//------------------------------//
// Turncoat (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Turncoat


The barrel of the gun was large, a great, gaping black hole waiting to swallow her up. 
The pistol didn’t waver an inch in Neon’s hand. 
Blake could hear every breath she took, as loud as a storm. 
“All flowers die,” Neon whispered. 
Blake’s eyes widened.
Neon’s finger squeezed the trigger.
There was a sound of thunder. 



Twenty hours earlier…
The Iceberg Lounge was a favourite of Atlesian expats and tourists, specifically the kind who wanted to come to Vale without actually experiencing anything remotely Valish. The screens on the walls showed Atlesian TV stations; the food was all Atlesian favourites; the drinks were all either sourced from Atlas or Atlesian cocktail recipes; the servers were all androids in bow ties, their joints clanking as they carried their trays of drinks up and down to the booths and the private lounges; the lighting – so dim that you could barely see anything – was all cool blues with white patches where it was necessary to be able to see, like the emergency exits; ice sculptures dotted the club, with a phenomenal sculpture of Atlas itself serving as a centrepiece to arrest the eye of anyone coming inside. 
Seriously, you could come here and almost forget that you were in Vale at all. As a result, it had become something of a favourite for the older students here for the Vytal Festival, not least because it was an Atlesian club of the sort they would never ordinarily have gotten the chance to go to on account of the curfew at Atlas Academy. Neon thought it was kind of funny that they had to go all the way to Beacon for the chance to go to a quintessentially Atlesian establishment, but it just went to show how much less strict the rules at Beacon were. 
This wouldn’t ordinarily have been Neon Katt’s kind of place; she would have much rather explored Vale’s more native nightlife, like that jazz bar, Pride’s, that she and Flynt had found. 
But, as much as the Iceberg Lounge might be a favourite with the kind of really boring people who didn’t like trying new things and experiencing new cultures and all the reasons why there was a Vytal Festival in the first place, they did play a soundtrack of banging Atlesian techno, and Neon was in the mood for some of her favourite music right now. 
She flopped down on the couch that ran around their corner booth. She slammed both her palms down on the glowing blue table that sat in front of her. 
“Humans,” she declared loudly. “Suck!”
Rainbow sighed. “Neon.”
“No, don’t 'Neon' me, Rainbow Dash, not after the day that I’ve had,” Neon said. “Humans suck.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” Blake murmured. “Even if you are joking.”
“Who says that I’m joking, huh?” Neon replied.
Blake looked at her levelly. “If you mean that, then I don’t want to sit here and listen to you say it.”
Neon rolled her eyes. “Dashie, why did you even invite this killjoy to come out with us in the first place?”
“Neon, play nice with Blake, okay? She’s got the Mettle,” Rainbow insisted. “Blake, Neon doesn’t really mean it-”
“How do you know that I don’t mean it?” Neon demanded.
“Because I know you,” Rainbow replied. “And because I wouldn’t be your friend if you actually thought like that.”
“When did everyone get so judgy?” Neon asked. “It was when you started hanging out with Ciel, wasn’t it?”
“Ciel,” Rainbow said. “Ciel is a great point; Ciel’s a human. Does Ciel suck?”
“Yes!” Neon squawked. “Ciel sucks a lot! She wouldn’t even come out with us because she’s-”
“Religious,” Rainbow said.
“A prig,” Neon insisted. “I am religious-”
“You?” Blake asked incredulously. “You are religious.”
Neon gestured at Blake with both her hands. “Exhibit A of how much Ciel sucks: she is poisoning this innocent young mind about what the Faith of the Lady is really like.”
“I’m only a year younger than you,” Blake muttered.
Neon ignored her. “Don’t let Ciel fool you; our religion doesn’t demand that you be serious and judgemental all the time any more than it demands that you be a flag-waving Atlesian patriot. Ciel just is those things anyway because she wants to be. I have read the Epistles myself from cover to cover, and nowhere does it say that we’re not allowed to drink, still less to have a good time. In fact, you could say that we are encouraged to have a good time: to everything there is a season, a time for all things under heaven. A time to sow and a time to get the drinks in.” She spread out her arms on either side of her as a serving android, its face a featureless blue light that was nevertheless pointed in their direction, approached their table. “Yes, my good… android, we are ready to order.”
“Orders will be transmitted directly to the bar,” the android said in a robotic monotone. “What do you desire?”
“Two mint juleps,” Neon said. To Blake, she added, “You’re just a baby, so you’ll have to make do with mocktails or fruit juice.”
“Um…” Blake picked up the menu. “I’ll have a virgin mojito.”
“Make that two of those,” Rainbow said.
Blake looked up. “The other mint julep isn’t for you?”
“No,” Neon cried, aghast. “Those are mine!” She looked at Rainbow. “That said, what are you doing having a mocktail?”
“I’m staying sober for when you’re not,” Rainbow answered.
“Blake can stay sober,” Neon declared. “It suits her personality.”
“I’m responsible for Blake; I can’t get drunk and leave her to carry us home,” Rainbow insisted.
“Will there be anything else?” the android inquired.
“No,” Neon said, a little dispiritedly. She waved the robot away. “Off you go.”
“Processing,” the android said. “The price of these beverages is within the tab you have established at the bar. Your beverages will be brought to your table shortly.” The robot server turned away and began to clank back the way that it had come. 
“You know,” Neon said. “I’d almost rather have a human waiter, but, like I said-”
“Humans suck,” Rainbow finished for her.
“Do you have to?” Blake demanded. “It’s not funny, and it isn’t clever. People really-”
“Blake,” Rainbow said. “Calm down.”
“This might all be some big game to you, playing the contrarian, saying shocking things just so you can get a kick out of the way that you make people gasp in outrage-”
“If I did, I’d certainly be getting a kick out of you right now,” Neon muttered.
“But those ideologies are embraced by people across Remnant and cause real harm-”
“Seriously, why is she here?” Neon demanded of Rainbow.
“Yes, why am I here?” Blake demanded in turn.
Rainbow let out a groan as she laid her forehead on the fluorescent table. She looked up. “Blake, you’re here because you wanted to meet other Atlas students, well, here you go: another Atlas student, and a damn good one too. Neon, Blake’s here because she’s a friend and because… because I think she’d fit in up north, and because, like you just heard, she wants to meet other Atlas students. You’re supposed to be helping me sell Atlas.”
“I am a walking advertisement for Atlas,” Neon declared. She struck a pose, one hand tucked behind the back of her head and the other making a scissor with her fingers at eye level. “How can you not want to attend an academy that has me in it?”
“Pretty easily,” Blake said flatly. She glanced at Rainbow. “I’m going to powder my nose,” she declared, getting up from her seat and leaving the booth, stomping off towards the bathroom. 
Neon watched her go. “Now there’s a cat who needs a sense of humour,” she observed. 
“Neon,” Rainbow sighed.
“What?” Neon cried. “What did I do?”
“Do you remember how I punched you in the face the first time we met?” Rainbow asked.
“I remember that you tried,” Neon responded.
“And I succeeded!”
“After I made you chase me all across the campus,” Neon corrected.
“I still landed the punch, in the end,” Rainbow insisted. “The point is that I really hated some of the things that you said when I first heard you say them. It was only after that detention the General put us in together that I actually started to get you, remember that?”
Neon grinned. “Swabbing up the cafeteria, how could I forget?”
Rainbow chuckled. “The point is that I get it,” she said. “I get it, Flynt gets it, Ciel gets it; that’s why we can make jokes about you being the White Fang’s mole in Atlas. That’s why Flynt can listen to you say all this stuff and let it roll off him. But Blake isn’t like that; she doesn’t know you like we do, and… she’s got pretty good reasons to not be okay with all what with the fact that she, you know-”
“Actually was White Fang?” Neon suggested.
“I’ve been ordered to deny that,” Rainbow pointed out.
“So that’s a yes but with more calls to the propaganda department,” replied Neon with a smug smirk.
“Hey, you want to tell Trixie that Blake’s not an Atlesian super spy after she blew herself up saving a bunch of kids, be my guest,” Rainbow declared. “Until then do you think you could maybe tone it down, just a little bit?”
Neon let out a huff as she leaned backwards. “Do you really think Blake will be happy in Atlas?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, I really do. Don’t you?”
Neon shrugged.
“Don’t just shrug; why wouldn’t she like it there?”
“Because it’s full of humans, and they suck,” Neon said.
Rainbow groaned. “Neon-”
“Phoebe came at me like she was ready to start a fight today,” Neon said. “She thinks I swapped out her hair colour remover with hair dye.”
“Did you?” Rainbow asked.
“Yeah!” Neon said enthusiastically. “She’s another one who needs to get a sense of humour. The way she looked, I thought she was going to attack me. Instead, she just kicked up a fuss and convinced the teachers that I’d done it.”
“Which you had.”
“But she couldn’t prove it,” Neon insisted. “They believed her anyway because she’s human.”
“They believed her because she’s Phoebe, and all the teachers think she’s perfect,” Rainbow corrected her.
“She wouldn’t get away with half the things she does if she was a faunus, and you know it,” Neon said. “The point is, I have been a victim of systemic racism, and I am entitled to vent about that tonight. Tonight which is supposed to be our night, ladies' night. Not little girls’ night.”
