Rainbow went on. “I mean, they might land in almost the same place, but they wouldn’t set an airship down in the exact same place every time; there’d be variations. But if an android was programmed to land in a certain place, then it will hit that exact mark every single time.”
“But an airship wouldn’t leave a mark like that,” Weiss pointed out.
“It would if it was carrying a container, or something like that,” Flash suggested. “And … if you were kidnapping people, you might not want them in the airship where they could try and seize the controls.”
“So … you think that an airship, flown by an android or a computer program, is landing here with a container, sending out at least one android to kidnap people, then putting those people inside the container before the airship flies away?” Weiss said.
“It’s a working theory,” Rainbow replied.
“It sounds plausible,” Blake murmured.
“I suppose,” Weiss acknowledged. “But even if it is androids, this is not the SDC’s doing.”
“We know,” Rainbow assured her, rising to her feet. “And it isn’t the military either, but anyone can buy androids, and for whatever reason, provided they’ve got the lien.”
“True,” Weiss agreed. She paused for a moment. “Who would have thought this case would be solved so easily?”
“This case didn’t need a genius to solve it,” Blake growled. “It just needed someone to show up and give a damn.”
Weiss couldn’t argue with that. Imagine how many lives could have been saved if anyone had cared to try?
“This isn’t solved yet; we still need to find those people,” Rainbow said. She grinned. “But I think I might have an idea how we can do that.”