“Just try and get to know her a little,” Rainbow urged. “Once you do, you’ll like her, I promise.”
"Am I always going to have to watch my words around her?" Neon asked. "Because I'm not sure how much I could like someone who's going to police my language. I'd rather be free to say what I like."
"I'm sure there's a lot of people who'd like to be free to say what they like and not have to watch their words before they call us uppity animals," Rainbow said. "Like Phoebe."
Neon snorted. "Phoebe doesn't have the guts to say something like that; she'd lose her good-girl image."
"You know what I mean."
"It's not the same thing," Neon insisted. "You want to think that it's the same thing, just like you want to think that me making sweet little Twilight cry is just as bad as someone pulling on my tail-"
"If someone pulled your tail, you'd kick their ass in a heartbeat," Rainbow pointed out.
"Damn straight I would," Neon agreed, "but not the point. The point is-"
"Being an ass is being an ass; that's all there is to it," Rainbow said. "And why would you want to make Twilight cry?"
Neon laughed. "Everything is so simple where you live, isn't it?" she asked. "Your world's like a picture book."
"And what's yours, a joke book?"
"Sometimes," Neon said. "But sometimes, it's an angry book full of mean words because I want to vent about stuff, and I should be able to do that without Blake Belladonna getting on my case about it."
"I... I'll talk to her," Rainbow promised. "I'm not sure if she's there yet, where she can take jokes about this kind of thing, but I'll talk to her."
"You do that," Neon said as Rainbow got up. "And remind her that we're better than them!" Rainbow didn't acknowledge that, but followed where Blake had gone into the bathroom, leaving Neon alone at their table. Alone with her thoughts and with the techno music blaring out. 
"Ugh," she groaned. "Listen to me, complaining about Phoebe. I'm becoming some moody faunus rights activist. Only the actual moody faunus rights activist doesn't want to hear it. Ugh!" She laid her head down on the table with a thump. 
Sometimes, it was difficult. You did your best to skate through life with a smile and a laugh, you acted out to show them that they couldn't push you down into that subservient or frightened mould, you talked up the superiority of faunuskind because they hated that, and you made fun of the people who showed how much it got to them. 
But sometimes, you had to admit that it was getting to you too. 
The sound of creaking robotic joints alerted Neon to the fact that the server was back with their drinks. That was enough to put a bit of a smile on her face as the robot put them down on the table.
"Please enjoy," it said before walking away. 
"I plan to," Neon said, as she picked up one of her mint juleps. She paused, glancing around. "If you two could get back here soon so I don't look like a pathetic loser drinking alone, that would be really great," she muttered.
"Is one of those for me?"
Neon looked up to see the girl standing at the edge of the booth. Not Blake or Rainbow Dash, but a friend all the same. "Molly?"
"Hey, Neon," Molly grinned as she slid into the booth, reaching out with one hand to snag the other mint julep. Molly Abyssin was a short girl with dusky skin, pale blonde hair, and large violet eyes. She was originally from Vacuo, but she had family in Mantle, and her folks had come back to live there after a grimm attack destroyed her Vacuan home; it was in Mantle that she and Neon had met. "Long time no see, huh?"
"A couple of years, sure," Neon agreed. "I haven't seen or heard from you since you dropped out of Atlas."
"Yeah, well, some cats have their own style," Molly said. "Mine wasn't a great fit for Atlas."
"You could have stuck with it long enough to get your huntsman license," Neon said.
"I don't need one," Molly replied dismissively. "Who cares about a piece of paper once you have the skills, huh?"
"The people who might pay you money if you have that piece of paper, but won't if you don't," Neon replied. "I'm not sure I'm going to join the military when I graduate, but I want to be able to earn some lien. I'd like to be able to live somewhere a little nicer than a cardboard box on a street in Mantle."
"There are alternatives," Molly said.
"Like what?" Neon asked.
Molly didn't reply for a moment. "How's Atlas treating you these days, Neon Rainbow?"
Neon sipped her drink. "How long have you been listening to me and my friends?"
"Long enough," Molly admitted. "I'm not surprised. A place like Atlas will never get someone like you. Just like it could never get someone like me. They just can't accept that they'll never be as fine as us."
"Or as strong as us," Neon added. "Or as fast as us."
"They'll never be able to see in the dark like we can," Molly said. "We're better than they are in so many ways, and they hate that. That's why they have to spend so much time pushing us down."
"Nobody pushes me down," Neon declared.
"Yeah, they do," Molly said. "You pretend that they don't, but they do, don't they?"
Neon was silent for a moment. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't have to talk about it, but that won't make it any less true," Molly insisted. She shuffled closer to Neon. "Wouldn't it be nice if they all had to bow to us for a change?"
Neon glanced at her sideways. "You sound like-"
"I told you there was another way," Molly said. "A way where we don't need to kiss ass for their qualifications, where people don't care if you have the right license on your scroll; they just care that you have the skills. The right lethal skills."
Neon drained the rest of her cocktail. "How long have you been in Vale, Molly?"
"Not long," Molly said. "I just got here from Menagerie, thought I'd look up an old friend, see if you wanted to meet any of my new friends."
"Your friends who-"
"Let's not say anything that might get anyone into trouble, huh?" Molly suggested.
Neon snorted. "Right. But I'm right, aren't I?"
"They're afraid of us because we have power they can't imagine," Molly said. "They hate us because we can do the things that they can only dream of. We're better than them, and there's a place you can go that will recognise that."
Neon hesitated. It was... tempting. She was better than them. She was faster, stronger, she had night vision, she had... she had everything, and yet...
And yet, she had to laugh and smile and pretend that it didn't bother her because the world didn't give a damn that she was better; it was determined to think she was less. 
So yeah, it was tempting. No more Phoebe, no more humans putting her down, no more having to pretend, no more being indulged by Rainbow because 'she didn't mean it really,' no more being the joke faunus who said so many shocking things and wasn't it cute? No more getting blamed just because she was a faunus. 
No more riding second class on a first class ticket. 
No more. 
Yeah, it was tempting. Very tempting. 
"Supposing I say yes," Neon said. "What happens then?"



Neon's scroll rang, playing an upbeat techno tune. 
She ignored it.
Molly, on the other hand, did not. She spun around to face Neon, her violet eyes wide. "What is that?" she demanded.
"It's just my scroll," Neon explained casually. "Probably Flynt wondering why I'm cutting class."
"You brought your scroll with you?" Molly yelled. "Are you stupid or something?"
"Well, depending on who you talk to," Neon said with a chuckle in her voice. "Come on, Mols, what's the big-?" The words froze in her throat as Molly pulled a revolver out of her pants and pointed it at Neon. "Ooooookay, you've got a gun. Looks new as well. Well, not new new, looks more like an antique, but new for you – at least I never saw it before – where did you get it?"
"Shut up, Neon," Molly said sharply. "And dump your scroll."
"Excuse me?"
"Scrolls can be tracked and traced, you idiot," Molly snapped. "Do you want to bring the heat down on us?"
"Of course not," Neon replied.
"Then dump it," Molly repeated. "Or I'll have to assume that-"
"That what?" Neon cut her off. "That this is a setup? That I'm some kind of traitor? That I'm trying to find out your base so I can sell you out back to Atlas?" She let out a gale of laughter. "Come on, Molly, if I was going to use my scroll so that I could be traced to your headquarters, don't you think that I'd be smart enough to put it on silent first?" She paused. "Actually, don't answer that." She got out her scroll and casually strolled over to a nearby trash can, into which she dropped the offending device in amongst the cans and the packets of crisps. "Happy now?"
Molly stared at her for a moment. "Yeah," she said, as she put the pistol away. "But we should get moving in case anyone comes looking for that."
"You're the one slowing us up," Neon said. "I could be there already if you had a speed semblance like me."
"Let's just go," Molly said, turning around and beginning to lead the way once more. "This isn't a game, Neon," she declared. "This is important. It's the most important thing. The future of our people is being fought for right at this moment. We can't afford to take risks or make mistakes."
Neon nodded. "Sure. I'm sorry. I didn't think."
"And that," Molly said, "is why you are stupid enough to forget to put your scroll on silent."
"Yeah, well, you're..." Neon paused, looking for something to insult her with. "You're short," she said.
"I like the fact that it took you time to notice that."
"I noticed it right away; what took me time was realising you're so boring that there's nothing else to comment on about you."
"Oh, I'm sorry that I don't have so many quirky traits that you could open up a quirky traits shop if you wanted to."
"What in Remnant is a 'quirky traits shop'?" Neon demanded. "Other than a great business idea. Maybe some sort of consultancy for the personality-challenged where we teach them how to appear interesting."
Molly rolled her eyes. "Between the hair and the outfit, I'm surprised that you don't have a madcap vehicle or an exotic pet, just to drive home what an eccentric you are."
"Well, you're still short," Neon retorted. She looked herself up and down. "And what's wrong with my outfit?"
Molly smirked. "If you don't know, I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you."
"Remind me why we're friends?"
"Because we both agree on the big things," Molly said. "Where we belong. Our place in the world."
"I'm not sure that either of us really belong here," Neon muttered.
They were walking down a well-to suburban street in midtown Vale, the kind of place where the houses had picket fences and two-car garages, although said garages didn't stop cars from being parked out on driveways. Neon thought she saw a lace curtain twitch in one window. 
"It's not the kind of place you'd expect to find... people like us, is it?"
"No matter what 'people like us' means, the answer is still no," Neon replied.
"That's why it's the perfect place to hide out," Molly explained. "Take a good look, Neon; when things change, we'll be living in places just like this."
"Why would you want to?" Neon asked. "It looks really boring around here."
Molly didn't reply to that; she just kept on leading Neon into the depths of darkest suburbia until they came to a house with pinkish-lilac panelling upon the walls, where a red truck sat on a driveway with space for one other, absent, vehicle. 
Neon felt eyes watching her as she followed Molly around the truck, up the drive, and to the front door of the house. 
She rapped smartly upon the door. 
"This is the place?" Neon said. "This?"
"Yep."
Neon stared for a moment. "Not what I expected."
"That's what we're counting on," Molly replied, as the door opened.
A goat faunus, with long horns curling past his ears, stood in the doorway. "Hey, Molly," he said. He nodded in Neon's direction. "Is this her?"
"No, Billy, I decided to bring someone else to our secret hideout," Molly said. "Are you going to let us in or not?"
Billy moved out of the way, letting Molly in through the door and then Neon after. Once Neon was through, he shut the door quite heavily behind them. 
"Molly says that you're okay, that you can be trusted," he said. "If she's right, then we're cool. If not-" – he pulled a sleek Atlesian pistol from out of his waistline behind him – "-you're gonna be sorry, understand?"
Neon looked from the gun to Billy's stern face. "Everyone's so tense and serious around here," she said. "Do you need a massage?"
"Neon," Molly warned.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, this is serious," Neon said. "Excuse me."
Billy looked at Molly. "Are you sure about her?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Molly insisted. "She's Atlas-trained, just like me, which means we can use her. And she sees things the right way, don't you, Neon?"
"I see that we deserve to be on top and keeping them down instead of the other way around," Neon said. "I don't see why we can't have some fun doing it."
"Where's the boss?" Molly asked.
"In the basement, working," Billy told her.
"Thanks," Molly said. "Come on," she told Neon before her voice dropped to a hiss. "And whatever you do, don't get cute with the big guy. I mean it!"
"I'll try and be boring," Neon said as Molly dragged her through a surprisingly empty house. In the whole place, she saw, besides Billy, one other person, a huge rat faunus cleaning a shotgun in the living room while the TV played soccer highlights. "There aren't as many people here as I thought there would be."
"Some of them must be out on a job," Molly explained.
"A job?" Neon repeated. "You mean like-?"
"Need to know," Molly informed. "And you don't need to know right now. Come on."
She took Neon down into the basement, where another large faunus, this one a lion with a tail trailing down to the floor, guarded the door. His hair was long and black, and his face was scarred and set in a permanent scowl. 
"This her?" he asked.
"Danny, this is Neon; Neon, this is Danny," Molly said. "Can we see the boss?"
"Maybe," Danny replied, banging on the door with one meaty fist. "Boss? Molly's back with her new recruit."
There was a moment of pause before a deep voice replied. "Very well. They may enter."
"Good luck," Danny muttered to Neon as he opened the door. 
The inside of the basement had been converted into a workshop, with tools and wires and lonely dust crystals and all kinds of stuff like that littering the room. At the far end of the basement sat a man dressed in black, black pants and a black hoodie with the hood up. When he turned around, Neon saw that his mask, too, was black, with a face carved so as to look as though he was screaming. 
"So," a deep voice issued out from behind the mask. "You are Molly's friend, Neon Katt, yes?"
Neon raised one hand. "Present," she said.
"My name," he said, but then halted for a little bit, "is not important. My enemies, and many of my allies too, know me as The Purifier, but it would be rather pretentious to insist upon that title amongst those working under me. You may address me as anything you like, so long as you obey my commands as the leader of the Vale Chapter of the White Fang."
"A chapter?" Neon said. "It looks more like a paragraph to me. And a short paragraph at that."
The Purifier chuckled. "Very witty, Miss Katt, and if the whole of our strength were here, then we would be a small group indeed, but have your studies at Atlas not taught that you a small group, possessed of extraordinary ability and resolve, may accomplish more than a great mass of ill-trained dross? Or why does Atlas train specialists to fight at the forefront of its armies?"
"I... stand corrected," Neon murmured.
"I do not say this to humble you," The Purifier declared. "Rather, if you take my meaning, then you will be proud, for you have been chosen to join our select group, working directly under me to take our vengeance for the oppression that has for too long been visited upon our people. Please, sit down."
Neon's tail flicked behind her as she hopped upon the empty stool he had indicated. 
"Does it seem strange to you," The Purifier said, "that you should receive an invitation to join our ranks, and the day after, you are meeting with the leader of the White Fang in this kingdom?"
Neon folded her arms. "How do I know that you are the leader of the White Fang in this kingdom?"
"Neon," Molly said, "what are you doing?"
"You talk about how a small group of guys can accomplish a lot, and maybe that's right," Neon said, "but I have been unable to escape Rainbow Dash's boasting about how she fought the White Fang at the docks, and she says that there were hundreds of White Fang fighters there. Just like she boasts that she's beaten the leader of the White Fang twice, and you're not what she described."
"Neon, for God's sake-"
"How do I know you really are the White Fang, huh?" Neon demanded. "How do I know you're not some losers chilling out in your nice house playing revolutionary? How do I know I'm not wasting my time?"
"How dare you-?"
The Purifier raised his hand. "It's a fair question, Molly," he said quietly. "A question that I would expect a truly enthusiastic volunteer, who wished to join the fight, to ask. And, given the involvement of Atlas in the recent reverses suffered by the chapter, it is unsurprising that your friend would possess this information." He got to his feet, casting a shadow across the basement. "I am aware of Rainbow Dash," he said. "Is she a friend of yours?"
Neon shrugged. "Us faunus gotta stick together," she said. "She's more of a friend than most at Atlas. Molly knows that we went out last night together. But she was more interested in her precious Blake than me, just like she's more interested in Twilight Sparkle and her fancy human friends than in a fellow faunus or what we have to put up with."
"Then it would not grieve you if she were to die?" the Purifier asked. 
He was looking at her. She couldn't see his eyes through the mask, but she knew, nonetheless, that he was looking at her. There was a crackle in the air. Neon sensed that honesty would serve her better than bluster, and so she said, "It would, a little bit. Rainbow... can be cool to hang out with. More than most."
"I see," the Purifier said. "Nevertheless, Rainbow Dash must die for her betrayal of the White Fang and all that we mean to our kind. Is that going to be a problem for you?"
Neon stared into the eye slits of his mask. "People die in war," she said.
"If only those who condemn my actions could see such a simple truth," The Purifier lamented.
"You still haven't answered my questions," Neon reminded him.
"I am the leader of the Vale Chapter," the Purifier declared. "I have newly arrived to replace Adam Taurus after his... failures. It is also true that he amassed a large force, but I have no need of them."
"No?" Neon asked.
"Tell me, Miss Katt, what should I do with an army?" the Purifier asked.
"You just agreed we were at war," Neon said. "So fight a war."
"Against Atlas in all its power?" the Purifier asked.
"Good point," Neon murmured.
"My weapons are not armies, Miss Katt," the Purifier explained to her. "My weapons are explosives, for which I need only a handful of loyal supporters to deploy the weapons and a few others to arrange my protection and carry out such errands as I require. That is the group – this group, which I brought with me from Menagerie – which you will be joining, if I choose."
"'If'?" Neon leaned forward. "And how will you choose?"
The Purifier was quiet for a moment. "You have not answered my question, Miss Katt," he reminded her. "Does it seem strange?"
"Not so much when you put it like that," Neon replied. "But... a little, I guess."
"Do you know what Molly's role in our little coterie is?" the Purifier asked. "Would you like to guess?"
Neon grinned. "I remember that our little Molly here liked to blow stuff up," she said. "So I'm guessing that she is... your apprentice?"
"Very perceptive, Miss Katt; Molly is indeed learning her trade at my hands. A bomb of her making will be employed very shortly against an enemy of the White Fang, in fact. She is... a true talent," he added, making Molly blush with pride. "And such is my trust in her that when she tells me that she has a promising new recruit for our number, I accept it without question or hesitation. I am prepared to welcome you, as you are, if only you tell me one thing: why are you here? Why do you wish to turn your back on Atlas and all its delights to join us in our uncertain struggle?"
"Because in Atlas, I will never be allowed to be anything," Neon said, "except be grateful for the opportunity to live among the clouds." She couldn't help but think about Dashie, so fawningly, pathetically grateful for the chance to be... what? General Ironwood's loyal attack dog? Did she ever think they'd let her anywhere near a seat of actual power? "Because they'll never let a faunus be anything in Atlas, and so no self-respecting faunus would want to. I choose to spread my wings, somewhere I can be whatever I want to be."
The Purifier was silent for a moment. "Welcome to the White Fang, Neon Katt," he said. 
Molly whooped and patted Neon on the back so hard it was more like hitting her. 
Neon grinned. "I just have one question."
"You have but to ask, Sister Neon."
Neon's smile widened. "Do we all get cool nicknames like yours?"
Molly squeaked in outrage, but The Purifier threw back his masked and hooded head and laughed, the sound of his deep laughter echoing off the walls of the basement. 
"You will make a wonderful addition to our band, Sister Neon; I fear our business has made us all too grim and earnest. Now, come with me. Molly, get the bomb. Danny will drive, and you, little sister, you will come with us."
"Where?" Neon asked, as she got to her feet. 
"To deliver the bomb to where it is needed."



"Good afternoon, this is Lisa Lavender with the evening news. An explosion ripped through a small retailer in Elephant and Castle this afternoon, injuring two women, one of whom remains in critical condition. It is understood that the two women are students at Beacon Academy and that Pyrrha Nikos, the celebrated Mistralian tournament champion, rescued both of them from the flames immediately after the explosion. The police have confirmed that they are treating the explosion as suspicious and that they are seeking an employee of the retailer named Brick Featherstone to assist in their inquiries. We also have reports that the police conducted a raid on a property in Tressingham, although there is no confirmation that the events are connected."
"Turn that off," The Purifier commanded, and Molly switched off the TV. 
The four faunus who had set off from the old safe house earlier that afternoon had been joined by Brick Featherstone, the squirrel faunus the police were seeking after the explosion, and five other armed faunus, none of whom were Billy or the other guy that Neon had seen in the old safehouse. They were either dead or in police custody. 
Neon didn't know if these new guys were actually new or if they were more people that The Purifier had brought from Menagerie but who had, like them, been away from the safehouse at the time of the police raid.
She wasn't sure now was the best time to ask. 
Whatever the case, they had all retired to another safehouse, one that was not quite so nice as the one that they had left behind: this was a house backing onto a freight rail line, where you could hear the trains clattering past every fifteen minutes or so to make the walls shake, where there was rising damp at the corners of the walls. 
They had gone down in the world, which seemed about right. 
The Purifier wasn't too happy about it. He had been on the scroll with someone a little while earlier, and he hadn't been in too good a mood when the conversation finished. 
Perhaps it had been Adam Taurus. Perhaps The Purifier's hold on the Vale Chapter was not so tight. 
It wouldn't have surprised Neon if it were so; by the sound of it, he had shown up in Vale with an order to take charge and a few followers. He couldn't make the old leader, who had more followers, do as he said. 
At least not without going to where they all were and attempting to impose his will. 
Perhaps that was where they were going next. Perhaps that was The Purifier's next move. He hadn't shared his plans yet. 
Though, judging by the way that he was standing up in front of the now silent television, it looked as though that might be about to change. 
He clasped his hands behind his back. "While we do not yet know the fate of our comrades, whether they are dead or in custody, know that I grieve for them as my brothers. 
"I know that this must seem an inauspicious beginning to our venture here in Vale, the loss of so many members of our unit and the failure of our first attack. But we have had reverses before; those of you who have been with me long enough will remember Nisus and Euryalus, killed by Rutulus’ men, or how Lamprey and Cyan were caught by the Argus police. We have always suffered losses, and always, we have risen again to triumph over our adversaries and strike fear into the hearts of all those who stand against our people. So it has always been and so it will be once more. Keep the faith. Stay with me. We are not defeated yet. As our enemies will learn very soon."
"Do we have a plan, boss?" Molly asked.
The Purifier was silent for a moment. "Although Brick detonated the bomb too early-"
"I was afraid they'd find it," Brick protested. "I thought that, at least we'd be killing huntresses, even if none of them was Belladonna."
"But you didn't kill any of them," Neon pointed out.
"It's not my fault the bomb didn't work properly!"
"My bomb was designed perfectly," Molly cried. "You must have messed up the placement."
"I had to put it somewhere out of sight! How about you design a real-?"
"Enough!" The Purifier shouted. "Only our enemies gain when we fight amongst ourselves. It had been my intent to target Blake Belladonna first, but with Sunset Shimmer in hospital, if we can assemble another bomb-"
"What if we didn't need a bomb?" Neon suggested.
"I'm not sure anyone needs to hear from you right now, baby cat," Danny muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Neon demanded.
"It means somebody sold out our safehouse to the cops."
"She tossed her scroll," Molly said. "And she wasn't alone at all from the moment she got to the safehouse."
"Somebody tipped them off," Danny said.
"We were undone by our own carelessness," The Purifier said. "It appears they followed the team sent to collect our supplier back to our hold out. We played into their hands. We will not do so again. Sister Neon, what is your proposal?"
"What if we could strike back at once and get Blake into the bargain?" Neon suggested.
"How?" The Purifier asked.



Flash tried to take in every detail of the room in which he was held. It was a basement or a cellar; of that, he was certain; there were no windows, and the only light was a single unshaded bulb suspended from the ceiling above them, casting a light that was not quite bright enough to reach the corners of the room. He could see brick, uncovered with panels or wallpaper or anything like that, just red brick that was looking a little rough in places. 
The floorboards beneath his feet were wood, with no carpet or anything else to cover them. He wouldn’t want to walk across it in bare feet and no aura. 
He tried to take in every detail, but unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of details to take in. Certainly none that would tell him where they-
The room began to shudder; the light above them swung wildly back and forth as the thunderous sound of a train passing by echoed down into this cellar dungeon. 
A train. We’re near a railway line. 
That didn’t narrow it down tremendously, but it was a start. Now, if only he could…
Well, Flash wasn’t sure him knowing where he was being held was going to help much, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the White Fang to kill him. To kill them both. 
He was chained to a chair, his hands bound behind his back. Blake was behind him, and from what he could tell from craning his neck back, she was facing the other way. If he stretched out his fingers, he could feel what he thought were her hands, although he couldn’t reach far enough to undo her restraints. 
Blake groaned. 
“Blake?” Flash asked. “Blake, are you awake? Can you hear me?”
There was a moment’s pause. “Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you. Which means I’m awake.” Blake groaned. “Where are we?”
“A basement, close to a railway line,” Flash said. “I don’t know more than that.”
“You know something,” Blake said. “How do you know about the railway?”
“You just missed the train going by.”
“Is that what that was?” Blake murmured. “I thought I dreamed that.”
“No,” Flash replied. “Do you know where we are?”
“I don’t know the locations of all our safehouses,” Blake answered. “Or even most of them. The truth is, I never engaged in any operations within the city.” She stopped, and Flash was left with a sense that there was something that she wasn’t saying. 
“Go on,” he urged.
“Why?” Blake asked. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“I doubt that.”
“There are things that I don’t want to talk about.”
Flash might have pointed out that there wasn’t much else to do around here, but he held his peace. Just because they were trapped together didn’t make them close, and with what Blake knew about him, he didn’t blame her for not wanting to spill her confidences to him. She was close to Sunset, so she probably thought that he was a monstrous racist heart-breaker. He was lucky she was talking to him at all. 
“Fair enough,” he murmured. “I guess there are things I don’t want to talk about either.” He paused. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you can get out of your restraints?”
He heard Blake shift and struggle a little. “No. You?”
“No luck,” Flash said. “What are they going to do to us?”
Blake was silent for a moment. “They’re not going to do anything to us, Flash,” she said. “Because we’re going to be rescued.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“I am sure,” Blake declared. “Our friends won’t leave us behind.”
“I know that, but what can they do?” Flash asked. “How are they supposed to find out where we are? The White Fang could come in and shoot us dead right now, and how would we stop them?”
Blake was silent for a moment. “Something will turn up.”
“'Something will turn up'?” Flash repeated. “That… do you have any idea how that sounds?”
“I have an idea,” Blake acknowledged. “But I also have faith.” She paused. “On the first night at Beacon, before Initiation, I was sitting next to Sunset. I didn’t want the company, but I get the impression that she knew that, and she sought me out because she didn’t want company either. But it didn’t really matter what either of us wanted because Ruby came over anyway. She wanted to talk to Sunset at first, but then she asked me about the book I was reading, and we got to talking about fairy tales. I thought she was naïve, and I told her so. ‘The world isn’t a fairy tale.’”
“Let me guess: and then Sunset asked ‘who says?’” Flash said.
“How did you-?“
“Sunset and I used to date, remember?” Flash replied. “I know what she’s like. I know how she thinks. I used to, anyway. She’s changed since then.”
“Not in every way, I don’t think, or that much,” Blake said softly. “But you’re right. ‘Why must we succumb to despair?’ ‘The world can be whatever we want it to be. We write our own stories. Nobody else can write them for you, nor force you to be anything less than the hero of your own life’.”
Flash chuckled. “I can hear her voice when you say that.”
“Not many people can sound like she does,” Blake agreed. “Not many people can inspire like she does. I believe her. I didn’t at first – I thought she was spouting nonsense – but now… I believe her. I choose to believe her. I choose to believe that this is our story, not theirs, that this is the kind of story where we’re not abandoned by our friends but rescued, even if only in the nick of time. We’ll get through this, Flash, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Flash frowned. “Did you just promise to protect me?”
“Why not?” Blake asked.
“You’ve got no cause to like me.”
“I’ve got no cause to dislike you either,” Blake said. “And I think that… that keeping you safe is what Sunset would want me to do.”
Flash snorted. “I’m not sure that having me alive instead of you is what Sunset would want.”
Blake was silent for a moment. “I think you’re very brave,” she said.
“Huh?”
“It takes courage to face the fact that the person you love can’t love you in the same way, that they’re not capable of it,” Blake said. “It takes even more courage to leave, to put yourself first, to say that… that you won’t let yourself be hurt any more.”
Flash looked over his shoulder at the back of Blake’s head. “What are you talking about?”
“I think we both know what I’m talking about,” Blake whispered.
“But… how do you know?” Flash asked.
Blake took a little while to answer, “I’d rather not say.”
Flash smiled a little, for all that she couldn’t see it. You may not want to say, but you don’t have to. And that’s okay.
“Flash,” Blake said. “I… I’m sorry, about your father.”
“You don’t-”
“Yes,” Blake said, “I do. I… I had no idea. And yet you’ve never held it against me, what I was.”
“Wait, you mean you weren’t an Atlesian undercover agent?” Flash asked, in a mock-aghast tone. “I’m appalled.”
Blake let out a little chuckle. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t mention it,” Flash murmured. “Hey, Blake?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you think they didn’t take Weiss? Why us, why not her?”
“I… I don’t know,” Blake replied. “I was pretty out of it at the time, maybe… maybe they only had time to grab two people, maybe Weiss fought them off. I don’t know.”
“I’m glad that she’s not here,” Flash said. “I’m glad that, no matter what happens to us, she’ll be okay.”
“We’ll all be okay,” Blake insisted. “And you’ll see her again, I guarantee it.”
The wooden door into the cellar swung open, hitting the brick wall with a crash as a man walked in, a man dressed in black, with a hood up over his head and a black mask, a black screaming mask, covering his face. 
“Krasny Krot,” Flash growled. Here he was, the man who had killed his father.
Flash had meant what he said to Weiss: he hadn’t really thought about it up until now. He had always known that his father had been killed by a bomb, but he had always attributed that to ‘The White Fang,’ a faceless mass, an organisation, an idea, a cause. He had never really thought about an individual, someone making the bomb, planting the bomb, detonating the bomb. He had never thought about a finger on the trigger, someone ordering his father’s death. In part, that had been because it was easier not to blame the faunus if he didn’t think about any individual faunus doing the deed. If he thought about a person, even a person in a mask, he had been worried that that person might start to look a lot like Sunset, or Rainbow Dash, or Ditzy. 
But now… now he had a face, and a name, and a man standing before him with his hands drenched in blood. Flash tried to lunge forward, only for his restraints to pull him and hold him fast. 
Krasny stopped. “You know who I am?” he asked, his voice deep as an ocean abyss.
“You weren’t exactly trying to hide,” Flash said. “You used your own passport to arrive in Vale.”
Krasny chuckled. “When everyone is hunting for The Purifier, why should anyone stop Krasny Krot? Of course, I suppose that will have to change now. A pity.”
Flash shook his head. “You won’t get a chance to make that change. You’re never getting out of Vale. You can do whatever you like to the two of us, but you will be caught, and you will spend the rest of your life in jail for what you’ve done!”
Krasny looked down at him. “That look in your eyes… you hate me, don’t you boy?” He chuckled. “Tell me, who did I kill?”
Flash bared his teeth as he tried to lunge again, pulling futilely against his restraints. “My father,” he growled. 
“And so you want to kill me?” Krasny asked.
Flash was silent for a moment. “I want… I want…” I want my father back. “I want to know why.”
Krasny Krot said nothing at first. When he spoke, his voice was calm and collected. “What is that you want from me, young man? Do you want me to spin a political manifesto before your eyes, to speak of the oppression of our people and of the many injustices that have been done to us? Shall I speak of how we are put down, forced to work like slaves in unsafe death traps, forced to risk our lives to earn our daily bread? How our homes are stolen from us along with all the sweat of our brow, of how all our attempts to leave behind the societies that degrade us are met with violence? How we are denied even the opportunity to see ourselves reflected in the media that we consume?” 
He knelt down, and with one hand – his hands were cybernetic, Flash saw, both metal – he took off his mask, revealing a face transformed into a hideous mass of burned, melted, and malformed flesh. 
“Or should I tell you that I am in pain every moment of every day, and so nothing will satisfy me but to spread that pain, my inescapable pain, out across the world until others scream as I did when I was trapped amidst the flames?” He put his mask back on. “There you have it. Two stories. Am I an idealist or a madman? The choice is yours. Whichever will make you feel more righteous in these last hours before the end.”
“An idealist?” Blake demanded. “An idealist would never do what you have done. We will never win equality through death and destruction and the spread of fear.”
“Did our kind not win freedom through death and destruction and the spread of fear, Blake Belladonna?” Krasny demanded. “But then, I would expect no other words to fall from a traitor’s lips.”
“If I had not betrayed the White Fang, I should have betrayed myself,” Blake declared. “I’m not ashamed of what I did, and I do not regret it.”
Krasny chuckled. “Do you expect me to admire the courage of your convictions? I do not. All I see is one who has turned her back upon her brothers and who must pay the price for it.”
“What do you mean to do with us?” Flash demanded. “If you’re going to kill us, then why not just do it on the road?” His eyes widened. “Bait. You want to use us as bait, don’t you? You want people to come looking for us!”
“It’s said, not least by Atlesians themselves, that they don’t leave their comrades behind,” Krasny said. “Is that true, Blake?”
“Yes,” Blake declared. “Always.”
“And what do you say, Sister Neon?” Krasny called. “Is it true that the Atlesians will always rescue a comrade in jeopardy?”
“If they like them, maybe,” ‘Sister Neon’ said as she sauntered into the basement, a particularly feline smirk upon her face. “Like, I’m sure that they’ll try and rescue Blake here, because everybody likes Blake. Everybody loves Blake.” She moved out of sight of Flash; he twisted around to try and follow her as she stood in front of Blake. “Isn’t that right? Everybody just loves you.” She giggled. “It’s hilarious when you think about it. You put on this act of being such a disaffected loner, and yet, literally everyone wants to help you out, even the General. Do you know how many times I’ve got to meet one on one with General Ironwood? Do you think he’d put his reputation on the line to spring me from jail?”
“Did you betray Atlas just because you’re jealous?” Blake demanded incredulously.
“Jealous? Of you?” Neon laughed aloud. “Oh, honey, you’re not that impressive. No, I joined the White Fang because-” She was cut off by the sound of the train rattling past the house, which drowned out anything that she might have had to say about her motivations. “Nobody heard a word of that, did they?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Blake said dryly. “Did we miss much?”
Neon growled wordlessly. “Blake, you’ve been hanging around with Ciel enough to have heard the phrase ‘Flowers of the North’ at least once, right?”
“Yes,” Blake replied.
“Okay,” Neon said. “So what do you do with flowers?”
“I… gave them to Sunset a couple of times,” Flash ventured, not sure where this was going.
“Aww, that was sweet of you,” Neon replied. “Did she like them?”
“I... think so?”
“And what did she do with them?” Neon asked.
“She put them in a vase until…” Flash trailed off as he realised exactly where this was going. 
“Go on,” Neon urged.
“Until they died,” Flash finished. “And then she threw them away.”
“Mm-hmm. That’s why I’m with the White Fang,” Neon declared.
“You won’t get away with this,” Blake snarled.
“Oh, Blake,” cooed Neon. “I’ve already gotten away with everything.”
“Our friends will come for us!” Blake insisted.
“Good,” Krasny said. “That’s what I’m counting on.”



“Hey,” Cardin said, his tone diffident and uncertain as he walked towards her, cradling a steaming cup of something in his hands. “I thought that you might want some tea.”
“No, I don’t want tea; I want to find Flash!” Weiss snapped. She sighed. “But thank you anyway, Cardin; I shouldn’t yell at you for something that’s not your fault.”
“It makes a change from getting yelled at for things that are my fault,” Cardin ventured.
Weiss’ eyebrows rose. 
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Not really the time.” He sat down beside Weiss, at one of the empty desks in the Basement. Russel was sat across the way from them, doing something on the computer. 
“We’ll get him back,” Cardin said. 
“You don’t know that,” Weiss murmured.
Cardin was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t know that. Sorry. Again.”
Weiss clasped her hands together. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Why take Flash and not me? Blake, I suppose I can understand; she used to be one of the White Fang; they want to punish her for deserting them. Or at least, that’s an explanation that makes sense. But why take Flash but leave me? I’m the heir to the Schnee Dust Company; my death would be the biggest coup the White Fang have ever accomplished!”
“Are you offended that you didn’t get kidnapped?”
“Of course not!” Weiss snapped. “But… but if I had to choose… I’d rather that I’d been taken and Flash were here, looking for me.”
Cardin was silent for a moment. “You know he’d hate that, right?”
“I didn’t say that it was noble or smart, only that it was how I felt,” Weiss said softly. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“I don’t know that things are bound to work out,” Cardin said. “But I do know that if dead bodies were all the White Fang wanted, they could have shot him in the wreck of that car, and Blake, and you. They want him alive for a reason, and that means that they’ll probably keep him alive for at least a little while. Him… and Blake.”
Weiss was silent for a moment. “You’re more insightful than your performance in class would suggest,” she murmured.
Cardin snorted. “Not really,” he replied. “It just makes sense.”
“But it doesn’t help us find them,” Weiss murmured.
“No,” Cardin admitted. “But we will. Even if we have to kick down every door in Vale to do it.”
The elevator door rose with a rattle and a clatter, admitting into the Basement a thin man, balding on top, wearing a blue pin-striped three-piece suit with a red tie. He walked in without acknowledging anyone, making a bee-line for Lieutenant Martinez as she sat at her desk, poring over notes. 
The lieutenant became aware of the approach of the man in the suit before he reached her, and she got up and began to walk to him. “Captain Haskins. We don’t often see you down here.”
“The Commissioner suggested I should come down and see how you were doing,” the man – Captain Haskins – said. “How are you feeling, DJ?”
“Feeling a little sick of people asking me how my head is,” Lieutenant Martinez muttered.
Captain Haskins ignored that. “Do you have any leads on where they took the boy?”
“No, sir,” Lieutenant Martinez admitted.
Captain Haskins tutted with disapproval. “I don’t need you to tell you how serious this is, Martinez.”
“No, sir, you don’t.”
“It’s bad enough losing one of your own lads,” Captain Haskins went on. “But he isn’t even one of yours; you’ve only got him on loan. And he’s an Atlesian, and you managed to lose their asset into the bargain! The diplomatic implications are-”
“The Atlesians managed to somehow not notice that one of their own students was a White Fang mole, and you’re worried about what they think about all this?!” Lieutenant Martinez yelled. “How about, instead of worrying about what they’re going to say, you and the Commissioner and Councillor Emerald get the Atlesians to let me up onto their ship to take a crack at Torchwick and shake out the locations of the White Fang safehouses?”
“The Atlesians say Torchwick won’t talk.”
“He’ll sing once I’ve shattered one of his kneecaps, sir.”
Captain Haskins stared at her. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Martinez.”
“I don’t joke when one of our own is in trouble, sir,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “I do whatever it takes.”
“Damn it, Martinez, this isn’t the old days any more; you can’t just beat confessions out of people; suspects have rights!”
“Rights are a privilege, sir, one that the likes of Roman Torchwick forfeit when they step outside the law!”
“You’re in enough trouble right now, Martinez, without crossing even more lines on a fishing expedition. Now what I suggest you do is-”
“Uh, excuse me,” Russel said tremulously, raising one hand. “Um, Lieutenant, we’re getting a call from the Atlesian fleet; they say it’s urgent.”
Lieutenant Martinez folded her arms. “Are you going to let me take this, sir?”
Captain Haskins adjusted his jacket. “Put them on the big screens, young man.”
“Uh, yes, uh, sir,” Russel said, his fingers hammering the keyboard. 
The face of General Ironwood appeared on the screens, magnified to many times its actual size. 
“Am I addressing Lieutenant Martinez of the VPD?” he asked.
“I’m Captain Haskins, Flying Squad,” Captain Haskins said, and then gestured to his junior. “This is Lieutenant Martinez. What can we do for you, General?”
“We’ve just received some intelligence relating to the kidnapping of Blake Belladonna and Flash Sentry,” General Ironwood said. “I’m forwarding the audio onto you now.”
“Got it… sir,” Russel said.
Lieutenant Martinez waited. “Well, go on, play the thing!”
“Oh, right, yes, Lieutenant,” Russel yelped, and he hit a few more keys before the audio from the Atlesians began to play out through the speakers. Weiss got up when she heard Flash’s voice, and Blake’s, talking to a man whom Flash at least seemed to believe to be Krasny Krot. They were joined by Neon Katt, who was interrupted by a loud, thunderous rumbling that drowned her out for a while before she resumed speaking. Everything was said to one another, none of it for the audience listening through the scroll, as if none of the people in the room had known that they were being recorded. 
But it was Flash’s voice. It was definitely Flash’s voice. He was alive! Or at least, he had been when that recording was made. 
“How did you get this?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.
“A call received by one of my students,” General Ironwood said. “The number was anonymous, and we haven’t yet had any luck tracing the call. But we only got the call a short while ago, and we believe that it was happening live, not a recording.”
“They talk about using them as bait for a trap,” Cardin pointed out.
“Yes, but if they were trying to lure us into a trap, they wouldn’t have sent us audio talking about a trap, would they?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.
“That’s a good point,” Cardin conceded.
“So we know that Flash and Blake are alive, even if we don’t know where they are,” Weiss said.
“We might not know where they are exactly, but we’ve narrowed it down,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “That was a train going by, and close by too.”
“Really?” Russel said. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure; I know what a train sounds like,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Why, do you have something?”
“I might have,” Russel said. “I’ve been looking at the property that we raided earlier, the one The Purifier was using at their safe house. Now, that house is owned by the Eastern Promise Holding Company; now, I can’t find any actual people connected to the company, but I can tell you that they own other properties across Vale including-” – he typed on the keyboard to bring up a map of Vale, with one particular property in the south of the city marked with a red arrow – “14 Leadenham Close, which is right on the railway line to Alexandria.”
“Great work, Russel!” Lieutenant Martinez cried. “Okay, gear up, let’s go!”



Neon was sitting in the living room, doing a little light maintenance on her nunchuks, when Danny walked in, his heavy tread making the floorboards creak. “Have you seen my scroll?”
Neon looked up at him. “Why would I have seen your scroll? I haven’t even seen you using a scroll.”
“I can’t find it,” Danny said.
Neon sat up a little. “Where did you have it last?”
“In the kitchen, maybe; I don’t really remember.”
“Why don’t you look for it?”
“I have looked for it, and I can’t find it; that’s why I’m asking if anybody’s seen it,” Danny replied irritably.
“Sorry,” Neon said, not sounding very sorry. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“What’s going on?” Molly demanded as she came in. 
“Danny here has lost his scroll,” Neon told her.
“Why don’t you look for it?” Molly suggested.
“I’m not a moron; that’s the first thing I did,” Danny growled. “Have you seen it?”
“No,” Molly replied. “Where did you have it last?”
“Oh, this is hopeless,” Danny muttered and walked off towards the other door out into the kitchen. 
Molly shook her head. “Neon, come with me; the boss has a job for you.”
“Ooh, what?” Neon asked, getting up out of the ratty armchair in which she had ensconced. “Is it cool? Is it dangerous?”
“It’s the last test of your loyalty to the White Fang,” Molly informed her, as she turned away.
“'Test'?” Neon repeated as she followed after. “You mean you don’t trust me yet, Molly?”
“I trust you,” Molly confirmed. “Think of this like an Initiation, like at Atlas.”
“Are you going to throw me off the roof?”
Molly chuckled. “No. This will be much more fun, I promise.”
She led Neon down into the cellar, where Blake and Flash were tied up. Flash squirmed in his chair to keep his eyes on her, while Blake sat still, only glancing Neon’s way out of the corner of her eyes. 
Molly drew her pistol and then handed it to Neon. 
Neon glanced down at the gun. “I thought they were bait.”
“They don’t need to both be alive in order for people to try and rescue the one who is,” Molly pointed out. “And since we haven’t had the best luck so far, the boss doesn’t want to push it. It’s your choice which one you kill.”
Crap! Neon had not seen this coming. Okay, she hadn’t seen a lot of things coming, which was why she’d been flying by the seat of her hot pants ever since Molly had forced her to dump her scroll, but this? She had just about managed to keep control of the situation thus far – suggesting that they take prisoners rather than just blowing up the hospital first chance they got; stealing Danny’s scroll and using it to call Dash – but this? She didn’t know if Twilight had been able to trace her call yet. How was she supposed to stall shooting one of these two in the head until help arrived? 
Why couldn’t I have just remembered to put my scroll on silent?
Her gaze flickered between Blake and Flash. Blake was looking at her now, looking her right in the eyes. 
“No!” Rainbow cried. “No way, this is… this is the stupidest plan I have ever heard!”
“That’s because you don’t hear your own plans,” Neon said.
“I’m being serious, Neon,” Rainbow replied. “You want to take up this offer and join the White Fang? What the hell?”
“When are we going to get a better chance than this?” Neon demanded. “We could find out where their base is, where their leadership is, what they’re planning. We could find out all of it! We could end this right here, right now!”
“Or you could get made and killed for nothing,” Rainbow said.
“It’s worth the risk,” Neon insisted.
“No, it isn’t!”
“Yes, it is!” Neon shouted back at her. “I don’t know exactly what you and Blake and all your other friends have found out, but I know enough from watching the news: I know the White Fang have a crapload of dust, and they’re going to use it if we don’t stop them.”
“And you think you can stop them?” Blake asked. “You want to stop them?”
Neon looked at her, elbows resting on the table. “Why don’t you ask the question we all know you want to ask?”
“Why would someone like you be willing to die for a human city?” Blake asked quietly.
Neon was silent for a moment. “Because I’m stronger than they are,” she said. “And so I should be the one to run the risks.”
Blake’s nod was slight, almost imperceptible. “This may cost you more than your life,” she said. “It may cost you your soul.”
Neon hadn’t understood what she meant by that, last night in the club, but now, she did. Now, as she felt the weight of the pistol in her hands, she understood very well. 
When it came to a choice between Blake and Flash, there really was no choice. 
This was what one of them had signed up for. 
She walked around the edges of the room and levelled her pistol, pointed right between Blake’s golden eyes. 
“No!” Flash cried, trying desperately to break free of his restraints. “No! Don’t do this! Leave her alone! Take me instead!”
Neon cocked the revolver. The pistol didn’t waver in her hands, because she knew what she had to do. 
Blake’s expression was without fear. She stared down the barrel of the gun without emotion. 
“All flowers die,” Neon whispered. 
Blake’s eyes widened as Neon turned and shot Molly in the gut. Molly staggered backwards as Neon fired again. 
The pistol clicked. 
Neon looked down at the gun that she now realised had only had one shot in it. “You didn’t trust me after all, huh, Molly?”
“I was right not to trust you wasn’t I, huh, Neon?” Molly replied. She started to shout. “He-”
Blake’s shadow clone disappeared from the seat, even as the real Blake caught Molly with a spinning kick that sent her flying across the cellar. Blake closed the door as Neon dashed around Flask to kick Molly in the face before she could get up, a kick so hard that it flipped her over onto her back. 
She looked up at Neon, face twisted into a snarl. “Why?” she demanded.
“Because I’m stronger than they are,” Neon said. “And so I protect those who are weaker than me; I don’t hurt them because I can.” She brought her foot down upon Molly’s face, shattering her aura and laying her out. “Plus, can you really see me in a white mask and a black hood, because I can’t! Can you imagine how unflattering that would be, huh?”
Neither of her two companions seemed to find it funny. At all. 
“Nothing?” Neon asked. “Really?”
“Could you have gotten out of those restraints any time?” Flash demanded.
“I’m afraid so,” Blake admitted.
“Then why didn’t you?” Flash demanded.
“It would have been better to wait for rescue,” Neon said. “Except that a certain speedster hasn’t gotten her butt in gear to actually rescue us yet, so-”
“So you should have killed me,” Blake said.
“Excuse me?” Neon gasped.
“Now that you’ve blown your cover, we’ll never find out where the base of the main White Fang force is.”
“Never say never.”
“You know what I mean; you should have put the mission first.”
“How would I explain it to Dashie if I shot you in the face?” Neon demanded.
“Tell her that the mission demanded it.”
“Would you shoot Rainbow because the mission demanded it?” Neon asked.
Blake looked away.
“That’s what I thought,” Neon said. “Anyway, it’s done now, so what are we going to do?”
“Maybe one of you could let me out?” Flash suggested acerbically.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Neon said. “Sorry,” she added as she undid his restraints.
“It’s okay; I’m just glad you’re on our side,” Flash said, as he got up. “But you’re right: we need a plan.”
A gunshot sounded from upstairs, then another, then it sounded like the whole house was being lit up with shooting. 
Neon grinned. “Seems like the cavalry arrived. And about time, too.”



Flash bounded up the stairs, leaping over the body – dead or unconscious, he couldn’t say – of a faunus at the top of the stairs as he entered the hall. Gunfire echoed from the upper floors, including Rainbow Dash’s shotgun if his ears were still working right. He caught sight of Cardin standing in the doorway to one of the rooms leading off from the hall, beating a large lion faunus down with his mace. 
“Cardin!” Flash called. 
Cardin looked at him, blue eyes wide. “Flash! How did you-?”
“Have you caught The Purifier?” Flash demanded, shouting to be heard over the gunfire.
“I don’t think so,” Cardin yelled back. “We’re still-”
He was interrupted by another fighter of the White Fang charging out of a side room, wielding a double-headed axe in two hands. Cardin parried the blow with his mace before hitting his opponent in the face. 
Flash left him to it. Cardin was bigger than his opponent, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would win the fight; in the meantime, they had to get The Purifier. This might be their best chance to catch him before he could set off any more bombs, before he could blight any more families. 
And so Flash ran to the back of the house, into the kitchen, where he saw that the window had been smashed – and Krasny Krot was running towards the railway line. 
“No. No!”
“I’m sorry, Missus Sentry. Your husband was a good man. He’ll be sorely missed.”
The honour guard firing a volley. The commanding officer carefully folding up the flag and handing it to him. His mother crying on the staircase. Images raced through Flash’s mind as he leapt out of the window and gave chase, legs pounding, a wordless shout issuing from his lips. 
The soil beneath his feet was black and soft, almost more like compost than dirt, and he slipped a little as he ran, sank slightly into it once or twice, and wasn’t able to move as quickly as he would have liked. 
There was a train coming, a train thundering towards them down the line, pounding upon the iron rails. Would it cut off Krasny’s escape or Flash’s pursuit? He couldn’t take the risk. He had to catch this man, he had to stop him, he couldn’t let any more families suffer what he had suffered. 
Krasny kept running towards the railway line. He had no intention of stopping for the train; he acted as though it wasn’t even there, no matter how close it got to him, no matter how it bore down upon him. He scrambled up the railway cut even as the train barrelled down the track, and for a moment, Flash thought he would be struck as he crossed the line, but he was just too fast, just too lucky, and he dived across to the other side of the line a second before the train roared past. 
And kept on roaring. It was a long train, laden with goods wagons that paraded by in a long, unceasing tail, offering no respite, no gap, no way through, that stretched on in either direction. By the time he waited for the train to pass, it would be too late, and yet, he had no choice but to wait. 
He had no choice but to let Krasny get away. To let him go free to continue his campaign of terror. 
No choice but to fail. 
“Flash!” 
Flash turned, and upon instinct, he caught Caliburn in one hand as it was thrown through the air towards him, his fingers closing around the spear’s solid shaft. 
Weiss stood upon a shimmering white glyph about an inch above the soil. A slight smile graced one corner of her lip. “I think you’ll be needing that,” she said. “Now, climb on.” She gestured with her free hand to the black glyph that she had conjured up beside Flash. 
He would thank her later. For now, there was no time to do anything but to climb up onto the glyph and let it catapult him up into the air, over the passing train to land, feet first, knees buckling beneath him, on the other side.
The other side where he could still see Krasny Krot running, still close enough to be caught. 
Flash started to run, but he had not gone too far when he caught sight of the line of white glyphs rolling out beside and in front of him, like a road of shining samite leading to his quarry. He leapt aboard, sliding atop the surface of the glyphs, covering the ground faster than he could have managed on foot, borne along by Weiss’s semblance until he was ahead of Krasny, leaping off the glyphs and slamming the butt of his spear into Krasny’s face. 
Krasny staggered backwards. Flash pursued him, swinging his spear in a wide arc to catch his enemy across the side of the head. He thrust forward, driving the point into Krasny’s belly, then hit him in the face – the mask at least – with the shaft when he doubled over. Caliburn switched to sword mode fluidly in Flash’s hands as he slashed swiftly, striking across the face and body to tear through Krasny’s aura before transforming his weapon back into spear form for a final strike that shattered Krasny’s mask and aura both to dump him on his back upon the dark, soft soil. 
Flash stood over him, Caliburn raised and poised to strike. Krasny’s aura was gone. A single strike now would be the end of it. A single strike would ensure that he never hurt anyone ever again. 
Krasny laid his head back upon the ground. “Kill me then,” he said. “Kill me and have your revenge.”
I don’t want revenge. I want my father back.
“Do it!” Krasny yelled. “One thrust, one single blow! Do you think I hesitated before I killed your father, you weak, cowardly boy!”
Flash bared his teeth, drew Caliburn back-
“Flash!” Weiss cried, gliding towards him upon a line of glyphs just like the ones she had used to hasten him upon his way. She leapt down nimbly, gracefully, her white dress shining against the earthy darkness of this place. “Flash,” she repeated, more softly this time and more gently. “It’s over.”
Flash glanced down at his enemy before him, and then back up at his teammate, his partner, his…
His gaze flickered between the two of them. His enemy was contemptible. He deserved death, if any did. But then, Flash had seen what holding on to your anger and bitterness could do, hadn’t he? He didn’t want to become like Sunset, not even a little bit. 
Between the two people before him, there was no choice at all. 
Flash found that there were tears welling up in his eyes. He lowered Caliburn. “I’m not like you,” he growled. “I won’t… I’m not like you.” 
“You are more like me than you wish,” Krasny said. “Like my injuries, the pain you suffer will never go away.”
“No,” Flash agreed. “It won’t. Just like you’ll go away, for the rest of your life, and you’ll never hurt anyone ever again. Krasny Krot… you’re under arrest.”



Pyrrha could not deny that it was with a sense of relief that she sat down at Sunset’s bedside, her mind put at ease by the knowledge that Team WWSR had apprehended the bomber. 
She might not have been able to protect Sunset, but the fact that somebody had… that was enough for today. 
Quite enough for today. 
She opened up The Mistraliad, pressing down on it so that Sunset’s letter did not fall out again. Pyrrha’s eye glanced down the page until it alighted upon one of the most famous passages, one of the ones which spoke to her the most and which, she believed, would speak to Sunset as well. It was the speech spoken by Lycia to Glauce as they prepared to assault the Elusinian camp. 
“'Friend of my soul,'” Pyrrha read, “'were it that, one we were away from this war, we should live forever free from age and death, neither would I myself fight among the foremost, nor would I send thee into battle that ennobles men. But now-'”
“'But now,'” Sunset murmured. “'For none the less ten thousand fates of death surround us – aye, ten thousand of them – let us go, and see whether we shall yield glory to another or they to us.'” She glanced at Pyrrha, her eyes fluttering. “Hey.”
“Sunset!” Pyrrha gasped. “You’re… thank goodness!” She reached out and clasped Sunset’s hand fiercely in her own. “How… how do you feel?”
Sunset struggled to sit up.
“Don’t,” Pyrrha urged. “Just stay where you are.”
Sunset groaned. “What I feel… what I feel is tired and a little groggy, if that makes any sense at all.” She frowned. “Hey, Pyrrha?”
“Yes, Sunset.”
Sunset hesitated. “That’s The Mistraliad, isn’t it?”
Pyrrha nodded. “It is.”
Sunset licked her lips. “You didn’t, um, did you-?”
“I would prefer not to fight a duel over Blake as though she is a prize to be won,” Pyrrha informed her.
Sunset groaned once more as she flopped back onto her pillow. “I asked you not to be awkward about it!”
“I’m not being awkward,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m simply pointing out that-”
“Teams are supposed to be four people; you’ll need to replace me if I go!”
“What about Team Iron; where are they supposed to be a fourth teammate from?”
“I don’t care about Team Iron; I care about our team and about Blake.”
“I’m sorry, Sunset, but I cannot bring myself to treat Blake like an object,” Pyrrha said primly. “I’m very glad that it’s all turned out to be irrelevant.”
“So am I,” Sunset agreed. “Trust me, so am I.” She paused for a moment. “So, what did I miss?”



The bar was called Pride’s, and slightly old-fashioned jazz music was coming from inside, spilling out into the street alongside the noise of celebration. Lieutenant Martinez – or DJ, as they were apparently to call her off duty – had brought them to celebrate a successful conclusion to their first case. Cardin and Russel were already inside with the police. 
Flash, on the other hand, was still lingering outside, the light from within casting a shadow out into the street. 
Weiss approached Flash; he didn’t seem to notice as she did so, until she said, “Flash? Do you mind if I join you?”
“I… no,” Flash said quickly. “No, that’s fine.” He stepped to one side a little, so that they did not obstruct the way in too much. “We… we had a good day, didn’t we?”
By any reasonable measure, that was true: The Purifier was in custody, and the White Fang’s bombing campaign stopped before it could start. It had been a good day, and all things considered, it had been a good mission for Team WWSR. But, absurd as it might seem, none of that mattered right now. 
“How are you doing?”
“I thought that I might feel better,” Flash replied, his voice a little hoarse. “But I don’t.”
Weiss gently reached out, and took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured. “But not surprised.”
“Because pain doesn’t go away?”
“Because it can’t be vanished,” Weiss said. “Not even by defeating the person who dealt the hurt.”
Flash nodded. “Then… what do we do?”
“Live?” Weiss suggested. “And take comfort from the fact that he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
“Right,” Flash agreed, a touch of amusement entering his voice. “Today was a good day, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Weiss said. “Today was a very good day.”



The music in the Iceberg Lounge pulsed fiercely.
“Well,” Neon said. “We didn’t get the result that we wanted-”
“But we got a result,” Rainbow said. “Stopped a bad guy. Saved you,” she nodded towards Blake. 
“Hmm,” Blake murmured.
“Don’t look too happy about it!” Neon cried.
“Sorry,” Blake muttered. “It’s just… Adam is still out there, and back in control – if he was ever not in control. We’re right back where we were yesterday.”
“Could be worse,” Neon told her. “We could be worse off than we were yesterday.”
Blake seemed to consider that for a moment. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“And as for stopping all the others,” Rainbow said. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Blake’s smile widened just a little. She raised her virgin mojito. “To tomorrow,” she said.
“To tomorrow!” Rainbow and Neon agreed, raising their glasses to clink against hers, before each taking a strong swig out of their glasses. 
Neon gasped. “I needed that after the day that I’ve had,” she said. “And you ought to have a real drink too, after the day you’ve had,” she added to Blake.
“I’m a baby, remember?” Blake reminded her.
“Who’s to know?” Neon asked.
“Yang, when I get back to the dorm room,” Blake said.
“Ah, one of those team leaders,” Neon said. “Suit yourself, I guess.” She downed some more of her own thoroughly alcoholic cocktail. “You know,” she said with a sigh, “I’m glad we stopped the bomber, and I’m glad we saved Blake, but… I don’t think I’m cut out for undercover work.”
“No,” Blake agreed. “Definitely not.”
“It was… not fun,” Neon said. “Next time I have an idea like that, tell me how stupid it is.”
“I did,” Rainbow pointed out.
“Well, make me listen to you next time,” Neon told her. “It’s the battlefield for me from now on.”
“As a huntress,” Blake asked. “Or as a specialist?”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“I… I suppose I want to know how much of what you said last night was genuine,” Blake said.
Neon grinned. “I told you that I’ll fight for everyone who’s weaker than me; that includes in the army too. Someone has to protect Dashie, isn’t that right?”
Rainbow snorted. “After what you’ve been through, I’ll let you have that one for free.”
“That’s what I like about you, Dash: you’re always so considerate,” Neon said, before she finished off her drink. “Well,” she declared. “I. Am going to dance. Excuse me, ladies.” She stood up, and sidled out of the booth, leaving Rainbow and Blake alone. 
Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Neon… told me what happened in that cellar.”
Blake was stony-faced. “If she had been more committed to her mission-”
“Then you’d be dead.”
“We might have a lead on Adam’s base, his plans-”
“And you would be dead,” Rainbow repeated, raising her voice a little. “Blake,” she added, sighing, “I want to watch your back, but you have to watch mine too.”
“I do!” Blake cried. “I will.”
“It only works if you want to see the end of the battle as much as I do,” Rainbow informed her sternly.
Blake scowled. “Like Ruby, I’m prepared to die, but I don’t welcome it.”
Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “I wish I could take your word for it.”
“Shouldn’t we all be prepared to give our lives for the success of the mission?” Blake demanded.
“Some victories are worth less than the lives spent to win them,” Rainbow said. “Ask Ciel for an example; I don’t remember the specifics. We’ll get Adam another way, a better way. Walking over your dead body to get to him… it wouldn’t have been worth it.”
“I disagree,” Blake whispered.
“I know,” Rainbow muttered. “That’s what worries me.”



Cinder stood upon a bridge, watching as the police van containing the so-called Purifier drove towards her, moving down the freeway on its way to prison. 
“Cinder,” Emerald murmured, “are you sure that this is a good idea?”
Cinder smirked. “Of course it’s a good idea, Emerald,” she said, as a bow of obsidian formed in her hands, shards of glass flying into place. “It’s my idea.” She drew back the bow and loosed a black shaft downwards. It slammed into the surface of the road, where it began to glow, pulsing with waves of orange light. 
Cinder’s smirk widened. 
The arrow exploded just as the black VPD van drove over it, the blast throwing the vehicle up into the air atop a column of fire.  So high rose the van that, for a moment, it was almost as high as Cinder and Emerald on the bridge above, before it fell, spinning wildly in the air, landing heavily on its roof with a sickening crunch as the walls crumpled and the windows shattered. 
Cinder chuckled. “Tell me, Emerald, do you think a bomb maker coming to grief from an explosion qualifies as being hoist by one’s own petard?”
Emerald hesitated. “I… I don’t know what that means, Cinder.”
Cinder sighed. “No. No, I suppose you don’t, do you?” Emerald’s skills were valuable, but like all of Cinder’s associates, she was lamentably uneducated and lacking in sophistication.
Sunset, she was sure, would have understood what Cinder meant.
“But I’m sure you’re right,” Emerald said quickly, albeit too late. 
“Mmm,” Cinder murmured, as she watched Mercury and Lightning Dust descend upon the stricken vehicle, slaying the surviving police officers with brutal efficiency. “They look like they're having fun, don’t they?”
“Yeah,” Emerald muttered. “Fun.”
Cinder laughed. “Emerald, are you squeamish?”
“N-no!” Emerald cried. “Not at all, I just… sorry, Cinder.”
“Wait here,” Cinder said. “Keep watch for any police reinforcements coming.”
Emerald looked a little sullen at being left behind, but nodded. “Will do.”
“Good girl,” Cinder said softly before she leapt down from the bridge onto the freeway below. She landed heavily, her knees buckling as she pounded the ground with one fist, looking like the hero from some big budget extravaganza. The thought pleased her and put a smile on her face as sharp as a knife as she strode around the ruined police van, stepping delicately over the body of a dead police officer, to approach the rear. 
Mercury and Lightning had already ripped the rear doors off and killed the cops they had found there. Only The Purifier himself remained, hanging from the floor – which was now the ceiling – by the chains that restrained him. He squirmed futilely, wriggling and writhing like a worm on a hook. 
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want with me?”
“You thought that you could touch the things that were mine,” Cinder said coldly. “You thought that you could break them with impunity. You thought that you had power, and I had none.” She held out one hand, and fire sprouted in her palm, flickering red and gold. The Purifier mewled in pain as he flinched away from it. “I will show you where power truly lies.”
“No!” he cried. “No, please, anything but-”
Cinder held out her hand, and the hungry flames leapt from her hand to consume the van’s interior.
The Purifier screamed as the fires consumed him, burning him in his chains like meat left too long upon the spit. He screamed. He writhed. He burned. He died.
And Cinder watched. She watched while Mercury and Lightning Dust turned away; she watched as the firelight’s reflections danced in her eyes; she watched, and she listened to him scream, and she smiled.
A dead enemy was always a thing of beauty, but to kill them by fire, that… that was the most beautiful of all.
What a pity that Sunset wasn’t here to share it with her.